'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

"The power's solid. Big range, and even without a gravitational boost, it's fast, surprisingly so." Mize gave a satisfied nod, once, then again, fully pleased with her growing arsenal of attacks.

With a flick of her fingers, her character panel shimmered into view, translucent and framed with a faint silver glow, hovering just above her palm.

[Personal Status Panel]

[Title]: Goddess Awakening

[Awakening Status]: Awakened

[Profession]: Path of the Degraded Goddess, Beauty and Lust Divinity

[Realm]: Tier 3

[Beauty System]

Beauty Points: 71

Cute: 60

Charm: 64

[Inventory]

Storage Ring (Mid-Stage Blue Grade): Holds high-end fashion items, accessories

[Skills]

[Points]: 56,000

[Note:] Appearance increases cost 1,000 points. Physical attributes cost 10,000 points per increase.

Nothing seemed to have changed since her last check, but Mize wasn’t too bothered.

Aside from the slight quirk in her goddess form, nothing about the system felt threatening.

The system had explained it clearly enough, her emotional state could influence the form she took on while transformed.

As for any dangerous loss of self-control, it was unlikely... aside from that weird anomaly with Aizen’s doing.

It was AIZEN'S DOING!

she gritted her teeth but held it in quietly.

Her eyes scanned down the list of skills, going over each one in detail.

Nature Guard? Straightforward. Strong. Effective.

Summoning dozens of Tier 5 monsters without breaking a sweat meant that on sheer force alone, she could bulldoze through most common lords.

It wasn’t even a contest at this point. Her profession was just absurd.

Creation at her fingertips, but of course, there were still some limitations to it.

Such as the warp's own system. If she ever tried touching them too much, according to the system, [Death].

Teleportation came next.

When used through her skill set rather than her innate ability, the cost on her mental reserves dropped significantly.

[Direct imagination] = high cost

[Skills created from imagination realism] = less costly

Clean, efficient, and far more sustainable for repeated use.

Then came the new additions, Mental Tanks. A brilliant concept, really.

A bit of a brainchild of hers.

By splitting off parts of her capacity, she could store a massive surplus of mental energy, effectively tripling her overall reserve.

So far, she’d made three. But that was just the beginning.

Each tank was paired with a visualization feature, Mental Strength Digitalization.

Kind of like those old-school mana charts from novels, except with a personal twist.

She didn’t like numbers. Numbers gave her a headache. So instead of digits, she opted for a mental representation: a lake. Massive, still, deep.

She wasn’t sure how it compared to your average awakened, but if she had to guess, she was on the very extreme end of abnormal.

“I’m basically a walking fortress now, aren’t I?” she murmured, smiling to herself.

A second later, she idly flung another golden palm into the distance.

A thunderous impact followed, the earth groaning from the blastwave as the skill detonated far off.

The golden palm, it was one of those classic moves.

A default setting for those protagonists in the books she’d read. She borrowed the concept, refined it, made it hers.

Then her eyes fell to another familiar name, Cataclysmic Orb.

Already field-tested.

Devastation, can be fired at will without much CD needed, or none at all.

And just beneath it…

“Ahhh, a proper classic,” she grinned, eyes twinkling as her gaze settled on the skill's name: Almighty Push.

Right on cue, another wave of dark fireballs arced toward her from the horizon.

She spread her fingers, hand extended, voice rising just enough to carry, mocking.

"Almighty... Push."

The world responded.

At first, the attack began in silence.

An invisible ripple unfurled from beneath her feet, spreading outward like a low, circular pulse.

The movement stirred the air, distorting the space around her as pressure built with a slow, ominous swell.

Then.

Boom!

Cracks splintered across the ground.

The atmosphere dimmed. Space itself seemed to flicker for a breath.

And then it hit.

A concussive force surged outward, tearing across the terrain with devastating might.

The explosion was horizontal, clean and fast.

No fireball. No pillar of smoke.

Just destruction, blasted outward in every direction from the point of origin.

Like a ripple... It expanded.

The earth didn’t shatter, it vanished.

Entire sections of the field were erased.

Shadow soldiers, battle mages, hidden combatants in those distant rocks, gone in a breath.

The shockwave rolled on, ripping through defenses, toppling the earth, scattering debris like feathers in a storm.

Far off, Liam’s mouth twitched as he watched the aftermath unfold. A long sigh slipped through his nose.

