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

The crowd wept.

They didn’t understand why.

It was sudden, abrupt, like something deep inside had snapped loose.

A flimsy wall that had kept them at bay for many years was shattered.

And now it was broken under the wail of a homeless beggar.

'This world... is strange, none of them seemed to realize their true purpose, being born just to die, and ultimately being used by the so called Lords that came from the sky'

'The differences in perspective does it wonders, huh'

Mize regarded the scene with a glance, 'Perhaps I had underestimated the despair of this world'

'Their sufferings were left unattended because it was the norm'

His eyes flickered, then he dragged his gaze back, meeting the boy's frail figure that was kneeling on the ground, 'Then show me... Your conviction, I wish to see more'

'Then I will decide whether you are worthy to carry this hope or not'

'I have a plan of my own, if he is worthy... then I will grant him what he wished for'

A boy, broken and barefoot, had dropped to his knees and bled for the sky… and for some reason, that raw desperation cracked something inside everyone's heart.

They had come for safety.

A new life.

Maybe a piece of fortune.

It was funny when they thought about it.

Especially those who had tried to stop the boy's pleadings.

It really was...

Funny.

The jokes were loud and yet there was no sight of a comedian?

A jester?

Most of them had came here for the hope of a new life.

Most of them were orphans, ironically similar to the boy's situation. But it had became the norm and they never rejected it!

How was a society was supposed to function when all they ever knew was pain? Futility had became their greatest ally, and perhaps despair had replaced hope itself.

Though, the crowd craved for a change.

They do...

They were desperate for it, but no one dared to spoke it out.

That was until today...

This boy?

He had come for hope.

And that difference, for some reason, made everything crumble.

A piece of ice melted away under this strange shed of light.

Usually, the people hated those who dared to seek light.

Why should we allow you to do so? When we ourselves suffered the same?

At first, many had wanted to shut him up, to silence what they assumed was nonsense.

His words were too much, too direct, too wild, too close to madness.

Whatever stood against the norm was madness!

But now?

Now they couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.

Something about it all, the blood, the pleading, the pure and ugly truth in his cries, it showed how ugly they were too.

Oh how they wished they could turn back time. Some of them remembered the days when they pleaded to the imaginary god in the sky.

At their beds, hands clasped, pleading and crying for a ray of light.

It was similar to this, no?

How beautiful dreams were! I wish I was asleep on that day where my loved ones died!

How beautiful lies were! I wish to live in this illusive world more! Bath me in beautiful clouds! I do not wish for the rain and what would come after.

...

And then...

A merchant slowly rose from where he knelt, his face a mess of wet lashes and reddened eyes.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just walked, each step heavy, until he reached the boy and dropped to a crouch beside him.

The boy’s breathing was ragged.

His forehead was crimson, his eyes swollen shut.

Yet even now, he stared forward.

A solid will that had somehow appeared in the body of a child.

“Boy…” the merchant whispered, voice trembling.

His fingers brushed the back of the boy’s head with unusual tenderness, lifting it slightly as he looked into his ruined face.

A heartbeat passed.

Then he pulled a small potion from his coat and gently uncorked it.

“You’ve done more than I ever dared,” he said, voice quieter now, like it was meant just for the two of them. “Just live, alright? That’s more than enough.”

"No need to go this far, the pain is unbearable"

"The pain is unbearable"

"I can take you in, you can work for me, there's no need to chase such an impossible dream"

He tipped the potion into the boy’s mouth, slowly.

The boy coughed, nearly choking on it, but then, the color began to return to his face.

Bit by bit, the shallow breath turned deeper.

“I… I…” the boy tried to speak, but his lips just quivered before he gave the merchant a shaky, grateful nod.

Then he tried to get up.

He couldn’t.

His body collapsed, limbs refusing to work, but he kept crawling anyway, dragging himself forward with just his arms.

"Boy! Why would you go this far! There's no need!" The merchant tried to hold him, though somehow, his hands felt weak at this moment, and he let go.

Each pull of muscle over the dirt was a struggle, but the crowd… the crowd could only stare.

The merchant stood stiff like a rock. He tried to open his mouth, hand reaching to the front, but then...

"Why are you so persistent?"

"Is it really worth it?"

And then, they followed.

First a few.

Then a dozen. Then hundreds.

One by one, they stepped forward.

