Chapter 3: The Goddess

The marketplace is buzzing with morning life, a patchwork of colors, voices, and aromas. Wooden stalls line the street like mismatched teeth, each overflowing with goods, baskets of spiced herbs, fragrant flowers, steaming skewers, and bright, sun-kissed fruit.

Among the chorus of merchants, one voice rises above the rest.

"Fresh oranges! Sweet as a goddess' blessing! Guaranteed to melt your heart and cure your mother's bad mood!"

Lyon stood behind a small fruit stall, sleeves rolled up, holding an orange tall like a prize. His eyes sparkled with confidence. His smile stretched with the effort of pure showmanship.

"Buy two, get a smile free! Buy three, and I'll even pretend to laugh at your jokes!"

A few giggles from passing townsfolk. A couple of coins tossed his way. It was working.

Behind the stall, the grumpy old vendor, a stout man with a bald head and arms like tree trunks grunted in approval as he peeled another orange with thick fingers.

“Oi!”

A familiar voice cut through the crowd like a dagger dipped in sarcasm.

Lyon startled.

Kinana strolled up, arms crossed, red hair tied into messy buns, and an unmistakable grin on her face.

"Well, well, well. Selling fruit already?"

"It's a temporary job," Lyon muttered, cheeks reddening.

Kinana leaned on the side of the stall, looking way too pleased with herself. “You know, yesterday you said you didn't want to sell fruit. And now look at you, hawking oranges like your life depends on it.”

"It’s because of you! Our expenses went into your liquor!” Lyon replied furiously.

She sticked her tongue out, pretend it’s not her business.

Suddenly—

A hush fell over the immediate crowd. Heads turned.

Footsteps approach, elegant, firm, and deliberate.

A tall man stepped into view, dressed in fine, ornate garments woven with golden thread. His crimson hair caught the sunlight, and his eyes glowed faintly yellow, like embers. A claymore was strapped neatly at his back, but it was the confidence in his stride that drew attention.

Louille Gabrieg, the Prince of Luminette.

Charismatic. Composed. And apparently… shopping.

Louille glanced over the fruit with interest, eyes landing on a few ripe ones in the front basket. “Are these good oranges?”

"The finest! Picked this morning." Lyon said in spirited.

“I'll take a dozen.” Louille said.

Lyon stepped forward, reflex kicking in. “That'll be twenty silvers”

SMACK!

The boss vendor whacked the back of Lyon's head with a thick palm. "Of course, it's free for the royalty."

Louille chuckled softly, his golden eyes warm. "No need. A good stall deserves a good coin."

He handed over a pouch, took the wrapped bundle of oranges, and gave a nod of thanks.

“Be well.” he said simply and turned to go.

The moment he walked away, the crowd slowly began to breathe again. Whispers spread like fire in dry grass.

Lyon rubbed the back of his head, grumbling. “Ouch…”

Kinana hadn't moved. She stood still, eyes wide, cheeks slightly flushed, watching the prince disappear into the crowd.

“...He's even more handsome in person,” she whispered.

Lyon explored at her. "Are you okay?"

She grabbed Lyon’s collar, “Lyon! Do I look cute today?!”

Lyon pushed her face away, "Calm down, you only met him for ten seconds."

"Ten seconds of destiny~" she said while holding her red cheeks.

Lyon narrowed his eyes and sniffed. “You smelled like wine.”

She blinked and sniffed her sleeve. "Eh! I… well, I drink a little this morning.”

“You smell like the stall owner.” he said in mockery.

Kinana turned bright red and start making a commotion in the fruit stall.

Nagi walked through it all like a shadow. Now dressed in local clothing, a black clothes with faint stitching along the hem, he no longer stood out. He moved silently, his crimson eyes dull beneath the bangs that framed his face.

Beside him, perched on his shoulder, Pupa dozed quietly, eyes closed as usual.

