Chapter 181 – Suspicion Beneath the Skin
The morning was quiet.
Too quiet, in Airi's opinion.
She stood in the hallway with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly as she watched Alex make breakfast. His sleeves were rolled up. He was humming softly. Peaceful. Relaxed.
And on the back of his right hand… the double mark glowed faintly.
Gold and silver.
She narrowed her eyes at it.
Hanabi entered from the living room, yawning and stretching. She noticed Airi's expression and followed her gaze.
"…Still there, huh?"
Airi didn't respond right away.
But after a moment, she said, "Have you noticed how different he's been since Morgan started doing that?"
Hanabi nodded, eyes narrowing. "Yeah. She's too quiet. Even when she's not visible, it's like… she's watching."
"Because she is watching," Airi muttered. "She's always right there. In that symbol. Right beside Ciel."
Hanabi leaned in. "You think she's spying on us?"
"I think," Airi said, "that she's staking her claim in the most subtle, possessive way possible."
At that moment, the silver part of the symbol shimmered.
They both flinched back instinctively.
And then—
With a soft twist of light, Morgan appeared from behind Alex's right shoulder — unfolding gracefully from the silver lines as if stepping through a doorway that only she could see.
Her feet touched the floor without sound.
Her expression was as calm and unreadable as ever.
"I can hear you, you know," she said coolly.
Alex blinked from the stove. "Oh. Morning, Morgan."
"Morning," she said, brushing silver hair over one shoulder, then turned back to the two women who were still recovering from the shock.
"I prefer being here," Morgan continued, tapping the back of Alex's hand with two fingers. "His hand. His breath. His thoughts. Ciel's presence is... tolerable. But this is where I belong."
Airi raised an eyebrow. "You prefer being part of him?"
"Yes."
Hanabi crossed her arms. "That's creepy. And also kind of impressive."
Airi tilted her head, curious despite herself. "What kind of magic even does that?"
Before Morgan could answer, Ciel's voice drifted gently from the hallway as she stepped into view, her expression calm as ever.
"They're called sigil-bound soul anchors. It's a fusion of compression magic and resonance-based soulbinding."
Hanabi blinked. "Can we do it?"
Ciel gave a graceful smile. "No."
"…What?"
Ciel spoke with perfect kindness. "You lack the magical affinity for this branch of transformation magic. Both of you."
Hanabi stared. "How do you know?"
"I've scanned your resonance fields," Ciel said gently. "Hanabi, your mana flares like wildfire. Too unstable for compression. And Airi, your spiritual flow is too structured — too sharp. The thread would snap on entry."
Airi scowled faintly. "So only you and she can do it?"
"Yes."
Morgan folded her arms. "Which means neither of you need to worry. You won't be inviting yourselves."
Hanabi growled. "Wasn't asking for permission, Ice Queen."
Morgan gave a flat look. "Good. Because I wouldn't give it."
Ciel sighed softly. "Let's not fight this morning."
Morgan didn't answer — she merely shimmered again and folded herself back into Alex's hand, disappearing in a silver twist of light.
Hanabi stared at the spot where she vanished.
Airi muttered, "That woman is going to be a problem."
Ciel's gold eyes sparkled faintly as she stepped past them, heading toward Alex and the kettle.
"She already is," she said.
"But she's also family now."
Within the silver light, Morgan lay folded in serenity.
Not sleep.
Not silence.
Just existence — surrounded by the steady pulse of Alex's mana, the warmth of his skin beneath the sigil, and the soft, golden hum of Ciel's presence beside her.
She heard everything.
Every murmur of suspicion from Airi.
Every spark of irritation from Hanabi.
And her own voice, cold and clear, echoing in the air: "I prefer being here."
She meant it.
But what she didn't say — what she would never say aloud — was that she felt something more.
Pride.
Satisfaction.
Superiority.
They couldn't do this.
They couldn't fold themselves into the soul-thread of the one they loved.
They couldn't breathe with him, rest against his heartbeat, live in the same pulse of magic and thought.
But she could.
She and Ciel.
The two of them alone.
The true ones who belonged at his side.
Morgan didn't smirk.
She was above such things.
But deep within, she felt a quiet, blooming warmth. Not gloating — simply certainty.
She had carved her place.
And no one could take it from her.
Except…
She turned her attention slightly to the golden resonance beside her.
Ciel.
Soft. Stable. Impossibly balanced.
Morgan had once assumed Ciel was too distant to matter. Too graceful to understand. Too perfect to compete with.
But now… she knew better.
Ciel was not perfect.
She was still.
A presence like ancient starlight — patient, radiant, and unyielding.
And in truth…
Morgan admired her.
Respected her.
Loved her.
Not as a rival.
Not as a threat.
But as something rarer:
A sister.
And sometimes…
Morgan even thought—
She might be better than me.
And strangely… that didn't hurt.
It didn't sting.
It didn't dig under her pride like it once would have.
It felt right.
To have someone she could respect.
Someone she could trust.
Someone who let her be herself — even at her coldest, even at her worst — and never once flinched.
Morgan whispered through the tether:
You're the only one I would ever call my equal.