The long line of people that had came today gathered together before the gate.

And slowly, the ground before the angel became filled with kneeling figures commoners and nobles, merchants and guards alike, prostrating under the divine light.

Mize didn’t move, his eyes scanning the world beneath silently.

He hovered above, expression unreadable.

Wings stretched wide behind him, halo spinning slowly, golden light spilling over the kneeling masses like sunlight through a shattered sky.

None of it shook him.

But one thing stood out: the boy. Crawling.

And he was the only one whose eyes never looked away.

Mize noticed it.

He could tell immediately, this child wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t blinded like the others. Wasn’t overwhelmed, nor influenced under his beauty.

'Will! His will is unimaginably solid!'

Somehow, even with the veil, the golden light, the aura of divinity, he was still grounded.

Still sane.

That alone shifted something in Mize’s gaze.

Then the boy raised his voice, hoarse and cracked.

“Please… O Mother of Life…”

He was barely able to speak. His words slurred, broken between wheezes, but they carried.

“Grant us… a speck of your hope…”

"I just wishes for a better life for the people"

"They are not for me to save, I am not a saviour, but I am a beggar!"

"I had been a beggar for years, I begged for food, for clothes, for coins"

"And now I am shameless l begging for hope"

Behind him, the entire square was silent.

Not even a whisper.

The guards kneeled as well.

And still, Mize said nothing.

The boy’s face tilted upward, blood still dripping down one cheek.

His gaze never wavered. It clung to the divine above like a drowning man to a passing branch.

He had nothing else left.

A boy that had been stripped away of everything, he had nothing left.

Mize’s eyes narrowed, wings slowly spreading behind his back.

Ten meters.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Then sixty.

A wind erupted from the sudden shift in scale.

The halo above pulsed, growing larger, brighter, until golden rain fell like stardust upon the square.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Miracles…”

“creation magic…?”

“No... no, that’s… That’s supposed to be forbidden!”

The ground trembled.

Trees sprouted in the cracks between buildings. Flowers bloomed from stone. The smell of fresh earth and rain filled the air.

It was beautiful.

The people didn’t know what they were seeing. Only that it was something long thought dead in the world.

Creation magic wasn't unheard of but it wasn't something what mortals could use.

And then Mize descended.

A single flap of his massive wings pressed the air down, though not a soul was harmed.

The crowd braced instinctively, shielding their eyes, but when they looked again…

He was hovering just a few meters above them.

Light poured off his form. The veil obscured his face, but it didn’t matter. Everything about him screamed divinity.

No longer a lord, no longer a ruler.

Then this divine wished to see the people's convictions!

And then, he spoke.

“I heard your prayers.”

The voice washed over them, not loud, but soft.

Sounds usually travelled through a medium, but his didn't. It reached them on a different level.

It carved into their bones and wrapped around their hearts.

Even those who doubted moments ago now found themselves trembling.

They looked up, and there he was.

A figure untouched by the filth of the world.

And they didn’t know whether to cry again or bow even lower.

But one child didn’t move.

The boy kept his eyes on the divine. His expression remained the same, body shaking, but his will was unbroken.

“O Mother of Life…” he rasped, reaching forward with a hand that trembled with effort. “Please…”

He grasped, like a mortal seeking the ray of light from the god.

Such blasphemy!

To seek something at the cost of nothing?

And yet...

“Hope?” Mize said, his voice almost teasing.

His hand reached out, and his fingertips brushed against the boy’s.

The boy nodded, tears falling again, “Yes… Hope… for all of us…”

"I am begging for something like I am always am!"

"For my people, please... Allow me to save them"

Mize exhaled softly, then tilted his head.

“What’s your name, child?”

The boy hesitated.

“I… I have no name.”

Silence.

Then came a soft chuckle. Light.

Like wind chimes.

“Truly? No name?”

The boy lowered his head. “Not one that mattered. Not one that was given by kindness.”

"I am undeserving of a name, I am a slave... "

Mize’s hand closed gently around his.

“Then I shall give you one.”

The crowd stirred.

And in a voice that echoed far and wide, Mize declared:

“From this day forward, I name you, Harapan.”

A flash of light erupted from the boy’s chest.

He screamed.

His body expanded, bones shifting, skin stretching as if years passed in seconds. Muscle surged. His posture rose. Hair turned snow white, spilling down his back.