Amid the crowd, calm and untouched by the chaos, stood a tall woman in white. Her long-wavy blonde hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, and her face was serene, but covered by a delicate blindfold of white silk. Her long cloak barely moved, as if the wind refused to disturb her.

For the first time since they'd passed, Pupa opened half both eyes.

One glows red, the other blue.

Nagi turned his gaze back forward and kept walking. He had no energy for cryptic strangers. He had a goal, and nothing else mattered.

But just as he passed her—

"Are you lost?" the woman said.

Nagi's footsteps stopped.

He turned slowly, his red-tint eyes locking onto the silk over her face. Her lips were smiling and barely moved. Her voice was soft, ageless, almost unreal.

“I'm looking for a god.” He replied.

A faint smile played at the corner of her mouth and she raised a hand and pointed upward.

Through the gaps between buildings, the spires of Luminette's palace stand tall like spears into the sky. Sharp, golden, and serene.

“You'll see her.” she said.

Nagi didn’t even looked back and walked away. He even didn't ask her who she was.

And when he was gone, the woman stood alone in the street, her blindfold fluttering faintly in the wind.

She placed a gloved hand over her heart and whispered to herself, so softly even the spirits wouldn't hear:

“The child of prophecy has arrived.”

High above Luminette, behind gilded walls and towering spires, a marble chamber draped in ivy, flowers, and light. Vines curled along the columns like lazy serpents, and the air smelled faintly of fresh soil and morning dew.

At the heart of the temple, lounging atop a raised pedestal adorned with blooming petals, sat Lady Myria, the Goddess of Earth.

She looked like a young girl, with short brown hair that curled slightly at the ends, emerald eyes that shimmered like sunlit moss, and a youthful pout carved into her lips. She wore a flowing white robe, sleeveless, the delicate fabric wrapped around her figure loosely enough that the trace of her full chest was pressed faintly through the cloth.

Despite her divine grace, she was sulking.

“Hmph…” she muttered, cheeks puffed slightly as she rolled onto her side. "Thousands of years and not even one little romance. What's the point of being worshipped if no one wants to hold my hand?"

Her fingers idly played with a fallen flower petal. “I mean, even that moody celestial god probably has worshipers writing him love poems.”

She kicked her legs lazily, voice dropping to a mutter.

“Maybe I should have a taller man... Or more elegant... Or maybe people just like cold types now...”

Creak.

The tall, polished doors of the sanctum opened with a resonant groan.

Lady Myria immediately shot upright, her cheeks turning pink. She quickly smoothed down her robe and composed her expression as though she hadn't been pouting about divine loneliness two seconds ago.

In stepped Louille Gabrieg, prince of the Luminette Kingdom clad in formal garments now, trimmed in forest gold, his crimson hair glowing under the temple light. His yellow-gold eyes shone with respectful warmth as he approached the pedestal.

He dropped to one knee.

“My lady, I bring this for you.”

He lifted a woven basket of fresh oranges, their scent filling the chamber.

Lady Myria blinked, then slowly accepted the gift with a graceful nod, pretending she hadn't just been talking to a flower about heartbreak.

"T-Thank you, Louille. How... thoughtful."

He smiled. "I heard they were the first of the harvest. I thought you might enjoy them."

“…I do like oranges,” she murmured, fiddling with one in her hands.

“And,” he continued, reaching into the fold of his coat, “the state report for this month.”

He placed a sealed scroll before her. "Luminette remains peaceful. The crops are healthy, the river spirits are calm, and the people continue to offer their prayers to you."

Myria looked away slightly, doesn’t seem care. "That's... good. I'm glad."

Suddenly, something had shifted, in this room, in the air itself. A presence. A pressure.

She turned her eyes toward Louille, who still kneel down. Behind him, as if born from thin air, stood a tall figure cloaked in robes that exposed his half body. His hair was the color of midnight ocean, cascading in sharp waves down to his shoulders. His yellow eyes, too bright to be human, glowed like brandished gold.

