The bird was chirping under the peaceful sun shining over Acropolis. Children played tag inside the brand-new park Horizon Dawn and the community barely finished a week ago. In the middle of this refuge, the lake was glittering in the sunlight.

Phillip Odysseus sat in this park trying to bury his internal conflict beneath his combat’s lecture note.

The question was why. Why was he even here?

He needed those almighty mysterious men in black to help him, but the question remained: how could he convince them. The strategist who refused to give his name already listed several reasons explaining why he won’t lift a finger to save Centuria.

Instead of hiding behind that selflessness, which is basically selfishness in denial, ask yourself what is it you are trying to save.

That was what he said.

Phillip disagreed. He wasn’t selfish. He truly wanted to save other. He helped the wanted Atlanta crossed the country to do it. The prospect that he was out for himself was ridiculous.

The young man doubled his focus on his notes to distract himself from the gnawing contradiction. The poisonous inkling of conflict, smoldering annoyance and worries plaguing his mind. He took the combat course in Acropolis. Atlanta even joined him to find a crack in these almighty stranger’s armor.

After a few lectures, even Atlanta admitted these people had no business on community defenses. They should be a guest lecturer on the top Academies in Balperia. Their theory on Mana usage was revolutionary and the trainee already experienced a significant increase in power. They even revamped the concept of Spell Casting with a primal material on magic and relegated most of Spell Casting framework into Magic Engineering. Even Atalanta became a regular attendee to pickup some trick.

The very competency of their instructor served to further irked both Atalanta and Phillip. With all this power and wisdom, why won’t they help.

“You look a little stress there.”

Phillip startled and looked back to find their lecturer.

“Miss Solarmaria,” he addressed Melody.

“Want some tip with your writing?”

“No, I understand the material fine,” Phillip grumbled.

Melody raised the eyebrows and looked at Philip up and down.

“Something in your mind?” She stated, trying to be welcoming. “Come on. Talk to me. What is bothering you.”

Phillip hesitated for a second before giving up.

“It is your friend. The strategist.”

Melody was hardly surprised.

“Let me guess. He shut down your argument like a total smartass, deconstructed your motivation, verbally illustrated your stupidity and sent you to square one.”

Phillip glanced at his mentor with an inkling he wasn’t the zeroth victim of Mr. Smartass.

“Did he love tearing down people’s dream that much?”

Melody laughed, “God no. I can’t name anybody who cares more about individual aspiration than he is. Our strategist wants to see people's dream succeed like every success inflates his ego. Strip of all those sasses are the man who is will go above and beyond to treat people well-being and freedom as his own.”

Phillip stared in disbelief, “Are we talking about the same person?”

“Don’t let that apathy and the so-called cowardice trick you,” Melody said. “In fact, let me tell you the story.

“Once upon the time there is a girl with a stupid dream that will probably get herself kill. It is a righteous goal to take back what hers.”

Philip looked at his mentor who was clearly talking about herself.

“But before her ill-fated journey even starts, she met a certain man. She wanted his help. She needed it. She believed she is the hero of her story. That man disagreed. He shredded through her excuse and ripped out the fact for everyone to see. He tore apart the dressing of prosperity to reveal the desire for vengeance that will cause everything but happiness. He revealed the treasure she wanted came at an exorbitant price in both blood and maintenance. The girl refused to accept his reasoning and accuses him of ignorance and cowardice. She fully believed the man before her was a scumbag of highest order. Even with those accusations, the boy refused to budge, so the girl did what every single arrogant moron in the history ever did when they confront the opposing view they lack the wisdom and solution to override. Grab the hammer and shut him up.”

Philip’s face froze. That statement was the opposite of the beginning of a lasting friendship.

“Did she succeed?”

“It is a good she didn’t,” Melody reminiscence. “She would surely crash and burn. But as you can guess, the girl lost. She didn’t just lose normally. It was an epic defeat. The girl was stronger than him, more experienced, more trained and came from a great pedigree, but she lost because that man is the embodiment of courage and conviction. Even when faced with the prospect of grievous injuries and impossible odd, he refused to accept the impossibility and won. The shadow of his intervention was so humongous it convinced both the girl and her mother that their dream was impossible, not for the literal armies facing them, but for the interference of one man and his unshakable ideal. I have seen that man stand against foes I dread to face with grim determination as inspiration to all. The strategist you met is the opposite of a coward.”