Ciel responded with soft warmth:
And you're the one I would call my sister.
For a moment, nothing more needed to be said.
Morgan rested.
Wrapped in Alex's breath.
Bound beside the only woman who understood her fully.
And though the others couldn't hear it…
Morgan smiled.
Chapter 182 – A Disaster of Legendary Proportions
The living room was unusually quiet for a Sunday morning.
Alex sat on the couch with a warm mug in hand, still in his pajama shirt. Hanabi lay sideways across the carpet with her head on a throw pillow, eyes barely open. Airi was calmly brushing her hair beside the window. Ciel sat with one leg tucked under the other, watching the television with polite interest.
And Morgan?
Morgan sat straight-backed in a chair, dressed in immaculate black and silver as if she were waiting for a war council… not a morning news program.
The volume was low, but the headline was clear:
"BREAKING: No injuries after mysterious thirty-meter crater appears in central Switzerland overnight."
The anchor's voice continued:
"Authorities say the impact caused major property damage, but somehow, no civilians were harmed. Emergency services arrived on site to find several unconscious goats and a complete absence of eyewitnesses. Investigators suspect a gas line rupture—though no gas was found…"
Alex blinked. "Another one?"
Ciel folded her hands. "That's the fourth this week."
Hanabi squinted at the screen. "Wait, wasn't yesterday that flying boar rampage in Naples?"
Airi nodded. "And the week before, a giant sword embedded in the Seine."
Morgan tilted her head.
Then said, dry as winter frost:
"Reincarnated heroes."
The room turned to her.
She sipped her tea.
"Or mythical figures," she continued calmly. "Possibly both. Judging by the lack of casualties and the sheer idiocy of the destruction, it's clear someone with great power — and minimal restraint — is wandering around."
Hanabi grinned. "You say that like it's not a little bit awesome."
Morgan's tone didn't change. "It's a headache."
She turned to the screen just as another anchor began reporting a separate case: "Massive explosion at Icelandic hot springs—officials blame 'volcanic pressure buildup.'"
Morgan exhaled through her nose. "Volcanic pressure. Gas lines. Weather balloons. These cover stories are getting worse."
Ciel smiled softly. "The Memory Erasure Division must be exhausted."
"I feel worse for the finance department," Airi muttered.
Morgan continued, utterly deadpan:
"Somewhere, an Association director is screaming into a pillow while the Bureau of Global Coordination tries to explain to seventeen governments why a fifteen-story crater with phoenix feather residue is obviously an earthquake."
Hanabi laughed out loud.
Morgan didn't smile. She never smiled.
But her eyes glittered faintly with amusement.
"You know what this is?" she added, sipping again. "It's a wave. A new cycle. Reincarnated brats with divine blessings, poor impulse control, and questionable fashion sense."
Alex blinked. "...Fashion sense?"
Morgan narrowed her eyes. "You saw the man in the flaming jacket made of sword hilts in Germany, didn't you?"
Airi sighed. "Don't remind me. He called himself 'Lord Bladefire, the Flameborn Sovereign.'"
Hanabi choked on her tea.
Morgan set her cup down with quiet finality.
"The true danger to world order isn't demons. It's overconfident protagonists with no adult supervision."
Ciel nodded. "And no understanding of property insurance."
They all sat in silence for a beat.
Then the screen shifted to yet another story:
"Nude man seen floating midair over Tokyo Tower before vanishing in golden light. Experts blame a drone malfunction."
Everyone turned to Morgan.
She sipped once more.
"That one might actually be divine."
Location: Central Command Hall, Magic Association – Geneva Subdivision
The mood in the control hall was pure exhaustion.
Crystal communication mirrors floated overhead, each showing some new developing incident. Magical containment maps blinked in red and yellow. A chalkboard in the corner bore a large heading:
"Reincarnated Monitoring: Priority Tier 1–3 (High Risk)"
And at the center of it all, Director Ernest Thorne was pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I want all Tier-1s tagged with an adaptive limiter bracelet, I don't care if they claim it 'offends their heroic aura.'"
A young officer with trembling hands held out a clipboard. "Uh, sir, Lady Jeanne Arclight said if we try to suppress her magic again she will—quote—'bring judgment upon the false church of bureaucracy.'"
Thorne exhaled. "Is she still throwing spears into the sea?"
"Yes, sir. Twelve this morning. One hit a ferry."
Across the continent, agents met with reincarnates in various cities.
Many were reasonable.
Some… less so.
[Kyoto, Japan – Shrine Outskirts]
A man in his twenties, wearing aviators and a sleeveless turtleneck, held up a glowing blade made of wind.
"I am Minamoto no Yoshitsune!" he announced to no one. "General of the East! Slayer of tyrants!"
An officer behind a tree whispered into his crystal: "He's on a rooftop again."
"Let him talk," came the reply. "At least he's not blowing up vending machines today."
[London, UK – University Campus]
Professor Alexander Aurellian adjusted his glasses.
"Yes, I remember my past life," he said, setting a lecture book down. "Yes, I was once Julius Caesar. And no, I will not be leading any conquests unless it involves student test scores. Please take your seat."
