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

Afterwards, Mize wandered aimlessly through the castle’s twisting corridors, her movements light but easy going.

She was tracking Liam, quietly, subtly, by following the faint marking she had left on him before.

The same method she’d used to send him that letter.

Naturally, she wasn’t about to just teleport straight to him.

Who knew what he was up to? For all she knew, he could be mid-thought on the toilet.

No, this called for tact.

But the search was turning up empty.

No matter how far she moved, how many floors she passed or doors she nudged open, Liam was nowhere in sight.

The mark was as here, but the person? None...

Annoyed, Mize eventually phased out of the castle entirely, reappearing outside, perched on one of the high spirals.

She settled near the edge of the sloped roof, robes fluttering softly in the breeze, and dropped into a relaxed, crouched sit.

“Might as well make a ‘search and find’ skill already,” she muttered, exhaling.

A flick of her fingers summoned a small orb between them, glowing gently.

It had been tucked deep within her body, a handy little tool she’d left in place.

Inside the sphere, faint silhouettes moved in silent repetition, figures of herself endlessly practicing forms, refining reflexes, sharpening instincts.

With a wave, the dual silhouettes blinked into bubbles and vanished, replaced by a tiny version of herself sitting cross-legged, serene, eyes shut in focus.

It was like shoving a well-seasoned chicken into the oven, now all she had to do was wait for the result and pull the lever when it was ready.

Her thoughts trailed off, and in the lull, she began humming lazily, her gaze drifting outward.

The sky had grown deeper, darkness quietly bleeding across the horizon.

Stars began to puncture the canopy above, slowly emerging in clusters, decorating the night in scattered silver.

She kicked her legs gently over the ledge, letting the wind skim over her calves.

The air smelled faintly of cold stone and garden grassy smell, brushing softly through her hair.

With a quick flick, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear, revealing a pair of glimmering ruby-red eyes that caught and held the starlight like mirrors.

She didn’t speak.

There was no need to.

The moment was quiet enough to carry its own voice.

Her head tilted slightly, legs swinging idly below as she sat still, simply watching.

Just watching.

It was rare, getting to soak in a view like this, unbothered, no tasks at hand to deal with.

The town below was glowing faintly with scattered lights, forming trails and outlines from the distance.

Further ahead, the mines shimmered with dull blue lanterns as workers moved like ants beneath the earth.

And further still, stretching past the farmland and into the western edge, she could just make out the dome of the dungeon, glistening faintly under the stars like a sleeping beast cloaked in starlight.

She tilted her head the other way.

Kept staring.

Then, without a sound, the air beside her rippled.

A thin spiral of darkness unfurled in the empty space at her side, swallowing the air for a blink before collapsing inward, and from it stepped a man clad in black.

She didn’t react. Not even a glance.

She didn’t seem to mind.

Liam emerged like he always did, golden eyes warm, smile relaxed, every step casual.

When he noticed she didn’t greet him, he said nothing.

He simply walked over, lowered himself beside her, and scooted in until he claimed the space he clearly considered his.

One leg crossed over the other, he leaned back slightly, gaze falling toward the same horizon she’d been staring at.

The silence lingered between them, comfortable.

And then, she shifted.

Subtly leaning over, she tilted her head and gently rested it on his shoulder.

His hand instinctively slid around her waist, fingers curving softly over her hip, drawing her in closer with one smooth pull.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she murmured, voice light against his collarbone.

“I came anyway,” Liam chuckled, his head resting against hers. “How was your day? Miss me even a little?”

“Mmm.” Mize gave a quiet hum, the corner of her lips twitching upward. “It was a good day... and now I’m just enjoying a rare bit of peace.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, angling his head so their eyes met.

Her gaze lifted, ruby meeting gold. For a few breaths, neither looked away.

But Mize cracked first.

She broke eye contact, cheeks faintly warm, and rested her head back down on his shoulder with a soft hum.

Liam just smiled. He didn’t press.

Instead, his gaze lingered on her profile.

A glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes.

His free hand lifted, and with the gentlest motion, he cupped her cheek.

“When did you get this cute?” he whispered, pinching her cheek lightly.

