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

"It's up to you," Liam said, his voice as deep and smooth as ever.

But there was a softness in it, one that only ever surfaced when he spoke to Mize.

Mize hesitated, fingers brushing over the mysterious six-star card as he glanced between the two men before him.

"I… uh…"

He trailed off, caught in thought, until something clicked.

Wait.

Something about the old man’s words just now.

His brows furrowed slightly before he turned his gaze back toward the bald head, eyes narrowing.

"Wait… why are you using so many words just to convince me not to buy this card?"

The room stilled.

The old man visibly faltered.

It was barely a crack, just a split second of hesitation, but Mize caught it.

His eyes sharpened as his lips curved slightly, a look of mild amusement flashing across his face.

"Now you look even more like a shady old man, creep."

"Creepy bald man"

"Creepy bad man"

The merchant opened his mouth, then closed it immediately.

His gaze darted between Mize’s expectant expression and Liam’s complete, unwavering indifference.

Then, his pupils shrank.

Because suddenly, he noticed it.

The shadows.

They were everywhere.

They flickered at the edges of the room, twisted in places they shouldn’t be, stretching unnaturally across the floor and walls, as if something unseen was lurking just beyond the veil of human sight.

His palms turned clammy.

His heartbeat pounded against his chest.

‘The shadows… why are there so many?’

'Hundreds?

'No, thousands!'

His fingers twitched against his robe. He couldn’t move, or rather, he didn’t dare to.

His mind reeled.

A summoner. And a very rare one at that.

What should I do?

Mize wasn’t angry.

If anything, he was just curious.

He could tell the old man was terrified of Liam, which meant he could press further without issue.

So, he did.

"Stop beating around the bush," Mize huffed, arms crossing over his chest. "Tell me, Smelly Fart Old Man"

The old man flinched.

Liam, sitting beside him, let out a quiet chuckle.

Seconds ticked by. The old man's arm twitched, his throat working as he struggled to find the right words.

He was usually good at talking his way out of situations. It was practically a merchant’s survival skill.

But right now?

He had nothing.

His status as a tier 1 awakener meant absolutely nothing in front of the man seated on the couch.

And the worst part?

He knew, without a doubt, that it would be impossible to escape himself before this figure.

Because he wasn’t alone.

The old man knew.

The weight of the aura he’d felt earlier. The countless presences hidden within the shadows.

'Ahhh... I should've taken the leave today' he swallowed hard, body trembling.

'This man isn't just powerful, he's a whole army himself.

Damn it, why didn't anyone informed us that a very powerful summoner had entered out city!'

He was something else entirely.

A drop of cold sweat slid down the side of the old man’s face.

Then.

"One way or another," Liam finally spoke, voice calm, almost lazy.

His eyes flickered toward the old man.

"You choose."

Crack.

Something in the old man’s mind snapped.

He slumped against the couch, shoulders heavy with resignation and despair.

A long, tired sigh escaped his lips.

It was over.

He had no choice but to tell the truth

The old man exhaled a long, weary sigh.

His ashen face looked like he’d just eaten a mouthful of dirt, his complexion growing even worse by the second.

"Alright…" he finally spoke, voice low and hoarse. "I’ll tell you the truth."

Mize perked up slightly, fingers idly twirling the six-star card between his hands as he waited.

'Could this card be a heaven defying secret?'

'A remnants of god?'

Mize's mind started to run around aimlessly trying to guess.

The moment of hesitation from the old man was enough to tell him whatever this secret was, it carried the same level of threat as Liam’s presence.

"This summoning card was… pre-booked," the old man admitted, rubbing his forehead as if speaking the words physically pained him. "By a certain figure."

Mize’s brows arched.

The merchant swallowed hard before continuing.

"We don’t know who he is. He never gave us his identity. But he specifically ordered us not to sell it, no matter what."

Mize squinted.

'That's it? All of the actions just now for such a lame revelation?'

"That makes no sense," he said bluntly, standing up from the couch as he brought the card closer to his eyes.

Why would someone buy it, leave it behind, and then make sure no one else could buy it either?

He tilted the card under the light, watching the intricate inscriptions flicker faintly.

Suspicious.

"And yet," Liam’s voice broke the silence, his tone laced with faint amusement, "you still put it on the table."

A short chuckle escaped his lips.

Mize clicked his tongue, placing the card back down as he shot the old man a look.

"You should’ve just kept it hidden in the back, Smelly Fart Old Man," he huffed, cheeks puffing slightly in mild irritation. "If you did, I wouldn’t have even known it existed."

The old man winced.

"And," Mize continued, his expression turning playfully smug, "you read people wrong. I’m not interested in this item."

"I know best to steer away from problems when I see one. Taking this card might add in several unnecessary chapters of trouble, so no thank you"

The shift was immediate.

