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

These figures were all Tier 6 beings.

Roughly speaking, there were around forty to seventy of them, an amount that would make even the Adventurer’s Guild blink several times.

They could barely called this many experts at once, let alone have them standing in formation like silent statues.

Zooming in on the scene, Liam lounged on his floating throne.

His right leg crossed lazily over the left, his head tilted slightly as he leaned one elbow against the armrest.

His expression was cold, and his gaze never strayed from the battlefield stretching out below.

"Wave 181st," he muttered.

His voice was calm, and the rhythm of his words trailed off into the air.

"Their numbers are increasing exponentially. Strength-wise, there’s more variation, some Tier 3s in the mix now, but still just a few"

He analyzed, discerning the scene casually with a glance.

"Nothing intelligent yet. Mindless. Easy to counter. It’s the quantity that’s starting to strain the front formations."

"And it's slowly becoming a headache"

His thoughts trailed into the wind, spoken more to himself than anyone else.

The surrounding Tier 6 guardians heard every word but didn’t so much as glance at him.

Heads bowed slightly, gazes flicking to the horizon as if trying to become part of the air.

Then, without warning, the space beside Liam shimmered, rippling like water slapped too hard.

Rippling, and a crisp bell echoed in the air.

A soft sound echoed out in concentric waves.

From that distorted ripple, Mize stepped through, holding an umbrella lazily slung over one shoulder.

Her long, dark hair flowed in gentle waves down her back, glinting with a subtle sheen.

Her porcelain face tilted slightly, and her ruby red eyes lifted, meeting Liam’s with a calm flicker.

She smiled.

A quiet, doll-like smile, adorable, extremely adorable.

Then she strolled toward the throne without saying a word.

A quick hop later, and she landed lightly on the left armrest, her movements effortless cute in every gestures.

Liam moved his arm without needing to be asked, and as she settled into place, he casually slipped his arm around her waist from behind.

His tone turned light, amused, “Well, this is rare. My dear, beautiful, and adorable wife showing up out of nowhere? Don’t tell me my little angel missed her daddy.”

Mize’s entire face twitched.

Her deadpan stare almost cracked into full horror at the sheer stupidity of his phrasing.

He sounded so pleased with himself too.

She could practically hear the smug grin behind her.

Still, she pretended not to react.

Instead, she hummed under her breath, her gaze drifting around the platform, eyeing the motionless figures stationed nearby.

“Tier 6, all of them? Not bad,” she muttered, sounding more interested in the scenery than his antics.

“Awww, my sweet little angel is ignoring me now,” Liam said with mock sadness, leaning in closer.

His voice dropped into a low, teasing drawl as he shifted his weight.

Without warning, he scooped her off the armrest and onto his lap, settling her against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn't bother hiding anything, not even the way his hands wrapped easily around her waist.

As if daring his summoned soldiers to care.

But there was nothing improper about it, not really.

Just a man and his wife, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of an endless war.

At least, that’s how Liam saw it.

He pressed his chin lightly on her shoulder, snuggling in with no shame at all.

The warmth between them slowly meshed, the calm intimacy familiar, extremely familiar.

Mize tried her best to ignore the whole thing.

She straightened her back slightly, eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the clingy man behind her.

But the way her cheeks lit up, gradually turning red like someone twisted the heat dial, and the subtle flush spreading to the tips of her ears betrayed her completely.

Liam caught on immediately. He didn’t need to say a word.

He just smiled.

Hands teasing here and there.

She didn’t know why, but every time he flirted with her like this, it never felt normal.

Never felt routine.

It always managed to catch her off guard, like he was throwing fire into her snowstorm.

Total opposites, somehow fitting.

But that was just a thought.

They stayed like that for a while, close, warm.

The atmosphere mellowed, a peaceful bubble between them.

Every so often, a stolen kiss.

A quiet chuckle.

Mize shifting back ever so slightly, leaning into him more than she wanted to admit.

And maybe... just maybe... grinding against him like that was an accident.

Maybe.

Liam gritted his teeth behind a forced smile.

He endured it.

Eventually, Mize glanced back down at the battle unfolding below and spoke casually, as if nothing had happened.

“I doubt anyone’s catching up to our rankings anytime soon. We’re too strong, it’s kind of unfair at this point.”

She lazily dragged open the global chat panel and began scrolling through the chatter between Lords, half amused by their complaints and theories.

Liam glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then shook his head slightly.

“It won’t last forever. The moment the alliance feature activates, numbers will start outweighing quality"

"That’s when this game will show its true face, a never-ending war between Lords"

“Ah,” Mize blinked, recognizing the term. “I almost forgot about that.”

Then she leaned back a little, her head tilting up so she could look at his chin. “So? Are you going to make an alliance when the time comes?”

“I doubt it,” Liam answered with a shrug. “But I might join one. I’m not really into leading anyone anymore. I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t need extra headaches chasing me down.”

