Yor opened his eyes—and instantly tensed.
The sight before him was eerie in a way that rattled his bones.
Surrounding him stood thirteen Oracles, each devoted to one of the gods. They wore long, black cloaks, and masks carved with features that reflected their divine patrons—some radiant, others fearsome. The Oracles had formed a perfect circle around him. Beneath each one, a mosaic insignia representing their god shimmered faintly on the stone floor.
Suddenly, the Oracles began to murmur an incantation.
As the final word left their lips, the mosaics burst into radiant light, illuminating the entire chamber in waves of divine color. Each Oracle's body tensed as though struck by invisible lightning—and then, slowly, they began to change.
They were no longer merely human.
The gods had taken hold of them.
But what Yor didn't expect was what came next.
The Oracles' postures shifted. Their breathing altered movements became… looser, unbothered. They didn't seem the least bit ceremonial. Their gestures, their posture, even their presence felt oddly relaxed. As if The Benediction wasn't a sacred event.
One Oracle, wearing a bone-white mask shaped like a goat skull with large black horns, plopped down cross-legged on the floor, resting her head lazily in her palm.
"I am Dydia," she said, her voice flat and toneless—not bored, just unsettlingly calm. "Goddess of Death, Afterlife, and Shepherd of Souls."
"I hereby begin The Benediction."
---
"Your performance in the World Event was noteworthy—especially that friend of yours who uncovered most of the enemies' weaknesses," said Solarius, God of the Sun, Light, and Sacred Judgment, his mask shaped like a golden sun with hands extending outward like rays.
"Yor? Yeah, I have to admit, we wouldn't have finished the event in within an hour without him." Ludwig smirked proudly, his hands resting on his hips.
"You seem quite fond of him. But let's put him aside for now. Before we arrived here, seven gods had already shown favor toward you—most of them are godesses, except for Dydia here.
But the one who liked you the most... was Lyre, the Goddess of Music."
Ludwig shrugged and smirked, convinced his beauty was simply on another level—even the gods had acknowledged it.
Sorry, ladies—my heart currently belongs to Winter.
Lyre turned her head away, almost shy. Her Oracle's golden mask shimmered under the light, delicate floral patterns etched into the metal. Half her face remained exposed, like a carefully chosen glimpse of vulnerability.
"It's obvious she likes you for your looks," said a voice—smooth and mocking. Merumon, God of Greed and Trickery, stood with his arms lazily crossed, his Oracle's fox-like mask glinting with mischief. "The rest of the goddesses? Probably the same."
"Wrong." The voice came sharp and clear. It was Krimora, Goddess of the Deep Sea, stood tall with her arms crossed, eyes piercing deep blue behind a seafoam-green mask shaped like flowing coral.
"You're downplaying his performance in the World Event—making it sound like we picked him for his face. Don't forget, he was the only one who landed a hit on the Flora Enchanter with that precise dagger strike."
"Our brother's a comedian now," said Juraia, Goddess of the Forest and Keeper of the Wild. She shot Merumon a sharp side-eye, her irritation clear behind the lion-shaped mask.
Another voice followed—calm but firm.
"Don't misinterpret my choice, either."
It was Pereluna, Goddess of the Moon and Darkness. Her Oracle's voice was like a whisper in the night. "I believe he can actually keep up with my offerings."
Alice, the Godess of Frost and Protector of the Northern Mountains shook her head in irritation, wearing a mountain bear mask.
Leonyra, the Goddess of War and Wrath, stepped forward—fierce and commanding. Her Oracle's war-mask gleamed like iron, and her voice carried weight: deep, powerful, and clear.
"Don't lump me into your foolishness, Merumon. I'm warning you."
Merumon raised both hands in surrender, chuckling nervously.
"Alright, alright. You're not wrong. That shot was impressive."
Then Solarius's Oracle stepped forward and cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.
"Now then. Since the decision has been made…"
He raised his hand.
"My brothers and sisters—those who wish to align with him—raise your hands."
One by one, hands rose.
7 gods favored him.
The mosaic insignias beneath those who raised their hands glowed brilliantly, each one pulsing with divine light.
"Let us bestow our blessing," he declared. "May what you give in return be worthy of the blessings you've received," they said, extending their hands toward Ludwig as they channeled their individual blessings into him.
A bright yellow light enveloped Ludwig, and suddenly, several glowing system messages appeared before his eyes:
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of the Deep Sea, Krimora.]
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of the Moon and Darkness, Pereluna.]
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of the Forest and Keeper of the Wild, Juraia.]
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of Music, Lyre.]
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of War and Wrath, Leonyra.]
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of Frost and Keeper of the Northern Mountains, Alice.]
[You have been blessed by the God of the Sun, Light, and Sacred Judgment, Solarius.]
---
Meanwhile, Rywes lowered her head before the gods, stunned by their overwhelming presence. Even so, she kept her expression calm, trying not to show how nervous she felt.
"Rywes," came a deep, steady voice, "the one who gathered the players to form a raid party, and came up with the strategy to defeat Azakkin and the Flora Enchanter."
It was Pyronus, God of Fire and Destruction. He stepped forward slowly, his mask dark red and shaped like dancing flames. His voice was calm, but there was strength simmering just beneath it, like a volcano that was not erupting, but you could still feel the heat.
Deimon, God of the Living Land, chimed in next. His voice sounded like a young boy's.
"Just convincing people to join is already tough. But getting a hundred players to follow you into battle? I respect that."
He nodded once, his mask glittering with multicolored gemstones.
"Even with limited knowledge about the Flora Enchanter and Azakkin, you still managed to piece things together. I wonder—did you also realize Azakkin was nothing more than a trap? If it got too close to death, it would've triggered a self-destruct and wiped out the entire battlefield," Juraia said, placing a finger to her chin, eyes curious.