He grew… taller, and when the light faded, he stood, no longer a child, but a fully grown man.

The crowd gaped in stunned silence.

Mize raised both arms, his voice booming now, “Harapan, you are the will of hope, born from despair. My first son in this world, my messenger.”

Then he dragged his gaze around the crowd, his voice trailing into the air, "I am your Mother of Life, the maker of light, and the peaceful divine"

“Go. And carry my name.”

"Spread my hope, spread my will, and spread my name to the land!"

"Fight those who stand against hope! Vanquish those greeds!"

Harapan’s eyes that was once confused by the sudden changes steered, and his heart burned, knees dropping again and he slammed his forehead to the ground.

“Ooo Mother of Life, My greatest will is yours! I swear, upon your name, I will deliver your light to every corner of this world!”

And Mize witnessed everything with a smile.

'I loved how everyone just go along with everything that's happening here' he mused, secretly glad everything was going perfectly fine, 'Gotta keep the act, gotta keep the act'

'I came here just to look around, I never expected for this to happen' Mize cried within, and tag along with the flow.

—

—

—

Night settled over the town, but the influxes of people didn’t fade with the sun.

If anything, it grew.

There were more and more people compared to the morning. Perhaps almost reaching to ten of thousands.

If not for the meticulously town's design, the town wouldn't be able to handle it.

Streets sparkled beneath the glow of hovering lanterns, light-blue flames swirled inside them, casting soft ripples of magic-imbued light across the white-marbled roads.

Lines of glowing decorations hung between buildings like festive webs, and the occasional burst of fireworks flared from entertainers putting on light shows at the plazas.

The atmosphere were oddly festive tonight.

All sorts of people were here, entertainer, bard, singer, dancer, healer, you name it.

It had became a central melting pot of almost every profession this world could offer.

But of course, only the common ones showed up.

All of them had came here for a reason, the same united reason. That was to settle down here, especially after witnessing with their own very eyes how special this territory was.

In a single day, over 10 thousand people registered to live here.

Elias's management team had to work overtime tonight. But with Liam's shadow knights helping from the side, the situation was controlled.

Then, the scene shifted towards the street.

Hawkers shouted over one another, their voices half-lost to the chattering crowd.

The smells of grilled meat, sweet fruit tarts, and bubbling herbal broths mixed into a fragrant fog that floated over the streets.

Despite the crowd pressing shoulder to shoulder, carriages still tried to squeeze through, their drivers waving to guards who carved open narrow paths with raised batons and sharp whistles.

It was packed, but it wasn’t chaotic, everything flowed, regulated.

And somewhere within that thriving heartbeat of night, nestled between a cluster of residential buildings, stood a three-story house built into polished grey marble.

Vines spiraled across the pillars out front, meticulously trimmed, and a single sapphire-blue lantern hovered at the entrance.

Inside, the contrast was striking.

No noise. No clamor. Just soft, golden lighting cast from embedded ceiling strips, illuminating an interior that looked more like a noble’s estate than something bought within a day.

The walls bore hand-carved trim, polished stone tiles shimmered with a clean coat.

Ornate sofas lined the lounge, their velvet cushions engraved with delicate patterns.

The dining space had crystal-like tableware already placed.

A waterfall feature at the back wall flowed in silence, splitting into two gentle streams flanking a glass staircase that wound upward to the second floor.

Sayfein stood at the edge of the main lounge, hands behind his back. His gaze wandered slowly across the ceiling carvings.

His father, seated on the sofa nearby, let out a long sigh of contentment. “Hah… they really don’t joke around here. Look at this place. Even the air feels expensive.”

He leaned back, hands resting behind his head, legs crossed comfortably. “I thought we were lucky just to buy this place, but now that I’m seeing the interior… this is better than any of our noble homes”

Sayfein glanced over, lips curling up faintly.

That same smile. The one he’d been wearing since the morning.

It wasn’t a loud smile or exaggerated, but it was constant.

Too constant.

His father didn’t notice. Or at least, pretended not to.

He pushed himself to his feet, stretching briefly before heading to the window.

The curtain parted. The view stretched across several rooftops, revealing the flickering streetlights and bustling walkways below.

Sayfein followed a few steps behind and paused by the staircase railing, eyes still lingering on the wall carvings.

