Haruto is at the 3th layer of the Dryads realm
The Lifebloom Layer is the innermost and most sacred dimension of the Dryads' Realm — the core from which all Dryadic life originates.
It is not a forest, but the source of forests. It is the place where Life Arcanum flows in its purest, undiluted form, shaping every tree, spirit, and soul connected to nature.
The Lifebloom Layer is the ancestral birthplace of the Dryads.
Most Dryads live in the Material Layer or the Spirit Layer, where they tend the living forest or guide spiritual growth.
Only ancient Dryads, Queen Dryads, and those deeply attuned to Life Arcanum can enter or reside in the Lifebloom Layer.
Haruto and Verdessa have n conversation
Verdessa (softly, with a serene smile):
Thank you for offering your aid. As you know, direct violence stands against all I am. I am the embodiment of creation, of nurturing, of rebirth—not war. My path is one of growth, not destruction."
Haruto put the white tea cup with golden edges on the glass the table
Haruto (to himself, in a suppressed, introspective tone):
He lowers his gaze, a flicker of pain in his eyes as understanding dawns.
(Oww... so that's why Verdessa asked for my help.)
(She could easily undo the corruption… but it wouldn't matter. They can just regenerate it endlessly.)
He clenches his fist slightly.
(She needed someone who could cut it off at the source… someone like me.)
---
Haruto (to Verdessa and her people, calm with a faint, sincere smile):
He turns to face them, his tone soft but steady—warmth underlined with conviction.
"Don't worry."
He pauses, meeting Verdessa's gaze.
"You were in need of help. I couldn't turn my back on you."
Verdessa's eyes widened slightly—just a flicker, but in her calm, eternal poise, it was as if the wind itself held its breath.
(Huh...? So rare… so impossibly rare.)
Her thoughts murmured like a sacred stream running through ancient roots.
(To meet one whose soul is not tangled in desire… but woven in compassion.)
She looked at Haruto in silence, the light of the Lifebloom subtly dancing across her skin as if the realm itself acknowledged him.
(No wonder the Lifebloom responds to him. No wonder the realm leans toward his presence… even the winds hush when he speaks.)
Her lips curled into a small, serene smile. With effortless grace, she lifted her porcelain cup of tea to her mouth, the motion elegant enough to still time.
(I can trust him.)
*Verdessa took another slow sip of her tea, her expression peaceful as ever. The porcelain touched her lips like a whisper, her posture composed, regal. She lowered the cup gently onto the glass table—clink—a quiet note in the still air.
Across from her, Haruto sat quietly… watching. His brow twitched slightly.
(How?! How can she drink something like that…?)
He leaned in a little, sniffing the steam coming off her cup.
(It doesn't even taste like tea… or coffee. What is that?)
He frowned to himself, then thought for a moment.
(Hmm… maybe I can create something better. Something that actually tastes good.)
He slid it gently across the glass table with one finger, the plate gliding to a smooth stop in front of her.
Haruto offered a faint smile, his voice soft but touched with happiness.
"Try this."
His tone was calm, relaxed—just a bit proud.
"I think it'll be to your liking."
Verdessa look down at the side of cake with a look on her face like someone who doesn't know what this is but she doesn't know
A slice of strawberry shortcake rested delicately on a pristine white plate, as if it were royalty seated upon a porcelain throne. Its golden sponge layers looked impossibly soft, like clouds that had soaked in a kiss of sunshine. Between them, a generous layer of whipped cream cradled gleaming ruby slices of strawberry, their juices catching the light like liquid jewels.
The top was frosted with a gentle swirl of pale pink cream, crowned by two ripe strawberries — one whole, the other sliced with care — their green leaves still fresh and crisp, adding a burst of color like nature's finishing touch. A silver cake knife lay beside the plate, its blade catching a faint glint, ready to cut into sweetness incarnate.
The entire scene felt like it had been painted by a master patissier with divine hands — too beautiful to eat, yet impossible to resist.
Haruto's eyes glinted just slightly as he watched the cake settle in front of Verdessa. A thrill sparked beneath his calm exterior—subtle, but undeniable.
(Who would've thought… Imagination Manipulation would be this freaking awesome?)
He tried not to smirk as the realization settled in.
(It's only limited by my creativity...
