Chapter 20

After that, Three Thousandth continued to ask only the kinds of questions that, by Mariax’s standards, seemed utterly pointless. Starting from her name, age, what her parents did, what her home address was, how much property she owned… Of course, he didn’t use the words “home address” or “property” verbatim, but the meaning was essentially the same.

This is… kind of weird.

It didn’t feel like research. More like… more like…

“Lady Mariax, what do you think of our Anir?”

Just as she thought it was strange, it started to become properly strange. Mariax had a few human romance novels on her bookshelf. In them, when a man came to marry a woman, her parents would ask him the question “What do you think of our daughter?” The father expected a specific answer, like “She is the other half of my soul. I love her with my life. She is my existence, my everything, my meaning.” A heartfelt declaration of love, as was common in such stories, would suffice.

But it didn’t seem like the kind of answer Three Thousandth was expecting. Mariax wondered what kind of answer might smooth out the wrinkle in Three Thousandth’s chin.

“He makes me uncomfortable.”

The wrinkle in Three Thousandth’s chin deepened. That clearly wasn’t the answer he wanted. Still unable to grasp the intent behind the question, Mariax remained confused.

“When you saw Anir… did you feel any kind of resonance in your soul?”

A jarring shock struck her like a heavy blow to the head. Was the answer he truly wanted something like he’s the other half of my soul?

“Did your heart race?”

It did. She had entered a room she believed to be empty, only to find a beast sitting there. Who wouldn’t be alarmed? And he even stabbed a dagger into someone’s body. It would’ve been strange not to feel a racing heart. Seeing her vacant, distant gaze as she recalled the past, Three Thousandth seemed to grasp the situation.

“I understand. Let’s move on to the next question. Are you familiar with the ancient gods of the continent, aside from Heimdrix?”

“Ancient gods?”

At last, a question that sounded more like actual research. Mariax combed through her memories. The answer came quickly. She had spent her whole life in Heimdrix—there was no way she could know the ancient gods of the continent. Before she could reply, Three Thousandth offered some clarification.

“There are currently nine ancient gods on the continent. I’m particularly curious whether you have any ties to the Mother Tree, the sea god of Rhanna Island, or the ancient god of the Chura Plains. Very curious.”

“No. I’ve never met any gods outside.”

“Have you even heard of their names?”

Mariax shook her head. Three Thousandth pressed further.

“Hmm, perhaps the names are different. Let me rephrase in a more intuitive way. A grand tree, a sparkling jellyfish god, a massive tortoise god?”

A big tree? A jellyfish god? A tortoise god? She felt like she’d heard—or rather, seen—them somewhere before. Jolted by sudden déjà vu, Mariax tried to dig deeper into her memory. But nothing clear surfaced. Instead, she recalled just enough to know that such beings did exist on the continent.

“I think I might have heard that such gods exist.”

“Who did you hear it from?”

Mariax’s lips opened and closed without sound. Three Thousandth took note. Though it seemed like a simple question, her reaction was much like when she had lied earlier—discomfort was plain on her face.

“…From a friend.”

A friend, she said… The word felt oddly unnatural coming from the mouth of a god. Three Thousandth’s eyes lit up. “And how did this friend come to know about the ancient gods?”

“My friend loved traveling, so she wandered around the continent a lot. Whenever she returned to Heimdrix, she’d tell me stories about the outside world. I think I heard it then.”

“I see.”

Feigning composure, Three Thousandth committed every word of Mariax’s to memory.

What’s strange is…

The stronger a god was, the less inclined they were to leave the domain where they were born. In Heimdrix, this trait was especially pronounced. The fact that Mariax had only ever lived in the divine realm wasn’t special—most gods did the same.

But this friend, who liked to travel the continent and only occasionally returned to Heimdrix? Gods like that weren’t unheard of, but something about it felt off. Moreover, if a god of Heimdrix had been roaming the continent openly, yet left no trace in its history, then she was likely either too weak to leave an impact—or extremely gentle. Either way, it didn’t seem to match the general temperament of Heimdrix’s gods.

“Do you remember what your friend said about the ancient gods?”