Aizen, standing just behind him, stepped up with a tight swallow. “My Lord... I think we shouldn’t let Her Highness run too wild with her imagination.”

A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face. He didn’t bother wiping it.

“She’s... less of a helpless rabbit and more of a walking warhead,” he said quietly, voice a touch strained.

Liam crossed his arms, tapping a single finger against his elbow in a slow rhythm, still staring out at the ruined landscape.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “We’re going to need a nuclear disaster prevention team.”

“I fully support this idea, My Lord,” Aizen said immediately, nodding a little too fast.

“In case our entire territory ends up as collateral"

The scene shifted back to Mize, her gaze sliding down the final column of her skill list with a casual kind of interest, fingertips lightly tapping against the air as she scrolled.

Reduction Boost.

She’d made it purely to cut down the cost of casting. Nothing elegant or flashy—just practical. Under her design, the skill would chop up to fifty percent off the original energy toll for any activated ability.

Ridiculous? Absolutely.

But that was the point.

Even Mize had trouble believing she’d actually pulled it off. But that was the charm of Imagination Realism. Logic didn’t matter. If she could conceptualize it, she could shape it. That was the entire premise. Anything she envisioned could become reality. The rules bent to her will—or ignored her altogether.

And now, the real test.

“Let’s try making a skill similar to Aizen’s weird false-truth domain,” she muttered, letting her thoughts sink into focus.

She started by imagining a void—hollow, vacant, a space stripped of sound, light, or matter.

A shell. Cold. Inert.

Then it shattered.

From the ruin, illusion bloomed—trees broke through the nothingness, plains stretched out, mountains unfolded one by one. A lone figure appeared, stepping through the mirage, taming the land, sowing fields, harvesting seasons. He aged. He lived. He died.

And then… he was alive again.

Unchanged, yet changed. Alive, yet marked by death.

It didn’t make sense, but that was the whole point.

False truth. True falsehood. Both at once.

Then—boom.

A radiant pulse erupted from her forehead, washing outward in a smooth, controlled burst. It formed a glowing orb, hovering weightless in front of her before she flicked her hand and reeled it back, pressing it neatly into her palm.

It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat.

“Cost a lot more than I thought, but still manageable,” she said to herself, voice light, pleased. “Half a mental tank. Could’ve been worse.”

The sphere rotated slowly as she tossed it between her hands, its surface flickering with faint distortions—like a world trying to form and collapse all at once. Inside, it was still simulating the concept of void, constantly resetting into nothing because nothing had yet been defined.

She shut her eyes, just briefly, to better sense it.

Then opened them again, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“A more refined domain than Aizen’s,” she murmured. “Doesn’t even need me physically inside it. I can expand or shrink it however I want—and I only need a sliver of will to operate it.”

It was easy to control. Flexible. No anchoring needed.

She could designate part of her will, let it take over operations inside the space. It could develop skills, simulate battles, run training loops on its own. It wasn’t just a spell—it was her personal battleground, a blank slate that could think and fight for her when she didn’t want to.

And she had no plans to waste it on just skill development. She could pit her own mental fragments against one another, test theoretical moves, recreate combat scenarios. The applications were endless.

Then a thought hit her.

Could she alter the flow of time in there?

Yes… and no.

The space had its own temporal rhythm—fixed at a 10:1 ratio. Ten days inside equaled a single day outside. Not perfect, but fast enough to make a difference.

And useful. Immensely so.

With a flick of her wrist, she guided two faint trails of will into the orb. The moment they entered, the sphere floated closer to her chest, and she pressed it inward, tucking it away into her body like sealing a scroll.

Inside, the twin wisps of thought began to reshape.

They molded into mirror versions of herself—same features, same stance, same energy. Without pause, they clashed. No words, no delay. Just instinctual combat on repeat.

Each blow sharpened. Each clash refined.

Instantly, the stream of insight began to flow into Mize’s mind, flooding her senses with crystallized combat experience. It was like watching herself from a hundred angles at once—correcting errors, reworking timing, optimizing every move.

She exhaled, half amused.

“This is only the start. No need to go full throttle right out of the gate,” she said softly, brushing her hair back with the heel of her hand.

There was time. Plenty of it.

She had all the freedom in the world to build more, to experiment, to take breaks and come back with new ideas. There was no rush.

With a small grin, she snapped her fingers.