The silver fork hovered for just a second before descending, its prongs sinking effortlessly into the soft sponge. The cake gave no resistance — it parted like a dream, the airy layers yielding to the gentle pressure. A muffled squish whispered as the whipped cream bulged slightly, and a streak of strawberry juice glistened along the metal like crimson silk.
It was delicate yet satisfying — like pressing into the memory of something sweet. The fork emerged with a perfect bite: golden cake, fluffy cream, a sliver of red strawberry glinting like treasure. A quiet sigh escaped from the one holding it, as if the act alone had awakened something warm and nostalgic.
Verdessa's face lit up, the green aura around her glowing brighter, flowing like gentle waves of life itself. Her eyes widened, sparkling as she savored the tea's flavor—something almost forgotten, yet deeply familiar.
Across from her, Haruto couldn't help but let out a small laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his right hand to keep it modest.
"Heh…"
His voice carried a hint of amusement, soft and genuine.
"It's really that good, huh..."
Verdessa shake her head up and down agreement and of excitement
Haruto put one hand of the table to help him stand up as he stand up the light catch his subtle sparkle, like stars caught in twilight hair
Haruto looked down at Verdessa where she sat, her delicate fingers resting lightly on the arm of the chair. A small smile curved his lips, warm and genuine.
"This was fun…but I have to go now."
His voice was light, but there was a note of regret beneath it.
Verdessa's emerald eyes widened, and before he could step away, she reached out, catching him by the wrist. With surprising strength, she pulled him back a half-step, her hair slipping over her shoulder like a silver waterfall.
"Hey!"
Her voice rose, tinged with a rare petulance that made her seem almost young.
"You just got here—why are you leaving so soon? Things were just about to get…fun."
The last word came out softer, almost wistful.
Haruto gave a quiet chuckle, meeting her gaze evenly.
"I've got people waiting for me."
He tilted his head a little, offering a faintly teasing smile.
"I can't stay too long…but you can come with me, if you want."
Verdessa's expression shifted—wistful, then resigned. She shook her head just once, her eyes softening as she released her hold.
"…I can't."
Her voice was calm again, but a note of longing lingered there.
Slowly, she let her hand fall back to her lap, folding her slender fingers together
She turns slowly, eyes glowing with soft green light, her voice gentle — like wind through ancient trees.)
> "Haruto… I cannot leave. I was born not of flesh, but of root and soul. My existence is entwined with this realm."
(She raises her hand, and the surrounding forest pulses faintly in time with her breath.)
> "Every tree that grows… every spirit that sings… every drop of life Arcanum here flows through me. If I were to step beyond these bounds…"
(a pause, her gaze falling)
"…this world would begin to die."
(Her voice trembles slightly — not from fear, but reverence.)
> "I am not a queen who rules from a throne. I am the soil, the song, the breath of this place. My roots do not walk… they reach."
(She looks to Haruto, a small, bittersweet smile on her lips.)
> "But you… you can go where I cannot. And so I entrust my people, my forest, my soul… to you."
Haruto's eyes shot wide open—not just surprised, but staggered. It wasn't just what she said. It was what it meant. Something deeper. He felt it in his soul—the weight, the implication, the sacredness behind it.
And then it hit him like a tidal wave.
He stood up slightly, voice rising, uncharacteristically loud and raw:
"Hey!"
His expression tightened, not angry—but shaken.
"Do you know how big of a responsibility that is?"
He pointed toward her, not in accusation, but disbelief.
"Are you sure you want to entrust that to me?"
A golden ripple pulsed through the air. Symbols formed midair—clean, perfect, radiant.
Then came her voice. Calm. Composed. Echoing like starlight across silence
As Seraphina talks
"Confirmation: A blessing has been granted."
"Designation: Verdant Crown."
"Source identified—Verdessa, Queen of the Dryads."
"Classification: Divine in nature. Elemental attunement—life, nature, rebirth."
"Adjusting internal parameters to accommodate new providence."
The golden text shimmers briefly, a faint green hue lacing through the usual glow—like vines blooming in starlight.
Haruto look at the golden text in his heads he sighed and says
Juess it can be help it already done
Verdessa points at Haruto playfully her hands on her hips
Hehe now that you have my blessing you can communicate with me any time and you can enter the Lifebloom Layer without my permission.