"We didn't figure it out. The monster suddenly ran off—but I knew it had to be the other half of our raid party. They must've broken the connection just in time," came the reply.
"Is that so." said Harimon, God of Creation, Art, and Beauty. His tone was warm and friendly, with a hint of femininity in his movements.
"They were able hold off Azakkin with just fifty players right? That gave me chills. Definitely my favorite part."
He stood tall, his plain white mask accented with delicate gold lines near the eyes.
Rywes lowered her gaze again.
"I don't think I deserve this much praise. I only did what I thought was best... what was efficient."
Harimon stepped closer with a grin. He gently tilted her chin up with his hand.
"Don't be too humble. Raise your head, Rywes."
He chuckled. "That beauty deserves to be flaunted."
Rywes blinked, caught off guard, just as Horidae, Goddess of the Tempest Sky, jumped in with a teasing smirk.
"Wow, Harimon. You were quiet when it was that handsome guy Ludwig—real quiet."
Merumon laughed.
"Don't call it out."
"I'm just being nice!" Harimon said with a shrug.
"Alright. If you're all done talking, I'll start."
The gods gradually returned to their respective places, the light chatter fading.
Dydia raised her hand—not too high, just enough to signal clearly. Her voice was calm but carried authority.
"Brothers and sisters—raise your hand if you wish to align with Rywes."
The room grew still as hands began to rise, one by one.
Seven gods raised their hands to align with her. Beneath each of them, their mosaic insignias lit up, glowing with divine energy. That power flowed toward her, surrounding her in a bright yellow light.
Then, a system message appeared in front of her:
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of War and Wrath, Leonyra.]
[You have been blessed by Solarius, God of Sun, Light, and Sacred Judgment.]
[You have been blessed by Pyronus, God of Fire and Destruction.]
[You have been blessed by Deimon, God of the Living Land.]
[You have been blessed by Harimon, God of Creation, Art, and Beauty.]
[You have been blessed by Horidae, God of the Tempest Sky.]
[You have been blessed by Dydia, God of Death, the Afterlife, and Shepherd of Souls.]
---
Yor, on the other hand, kept bowing in apology. Earlier, he'd been so disoriented that he'd started coughing uncontrollably—so much that he accidentally spat all over the marble floor. A few of the gods looked visibly disgusted.
"Sorry about earlier—for spitting on the marble floor. I know this place is sacred. I get bad motion sickness," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Don't worry about it, Yor."
Harimon flashed a peace sign and tilted his head with a smile.
Yor chuckled awkwardly, still a bit embarrassed.
"Yor—a sharp warrior who spotted the boss's weak point when no one else could. Your contribution was key to its defeat," Pyronus declared, his voice firm beneath the mask.
"You impressed a lot of us, Yor—"
"You impressed a lot of us, Yor—"
But then his name echoed. Once. Twice. Then over and over, glitching like a broken record. Even the gods' movements began to stutter.
Am I lagging? What the hell is happening?
Yor glanced around. Suddenly, everyone had stopped moving—it felt like time itself had frozen.
He blinked once.
The thirteen Oracles were gone.
Only one person remained—a tall man in a long coat. Yor couldn't make out his face, just a silhouette framed by the light. He stood completely still, glowing blue eyes fixed on Yor in eerie silence.
It was as if Yor had fallen into a dream he couldn't wake from. In the vast, dimly lit divine arena, only the two of them remained—staring at each other across the silence.
"H-Hello? Who are you? W-What's happening?" Yor asked, his voice stuttered, uncertain whether he should even speak.
The man stayed silent for a moment, scratched his eyebrow, then let out a raspy, deep laugh. He started walking toward Yor, each step echoing across the vast, quiet space.
"Oh! You sound like him too. I'm so happy!"
He stopped a few steps away. A soft light spilled over him, revealing his face—messy brown hair, slight dark eyebags, a bit of beard on his chin, and piercing blue eyes. He looked to be in his thirties, tall, around six feet, with worn clothes and a strange energy about him.
"By any chance, have you watched an anime called Mr. Zero?"
Yor's brow furrowed, his lips parting slightly in shock. He hadn't expected that question at all.
---
The Benediction had ended. In a blink, they were back in the forest clearing.
Yor immediately doubled over, coughing and groaning—motion sickness hitting him hard again as he dropped to his knees.
Around them, the crowd buzzed with excitement, everyone comparing blessings—counting which gods had chosen them, and how many.
Then, without warning, Winter swooped in, hovering just above the ground on her broom.
"Miss me?" she grinned.
"So, The Benediction has ended—I just want to congratulate you on the blessings you received. Whether you've been blessed by one god or all of them, it's still a big deal."
Her bright voice drew everyone's attention.
"Didn't get blessed? Don't worry. You can still earn their favor by visiting their churches, provide offerings, and prove your worth." She gave a small wink.
"The gods are picky. They don't waste their blessings on those who lack potential or drive." She leaned forward a bit. "And since their blessings are limited, they choose with care." She nodded repeatedly.
"Rywes, how many gods aligned with you?"
The question from a player beside her was light, but curious.
"I'm sorry, I don't wanna tell." Rywes replied with a gentle smile, meeting her gaze.
"Oh…"
"I only got one."
The other person blinked, then nodded, a little embarrassed as she looked away.
"The next chapter of your adventure awaits, everybody!"
She raised her hand in a sweeping, dramatic gesture—as if unveiling a grand stage before them. A gentle gust stirred the air, just enough to lift their hair and cloaks.
"From here on out, your true journey begins. Go out there, reach the horizon, explore, and grow stronger—and remember: death now comes with consequences."
Her voice held both excitement and warning, setting the tone for what lay ahead.