Mize nodded lazily, then let out a soft yawn, her fingers flicking idly in the air.

A second later, several glowing orbs shot out from her fingertips and rocketed down to the battlefield like miniature comets.

A series of thunderous impacts followed.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The entire front line of monsters exploded into chaos.

Plumes of smoke erupted, dust spiraled upward, and chunks of fractured terrain flew into the sky in neat, geometric blocks, like the ground had been punched by the hand of God.

Liam’s mouth twitched visibly.

Even the Tier 6 figures around them shifted slightly, some smirking, others clearly disturbed but wisely choosing silence.

Mize noticed his reaction right away. “I tuned them down,” she said quickly, eyes wide and innocent. “The impact’s not that bad.”

“I... I see…” Liam replied slowly, but then added firmly, “But please don’t use those anywhere near the city, alright?”

Mize offered her most angelic smile in return. Her wide, blinking eyes said: I would never.

And somehow, that only made Liam more nervous.

For the rest of the night, Mize lingered on the throne with Liam, nestled comfortably against him like it was her rightful spot.

Every now and then, with a lazy flick of her fingers, she launched a few orbs toward the incoming horde below.

They detonated across the battlefield in controlled bursts, less about killing and more about spectacle.

Thick clouds bloomed like fresh ink on a painting, mushroom-shaped silhouettes lighting up the horizon.

Eventually, a soft yawn slipped from her lips.

Technically, she didn’t need sleep, nor food, nor water, nor any of those basic human necessities.

Her body functioned far beyond such needs.

But for some reason, whenever she was with Liam, she always felt the quiet tug of drowsiness once night settled in.

Maybe love really did mess with your programming.

She didn’t bother overthinking it.

Liam, still lounging with his hand curled around her waist, gave her a glance, then vanished with her in an instant.

They reappeared in the castle.

He laid her down gently on the bed, pulling her into his arms again without a word.

Mize curled up instinctively, snuggling into his chest like a sleepy koala, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace.

Time ticked forward.

Day by day, wave after wave of monsters continued to slam into the shadow army stationed near the territory’s border.

Relentless and ever-growing in number.

In the middle of all this, Mize split her time between the city, the underground dungeon, and the surrounding lands within their domain.

She wandered frequently, observing, adjusting, absorbing it all like a silent deity overseeing her realm.

One thing, however, gnawed at her attention.

The skirmishes in the city’s darker corners, the grim alleyways where light rarely touched, were escalating.

The war between shadow and sanctity had grown more savage by the day.

Even the holy knights, whose elements should’ve overwhelmed the grotesque creatures lurking there, began suffering casualties.

That surprised her.

They weren't that invisible after all.

Apparently, both she and Harapan had underestimated the enemy.

Kalen, that strange little boy, had started showing up more often.

Hunting the monsters that slithered through the night.

And each time he fought, it was like watching someone step into death’s embrace and come out barely breathing.

The injuries he sustained were brutal, but his body… it healed.

Rapidly. Too rapidly.

It scared him, that first time.

The way his skin stitched itself back together, bone resetting like time reversed.

Confusion, awe, fear, they all fought for space in his young eyes.

He didn’t know who to tell, didn’t know who he could trust.

So, he kept quiet.

But that strange gift revealed something else, a deliberate side effect?

Bit by bit, he was losing sensation in his body.

Not numbness.

Not paralysis.

Just... detachment. His limbs no longer felt like his own.

He could still move, but it was like using a controller rather than truly being inside his body.

Like his flesh and blood had become a shell he simply operated.

It unsettled him deeply.

He didn’t know why he had been given this ability, or by whom.

As for why he kept hunting the monsters… maybe it was a sense of duty.

Maybe it was fear.

Maybe he just didn’t want to see anyone he cared about turned into one of them.

Whatever the reason, he fought. And kept fighting.

But no matter how many he killed, there were always more.

Too many. And now, with the city swelling with newcomers, tens of thousands, maybe even close to a hundred thousand, the scale of it all terrified him.

The flood of people made it impossible to tell who was normal and who wasn’t.

And every now and then, he’d cross paths with strange individuals.

They bore the Church’s insignia. Called themselves holy knights.

Kalen recognized the symbols etched into their cloaks and armor.

It made him wonder if the Church knew something, if they were keeping secrets.

But for now, he kept his distance.

Saturday arrived. Just one day before the event’s final curtain.

Up in the sky above the city, Mize hovered alone.

She sat cross-legged in midair, weightless and poised, her long dark dress fluttering like the tattered veil of a goddess lost between dreams and reality.

Her hair spilled down her back in silky waves, untouched by the wind, and her arms rested quietly by her sides.

Those ruby red eyes scanned the city below.

It felt like watching a civilization sim unfold in real time, all its little dramas and tragedies playing out like programmed code.

She liked it.

There was something oddly soothing about seeing it from this high up, detached but invested all the same.

Perhaps the word entertaining would be the closest term?

And then, something caught her eye.