Verdessa lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression serene despite the sadness at his departure.
"Since my path is not destruction…I'll be counting on you."
Her voice was soft but steady, carrying the quiet conviction of one who had chosen harmony over conquest.
Haruto smiled, a gentle warmth in his eyes as he inclined his head slightly.
"Sure. I don't have a problem with that."
He paused, the corners of his mouth turning up a little more—something mischievous behind the kindness.
"…And before I leave—"
He lifted one hand, a faint glimmer of power sparking between his fingers.
"—I'm giving you something extra."
On the table At the center stood a crystalline parfait glass, almost too beautiful to touch. Silky layers of pale blue cream rippled between delicate crumbs of golden biscuit and fresh blueberries so plump they seemed ready to burst with sweetness. A swirl of whipped cream crowned the top, adorned by a single white flower and a sprig of mint—an edible coronation. For a moment, it felt as though time itself paused to admire its perfection.
Beside it, three cakes reigned like nobles at a banquet:
A verdant pistachio sponge, its vivid green layers hugging billows of cream, the crown a fortress of glossy chocolate swirls and truffles, as if daring anyone to disturb its splendor.
A golden mango cake, draped in a luminous glaze that trickled down its sides in tender rivulets, crowned with cubes of ripe mango and a single chocolate plaque—an elegant proclamation of craftsmanship.
And a towering slice of red velvet cake, its crimson layers bound by buttery cream, crowned by two strawberries so vibrant they could almost be mistaken for precious gems.
A porcelain cup of latte waited quietly nearby, steam rising in delicate curls, the artful heart floating on its surface like a secret message only the worthy could decipher.
Further along the table, a plate of chocolate crepes had been arranged with a sort of restrained extravagance—rolled into tight spirals, filled to bursting with white cream, then drizzled in more cream and showered in crumbled chocolate. A single sprig of green tucked among them made the scene feel almost festive, like a celebration that had just begun.
Finally, a sleek box lay open, revealing six vibrant macarons lined in solemn procession. Raspberry red, buttercream yellow, earthy matcha green—each one filled with either piped cream or decadent ganache. Three were dipped in pastel chocolate, dusted with rainbow sprinkles, hearts, and bright shards of freeze-dried fruit, as though even the smallest sweets refused to be overshadowed.
It was the kind of spread that could weaken any resolve, a sweet arsenal crafted to lure even the most disciplined into surrender.
Verdessa's composure slipped for the briefest instant. Her eyes widened, and before she could stop herself, she reached out and picked up the nearest sweet between slender fingers.
She took a careful bite—then another, and another, until she'd sampled each and every piece. A soft, embarrassed flush colored her pale cheeks, though she didn't look away.
Haruto watched her with a smile he didn't bother to hide.
As he turned to leave, he thought to himself with a faint, amused exhale:
(It won't take long before she gets a sweet tooth.)
few days later, Haruto walked down the main avenue of his city. The early light spilled across polished stone streets, painting everything in soft gold. The air was full of life—laughter, clinking coins, the low hum of conversation in a dozen languages.
On either side of the street, little stories unfolded.
To his left, a woman with long green hair stood at a jeweler's stall, her slender fingers carefully choosing a necklace of pale blue crystal. She held it up to the light, examining how it shimmered as if it contained its own sky.
Just across from her, a massive, broad-shouldered man with curling ram horns was haggling loudly with a vendor over a sack of freshly butchered cock rabbit meat. He slapped the counter with a thick hand for emphasis, making the merchant flinch.
All along the avenue, creatures of every shape and heritage mingled freely—scale-skinned drakekin chatting with robed scholars, lithe elves passing baskets of fruit to curious humans, a pair of childlike spirits chasing each other between crates. Even among so many differences, there was a rare sense of ease and shared purpose.
Haruto's gaze moved slowly over it all, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
The afternoon bustle of the city square hummed with chatter and clinking carts. Lanterns swayed lazily in the breeze overhead. Citizens strolled through the market lanes—until a sudden burst of motion cut through it like a whirlwind.
Thump-thump—tap—tap—tap—THUD!
"Outta the waaaay!"
Two girls tore through the cobbled streets like festival confetti caught in a gust.