“Why are you telling me this story?”

“Because I want you to understand that guy refused your request for a reason. Sure, the massive pile of bodies is one of them, but I believe he is trying to save more than that. Just like how that hero encouraged a girl to find what she truly wants — protecting her father's legacy — over what is expected from her. I believe he is refusing your request for the same reason.”

“I want to save Centuria”

“Ah, so that is the issue,” Melody couldn’t help but felt nostalgic. “Is that what you desire, or is it a convenient front you can hide behind?”

Melody winked at Philip after she dropped the revelation.

“Well, the next class is starting. Anyway, consider it. Even if you assume saving a nation which already died is feasible, would you be happy with it at the end.”

Melody left Philip sitting in a park with himself.

The man spent times starring at the cloud and at last whispered.

“What I want?” He asked himself the question with an obvious answer. The question is would he dare to say it.

…

Penelope was led, in handcuff, into the center of the room surrounded by stone and darkness.

“Where am I?” Penelope asked.

“How do I say this?” said Nereo Melosov, tinkering with a sophisticated control panel. “I promise Acrisius I will give him the control over the Mountain Shaker.”

Penelope’s face went pale, “The Earthshaker? The guardian beast of Centuria had been hibernating for ages.”

“True enough. It is in an energy saving mode to prepare against the fairies, but the person setting up the defense didn’t think it through. She never expected the Centuria Royal Family to weaken so catastrophically after generations and lost the master control over the land’s Leyline. Luckily, the contract structure remained in your DNA. I simply needed to overcharge your cellular structure with power from Leyline Mana to reawaken the latent crest. To be fair, you won’t be able to handle the power. I expect there are 65% chances the crest explodes and takes you with it. If that happens, the Earthshaker will go ballistic.”

Penelope paled at the casual discussion about her faith, but in typical Nereo fashion. The man remained unperturbed by any emotional distress and hopeless obstacle hanging above them.

“Relax,” Nereo said. “I want to study the crest in action, not blow you up. We only need to transplant the contract to someone else. The main problem was ensuring the stability of the crest. In such case, synchronizing the crest with the nexus in which it was first created would likely allow it to exist outside your body.”

Penelope gulped.

“Of course, I know the location, which happen is the Hidden Vault Valley. What do people call it? Loose lips sink ships? Yes, I think that is the term. You should be careful to guard information better, assuming you survive the extraction. Funnily enough, I believe that is also the location the Earthshaker hibernates. None the less, it will be quite exciting, Princess.”

“What exciting?”

Penelope trembled like a rabbit while Nereo charmingly smile.

“Oh, I can’t spoil the surprise,” Nereo slid across the control screen. The ceiling and the room hummed with energy. Ethereal glows floated from the ground and bathed the former queen in bluish light. Penelope was hit by a sense of drowsiness as the mysterious forces levitated from the air. She hung suspended like a maiden in the moonlit shine, under the power intricate spell, formulas and human designs. The queen let the realm of sleep took her amidst the humming machinery.

“It will like one month for you to be significantly primed. Good night, Princess. I hope you have a sweet dream.”

That was the last thing she heard before everything faded.

…

Wayward and Rem walked into the plain black cave hiding the glowing pool of water. Yes, that sounded like the beginning of an unfunny joke.

“Got to say this cave would make for a decent acoustic,” Rem muttered, absorbing the echoes of his voice.

Wayward, refusing to respond, waded into the glowing water.

Rem watched the rippling water, sighed internally, and followed the man in a swim of faith.

The water felt cold to his skin. Something that made the dampened air worst. As the men continued to the center of the pool, they sank deeper into the eldritch tinge of water and the eerie atmosphere. Then, at the center of the lake, Wayward dove beneath the surface of the glowing pool.

Rem followed suit.

He felt the rushes of water, tailspin of moisture and the world-turning upside-down. By the time the world right itself, the knight of Dawn found himself suspended amidst the cold water with shimmering light above. Rem swam and break through the wave.

He wasn’t in the cave anymore.

Instead, he found himself adrift in an endless expanse of water. He turned and found a small cosy island with a wooden cottage nestled by the beach with a lush, humble, well-kept garden featuring beautiful bushes, orange trees and yellow and pink flowers. Rem swam to the beach, clawed out of the smooth sand glittering on this artificial paradise and took in a scenery. The house was like a perfect retirement home from the former grandma who suffered through too much politics. The scent of cookies. The swing hanging by the large oak tree placed in the garden and the tiny wooden fence keeping the bushes at bay. The endless expanse of water and a beach. Everything about this place spelled summer vacation.