A surprised sound escaped her, muffled and vaguely offended, and she swatted his hand away, a fresh pink blooming on her face.

“No need to know.”

“Aha, secretive little girl,” he teased, reaching for another pinch, only to have her hand slap his away again, firmer this time.

He let out a small laugh, shrugged, and without warning, tugged her fully into his lap.

This time, Mize didn’t yelp or object. She simply let it happen.

Maybe she was getting used to it.

Maybe, though she’d never say it aloud, she liked it more than she let on.

Held in his arms, her body relaxed almost instinctively.

His embrace was steady, warm, with one arm cradling her back and the other loosely around her legs.

Then, in a tone softer and lower than before, his voice barely a breath, Liam murmured against her ear:

“Did you miss me even for a second today?”

His words curled like smoke in the night, smooth and quiet and almost teasing.

Mize turned her head away again, staying silent.

But the faint red tint creeping up her ears said more than she meant to.

Mize didn’t answer right away.

She lingered in silence for a while, her fingers curling instinctively, searching for something to hold on to, eventually settling against Liam’s chest, firm and steady like always. “I kinda missed you,” she murmured.

“Ah,” Liam responded with his usual soft smile, that warm lilt in his voice never changing. “That’s good to hear.”

He gently drew her closer, closing the space between them until their breaths met somewhere in the middle, warm.

There wasn’t any hunger in the touch this time, no pressing urgency between them.

Just quiet comfort.

Together, their eyes drifted toward the view ahead.

The castle’s perch atop the hill gave them a clean sweep of the distant plains below, every detail stretching out beneath the deepening sky.

From here, the world looked almost unreal, like some enchanted painting come to life.

Hills rolled out gently in waves, brushstrokes of twilight washing over forests and fields.

A fantasy that chose to exist, if only for tonight.

Mize didn’t know what the future had in store for her.

Maybe more adventures.

Maybe a touch of drama here and there, tangled up in her pursuit of beauty.

Honestly, she was beginning to understand why the system had only ever nudged her toward that one goal.

It wasn’t a matter of neglect.

The system didn’t need to hand her strength when her profession already bridged that gap perfectly on its own.

She remembered asking once, after a particularly grueling training session, casually, offhand.

Not expecting much of an answer, just how strong she actually was when measured against the world’s standards.

The system’s reply had genuinely stunned her.

Tier 7. A strength level equal to a True Lord and possibly beyond.

She hadn’t expected that. Not at all.

And that answer had led to more explanations, an entire framework of knowledge unspooling before her.

It was neatly organized into tiers that structured the hierarchy of power in this world.

The first three tiers, she learned, were called the Beginning Realms.

The entry point.

Reaching those wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy; in small towns or isolated villages, someone might gain some local fame for it, sure.

But in the larger scheme of things, where Mize now stood, those levels barely even registered.

Background noise.

Then came the middle three, Tiers 4 to 6.

This was where things started to change.

The power scale jumped drastically.

People in these tiers could level buildings with a stray strike, reduce city blocks to rubble with a casual show of force.

At the peak of Tier 6, their destructive potential reached terrifying levels, hundreds of meters in devastation, entire sectors flattened from just one clash.

But that was still before the realms that truly mattered.

Tier 7 meant True Lord.

Tier 8, True King.

Tier 9, True Emperor.

And Tier 10... was something else entirely.

Almost mythical.

No one in this "test ground" world had ever reached that level, not humans, not even other races.

But of course, this limitation wouldn't matter in the presence of lords.

And yet, the system told her this: her current strength had already reached Tier 7.

She wasn’t tethered to the restrictions of the territory-based power system anymore.

People who reached these upper realms weren’t just powerful.

They were phenomena, either born under impossible luck, or carved out from fate itself.

The kind of people who could shake cities, who bore destinies written like thunderclaps across the sky.

The destruction they wielded was far beyond anything the earlier tiers could dream of.

At this level, battles could flatten entire landscapes.

Their actions felt like divine retribution, like heaven itself had decided to strike the moment they moved.

And somehow, unknowingly, she had already reached that point.

"It feels good"

"My hand?"

"No... The scenery"