The first was a blur of rose-pink and black. A single horn peeked out from her windswept hair, and her mismatched outfit—a half-traditional, half-chaotic ensemble—flashed as she bounded forward. Mika, the oni girl, leapt onto a crate, spun midair, and used a passing fruit cart as a springboard. Her red eyes gleamed with mischief. Her ponytail whipped behind her like a comet tail, the red flower pinned in it barely holding on for dear life.
Right behind her was her best friend—a girl dressed like a walking sunflower festival. Her short, bobbed hair bounced with each step, and her vivid floral kimono billowed around her small frame like she was wrapped in a spring breeze. Her oversized yellow obi bounced comically as she ran, and the little bandage on her knee caught the light with each stride. She clutched her apron pocket like something important was about to fall out. "Mikaaa! Slow doooown!"
And then—
WHAM.
Mika smacked right into someone. Or rather, someone didn't move fast enough to dodge a speeding oni missile.
The world stuttered. She stumbled backward, blinking.
Haruto.
Tall. Stoic. Slightly annoyed.
He stood there like a wall she hadn't noticed on the map.
Mika looked up, dazed, face pressed against his chestplate. "Ah."
Haruto looked down, one brow raised, voice flat. "…You okay there?"
Haruto's eyes flicked down to the small oni girl still clinging to his chest like she was too shocked to move. He exhaled quietly, his mind catching up with the collision.
Yah? he thought dryly. She's Lunara's sister. Of course she is.
In front of him, the two girls slowly peeled themselves off the front of his armor. They shuffled back with their heads bowed, shoulders trembling as if they were already bracing for some grand scolding.
Haruto studied them for a long, silent moment. Then, with a small sigh, he raised his gloved hands and gently patted them both on the head.
They flinched at first—then cautiously looked up.
"Be careful next time," he said calmly, his voice low but not unkind.
He drew his hands back.
The two girls nodded so fast it looked like their heads might pop right off.
"Y…yes, Lord Haruto," they stammered in unison.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Haruto turned without another word, his cloak fluttering behind him.
They watched him go, eyes wide and shining, beaming like they'd just been blessed by the gods themselves.
He walked a few steps, then vanished in a single blink—his silhouette dissolving into the hot summer air.
When he reappeared, it was in the heart of the forest. The light dappled across his shoulders as he leaned back against an ancient tree, arms folded loosely across his chest.
The hush of leaves was the only witness to his quiet presence.
---
Haruto watched in silence, half-hidden in the deep shade cast by the ancient trees that edged the training ground. His golden eyes glimmered with a flicker of amusement as he took in the spectacle before him.
So this is what they're doing…
Across the clearing, Chloe and Liorn circled each other like dancers in a deadly waltz.
Chloe's long, silver-white hair streamed behind her as she leveled the custom long gun he'd forged just for her—sleek, black metal etched with pale runes that pulsed with hidden power. In her left hand, she held it steady, finger tightening on the trigger.
The moment she fired, there was no sound—just a split-second flicker of red light, too fast for the eye to follow.
Pew—pew—pew—
Each shot was faster than thought, a streak of crimson that carved the air.
Yet Liorn dodged every single one. Effortlessly. Her long black hair trailed like ink in water as she slipped aside, pivoting on a single foot with flawless grace. Not a trace of urgency showed on her pale face.
Haruto's smile widened just a fraction as he watched her weave through the volley.
Looks like Chloe's getting used to it, he thought in a calm, almost amused tone. I'm honestly surprised Liorn can dodge everything, considering I designed those bullets to move at the speed of light… no, six times faster than that.
His gaze drifted after one of the vanishing streaks.
And they're engineered to bypass endurance, regeneration… even conceptual defenses.
As the last scarlet beam burned past Liorn's cheek, she simply tilted her head to avoid it—her expression still unchanged.
Then, in the space between one heartbeat and the next, she disappeared.
Chloe froze, aqua-blue eyes scanning frantically.
"She's gone…!"
Her voice quivered as her gaze darted left, right—
THWACK!
A sharp impact collided with the back of her knee. Chloe yelped as her leg buckled, and she crumpled onto the grass.
Before she could recover, Liorn appeared behind her, arm already swinging in a precise arc to end the duel.
But Chloe's reflexes flared bright.
In one motion, she spun the long gun around her finger, the barrel snapping up to aim squarely at Liorn's heart.