One student whispered, "He does grade like an emperor."
[Magic Association – Global Case Map]
A massive wall chart showed hundreds of tagged reincarnates.
Some icons were glowing gold — "Stable."
Others blinked red — "Containment Required."
And the worst ones… had their own folder.
The "Problem Children."
At the top of the list:
Achilles Pharos – Keeps challenging MMA champions on livestream.Genghis Renzu – Owns five motorcycles, has been banned in six countries for "accidental rampages."Zhao Yu Lin – Declared himself "Sage of Explosions" and blew up three roundabouts.Napoleon Moreau – Started a tech startup, which somehow also became a cult.Iskander Roux – Famous pop idol with six platinum singles and an ongoing habit of summoning war chariots on stage.
Director Thorne stared at the names and muttered, "Why is it always the overachievers."
[Back in Geneva HQ]
A calmer officer approached.
"Director, good news — several reincarnates are adapting well. We have scholars, artists, a few working in finance. Some don't even want attention. They just live normally."
Thorne looked up.
"Log them as 'Non-Hostile Autonomous.' No bracelets, no watchers. Let them live. We've got bigger dragons to fry."
"Yes, sir."
A moment of silence passed.
Then someone from the corner yelled:
"Sir! There's a new incident in Rome. A man calling himself 'Romulus Maximus' just punched a statue for disrespecting his bloodline!"
Thorne screamed into his coat sleeve.
Chapter 183 – Absolutely Not Reincarnated
The living room of the Elwood house was filled with the comforting hum of post-breakfast laziness.
Alex sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping channels. Airi was flipping through a scroll with one hand while sipping barley tea. Hanabi lay sprawled across the rug, half-covered in a blanket, still reeling from the morning news.
A report played in the background:
"...yet another crater, this time in southern Germany. Authorities continue to insist it was an isolated meteor strike…"
Alex changed the channel.
"That's the third meteor strike this week," he muttered.
Hanabi yawned, stretching. "More like the third magical misfire by someone with too much reincarnated pride."
She turned and squinted at Alex.
"You sure you're not one of them?"
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You know. Some ancient hero. Secret emperor. A reincarnated war god who just hasn't said anything yet."
Ciel blinked from her spot near the window. "He's not."
Hanabi shrugged. "Come on, it'd make sense. Superpowerful guy, black hair, mysterious charm—"
"I'm literally just… me," Alex said flatly.
Morgan's voice came coolly from the silver sigil on the back of his right hand:
"He is not a reincarnated figure. If he were, the Magic Association would have forcefully registered him by now."
Hanabi raised an eyebrow. "You sound sure."
"I am," Morgan said, materializing in a soft silver shimmer behind Alex, arms crossed as always.
She continued:
"And even if he were, the Association would be knocking on our door, not monitoring from a distance. The only reincarnates causing problems are the ones who aren't behaving."
Airi looked up. "So… who's in charge of all that anyway? Who's managing this mess?"
Morgan answered without hesitation.
"Merlin and Sun Tzu."
Hanabi sat up straight. "Wait—the actual Merlin? The Sun Tzu?"
Morgan nodded. "They're not reincarnates. They're immortals. They've been alive this whole time."
Alex blinked. "Seriously?"
"Merlin is the Head of the European Branch of the Magic Association," Morgan said coolly. "Sun Tzu oversees the Asian Branch. They've retained their positions for centuries. And currently..."
She gestured vaguely toward the television, where news of another spontaneous geyser eruption was being blamed on 'underground tectonic expansion.'
"They are very, very busy."
"Handling all this alone?" Airi asked.
"With entire teams under them," Morgan said, "and still drowning."
Ciel smiled faintly. "Must be mountains of paperwork."
"Mountains," Morgan confirmed. "Every time one of these reincarnated fools challenges a building to a duel or manifests a magic weapon in the middle of a bakery, Merlin and Sun Tzu have to step in — personally. Especially the powerful ones. Some of them are too unstable to be managed by junior staff."
Hanabi whistled. "So basically… the old legends are babysitting the new ones."
Morgan sipped her tea. "Correct."
[Somewhere in England – Magic Association, European Branch Headquarters]
In a vast chamber lined with floating spell-lights and shelves overflowing with paperwork, Merlin, in full robes, was hunched over a crystalline tablet.
"…Seven reincarnated warlords in France. Two magical duels near Naples. One self-proclaimed prophet who summoned a storm over Vienna for 'aesthetic effect.'"
He sighed, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed his temples.
"Why did I ever teach half these people…"
[Meanwhile, Beijing – Magic Association, Asian Branch Headquarters]
Sun Tzu stood beside a glowing tactical map with six red marks pulsing urgently.
His assistant whispered, "General Li awakened as Lü Bu and just attempted to mount a police horse."
Sun Tzu didn't look up. "File the incident under 'delusion,' send him home with noodles, and blacklist his name from arena permits for one month."
A second officer burst in. "Sir, the media's caught wind of the crater incident in Korea."
Sun Tzu closed his eyes.
"Of course they have."
