In the eerie green gloom of this so-called “Paradise,” the mist remained faint.

Ten meters away, a shadow slowly waved. Its form was blurred, standing on the lake surface just like Noah. From afar, Noah could only make out its ever-shifting, almost-human outline.

Encountering an unknown entity in a strange new realm, instinct told Noah to stay alert.

Yet he sensed no hostility. True, this might be a deity’s “Paradise”—but recalling those unserious Star River Giants from the Sea of Clouds world last time…

Noah couldn’t help but conclude: not everything in “Paradise” was lofty or sacred.

At the very least, when those cosmos-dwelling, formless giants hurled insults, they weren’t fundamentally different from shrieking fishwives brawling on a town street.

The only difference? Volume.

Since then, Noah had lost most of his reverence for beings in “Paradise.”

Still, he moved cautiously. Instead of answering the wave, he scanned the area, hoping to spot some wondrous trinket lying around—like last time.

No luck. Unlike Kale the God of Holy Light, this realm’s deity wasn’t the forgetful type.

Noah searched nearly the whole vicinity. Not a single glimmer.

Apparently, not every god carelessly drops relics.

And ascending didn’t guarantee finding divine leftovers—though one might’ve come in handy for self-defense.

Sighing inwardly, Noah slowly guided his spirit form forward, inch by inch. He paused every two steps, watching the shadow closely.

It wasn’t paranoia. He still didn’t know where he was.

Logically? He might’ve landed in a dark cult’s “Paradise.”

Or “Hell”—close enough. Noah knew little about dark cults, but past memories confirmed many doctrines included Hell.

Dark cults branched widely: the Goddess of Death and Goddess of Shadows led the two largest factions, with scattered sects like the Cult of the Undead, Blood Cult, Evolution Cult, and Cult of Illusory Dreams…

Some doctrines were chaotic. Their Hells? Equally messy.

So Noah couldn’t rule out bizarre surprises.

For now, the waving shadow was likely one of them.

He advanced slowly, waving mist aside, eyes locked on the shape. As he neared, its form sharpened:

First, it swelled like a balloon.

Then morphed into a tiny giraffe.

Finally sprouted eight crab-like legs.

Only when Noah stood directly before it did he see its true state—

A dense, massive cloud of black mist.

...

It matched Noah’s silhouette, slightly smaller, yet held no fixed shape.

That explained the constant shifting.

Sensing Noah’s presence, two hollows formed deep within the mist. From them, eerie green flames kindled slowly, coalescing into eyes that studied Noah for seconds.

Surprisingly clear and lively—like a child seeing a living person for the first time. Excitement and curiosity sparkled deep within.

For some reason, those fiery eyes felt familiar.

That recognition eased Noah’s guard slightly.

After a brief pause, he asked tentatively, “What should I call you?”

No reply.

Or rather—it couldn’t. It had no mouth.

Instead, it zipped around Noah, then bounced wildly. The green flames flickered before hovering close, gazing at him with hopeful expectation.

*What’s that supposed to mean?*

*You expect me to decode that?*

Noah frowned, scrutinizing it. “You can’t speak?”

The mist’s clear eyes blinked in confusion.

Noah realized—it had no ears either. Eyes to see, nothing to hear.

The mist seemed to grasp this too. It drifted sideways and gently nuzzled his hand.

Noah decided to follow its lead. He reached out and poked two small holes on either side.

The mist felt strangely warm, unexpectedly soft—not cold at all.

The moment the holes formed, the green flames flared sharply.

The calm lake rippled. A biting wind sliced across Noah’s cheeks like blades.

*Angry?*

Thinking he’d pressed too hard, Noah stepped back twice.

But the holes began reshaping—deepening into ear-like structures.

As the ears solidified, the chill faded. The flames settled.

Noah steadied himself. “Can you hear me now?”

The mist gazed gratefully and bobbed vigorously—*nodding*.

Adaptability was Noah’s strength. He immediately considered adding more features.

“Shall I give you a mouth too?”

The mist nodded again, eyes gleaming with longing.

Clearly, hearing and seeing without speaking was torture.

Noah didn’t hesitate. He poked another hole below the eyes.

Wind stirred. Ripples spread underfoot.

Only then did he notice—he cast no reflection.

*Right. I’m a spirit. A shadow would be weirder.*

As the winds stilled, Noah refocused, wary.

Now the mist could see, hear, and soon speak.

Just like facing the Star River Giants again.

One wrong word, another holy war…

Other factions? Unknown.

But the current Mediator would definitely have a massive headache.

The mist’s mouth finally formed—a pure hollow. No teeth, no tongue. Just a passage leading into profound, impenetrable darkness.

Noah held his breath, mind racing for the safest reply.

The mist drifted close. Green flames flickered. It slowly opened its chaotic-mouth passage.

A deep, clear human voice emerged:

“Holy crap, President! What are you doing here?”

Noah: “???”

That title jolted him. Then it hit him—

*That voice… It’s Anna?!*