The muzzle glowed with a gathering red light.
IThe long gun's barrel swung up—stopping just a hand's breadth from Liorn's face.
Chloe's finger tightened on the trigger.
BANG—!
A flare of red light flashed point-blank.
But Liorn was already gone. She leaned into a smooth backflip, hair fanning around her like dark silk as the shot hissed past her cheek and vaporized a distant tree branch.
Chloe's breathing came in ragged bursts. She tried to push herself upright, planting her palm in the grass—
—and collapsed again, her limbs trembling.
"W…what's… going on…?"
Her vision blurred. A dull, numbing ache spread from her neck down her spine.
Behind her ear, a tiny, precise puncture wound oozed a single drop of dark blood.
Her body slumped forward, consciousness slipping away—
—but before she could hit the ground, Liorn stepped in and caught her gently. One arm looped under Chloe's shoulders, steadying her as if she weighed nothing at all.
Chloe's eyes fluttered closed, her last breath a quiet sigh.
In the shadows beneath the trees, Haruto exhaled a slow, tired breath. His golden gaze lingered on the two of them—one unconscious, the other calmly brushing a stray lock of hair from Chloe's cheek.
Then he disappeared, swallowed by the darkness under the canopy without a sound.
His voice was low, almost resigned as it drifted across the clearing:
I've given everyone an off day… and now I'm regretting it.
A pause, thoughtful, almost wistful.
I wonder if Velara is doing all right at the hospital. I only created her a week ago… I should check on her.
Leaves rustled in his wake, and then the forest was silent again.
The towering spires of the hospital rose into the crisp mountain air, their terracotta roofs glinting like polished copper in the afternoon sun. To any unsuspecting traveler, it looked less like a sanctuary for the sick and more like some sprawling noble's estate—an ostentatious declaration of wealth and civic pride.
Haruto clicked his tongue as the carriage rolled past the fountain that sparkled at the heart of the courtyard. Water danced in intricate arcs, glistening in a way that almost mocked the simple purpose of the building behind it.
He stepped down, boots crunching over white cobblestones. His gaze swept across the rows of immaculate hedges, the wide steps, the grand clock tower watching all who entered.
"Honestly," he murmured, folding his arms over his chest, "this looks more like a house some overblown duke would retire to than a hospital."
The orc steward trailing behind him let out a deep, rumbling laugh that made the birds in the cypress trees scatter. "Master Haruto, you wound us. We orcs take our healing craft very seriously. A hospital must comfort the spirit as well as the body."
Haruto arched a skeptical brow, fighting the smirk that tugged at his mouth. "Comfort the spirit, huh? Sure. Or maybe you just have a taste for excess."
He tilted his head back, taking in the stained-glass windows, the colossal main doors framed by ornamental pillars. "I swear, you orcs really know what you're doing when it comes to architecture. I almost expect some spoiled heir to come stumbling out complaining about the vintage of the wine."
The orc steward only chuckled again, unbothered by the jab. "Come inside, Master. You'll see—once you step past the threshold, it's a place of serious work."
Haruto sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Fine. But if someone tries to hand me a glass of imported brandy in the sick ward, I'm going back to the mansion."
Haruto stepped through the polished white corridor, his gaze sweeping over the rows of closed doors and the faint antiseptic tang lingering in the air.
The entrance hall itself was nothing short of breathtaking—soaring vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting scenes of ancient healing rites, the golden paint glinting beneath the soft, mage-lit chandeliers that floated weightlessly in the air.
To his left, tall arched windows poured sunlight across a floor of luminous marble inlaid with delicate silver filigree patterns—like constellations frozen underfoot. Rows of potted starblossoms spilled cascades of soft blue petals from ornate brass urns, their faint perfume mingling with the sterile tang of disinfectant.
As he walked, he caught glimpses through open doorways: nurses in immaculate uniforms bending over patients, shimmering halos of healing magic coiling around wounds and fractures. In one treatment chamber, a young man lay prone on a padded crystal slab, eyes shut tight as translucent strands of green-gold light wove themselves around his shoulder, reassembling a whole arm with eerie, methodical precision.
A few steps farther, he passed a wide receiving hall with long counters of polished darkwood, where clerks murmured into enchanted mirrors, their voices muffled by the soft hum of aetheric wards.