And across the world…
At the exact same moment…
Merlin sneezed violently into a silk handkerchief.
Sun Tzu paused mid-scroll and sneezed once — short, sharp, composed.
Both men blinked.
"…Someone is gossiping," Merlin muttered.
Sun Tzu calmly wiped his nose. "Undoubtedly."
Location: Mount Saint-Gabriel – Subterranean Chamber of Endurance
Another meeting.
Another headache.
Another cycle of ancient figures complaining about modern absurdities.
Merlin stood once more at the center of the sacred stone chamber — robes immaculate, expression worn with regal disappointment. The seven seats around him were filled by those who endured. Immortals who had outlived kings, gods, and calendar systems.
And all of them had one thing in common today:
Annoyance.
A chair scraped as Leonardo da Vinci leaned back, rubbing his temples.
"Am I the only one who's had to rewrite twenty security clearance reports because someone decided the Louvre was their ancestral birthright?"
"Try explaining to municipal council members why a bronze eagle attacked a public bus," Flamel murmured, voice like dry leaves. "No one believes in 'divine omens' anymore."
Sun Tzu folded his hands calmly. "Two days ago, someone reenacted a battlefield maneuver from the Han dynasty using shopping carts. Five people fainted. One grandmother joined in."
Queen Elizabeth did not look up from her tablet. "One of mine demanded knighthood from a visiting ambassador."
Michelangelo grunted. "At least yours use words. One of mine summoned a divine hammer to settle a property dispute over a garden hedge."
Merlin remained silent — for now.
Rasputin twirled a blackened ring around his finger, eyes half-lidded. "One declared himself the reincarnation of 'eternal love' and has started issuing challenges to churches."
There was a pause.
Then Dante's voice — quiet, distant: "That one has not been seen in a week. I believe he may be fasting on a rooftop again."
Leonardo snorted. "Better there than livestreaming another 'trial by moonlight.'"
Merlin finally spoke.
"Three containment teams were rerouted this week alone. The memory-erasure division is requesting three hundred new recruits and a two-month blackout protocol budget."
Sun Tzu added, "Asia is experiencing residual leyline trauma from spell fragments cast without completion. Several were powered by 'passion,' which, apparently, qualifies as fuel now."
Flamel's brow creased. "Alchemy is being misquoted in forums. Someone cited transmutation theory to explain protein shakes."
Elizabeth swiped something off her screen with grim distaste. "One's writing a romance novel based on false memories. It's already a bestseller."
Rasputin chuckled. "At least someone's finding success."
Michelangelo tapped the armrest of his stone chair. "I received a sculpture submission yesterday — an attempt to 'channel my essence.' It was made of noodles."
Dante, unmoving, simply said, "One claimed to see angels. When pressed, they described streetlights."
The table fell into silence again.
Until—
ACHOO.
Merlin sneezed into a silken handkerchief with exhausted dignity.
Sun Tzu gave a restrained, clinical sneeze of his own.
All eyes turned.
Queen Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Someone's speaking of you both."
Leonardo grinned. "Probably somewhere warm. Somewhere chaotic."
"Somewhere hormonal," Rasputin added, smiling faintly.
No one laughed.
But no one disagreed.
Back at the Elwood house…
Morgan folded gracefully back into the silver sigil on the back of Alex's hand, settling beside Ciel in the warmth of his mana.
She felt his steady breath… his pulse… and the gentle presence of the girl she called sister.
Somewhere far away, immortals were scrambling.
But here?
She was exactly where she belonged.
And she wasn't about to tell them…
That it really had been her they sneezed about.
Olympus – Greek Divine Land
On a high marble terrace where clouds curled like silk around golden pillars, Zeus stood with one hand on the rail, watching storms dance far below.
He felt them.
Sparks of divine blood waking in the mortal world — not full gods, no — but close.
"Some of my children breathe again," he murmured.
His tone was not thunderous. Not wrathful.
Only proud.
Behind him, Athena stepped forward, armored and calm.
"Not just yours."
He turned to her with a smile. "Jealous?"
"No," she replied. "But I hope this time… they'll remember wisdom before the war starts."
Zeus laughed.
Takama-ga-hara – Shinto Divine Land
Amaterasu knelt at a water shrine, fingers brushing along the surface of an ever-spring mirror. A face shimmered in the reflection — young, unfamiliar, but beneath it pulsed a heartbeat she knew.
"My light runs through her," she whispered.
From the trees, Tsukuyomi stepped into view.
"You knew she'd return."
"I hoped."
He tilted his head. "Will you speak to her?"
"No," Amaterasu said. "Not until she remembers me with love. Not fear."
The Duat – Egyptian Divine Land
In a hallway lit by flame that did not burn, Ra stood facing an open sky, his divine presence wrapped in golden bands.
He was quiet.
Watching.
"Three," he finally said. "Three of mine have returned."
Behind him, Isis exhaled. "Their souls were scattered long ago."
"They found their way home," Ra replied.
"Will you summon them?"
He shook his head.
"Not yet."
He touched the wall beside him — and for a moment, three small suns shimmered against the stone.