Rem found Wayward standing in front of the house’s bright yellow door and walked to join him. To his surprise, the water evaporated from his body in form of a mist and flowed back into the ocean, leaving him perfectly dry.

Neat.

Rem joined Wayward just in time for the door to swing open.

What greeted them wasn’t a kindly grandmother, but a supermodel on the front page of a fashion magazine. The description would be perfect if said magazine targeted at gardening enthusiast.”

“Lady Vivian,” Wayward bowed.

“It is an honor, Ma’am,” Rem followed suit.

Vivian was a flaxen hair woman who appeared to be in her early twenty despite being older than Zeus himself. Her eyes were bluish white like the water they just dove to get here. Her beauty, from youthful, refined face, comely eyes and a neckline worthy of her divinity was hidden beneath the shadow of her wide brim gardener hat. This blatant camouflage of an enchanting natural heritage also extended to the body to contest with Melody. The thick cotton sweater for garden work and work trouser heavily enclosed her tight waistline and thigh that would cause mass death via jealousy in Hollywood. Admittedly, Rem judged Melody edged Vivian out in the bosom, but her size would likely give Luxinna a crisis and sent Cytortia down another fit of depression.

In conclusion, goddess Vivian was a beauty pageant, failing to hide her undisputed three-time winner of Ms. Divinity beneath a gardener get-up. It was akin to Yang Guifei and Helen of Troy trying to disguise as a delivery girl, failing upward in all its finest.

Vivian squinted at Wayward.

“Samael, you have grown, and you even bought a friend,” Vivian’s shoulder drooped. “Please tell me there won’t be an army after you?”

“Lady Vivian, I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Really?” She pointed at Rem.

“Truth to be told, I already know you are here,” Rem said. “Wayward just make my introduction a little less hostile. Oh, you can call me Samadi.”

Rem offered his hand and met with wariness.

“Who else know?” Vivian’s voice was tiny, almost afraid.

“Ma’am, I am not a vampire, or the Holy Church, or Odin, or—”

“Basically, he won’t be kidnapping you to sire a clan demigod,” Wayward cur to the point.

Vivian still refused to budge. Hell, she was trembling like a rabbit. It was a display almost unbecoming of a goddess. Rem could have sworn the raw terror at a miserable future as a glorified bedroom trophy, plus the associated perversion, was running across her mind like a Gazelle attached to rocket booster.

As a goddess with age comparable to the Titan, Vivian represented a peak genetic pedigree of Phantasia.

As a Divinity who had her [Divine Core] shattered, she was the perfect prime target — an eugenic treasure chest without a power to back it up. Her circumstance was like Cytortia. As far as the world knew, Vivian already perished 656 years ago after the founding of nations of Tengen. If word slipped that she was alive without her former power and prestige, it would be a goddess hunting season. Everyone but a group of hero with their moral hovering in the Everest wanted to impregnate a powerless goddess and rose to the top of the world using a clan of Demigod like Enma Clan.

“Okay,” Vivian was a tad nervous.

Rem got to the business, “Lady Vivian, I would love to stay for tea times, but need to ask you a favor.”

Vivian shrank like over-dried laundry.

“Were you there when the wall in the North got erected and the fairy seal-away?”

Vivian’s eyes widened, and she visibly backed away from the door like she saw a ghost.

“Y-yes,” She stuttered, looking around the room like she wanted a place to hid.

It was then Rem’s [Clairvoyance] saw the truth, “You are the one who put the seal there, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, what about it?” Vivian was shaking like the air turned colder by twenty degrees.

Wayward butted in.

“You are scarring her,” Wayward said.

Vivian nodded in agreement, trying as much as possible not to look at Rem in the eyes.

Rem ignored both of them and stated his reason for coming.

“Lady Vivian, Ma’am, I want you to breathe deeply and keep your cool.” Rem broke the news as gently as possible. “I believe that given the current circumstance, your seal will probably fail within a year at the earliest.”

Silence.

Vivian stopped trembling but slumped down like the spirit deflated out of her. She leaned on the door like it was the only thing propping her up.

The beaten, depowered goddess who had gone hermit for over 600 years looked at the sky and said the following:

“You must be shitting me!”