In the forest, the wind stirs the leaves, whispering through the branches.
The sky darkens with the weight of an unspoken promise.
A lone tiger-orc steps into the clearing.
His form ripples, bones shifting, fur sinking into skin.
In moments, a man in a golden robe stands where the beast had been.
He glances around, eyes scanning the swaying trees.
"If I close my divine sense," he murmurs, "I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between dream and reality."
A chuckle drifts through the air.
Merin, in his Deer-Orc form, emerges from the shadows.
"This is a trivial trick against a great being like you."
The man turns his gaze toward Merin, sizing him up.
Merin meets his eyes, measuring him in return.
For most orcs, this man is the supreme totem of the Tiger Race.
But to Merin—and the other six supreme totems—he is the God of this world.
Merin's chest tightens as he senses it—half his divine essence, slipping beyond his control, drawn toward some unseen force.
"You are talented," the man says.
Merin waves his hand.
The forest melts away, replaced by a quiet room with two chairs facing each other.
He disappears from where he stood and reappears seated in one of them.
"It cannot be compared to you."
The man also vanishes and reforms in the opposite chair.
Merin looks into his eyes, his voice heavy.
"Lord, may I know why you came to me?"
"I want to recruit you."
"May I know why? And did you invite the other supreme totems? Did any of them join?"
"You are the most talented person in my world. After me, of course."
Merin barely reacts to the flattery.
What he wants is the second answer.
"I didn't invite them," the man continues.
"Why? If they surrendered, you could quickly return to your position."
"I slept for many years. Without me, my divine kingdom reverted to being a world, and a World Will formed again. The World Will doesn't want me to return."
Two years ago, when Merin advanced to the supreme totem—also called a Demi-God—he received an advanced inheritance from a force known as the Supreme God Court, detailing how to become a God.
There are two paths for a Demi-God to ascend.
The man before him had chosen the Earth Divine Kingdom path—turning a world/micro-plane into his divine kingdom and erasing the World Will within it.
"Are they following the orders of the World Will?" Merin asks.
The man chuckles. "They are not you. They must obey the World Will."
Merin frowns. "What do you mean?"
"The Six Supremes followed the racial way to become Supreme Totems," the man says. "They are tied to the World Will. If the World Will desires, it can strip them of their realm instantly."
"And I am free from that influence because I chose the Way of Law," Merin says.
The man nods. "Yes. Moreover, you are opening a way. The World Will need you more than you need it. If you share your way, many worlds would welcome you."
In this world, the Dream Law can only take one to the peak of the second stage—Rank 15. Supreme Totems begin from Rank 16 to 20.
To become a Supreme Totem, Merin forged a new path within the Dream Law, extending it to Rank 16.
This path is his creation alone, not the world's.
For a world to grow stronger, it must either adopt new paths within existing laws or enact entirely new laws.
Before this world absorbs Merin's path, he remains vital to it.
And since Merin follows the Way of Law, his control over his power is far greater.
Still, half of his divine essence is out of his hands—because ultimately, that essence belongs to the man before him.
The only reason he retains control over the remaining half is because of his Law path; otherwise, far more would have slipped beyond his grasp.
The man leans forward. "What if you join me? I will help you become a God."
"I need to think about it," Merin says.
"You may," the man replies, his voice fading with him. "But don't take too long."
The room bursts like a bubble. Merin opens his eyes, back in his own chamber.
He sits still, deep in thought. Why did God come to recruit me?
For the God of this world, returning to his position should be easy. He only needs to complete his divine essence—either by gathering the essence scattered across the world or by absorbing the power of faith and turning it into divine essence. With time, he would reclaim his position and turn this world into his Divine Kingdom again.
Yet something seems to be stopping him… or perhaps he simply wishes to return faster. More likely the latter, which is why he approached me.
So, should I answer yes or no?
His goal in coming to this world is already more than accomplished. If he returns now, he would have enough merit to combine the five laws and advance to Rank 11—or to advance with the Dream Law.
But this body has already reached Rank 16. The next path will be far more difficult. He reached Rank 16 so quickly only because, as a totem by birth, his essence was already at that rank, and his past understanding of laws combined with his talent allowed him to break through in under two hundred years.
So… yes or no?
He decides to take his time.
His gaze shifts to the door. "Come in."
Tillie steps inside, her face bright with joy. She kneels. "Lord, you are awake."
The next day, members of different Orc races, dressed in fine clothing, nervously enter the palace. They are the parliament of the Dream Kingdom—but most have never set foot inside the Dream Palace.
It is the most important place in the kingdom, for it is where the Totem resides—the true master of the Dream Kingdom. In the seventy years since the parliament's creation, they have never once been summoned here. Yet today, for some reason, they are.
Perhaps it is because of what happened in the arena last night.
They whisper among themselves, trying to guess the reason.
Soon, they are led into a vast hall. Pillars rise on both sides instead of walls, and at the far end, a single throne stands alone. Wind drifts in from outside, brushing their backs.
Facing them are the shamans, their expressions solemn.
The parliament members wait. Time passes. No one addresses them.
Restlessness grows.
Then, without warning, the shamans drop to their knees, bowing toward the throne.
Only then do the parliament members notice a figure sitting there. Their eyes widen.
They, too, kneel—because the figure is a Deer-Orc. And in the Dream Palace, only the Totem may sit on that throne.
Merin sits leisurely, gazing at them. "You all can get up."
They rise slowly, heads still bowed.
"I am pleased with how you have governed the kingdom in my absence," Merin says.
"This is our duty, my lord," Tillie answers. The rest echo her words.
"Our kingdom has remained isolated from the rest of the land," Merin continues. "In a week, I will open the gates at the border."
A murmur spreads through the room.
Tillie steps forward. "My Lord, I wish to send the army to conquer the surrounding regions."
The hall falls silent. Eyes flick toward Merin, waiting.
He almost refuses—but pauses.
I am Rank 16 now, yet to reach Rank 17; comprehension of law alone is not enough.
I must increase my divine essence. Swallowing the divine essence of other Totems will not work—it already belongs to someone else.
The only path left is the power of faith.
With the faith of this single region, it would take a thousand years to advance.
A thousand years… that is too long.
But before I return to the main world, if I can reach a higher rank, it will be far better. The situation it is dangerous. I must strengthen myself quickly.
"First," Merin says aloud, "send scouts for information. After that, I will decide."
After the meeting, Merin's body steps into the dream world.
A black void stretches endlessly, white bubbles forming and fading all around him. Each bubble is a dream, born from the minds of the world's creatures.
He sits cross-legged in the emptiness, eyes half-closed, and reflects on what he has learned.
For now, the God controls only the Tiger-Orcs. But as the God's strength rises, all other Orc races will also fall under divine influence. When that happens, every Orc in his kingdom—except the Dream Deer—will be outside his command.
He must act before that day arrives.
The fastest way is to gather faith and advance in rank… or to transform the other Orcs into Dream Deer Orcs. Once, Dream Deer Orcs were ordinary Deer-Orcs, until his own rank advancement changed them, reshaping them through the will of the world.
He cannot transform them all at once, as the world can. One by one is possible, but it is like pulling a cart before the horse—too slow, too costly in time.
Comprehending the law will not advance his rank, but it will still raise his strength.
So, the only true path is a cultivation technique that will turn them into hybrids of Orc and Dream race. But this demands dream essence—and he is the only source.
Unless… he creates a technique allowing them to draw dream essence on their own.
Merin leans back, golden light bursting from his body. His form dissolves, fading into the dream world itself, his consciousness merging with its depths to accelerate his calculations.