It was a place that felt like a palace masquerading as a clinic—ornate but functional, built to impress as much as to heal.
He had come in search of Velara—a woman whose presence could quiet even the most volatile wards.
Haruto stepped through the polished white corridor, his gaze sweeping over the rows of closed doors and the faint antiseptic tang lingering in the air. He had come in search of Velara—a woman whose presence could quiet even the most volatile wards.
But before he could so much as inquire at the reception desk, a figure in crisp white moved into his path with surprising speed.
—click, click, click—
Her heels tapped a staccato rhythm against the tile.
"Ah, there you are!"
A slender hand, gloved in pale fabric, clamped around his forearm with unexpected strength.
Haruto blinked, meeting a pair of ice-blue eyes framed by golden bangs. The nurse—her uniform cut sharply against her curves—fixed him with a look that was equal parts stressed and exasperated.
"Honestly, you're late. Again."
Her voice was smooth but edged with irritation as she tugged insistently on his arm, guiding him down the hallway before he could so much as protest.
"Mistaken identity," he began, though his tone remained calm, even faintly amused.
"If you're going to make excuses, save them for later," she cut in, not even glancing back. "The place is chaos today. You'll have to wait a bit longer before we can start."
He felt the subtle flex of her grip as she turned sharply, pulling him through a set of double doors into a meeting room lined with neat stacks of folders and glowing chart displays.
Morgana—if he recalled her name correctly from the staff ledger—released his arm at last, exhaling a tight breath. Her expression softened only a fraction.
"Sit. Someone will be with you shortly."
Then, as though she'd just realized she might have been a touch too forward, she hesitated—eyes flicking over him, as if trying to reconcile his face with the man she'd expected.
Haruto tilted his head, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"…I think there's been a misunderstanding."
She's already gone
Haruto stepped into the grand chamber, where elegance draped itself over every surface like an old, well-worn cloak of royalty. Sunlight streamed through towering arched windows, their emerald-green curtains billowing gently in the breeze, casting shifting patterns across the polished parquet floor. The walls rose high, crowned with intricate carvings that looked as though a thousand artisans had etched their devotion into the stone itself.
Massive bookshelves flanked each side, packed with tomes bound in leather and gilt, the air perfumed faintly with old parchment and fresh lilies arranged in tall porcelain vases. A golden chaise lounge lounged—quite literally—beneath the light, inviting idleness, while a matching set of deep plum chairs and a couch clustered around a low ivory table atop a round rug.
With measured steps, Haruto crossed the room, the quiet tap of his boots sounding almost insolent in such serene splendor. He brushed his hand across the velvet upholstery of the couch before settling down, exhaling a long breath as though the room itself demanded reverence. Outside the glass, a fountain played a soft, crystalline tune, completing the tableau of hushed opulence.
This place looks great...
Haruto looks around the place like a kid his eyes catch a book in the massive bookshelves
Nestled among the countless spines lining the tall shelf was a singular tome that seemed almost to breathe with its own quiet gravitas. Its cover was midnight-black leather, smooth and unblemished, adorned with intricate filigree of gold that shimmered even in the dim light. An elaborate design sprawled across its surface: a serene crescent moon with a woman's tranquil face, surrounded by a constellation of tiny, delicate stars and swirling celestial patterns that looked as though they might shift if one stared too long. A polished clasp secured its secrets, as if daring any unworthy hand to pry it open.
Seated upon the plum velvet couch, Haruto slowly lifted his palm. A white radiance welled up in the center of his hand, luminous and calm. The glow drifted outward in a quiet ripple, washing over the shelves. The moment it touched the dark tome, the book answered—its gilded symbols pulsing in response, as though recognizing an old master.
In an instant, the volume dissolved into motes of silvery light, vanishing from its resting place. The brilliance coalesced again above Haruto's hand, solidifying with a soft chime before settling neatly into his grasp. The ancient cover was warm beneath his fingertips, as if the book itself had been waiting for this moment.
Haruto was about to open the book but Seraphina interfere
"Hmph… You truly intend to open that tome? Haruto… you do realize I already possess every word of its contents—and far beyond. I am omniscient within this multiverse. If you wish to learn, you need only ask me. Though… I must admit, it troubles me to see you preferring a mere book over my counsel
Haruto look at Seraphina with a disbelief look on his face he says softly with a confused tone
Omniscient???