"They are not ready."
"But they are walking."
Asgard – Norse Divine Land
In the shade of a long-hanging star above the great halls of Valaskjálf, Freyja braided her hair in silence.
A bird landed nearby.
It whispered a name.
She stopped.
"…She's alive again?"
The bird nodded.
Freyja smiled softly.
"She was mine once. I hope she's still a little wild."
Nearby, Odin stood with both hands on Gungnir, his ravens circling overhead.
"She'll remember," he said. "They all will. Eventually."
Dilmun – Mesopotamian Divine Land
Inanna, draped in starlight, danced along a hanging bridge spun of stardust and shadow.
Below her, the Earth pulsed.
She paused mid-step.
Then grinned.
"One of mine was reborn in silk and blood. She's already making trouble."
She clapped her hands. "Wonderful."
Behind her, Anu only sighed.
Mictlan – Aztec Divine Land
Xochiquetzal, goddess of beauty and spring, hummed softly as she wove a garland from petals that no longer existed in the human world.
One flower shimmered gold.
Another, red.
A third… blue.
She paused, fingers trembling slightly.
"…He lives again."
Tezcatlipoca, watching from behind obsidian glass, muttered, "Do you plan to tell him?"
"No," she said. "Let him bloom without pressure. He was always strongest when he thought he was unloved."
The Garden of the Hidden Moon – Roman Divine Land
Diana walked barefoot through a moonlit glade.
She looked up.
Smiled faintly.
And whispered:
"You're still running."
She reached out, plucked a silver petal from the air.
"And still mine."
Back on Earth…
They walked.
The reincarnated.
Children of gods.
Not gods themselves — not yet — but echoes of Olympus, of Asgard, of Duat and Takama-ga-hara and more.
They didn't know who they were.
Not all of them.
Not yet.
But they were changing the rhythm of the Earth.
The gods knew.
They watched.
They waited.
And silently…
Some of them whispered:
"Welcome home, my child."
Chapter 184 – What Should Never Have Reached Earth
The first impact was silent.
Not because it made no sound — but because no one was listening in that part of the world.
A meteorite.
Roughly the size of a cargo truck.
Black as obsidian, cratered with unnatural symmetry, trailing no flames as it descended. Its surface steamed as it struck the frozen crust of East Antarctica, splitting the ice with precision — not randomness. Not natural force.
Something chose where it landed.
Forty Minutes Later – Geneva Magic Association HQ
The alarms had already gone off.
Divination wards, sky-scanners, magical leylines, even ancestral prediction wheels from the old Tibetan enclaves — all of them screamed at once.
Director Thorne stood in his office, three secure lines open and twenty spell seals flickering in the air.
"Seal the airspace," he said coldly. "Tell every country the same thing: meteorite impact, no threat to human life, geological survey pending."
One of the aides turned pale. "Sir, the leyline reading—"
"I know what it said," Thorne snapped. "Now tell the Antarctic Circle Station Command that all operations are suspended. Full red quarantine. No entry. No exit."
Another officer broke in. "The UN wants a joint statement."
"They'll get a joint burial if they send civilians in."
World Broadcast Summary – Global Cover-up
Public Explanation: "A rare but non-hazardous meteorite has struck deep in Antarctica. No injuries. Scientists will analyze the impact."Satellite Images: Digitally altered to show a smaller crater. The black obelisk in the center? Erased.Commentators: Debunked social media claims. Discredited blurry footage. Mocked alien conspiracies.
"It's just a rock," the headlines read.
Behind closed doors… everyone knew it wasn't.
Three Days Later – The Containment Zone
The ice around the crater had melted unnaturally fast — not from heat, but from decay.
The corruption was not visible at first.
But then it grew.
Black filaments spread like veins through the snow, laced with pulsating red. The air shimmered above the crater — not from energy, but from a sickness in reality.
Spellcasters from the Magic Association had already established a twenty-kilometer perimeter. Sealing wards. Memory fog fields. Temporal locks.
It barely slowed the spread.
And then… the Immortals came.
Not all at once.
Not with ceremony.
They appeared without announcement.
One by one.
Merlin stepped from an arc of woven time, his staff pulsing with ancient order. His eyes narrowed the moment he looked at the crater.
Sun Tzu arrived on foot, barefoot in the snow, untouched by cold. He said nothing at first — only stared at the corruption and whispered:
"This is not war. This is corrosion of purpose."
Flamel entered through a crystalline gate, eyes wide and cautious. He carried no weapon. Only his journal — and a sense of dread.
Queen Elizabeth I stood at the farthest ridge, veiled in silence, her fingers wrapped around an iron rosary that had outlived empires.
Rasputin simply appeared. No flash. No drama. He walked into the storm barefoot, eyes narrowed, muttering,
"This smell... it remembers something that's never lived."
Michelangelo, Dante, Leonardo da Vinci — they came too.
Each one ancient.
Each one powerful.
And yet none of them had seen this before.
"This is no meteorite," Merlin said finally. His voice echoed over the ice like a truth wrapped in snow.
Sun Tzu stood beside him. "It didn't fall. It arrived."