“...No,” Myria whispered, Louille late to feel his arrival.

“Sariel!” Myria shouted.

The figure turned his head slowly and smiled.

"Ah... so you still remember me. That's sweet."

Before anyone could move, Sariel raised his hand.

With a sound like a hundred whispered prayers layered over screaming, a tear opened in the air. It emerged several twisted figures, barely human, clad in black ceremonial robes, their arms impossibly long, faces shrouded by veils stitched with scripture.

They stepped forward as if in worship, then struck.

“Louille!” Myria shouted.

A clawed hand struck Louille like a thunderclap, hurling him across the temple and into the marble wall. Dust exploded from the impact, showering the sanctum in rubble and haze.

Myria's eyes widened in horror.

"It's been… how long, Myria? A hundred years?" He smirked. "You looked the same. It's almost pathetic."

The goddess straightened herself. Her bare feet touched the stone with divine stillness. "Why are you here?"

Sariel's smile grew wider.

"To give you a warning. The world is shifting. The demigods are no longer content sitting in the shadows of your shrines. We have begun our protest."

Sariel stepped forward, hands behind his back.

"The Golden War begins soon. The gods have failed us, their arrogance, their detachment, their cowardice. And so, we the rightful heirs, will take what should have always been ours."

He raised one hand and ticked off names with casual menace:

“Abaddon, Hades, Samael And of course, myself.”

He smiled widely.

Beside them, the dust began to settle.

A red-orange glow flickered in the haze.

From the shattered wall, Louille emerged, his clothes torn, blood on his lip, but his back unbent. His red hair blazed like a living flame, and his eyes burned with defiance. His massive claymore, now unsheathed, roared with fire.

“You talk too much.” Louille said coldly.

Sariel turned, eyebrows raised.

“You think you can scare a god,” he said, voice steady, “But I fight to protect one.”

Sariel chuckled, amused. "So, the loyal pet bares his teeth."

The crash of flame and marble echoed through as Louille, launched himself toward Sariel.

Sariel raised a hand calmly, summoning again his divine human, ready to attack.

But before sword met claw—

Bang!

The Sanctum doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls with thunder.

A palace guard stumbled back, pale-faced and yelling, "Wait—! You can't enter the Sanctum without—!"

A figure stepped past him, quietly.

It was a boy.

Dressed plainly with black hair, pale skin, red eyes, ragged bangs over cold eyes, and a scar on his cheek. A white owl with mismatched red and blue eyes perched silently on his shoulder.

Nagi Kawamura.

The guard froze at the sight of the battle-ready prince, the summoned creatures, the towering demigod, and the goddess herself. The guard precipitously turned on his foot and ran for reinforcements.

Nagi kept walking.

Sariel's golden eyes narrowed.

Louille halted mid-swing.

Even the summoned creatures stilled, tilting their heads and lift their shoulder in unison.

Everyone was watching him.

Nagi's expression didn't change. His tone was flat, but loud enough to cut through the tension.

"Which one of you is god?"

The words felt like a slap to the room's sanctity.

Silence stretched until Lady Myria, still stunned from Sariel's appearance, gently stepped forward.

Her voice was delicate. "I am. I am the Goddess of Earth, Myria."

Nagi's gaze locked onto her.

He walked forward. Step by step. Past Louille, who raised his sword slightly but didn't strike. Past Sariel, who watched with a curious grin, amused by the mortal's boldness.

Now, he stood directly before Myria.

And then—

SLAP.

A sharp, crackling sound runs across the chamber.

Myria's head snapped to the side, her cheek blooming red and her eyes wide in shock.

Gasps from Louille breaks the silence, even Sariel's smile faltered.

“What the hell!” Louille shouted.

Nagi stared at Myria, eyes hollow and trembling with fury beneath his blank face. His voice came out soft, yet sharp as a blade.

“Are you the one who responsible… for bringing me into this world?”