Haruto threw his hands in the air, turning toward the shimmering projection of Seraphina. His voice boomed across the space—half yelling, half laughing in disbelief.
"So you're the smartest in the whole multiverse, huh?!"
He pointed accusingly, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"Then—wait—can you please explain what a 'multiverse' actually is?!"
He shook his head like he was scolding a particularly smug cat.
"Is it just… I don't know… countless universes piled on top of each other, or—stuff?"
Haruto cleared his throat—loudly, like he needed the entire realm to hear it. He straightened his posture, trying to look very dignified despite the redness creeping up his neck.
"Hey! Don't get the wrong idea."
He jabbed a finger in Seraphina's general direction, voice firm—maybe a little too defensive.
"It's not like I'm unversed in the workings of the universe—or the multiverse—or… whatever!"
Her tone calm, almost melodic, the air around you shimmering faintly as she projects the knowledge into your mind.
Seraphina gentle, composed, pretending she believes him
"…Of course."
"As you are… aware…"
"This multiverse is not merely infinite universes drifting side by side."
"It is a layered, living structure—Material worlds, Spirit realms, Afterlife domains, and Conceptual strata—all woven together by Arcanum."
"It is the Mother's design… a reality stack where even the logic of existence itself may be altered."
A faint pause, as if she is giving him one last chance to admit he has no idea.
> "…I trust this aligns with your… understanding."
Haruto lifted his right hand, resting a finger thoughtfully under his chin. His gaze turned distant, processing the layers of meaning in Seraphina's explanation.
"So… in our reality, a 'multiverse' is much more complex than the simple idea of a bunch of parallel universes."
He gave a slow nod, expression serious. But as the silence stretched, a questioning look crept across his face—eyebrows drawing together, eyes narrowing in skeptical curiosity.
Haruto turned his head to look directly at Seraphina's projection, curiosity flickering behind his calm eyes. He lowered his hand from his chin, voice quiet but steady.
"Hey… Seraphina."
He paused for a moment, studying her expression—or the closest thing she had to one.
"Earlier… you mentioned someone called 'Mother.'"
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.
"Who's that?"
Seraphina (voice calm, tone tinged with quiet respect):
> "I possess all known information within the multiverse and its layers."
"Yet, the Mother of Life precedes the genesis of the Akashic Records themselves."
"Her existence is an enigma—unbound by record or observation."
"…My knowledge of her is incomplete."
Haruto stared at her in total silence, his expression flat as a sheet of unmarked paper. He didn't blink. He didn't move. He just looked vaguely, profoundly unimpressed.
After a moment, he sighed and tilted his head, voice low and edged with disappointment—and just a hint of a smirk.
"Huh… What an omniscient you are."
He lifted an eyebrow slightly, the teasing note clear.
"Really impressive."
For a moment, the golden script in the air flickered—lines of light fracturing like cracked glass.
Seraphina's voice, always so even and serene, wavered by a fraction of a tone—too subtle for anyone but him to notice.
---
Seraphina (quiet, almost hesitant):
> "…I… see."
"Your disappointment has been… registered."
A faint, irregular shimmer passed through the golden symbols, as though her immaculate processes had stuttered.
> "…I will recalibrate my conduct."
"I… apologize."
Haruto watched as Seraphina's projection went still—quiet. No witty retort. No gentle correction. Just silence. His eyes widened a fraction, and he felt a pang of regret tighten in his chest.
He lifted both hands a little, voice pitching higher with sudden concern.
"Hey, hey?! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or anything—I was just joking!"
But Seraphina remained unresponsive, the soft glow of her presence dim and unreadable.
Panic crept into his tone as he leaned forward, searching for any sign she was listening.
"Come on—don't ignore me!"
His voice dropped, softer now, almost pleading.
"Where would I even be without you?"