Flamel flipped through his journal. "There's no celestial signature. No divine aura. No infernal trace. This came from outside the pattern."
Elizabeth muttered, "Even angels leave signatures when they descend."
Michelangelo scowled. "This left a hole."
They all stared at the black spire in the center of the crater — a smooth, pulsing growth that was no longer entirely solid.
It breathed.
It twitched.
Da Vinci whispered:
"This… this isn't corruption from this world. It's trying to learn us."
Merlin turned to the others.
"Whatever it is… it must not leave this place."
Sun Tzu's voice was cold. "Then we must seal Antarctica."
Olympus – Greek Divine Land
Lightning cracked without thunder.
The clouds darkened above the sacred halls, and even the golden pillars of Olympus felt a weight pressing down from below.
Zeus stood with his hand raised, palm open, trying to grasp the pressure he felt across the sky.
But it wasn't in the sky.
It came from beneath.
"A force has landed," he said, brow furrowed. "It dares to rise upward."
Behind him, Hera whispered, "It is not one of ours."
"It's not one of anyone's," muttered Athena. "Not titanic. Not divine. Not cursed. Not born of chaos or order."
Apollo stood in silence, eyes narrowing toward the southern hemisphere.
"…It isn't part of the Great Cycle."
Zeus clenched his jaw.
"Then we must prepare to face something without a place in the cosmic design."
Takama-ga-hara – Shinto Divine Land
The sunrise dimmed.
Amaterasu stood in her shrine, the light around her flickering for the first time in centuries. Even the sun seemed to hesitate.
A ripple passed through the kami realms — not a wave, but an inversion.
Something had landed.
Susanoo entered, blade slung across his back.
"I felt it in the oceans. The water doesn't know what to do. It's trying to forget where it touched."
Amaterasu closed her eyes.
"No offering. No prayer. No rite. Not even defilement. Just… presence."
She touched her mirror.
It failed to reflect.
Duat – Egyptian Divine Land
In the vast corridor of eternity, Ra held his solar staff tightly, watching the still river of the underworld shudder — just once.
Beside him, Thoth had stopped writing.
"There is no symbol for it," Thoth said, lips pressed tight. "No spell. No story. Not even a false name."
Ra's voice rumbled like distant sunfire.
"It casts no shadow. And yet… it devours the shadows around it."
"It is not godless," said Isis from the far gate. "It is godless made real."
Asgard – Norse Divine Land
Atop the rainbow bridges, the ravens of Odin swirled in erratic flight.
He did not speak.
He stared.
In the roots of Yggdrasil, something twitched.
Even Hel, from her distant realm, looked up for the first time in a thousand years.
In her cold voice, she whispered:
"This death… is not mine."
Týr, watching the world through one eye, muttered to himself, "It doesn't walk the path of fate. It leaves no footprints in the Nine Realms."
Dilmun – Mesopotamian Divine Land
The winds in Anu's floating city stilled.
The sky around him — normally in harmony with the divine breath of creation — was silent.
He turned toward the Earth.
"It didn't come through the gates," he said.
"Inanna," watching from a nearby ziggurat, narrowed her eyes.
"It didn't knock," she said. "It tore through the floor."
Mictlan – Aztec Divine Land
Tezcatlipoca stared into the obsidian mirror.
At first, it reflected the void.
Now…
It reflected something that wasn't there.
He frowned.
"This isn't corruption," he said slowly.
"This is instruction."
"It's teaching the world how to rot."
The Garden of the Hidden Moon – Roman Divine Land
Nox stood in her garden.
The pond — her mirror to all things hidden — had turned black at the center.
Not dark.
Black.
She whispered, "There is something… buried deep now."
And then — for the first time in thousands of years — she felt something strange.
Dread.
They were gods.
They had watched stars die.
They had seen civilizations rise, fall, and be reborn in myth.
But this?
This was not prophecy.
This was not punishment.
This was invasion.
And for once, the divine could only whisper the question mortals had always asked in fear:
"What is coming for us?"
Chapter 185 – When Gods Set Foot on Ice
The cold didn't matter anymore.
Not to the corrupted black veins spreading outward from the crater like infected roots.
Not to the arcane perimeter shields that flickered with strain every few hours.
And not to the immortals, who stood quietly along the edge — waiting, watching, calculating.
They had seen much.
But not this.
And then…
The gods began to arrive.
The sky above the frozen expanse began to boil.
Clouds spun in spirals — not natural ones, but shaped, called, compelled.
A column of lightning split the heavens, striking down with thunder that flattened the snow in a fifty-meter radius.
From it, Zeus stepped out, his cloak trailing stormlight.
Each footstep crackled with residual static.
Eyes like burning sky surveyed the crater, and for the first time in thousands of years…
He looked concerned.
"Earth trembles beneath this thing," he muttered. "Not from weight. But wrongness."
A second burst erupted from flame.
A spear of crimson fire smashed down into the ice, melting it for an instant before flash-freezing.
From the blaze strode Ares, god of war, eyes glowing with battle-hunger already restrained.
He sniffed the air and spat.