The father spoke again, almost musing to himself, “We’ll need to arrange our servants to bring the other properties over. It’ll take time, but once we settle in, we’ll move your siblings here too. Better to secure everything while the gates are still open and traffic hasn’t been regulated too tightly.”

Sayfein didn’t reply.

Instead, he continued observing the intricate swirls embedded into the golden banister.

It was quiet for a moment, then his voice came, low but clear.

“Father… what do you think of power and order?”

The man blinked, his eyes leaving the cityscape beyond the window. He turned halfway, puzzled.

“Pardon?”

Sayfein’s tone didn’t change. “Power and order. What do you think of them?”

“…Quite the question.”

“I’m just curious.”

A pause lingered between them.

The father slowly stepped back into the room, his expression softening. “Well. I guess… power is necessary. Without power, there can’t be order. That’s always been true, hasn’t it?”

“But if power is the cause of chaos,” Sayfein turned now, head tilted slightly, “then wouldn’t it make more sense to use power to eliminate other power?”

“…Using power to control power?”

“Exactly.”

The father chuckled lightly, walking toward the small drinks cabinet in the corner. “You sound like a philosopher. Or a revolutionary.”

Sayfein’s smile deepened. “Does that sound wrong?”

“Not wrong. Just a little unsettling, coming from you.”

He poured himself a glass of golden-red spirit, swirled it once, then took a sip. “What brought this on?”

“Just something I realized,” Sayfein said, his tone still light. “I saw people bowing today. Praying. Worshipping something"

"It seems to be a new movement. But from what I had gathered, their purpose was to bring hope to this world Which is rather... disgusting"

“It's not disgusting and that’s not uncommon,” the father replied gently.

Sayfein stepped closer to the window now, standing where his father had stood earlier.

His fingers brushed the frame.

“And if someone with enough power can offer them something to believe in, they’ll throw away everything, morals, logic, fear, even their own self.”

His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t change pace.

But something about it sent a strange feeling down the older man’s spine.

“You’re not wrong,” the father admitted, trying to sound casual.

Sayfein turned his head slightly.

“I wonder what would happen,” he asked, “if I became the one who gave them that belief.”

The father paused mid-sip.

“…What?”

Sayfein smiled again. That same constant, harmless curve of the lips.

“If people are this desperate for order, then wouldn’t it be better to give them the kind of order that’s absolute? Pure? Free of contradiction?”

“I think,” his father said slowly, setting the drink aside, “that’s a very dangerous line of thought.”

“Dangerous to whom?” Sayfein asked.

His tone was still soft, but something else was there now, strange, misplaced.

The older man stared at his son, a strange pressure sinking into his chest.

His eyes narrowed, "Sayfein... What did you do?"

Sayfein’s eyes drifted downward, toward the streets again.

“They called him the Shadow of madness, anger and salvation" he said. “But did you see what they really saw? They didn’t just see despair. They saw something they couldn’t disobey, and that was salvation."

His fingers clenched against the window frame.

“And when someone holds that kind of power over people, they become untouchable.”

“Sayfein, what have you done!?"

“What if I did?” Sayfein interrupted, voice calm.

“What if I walked that path?”

The father stiffened. “Sayfein.”

"No... You are not him"

He stepped forward now, voice serious. “Y-you... Who are you?"

"You are not my son"

Sayfein turned to face him fully. The dim light from the chandelier overhead cast long shadows across his face.

“I understand it now,” he said. “The world doesn’t need compromise. It needs authority. One that people can’t question.”

The father’s expression tightened.

He opened his mouth, but Sayfein spoke again before he could.

“I’m not saying I’ll act on it. Not now. But if I ever wanted to… I think I could.”

Silence.

The older man stared at his son, or maybe someone else, petrified.

Sayfein simply walked past him, casually, and made his way toward the stairs. “I’m going to sleep.”

He climbed halfway before stopping. He didn’t look back, but his voice floated down.

"Don't run, Father. Make it easy for them to enter your body"

And then he vanished into the stairs, leaving behind the dumbfounded man at the scene.

"What?"

Then, that night.

A horrible scene occurred in this house. Something unimaginable had occurred to a poor innocent man, something that shouldn't exist.

"Oooo pitiful soul" A figure spoke on top of the house, tears streaming down from the corner, but the smile...

The smile was inhumane.

"This is but the lord's wishes, May the land be freed! And may the lord's name reaches everyone hearts!"