“She said they sparkle beautifully at night…? Oh, and that they seem to get bigger every time she sees them. Their shells become more elaborate, so it’s a joy to admire.”

Not exactly the kind of conversation one would expect between gods. Phrases like “Annihilate those lowly humans” or “Where shall salvation come from?” must only exist in human imagination.

“What is your friend’s name?”

Prompted by Three Thousandth’s question, Mariax recalled her after a long time. She had a small frame, uncharacteristic of a god of Heimdrix, with divine power as weak as Mariax’s—and an ugly appearance to match…

While the other gods of Heimdrix grew stronger each year, this friend returned from her journeys diminished, as if the snow in her hands had melted away a little more each time. In a land where only the strong survived, she was as much of an anomaly as Mariax.

Perhaps that was why—other than Mariax, only one god ever called her by name. The ruler of Heimdrix, master of winter, Mariax’s god. He would caress her cracked skin and whisper—

“My great god. My sun, my soul. My eternity.”

Each time Mariax remembered that sweet voice, her brain and heart froze over, her thoughts dulling. A chill from deep within made her body tremble.

In the end, Mariax did not answer.

“I see. That’s not the important part anyway.” To change the mood, Three Thousandth decided to ask a different question. “I am extremely curious about what kind of divine power you possess, my lady.”

She rubbed the back of her hand for a moment, then answered softly, “I’m not particularly strong.”

That was already known. Her divine power couldn’t compare to Gart, or even to some of the fortress’ heroes. If the gods of Heimdrix were like mountains, she was a single snowflake.

“Even so, to witness the power of a great god is an honor in itself, is it not?”

Despite the flattery, Mariax couldn’t fully hide her discomfort.

After some time, she placed both hands together in her lap. A moment later, fragrant, pure divine energy gently rose. It was a clean energy unlike anything anyone had ever felt. As astonished eyes looked on, Mariax slowly unfolded her hands. A single white flower had just bloomed in her palms. Its fully opened petals exhaled softly. Lowering her eyes with subtle pride, Mariax placed the blooming flower delicately on the table.

“Insane… That’s an incredible ability.”

Mariax wasn’t sure whether Three Thousandth had said insane or incredible.

“You must be tired.”

Out of nowhere?

“I’m not tired.” 

She’d only just woken up—how could she be tired? She was even willing to help expedite the research. But her companion wasn’t someone who listened to others.

“Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll ask for your help again tomorrow.”

It was as if her denial went in one ear and out the other. Still seated, unable to keep up with the sudden change in pace, Mariax watched as Three Thousandth sighed hastily.

“The great gods of Heimdrix wouldn’t know this—but even insignificant humans need time alone now and then.”

Is that so…? Rising sluggishly, Mariax glanced down at him.

“In that case, doesn’t that human need time alone too?”

Her desire to not share a room with Gart slipped out bluntly. Though she hadn’t named him, Three Thousandth seemed to understand right away—his sigh gave it away.

“To want distance from others, yet also long for closeness… Such complex contradictions—this is the eternal dilemma of lowly humans. The great gods of Heimdrix wouldn’t understand.”

At this point, even Mariax realized Three Thousandth was talking nonsense. He was just using the excuse “A great god wouldn’t understand lowly humans” to brush off everything. She doubted he’d give a straight answer even if she asked again. Mariax gave up and left the room.

Click. As soon as the door closed, Three Thousandth hurried back to the table. The single white flower sat there, releasing its refreshing scent. He gently cradled it in both hands. The moment the soft petals touched him, Three Thousandth shuddered. It wasn’t an illusion. As if the flower was breathing, its petals moved softly, and from his lips came a single word.

“O god.”

In the beginning, the ancient gods born from the creative power of the Mother Goddess inherited her ability—though incompletely. This included creating offspring by removing parts of their own bodies, or allowing new beings to emerge from their corpses in death. These were fragments of the Mother’s creative gift.

But no ancient god—not a single one—had ever created a living thing from nothing, without offering anything in return. Even the birth of the greatest gods required a host for their physical form to exist.

A single flower might seem insignificant, but this was true creation—in its complete sense. The domain of a true god.