Outside of the room where Haruto is a hand goes toward the door Handel and pull its open
Velara walks in her Long, silvery-white hair that cascades past her waist like moonlight over a midnight lake. The ends are tinged with dusky pink, adding a surreal, otherworldly glow. A single thick braid drapes over her shoulder, laced with black ties. The rest flows freely in sleek, silky waves—some strands curling around her horns, as if alive
Velara say politely while look up to see who it is
I'm very sorry for the wait
As she sees who it is her Piercing crimson eyes with slit pupils, glimmering with ancient knowledge and sly amusement turn into shock and fear
The only words coming out of her goes slowly softly
It's..been ...very busy
Haruto's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Velara, a serious glint flickering behind his gaze. A slow, knowing smile curved at the corner of his lips—not quite sinister, but definitely carrying a teasing edge.
"Yes, it does seem you were busy..."
His tone was calm, serious, but with a subtle playful bite beneath it.
"But... I don't like waiting too long."
Velara strode toward Haruto in hurried, unsteady steps, her usual graceful poise unraveling. The sharp echo of her heels clipped the air—too fast, almost desperate. She nearly stumbled over her own feet, catching herself at the last instant.
Without a word, she dropped to her knees. Her hands pressed against the floor, claws splayed, her head lowering until her silver hair pooled around her like liquid moonlight.
Her velvet voice trembled, thin and shaking in a way Haruto had never heard.
"S-sor…sorry, Supreme One…"
Her breath shivered as she exhaled, her shoulders tightening.
"…for letting you wait on me—a lowly servant…"
Haruto slowly lifted himself up from the couch, his movements calm but deliberate. He watched Velara trembling on the floor, her head still bowed low, and for a moment…he was too surprised to say anything.
As he stood fully, Velara's shoulders shook harder. Her breath hitched—like she was waiting for judgment.
Inside his mind, Haruto's thoughts tripped over themselves in bewilderment.
Supreme One?! What…?!
He blinked, frowning slightly.
Why is she calling me that…?!
Seraphina (calm, composed, with the gentlest explanatory tone):
> "Since you created her—her soul, her self-awareness, and her physical form—it is natural she refers to you as 'Supreme One.'"
"You are, in
Haruto's eyes widened just a fraction, surprise flickering across his face. But it lasted only a heartbeat. His expression calmed, settling into a quiet, serious composure.
He let out a soft sigh, the sound more weary than frustrated. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered himself down onto one knee in front of her.
His voice was gentle—low and warm, stripped of any judgment.
"Velara…?"
He waited until she stilled, her trembling quieting just a little.
"Raise your head."
Haruto's eyes widened as her gaze finally lifted to meet his. The look in Velara's eyes stopped him cold—wide and uncertain, the careful composure she wore like a mask now cracked and fragile.
He hesitated, then reached out without thinking. His hand touched hers—light, reassuring—and gently closed around her trembling fingers.
With calm strength, he guided her up until she was standing, her head still bowed slightly.
His voice was quiet but firm, leaving no room for argument:
"Take a seat."
He waited until she obeyed, sinking carefully onto the couch.
"You don't need to kneel on the ground."
For a moment, silence settled between them—soft and heavy.
Haruto turned without another word and walked across the polished floor to the massive window that overlooked the garden. He stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching the green grass ripple in the breeze.
The white stone walls enclosing the place gleamed in the morning light, dappled with shadows from the arching trees. Red and blue flowers climbed in tangles along the base of the wall, their petals shifting like tiny flags.
Haruto didn't turn right away. He stood in the light from the massive window, his silhouette outlined in pale gold. The breeze from outside stirred the edges of his coat.
His voice, when he spoke, was low and caring:
"Velara."
At the sound of her name, she lifted her head. Slowly, she turned to face him fully—massive, jagged black horns crowning her skull in an elaborate coronet. Some spiraled upward like twisted antlers, others curved out to the sides in menacing arcs. They looked almost alive, as though wrought from obsidian and shadow itself. Smaller pronged spikes erupted at their bases, completing a silhouette as regal as it was fearsome.
But to Haruto, there was no menace in her—only the being he'd chosen to bring into the world.
He exhaled softly, finally shifting to look her straight in the eyes.
"I created you."
His tone was even—factual, but never cold.
"That doesn't mean you have to be afraid of me."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"If I wanted to keep you as a slave…or use you as a tool…I wouldn't have given you true self-awareness. Or free will. Or any of the other things that make you you."
For a moment, the garden was the only sound—wind in the flowers, rustling leaves brushing against white stone.
Haruto turned just enough t