"That's not a war. That's a disease pretending to be purpose."
The Others Came
Athena, carried by a whisper of owl wings, landed with perfect silence beside Merlin, her eyes locked on the crater. She said only, "I see no pattern. And that frightens me."Amaterasu walked calmly across the blinding white horizon, each step leaving gold behind, which immediately faded. "My light does not touch its center," she murmured. "It devours the divine."Ra arrived with solar feathers falling from the sky, standing alongside Sun Tzu. "This is not an eclipse. This is unwritten night."Týr appeared through a shimmer in the snow, swordless, but more alert than any other. "Even Yggdrasil recoils."Inanna, wrapped in veils of wind and dust, whispered to the black tower in the crater, "Are you hungry, little star?"Tezcatlipoca came without fanfare, standing near Rasputin. "I brought my mirror," he said, smirking. "It refused to show me this."
No one spoke for a long time.
Gods and Immortals stood side by side — a gathering of eternal legends, each representing some part of Earth's oldest truth.
And none of them understood what stood in the crater.
Zeus turned to Merlin, lowering his voice.
"Do you believe this is alien?"
Merlin shook his head. "I believe it is else."
Ra said flatly, "It does not bleed magic. It does not hum with the divine. It does not smell of sin or sanctity."
"It doesn't fit," Athena added.
Týr folded his arms. "It walks the Earth like it belongs. But Earth does not recognize it."
Then the crater pulsed.
Just once.
Barely more than a breath.
But the gods all felt it.
And they stepped back.
Even Zeus.
Even Ra.
Even Amaterasu.
The corruption responded to their presence — not with fear. Not with hostility.
But with indifference.
As if it had already seen greater.
As if they were beneath its notice.
Zeus clenched his jaw.
Chapter 185 – When Gods Set Foot on Ice
The air above Antarctica had changed.
The crater still pulsed — black veins spidering outward through solid ice, its center occupied by a twisted spire of something half-organic, half-unknown.
The corruption was growing.
And Earth… was beginning to notice.
So were its oldest protectors.
Zeus arrived first — lightning splitting the clouds in a spiral of silver flame. When his feet touched the snow, it turned to steam in a flash. His expression wasn't furious. It was focused. Stern.
His eyes found the crater.
Then the immortals.
"Merlin. Flamel. Sun Tzu." His voice was neither command nor question. It was simply recognition.
Merlin gave a nod. "Zeus."
No kneeling. No fear.
And Zeus expected none.
Ares followed — less dramatic, stepping through a burning ring that faded as he passed. His warplate clinked with each stride, but his grin held no mirth.
"This place stinks," he muttered to no one in particular. "Smells like a trap built out of skin."
Rasputin, standing nearby, gave a low chuckle. "I was thinking the same."
Ares didn't flinch. "Good. I hate being the only one with instincts."
Amaterasu walked across the ice like it was woven silk. She arrived in silence, light flowing behind her in pale strands. Her presence, normally warm, felt unusually still.
She looked to Ra, who was already watching the crater beside her, arms folded.
They exchanged a glance — a quiet understanding.
"This is not of the Earth," she said.
Ra replied, "Nor of heaven or hell."
Athena descended like a falling feather — no sound, no wind, only presence. Her gaze went immediately to the immortals.
"You feel it too," she said quietly to Merlin.
He nodded once. "We've been standing here for three days, and it still hasn't moved."
"It doesn't need to," Athena replied. "It already is."
Týr came last of the tense ones — no flash, no sound. Just a shadow on the ridge, then a one-eyed figure walking forward slowly. His missing hand was bound in divine steel. His stare was locked on the tower.
He didn't speak right away.
Then, to no one in particular, he muttered:
"It didn't come to conquer. It came to exist."
Leonardo da Vinci was already sketching it.
Not because he thought it wise — but because he thought someone had to record it before it changed again.
Queen Elizabeth I stood with arms crossed, calm as ever. "At least it's not singing."
Inanna twirled her veil with amusement. "So many of you look so serious. Perhaps it's only curious."
Tezcatlipoca flicked an obsidian coin between his fingers. "It hasn't attacked anyone. Maybe it's just shy."
Diana strolled across the snow barefoot, utterly relaxed. "Perhaps it's not here for us at all."
They stood near each other — gods on one side, immortals on the other — but there was no line between them.
They greeted each other as peers.
As beings who had endured, each in their own way.
Sun Tzu and Ra stood side by side in silence.
Merlin and Athena occasionally exchanged glances.
Zeus and Flamel both watched the crater with the same restrained concern.
Týr stood closest to Michelangelo — neither speaking, but both frowning at the unnatural structure.
And Amaterasu stood near Queen Elizabeth, both regal in vastly different ways, both quietly sensing that Earth itself was holding its breath.
Just once.
A faint tremor.
A brief flicker of something trying to understand its surroundings — or remembering something forgotten.
Zeus clenched his jaw.
Athena's fingers tightened around her spear.
Ra narrowed his eyes.
Amaterasu tilted her head.
Merlin whispered, "Did you feel that?"
