“A god’s wound… could it be—”

The blonde drew breath, emotion surging like a rising tide, but the green-haired woman cut her down with a glare cold as jade.

“This stays in your heart; that realm isn’t yours to step into.” Even if you wield mighty divine authority, some truths are mist—felt, not spoken.

“But I’m a Demigod…”

“Demigod or not, in this age, humans are still seedlings before ancient gods.”

Her breath came heavy, like a bellows slow and stubborn. The green-haired woman’s fingers clamped the blonde’s wrist, tips biting like thorns.

She drank air like a last draught, stretching her final moments to pour out all she carried.

“But please, believe in humanity; believe in the most beautiful light in you that belongs to humans.” That’s the only way to slip free of gods’ rule, the only bridge toward the future.

“You are humanity’s king, not a god’s king.”

“As a thing shaped by gods, my life ends with the measure of a clay cup.” But you are different; human blood runs in you like a warm river. You have made miracles enough; you hold a god’s might and a human future full of open skies.

Her voice rose, and from the ghastly wound on her chest, spiderweb cracks skittered across her body like frost. She noticed the strange change and gave the blonde a bitter smile, like a wilted flower in wind.

She drew a deep breath, as if tasting the proof she still existed in this world.

“Please, my friend, even for me, keep loving humanity…”

“Enkidu!”

With those last words lodged in the blonde’s heart, the green-haired woman closed her eyes and let the cracks climb, welcoming her own death like falling leaves.

The blonde’s cry tore loose; tears brimmed like stormed pearls. Blazing golden Aether speared up into the sky and draped the entire courtyard like a sunlit veil.

Majestic might rolled through heaven and earth; her hoarse shout shook the city, then the nation, until everything lay under that vast power.

“Enkidu… I’ll keep your last wish and keep loving humanity…”

Her voice trembled, tears coursing down her face like rain on bronze.

“This is the promise of humanity’s first king, and the vow between us!”

The cracked body met the wind; it broke into countless green motes, and under the gold radiance drifted far like seeds on air.

And the first king of humanity felt a bond harden in her heart like tempered steel; humanity’s future will blaze in her hands.

Now, roll time back before all this, back to the cool pavilion, when the green-haired woman still breathed and the crimson figure had yet to strike.

“Huh? Miss Enkidu, you want me to play the one who kills you? And act a bit like a god?”

Aphelia listened to her request, stunned in place like a thunderstruck deer.

“Yes, Miss Aphelia. As payment, I’ll give you this body shaped by divine authority. Don’t worry; it’s the body of a true god, that pure, noble one.”

“Yes, Miss Aphelia. As payment, I’ll give you this body shaped by divine authority. Don’t worry; it’s the body of a true god, that pure, noble one.”

The green-haired woman said so, her gaze resting on Aphelia like quiet rain.

“But this is my mindscape; my flesh hasn’t failed…” She paused as the memory bit: Crimson Flame still coiled in her body, skin nearly scorched.

If not for that strange strip of cloth, my body would already be ash in the Crimson Fire.

Seeing Aphelia’s thoughtful look, the green-haired woman smiled like spring thaw. “You’re not about to say you don’t need this now, are you?”

“But even if you gift me a body, my soul might not merge; even a limb swap can warp things.” A full body change is worse; if we don’t merge, soul and flesh snap apart in an instant.

That fear gnawed deepest at her. When she lost an arm, she didn’t dare graft Hydra’s limb, using Arcane Power to shape a hand instead. She dreaded that soul-flesh collapse, and now, even with her body ragged, she didn’t dare accept the green-haired woman’s body lightly.

“As for that, don’t worry at all.” This flesh fits your soul perfectly, better even than your own body.

She shook her head with a soft laugh. A ribbon of Aether poured into her neck; pale skin split, and white light seeped like dawn.

“Eh?”

Even though the World Will had shown Aphelia the past of Brynhildr and the others, power beyond the era still felt like a sun too bright to hold.

“This is the element that forms me, a thing from the world’s first morning.” The Goddess called it Primordial Soil and built my body with it. Rather than giving you a body, I’m giving you that element.

“With Primordial Soil, you can use your soul to create flesh like a tree growing from a seed.”

“By the way, bodies born through Primordial Soil carry divinity.” It’s from the primordial age and no longer a mere “object”, though my own state keeps me from saying much more.

She sighed and shook her head, like a willow in wind.

“In short, for rebuilding your body, Primordial Soil will help greatly. Take it.”

She reached into the white glow and drew out a green crystal, handing it to Aphelia like passing a forest’s heart.

“I’ll accept it… what will happen to you?” Aphelia didn’t take it yet; her voice ran low, eyes locked on hers like anchors.

The question hit the hinge. Both knew what waited once that thing was gone.

“Ah, don’t worry. After so long, I don’t need such a thing to keep a body…”

“Please don’t fob me off like that, Miss Enkidu!”

Silence stretched. She had tried to laugh it away, but Aphelia stopped her like a drawn blade. Even burned and tattered, Aphelia wouldn’t win her future by taking another’s life. She wasn’t rigid, yet for someone who hadn’t harmed her and barely known her, what right did she have to demand a sacrifice?

Checked by that cry, the green-haired woman blinked, then smiled and settled like calm water.

“Miss Aphelia, your nature truly hasn’t changed from start to finish.”

“This isn’t about nature…”

“Listen first, Miss Aphelia.”

With the green core removed, her face paled further, like starlight thinning at dawn. Seeing her state, Aphelia held her tongue and clenched her fists till the knuckles went white.

“From the moment I was made, I basked in the Goddess’s gentleness.” Those years stretched on and on, until humans returned to this land like spring after winter.

“I witnessed civilization’s birth with the Goddess, and I watched its fall like a city of sand.” I kept wondering why She loved humans—proud, selfish, cruel—yet She held them in her arms to the end.

“Then one day, the Goddess gave me this mission and vanished from the world.” I came to the human realm and slowly learned their words, their thoughts, their gestures.

She spoke with a look of longing, mind drifting back to the days when a naive doll was accepted by humans like a child welcomed home.

“I felt human kindness and understood love.” One person gave me a different vantage, and I found a redemption that belonged to humans.

“So I realized the future should belong to humans.” Those with divinity should stay in their own domains and spend their long lives like candles in quiet halls. Besides, I’ve lived long enough. As the human Enkidu, my life should end.

“To keep living alone is too lonely, like a winter field without footprints.”

She smiled without a trace of pretense; as a child of gods, she’d lived a life among humans bright enough to fill a tapestry.

“It’s enough, Aphelia.” But your life shouldn’t end yet. You must keep searching for your past and take back what was yours. That’s my counsel from a god’s vantage, and I’m entrusting the rest to you.

Faced with that confession, Aphelia couldn’t find words; emotion pooled like deep water.

Enkidu had weathered time beyond counting, and her thoughts lay far from Aphelia’s reach. Yet the longing for release passed cleanly into Aphelia’s heart like a bell’s echo.

“Miss Enkidu… I understand.” Aphelia took the Primordial Soil, gazing at her with a complicated look like clouds before rain.

“No matter what you say, I’ll remember you forever, until my own end.”