Liam crossed his arms, tapping a single finger against his elbow in a slow rhythm, still staring out at the ruined landscape.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “We’re going to need a nuclear disaster prevention team.”

“I fully support this idea, My Lord,” Aizen said immediately, nodding a little too fast.

“In case our entire territory ends up as collateral"

The scene shifted back to Mize, her gaze sliding down the final column of her skill list with a casual kind of interest, fingertips lightly tapping against the air as she scrolled.

Reduction Boost.

She’d made it purely to cut down the cost of casting.

Nothing elegant or flashy, just practical.

Under her design, the skill would chop up to fifty percent off the original energy toll for any activated ability.

Ridiculous? Absolutely.

But that was the point.

Even Mize had trouble believing she’d actually pulled it off. But that was the charm of Imagination Realism.

Logic didn’t matter. If she could conceptualize it, she could shape it

That was the entire premise. Anything she envisioned could become reality. The rules bent to her will, or ignored her altogether.

And now, the real test.

“Let’s try making a skill similar to Aizen’s weird false-truth domain,” she muttered, letting her thoughts sink into focus.

She started by imagining a void, hollow, vacant, a space stripped of sound, light, or matter.

A shell.

Then it shattered.

From the ruin, illusion bloomed, trees broke through the nothingness, plains stretched out, mountains unfolded one by one.

A lone figure appeared, stepping through the mirage, taming the land, sowing fields, harvesting seasons.

He aged. He lived. He died.

And then… he was alive again.

Unchanged, yet changed. Alive, yet marked by death.

It didn’t make sense, but that was the whole point.

False truth. True falsehood. Both at once.

Then, boom.

A radiant pulse erupted from her forehead, washing outward in a smooth, controlled burst.

It formed a glowing orb, hovering weightless in front of her before she flicked her hand and reeled it back, pressing it neatly into her palm.

It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat.

“Cost a lot more than I thought, but still manageable,” she said to herself, voice light, pleased. “Half a mental tank. Could’ve been worse.”

The sphere rotated slowly as she tossed it between her hands, its surface flickering with faint distortions, like a world trying to form and collapse all at once.

Inside, it was still simulating the concept of void, constantly resetting into nothing because nothing had yet been defined.

She shut her eyes, just briefly, to better sense it.

Then opened them again, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“A more refined domain than Aizen’s,” she murmured. “Doesn’t even need me physically inside it. I can expand or shrink it however I want, and I only need a sliver of will to operate it.”

"It can even be used to trap my enemies forever"

It was easy to control. Flexible. No anchoring needed.

She could designate part of her will, let it take over operations inside the space.

It could develop skills, simulate battles, run training loops on its own.

It wasn’t just a spell, it was her personal battleground, a blank slate that could think and fight for her when she didn’t want to.

And she had no plans to waste it on just skill development.

She could pit her own mental fragments against one another, test theoretical moves, recreate combat scenarios.

The applications were endless.

Then a thought hit her.

Could she alter the flow of time in there?

Yes… and no.

The space had its own temporal rhythm.

fixed at a 10:1 ratio.

Ten days inside equaled a single day outside. Not perfect, but fast enough to make a difference.

And useful. Immensely so.

With a flick of her wrist, she guided two faint trails of will into the orb.

The moment they entered, the sphere floated closer to her chest, and she pressed it inward, tucking it away into her body like sealing a scroll.

Inside, the twin wisps of thought began to reshape.

They molded into mirror versions of herself, same features, same stance, same energy.

Without pause, they clashed. No words, no delay.

Just instinctual combat on repeat.

Boom!

Boom!

Each blow sharpened.

Each clash refined.

Utilizing every skills at disposal to their greatest extent.

Instantly, the stream of insight began to flow into Mize’s mind, flooding her senses with crystallized combat experience.

It was like watching herself from a hundred angles at once, correcting errors, reworking timing, optimizing every move.

She exhaled, half amused.

“This is only the start. No need to go full throttle right out of the gate,” she said softly, brushing her hair back with the heel of her hand.

There was time. Plenty of it.

She had all the freedom in the world to build more, to experiment, to take breaks and come back with new ideas.

There was no rush.

With a small grin, she snapped her fingers.

Her body blinked out of the empty field, then flickered back into existence beside Liam, not far off.

Her arrival barely stirred the wind, and she didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a beat with that usual calm confidence radiating off her.

Then, turning her head slightly, she smiled.

“Training’s done,” she said. “I want to hit the town after this.”