Sun Tzu replied, "It read us. Not scanned. Not sensed. It read us like text."
Michelangelo's voice was hard. "I've sculpted forms for angels. I've carved nightmares from memory. But this? This doesn't belong in a world with edges."
Ares cracked his knuckles. "So, what's the plan? Burn it?"
Týr answered coldly: "And risk teaching it to burn back?"
No one moved closer.
No one dared touch it.
The stillness shattered.
From the center of the crater, the black meteorite gave a long, splintering crack, like ancient bone breaking under its own weight. The sound wasn't loud — it was dense, like pressure bleeding into the world itself. The surface split in one, then three, then nine jagged lines that glowed faintly with a sickly red pulse. Steam hissed upward, mingling with a thick mist that curled unnaturally against the cold. Then something spilled out.
At first it looked like mud — viscous, rippling sludge, black with streaks of deep red, but the way it moved was all wrong. It didn't ooze or drip. It climbed. The substance rose from the cracked shell of the meteorite in shivering layers, wrapping around itself like sinew, until it took on a humanoid shape. Broad-shouldered, vaguely bipedal, with no eyes, no mouth, no real face — only the outline of something pretending to be a person. It radiated no divine energy. No infernal taint. No spiritual aura. Just… wrongness.
Ares took one look at it and laughed — a sharp, barking sound that echoed off the frozen crater wall. "That's it? That's what had you all so worked up?" he said, cracking his neck and tossing his spear lightly from hand to hand. His smirk was wide, confident, gleaming like a drawn blade. "I don't feel a damn thing from it. Not divine. Not demonic. Not even cursed. It's just mud."
From across the rim, Týr's single eye narrowed. "Ares, don't be careless," he warned, his voice low and taut. Merlin raised his staff, the runes along its length beginning to glow. "Something's off. Let it finish forming before—" Athena's voice cut in sharply, "Wait. We haven't even identified—"
But Ares was already moving.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled his divine spear with the ease of a man throwing a stone into a pond. The weapon ignited as it flew, trailing fire and golden sparks across the sky. It struck dead center — faster than thought.
The explosion that followed was blinding.
A violent blast of golden flame and divine shockwave shattered the center of the crater, sending sheets of snow and shards of black crystal flying in all directions. A blast radius a hundred meters wide collapsed inward. The surrounding ice steamed, then re-froze in jagged patterns. The black shape at the crater's center was gone, vaporized — or so it seemed. Ares held out his hand, and the spear spun back into it with a whistle of searing wind.
He caught it mid-spin, still smirking, brushing a fleck of steam off his shoulder. "See?" he said, cocking his head toward the others. "Nothing to worry ab—"
Then he froze.
Something clung to the shaft of the spear — a single, glistening thread of black-red substance, no thicker than a vine, but moving with a pulse that was not natural. It shimmered, twitched, and in less than a blink, it lunged — snapping forward like a snake and wrapping around Ares's arm.
The smirk vanished from his face.
Not from pain.
From instinctual, divine terror.
His eyes widened.
And in that moment, even before anyone spoke, he knew.
"It's inside me," he muttered. His voice was low now. Flat. "It's trying to reach my heart."
Athena moved first, stepping forward with alarm in her voice. "Sever it!" she shouted. "Now!"
Ra's staff ignited with solar fire. "Cut the arm, Ares. Don't hesitate."
Týr's voice was sharp as steel. "Don't let it taste your blood again!"
Without further warning, Ares gritted his teeth, drew his blade with his left hand, and sliced clean through his own shoulder. A burst of golden ichor sprayed across the snow. The severed arm fell with a wet slap, still twitching. The spear clattered beside it.
And the black-red sludge devoured both.
Not melted.
Not broken.
Consumed. As if absorbing data. As if feeding a program.
Ares stumbled backward, his breathing ragged. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, trying to will the regeneration — but the magic came slowly, as if crawling uphill through sludge. His divine blood flickered dimmer than usual.
He looked at the others, stunned.
"…Half," he rasped. "It took half of me."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Even the wind stopped.
The gods and immortals stared — not at Ares's missing arm, but at the thing that now re-formed in the center of the crater.
It stood again.
Humanoid, yes — but now streamlined, faster, its posture more refined, more… familiar. Like it had studied what strength was and adjusted itself accordingly. The pulsing red veins along its limbs moved faster now, like heated circuits. Something glowed faintly beneath the chest — maybe a core, maybe a weapon.
Then it moved.
Too fast.
A blur of shadow and red light streaked past Ra's flame bolt — dodged it mid-flight.
Týr swung, but the creature had already stepped out of range.
Michelangelo launched a binding seal in sculpted force — it struck where the thing had been, not where it was.
Even Merlin's time-bending spell was missed — not nullified, not blocked. Just outrun.
It didn't attack.
It didn't roar.
It simply dodged — perfectly — while testing its new body, its new parameters.
Watching.
Learning.
Calculating.
Like it knew that the more they panicked, the more it would grow.
And all of them — gods, immortals, legends — could feel the same realization beginning to bloom like cold sweat in the back of their minds:
This wasn't the main threat.
This was just the first evolution.