The old man, who had looked seconds away from collapsing, suddenly brightened up like a man who had just been saved from execution.

Liam, ever still and quiet, remained unbothered. He had no say in Mize’s choices, he was just here as her guardian and her wallet.

So if Mize wanted something? He would buy it.

If she didn’t? He wouldn’t push.

"So," Mize finally concluded, "I’ll take the remaining four five-star cards instead."

The old man almost collapsed in relief.

"Great! Great!" He nodded so fast it looked like a chicken pecking at rice. "That is a wonderful choice, Miss!"

"Avoid problems, seek benefit! Truly is a worthy skill for a future powerful awakener!"

And with newfound enthusiasm, he scurried off to the back of the room.

It didn’t take long for the merchant to return.

"Here," he extended his hand.

Resting in his palm was a sleek black ring, a deep blue, star-like jewel embedded at its center.

Mize’s eyes glimmered when he saw the design of the ring.

"A storage ring?"

"Indeed," the old man nodded, placing it carefully in her palm.

Liam hummed, his gaze flickering toward the ring before offering a short praise.

"High quality," he noted, his voice calm as he leaned back against the couch, one hand draped over the armrest.

His gaze slid toward the old man, assessing.

"A blue quality ring…" he murmured. Then, after a pause, "And judging from its aura…"

"It’s mid-stage, Senior," the merchant quickly added, his tone respectful.

Mize raised a brow.

"Mid stage? Blue quality?" Though after Liam's explanation on the side, he finally understood.

"Quite the gift?" She tilted the ring between her fingers, inspecting the fine craftsmanship.

Her lips curled slightly.

Not bad.

The division of the grades for equipment was rather simple.

It was like a color guessing game, with rankings starting from white, then progressing through green, yellow, blue, purple, red, and finally, golden.

Each grade was further divided into three stages, early-stage, mid-stage, and peak-stage.

An interesting system, really. But more importantly.

Who decided this grading system in the first place? Liam didn't tell him further about its origin, but when he asked, Liam simply smiled and ask him to guess instead.

'Law...'

'Who designed law?'

Mize tapped a finger against his lips, mind racing.

This wasn’t something humans had come up with. It was something the Warp itself had established.

Which meant.

The Warp is an intelligent entity?

A faint shiver crawled up his spine.

Probably like Gaia, the spirit of Mother Earth, but infinitely bigger and stronger.

That wasn't a comforting thought.

Still, now wasn’t the time for existential theories.

Mize twirled the cool metal ring between his fingers, letting the smooth surface glide over his skin.

"Alright, so how do I use it?" he finally asked, eyeing the old man expectantly.

The old man straightened, hands folded behind his back as he explained, "Just inject a small wisp of your divine consciousness into the ring, Miss. Once you imprint your owner’s mark, it will recognize you as its master, and you’ll be able to use it at will, just like breathing."

Mize blinked.

"That’s it? That simple?"

His brows lifted slightly, half-expecting some overly complicated ritual.

But before the old man could confirm, Liam’s voice cut in.

"Not now."

Mize turned just in time to see Liam push off the couch, standing to his full height before striding forward.

Without hesitation, he plucked the ring from Mize’s hand.

A faint purplish energy surged at his fingertips, flowing smoothly into the ring.

Then, the turned his gaze toward the summoning cards still sitting on the table.

With a small flick of his wrist.

All the items disappeared.

Mize’s eyes widened in amazement.

"Wait… that was"

"Formation," Liam corrected smoothly. "More than magic."

Mize blinked rapidly, still processing what just happened.

What the hell? This is literally space magic.

Before he could press further, Liam suddenly extended a hand toward him.

"What?"

"Your hand," Liam said, his tone casual. "Give it to me."

Mize immediately narrowed his eyes.

"You mean like… cut my hand?" He leaned back, clutching his wrist dramatically. "No thank you."

Liam stared blankly.

"...You're impossible."

Without another word, he yanked Mize’s right hand forward, fingers locking firmly around his wrist.

Mize squawked in protest, but Liam ignored him completely.

In his other hand, the storage ring flickered, engulfed in a strange purplish fire.

And then.

The flames dissipated.

A brand new ring emerged, its jewel now a deeper, richer shade of purple.

Mize’s pout deepened.

"Stop playing," Liam muttered, pulling Mize closer as he effortlessly slid the ring onto his finger.

The cool metal settled perfectly against his skin.

"A gift," Liam said, voice low.

Mize paused.

Then, after a beat.

"Not my birthday," he quipped.

Liam smirked. "Yet."

Mize’s lips curled slightly.

"And I don’t celebrate birthdays."

A pause.

Liam said nothing.

Just smiled.