Chapter 441 – The Castle of Glass
Three days passed in the slowed flow of World Frontier.
Outside, on Earth, only a few minutes had passed.
But here, the research center Alex had envisioned now stood complete.
It rose out of the plains like a black-framed castle made of glass, a structure so clear that the sunlight shone through its walls like crystal. The steel-black supports traced across the surface like elegant lines, while the walls and ceiling were all transparent, allowing the sky and the green world outside to be seen from anywhere within.
From a distance, it looked like a giant greenhouse.
Up close, it felt like a fusion of fortress and laboratory.
Alex stood in front of it with Fenrir at his side, looking up at the newly built structure.
The robots had done their work precisely, every piece of glass polished until it reflected the world around it.
The doors opened with a hiss of magic and machinery, and the smell of freshly purified air came rolling out.
Inside was vast.
The interior was divided into sections:
Wide halls lined with clear glass walls, where different plant species would be grown.Entire indoor fields designed to simulate any climate or soil condition he wanted.Specialized labs where he could study the growth process, graft plants together, or rewrite them from the root up.Rooms designed for storing seeds, genetic samples, and research notes.
The ceiling soared overhead, all transparent, so the light of World Frontier's sky could flood every corner.
Alex walked through the main corridor slowly, his eyes tracing the empty rooms that would soon be filled with greenery.
"Three days," he murmured. "Not bad."
Fenrir padded beside him, her tail brushing the floor as she looked around. "It is… a strange castle," she said. "It does not smell like war. It smells like… newness."
"It's supposed to," Alex replied. "This one isn't for war. It's for life."
"And you will grow plants?"
"Yes," he said. "Not just grow them. Change them. I want to see what happens when I take things that belong to different worlds and try to combine them."
He paused in one of the rooms that looked out across the glass walls to the open plains.
"I want to make something that's never existed before," he said. "A new kind of plant. A new kind of food. Something that could grow anywhere, even on a ruined planet."
Fenrir tilted her great head slightly. "That sounds like you are trying to create a world that will feed itself forever."
"Maybe," Alex said simply.
Outside the walls, the robots were already unloading boxes of soil samples, seeds, and instruments. Some of the seeds were native to World Frontier; some were from Earth; some came from places beyond.
Alex's plan was simple:
study, graft, and even modify plants, using his own knowledge and the resources of this fortress, to see how far growth could be pushed.
He stood in the center of the empty hall, looking up at the transparent ceiling. The sunlight poured down on him through the glass.
"This place will do," he said.
And for the first time in a long while, Alex felt like he was about to build something completely different from everything he had built before.
Inside the glass-walled research center, the robots were already busy following his newest command.
Rows of silver-grey machines, each shaped like a humanoid silhouette with smooth, featureless faces, moved across the plains outside. They spread out in groups, disappearing into forests, climbing mountains, and gliding over rivers. Each one was equipped with scanners to identify and catalog life forms, collecting samples of plants in specially designed containment cases.
Alex watched their progress through the center's main control interface, a transparent table where holographic maps displayed the robots' paths like threads across the vast expanse of World Frontier.
"This world has more plant life than I expected," he said quietly. "Even after everything was destroyed, life adapted."
Two days ago, before the center was even complete, he had sent out another request.
Through the connection of the rings, he had asked Vira in Alfheim and Amaterasu in Takamagahara for help.
"If you have time," he had told them, "collect any plant species you can find. Anything rare, unusual, or powerful. Seeds, leaves, roots—it doesn't matter."
Both women had responded almost immediately.
Vira's reply came with a soft laugh in her voice:
"Plants? You really are doing something strange this time, Alex. But if that's what you want, I'll have the Sunleaf Court send samples from all over Alfheim. We know more about plants than anyone on Earth. By the time you return, the shipments will be ready."
Amaterasu's voice was calm but curious:
"This is an unusual request from you. Still, it is simple. I will see that the sacred gardens of Takamagahara share their rarities. Consider it a gift. You have protected us once; let this be a small return."
Alex stood now in the quiet greenhouse, gazing at the empty fields that would soon hold hundreds of thousands of plant species from 2 different worlds.
In a few more days, the first deliveries from Alfheim and Takamagahara would arrive. By then, the robots would also return with everything World Frontier had to offer.
And when that happened, he would finally begin.
Fenrir, lounging beside him, opened one golden eye. "You are planning something big," she said.
"Yes," Alex replied. "Something that no one has tried before."
Her tail flicked once against the floor. "Then I will watch. I want to see what kind of world you make from seeds."
By the fifth day of the slowed time in World Frontier, the research center was no longer empty.
The first wave of robots had returned, carrying crates of seeds, roots, leaves, and cuttings. Each container was perfectly sealed, labeled with a holographic projection of the plant's original location, properties, and current growth conditions.
Alex stood in the center of the vast greenhouse, looking at the endless rows of samples that now filled the tables and transparent cabinets.
"This is enough to begin," he said.
He rolled up his sleeves and stepped into one of the inner rooms.
The walls there were lined with modular equipment — soil analyzers, climate chambers, gene decoders, and growth pods that looked like vertical glass coffins filled with glowing liquid.
Unlike the laboratories of modern Earth, this place was built with both magic and science intertwined: spell matrices linked to advanced devices, allowing him to manipulate DNA, mana signatures, and growth conditions all at once.
He placed the first set of seeds into a diagnostic cradle.
The table lit up, scanning them.
Information about their structure unfolded in holographic layers, spinning above the table.
Alex's expression stayed calm as he read the data.
"Stable," he murmured. "But this one… can be improved."
He began adjusting the parameters.
Small, precise spells formed at his fingertips as he altered cell structures, binding magic patterns into the plant's natural growth circuits.
In one of the pods, a tiny sprout began to grow at a speed visible to the naked eye. Roots unfurled, leaves split open, and in just a few minutes it had grown to the size of a small bush.
Fenrir sat in the corner, her head resting on her paws, watching silently.
"You're changing them," she said.
"Yes," Alex replied. "I want to see what happens when I mix traits. A plant that can grow in a desert. A tree that can store energy. Food that never rots. Something that has never existed before."
As the hours passed, the greenhouse began to fill with rows of test plants.
Some glowed faintly in the dim light. Others had leaves like crystal, or fruit that pulsed with faint mana.
Every table was alive with experiments, each one tagged with a number and a note.
For the first time in a long while, Alex wasn't building weapons or shields.
He was building life.
Fenrir yawned from her spot in the corner. Then, with a faint shimmer of silver light, her massive body began to shrink. Bones realigned, fur folded in, and in moments the gigantic beast was gone. In her place was a wolf the size of an ordinary one, still with the same piercing golden eyes.
She padded forward, claws clicking softly against the glass floor.
"This size makes it easier," she said, hopping lightly onto a raised platform beside one of the work tables. "Now I can see what you're doing."
Alex glanced at her, but didn't stop his hands from moving. His fingers glowed faintly, his magic flowing into the research equipment like threads.
The combination of his magic and the machines caused seeds to sprout almost instantly, tiny shoots emerging and stretching toward the light.
He cut one, examined its interior structure, made a small adjustment, then let the next one grow.
For him, this was natural: every sequence of changes happened with precision, his magic running constantly, accelerating growth, mutating traits, and recording the results all at once.
Fenrir tilted her head, watching the sprouts unfold in real-time.
"You work fast," she said. "I can see why the others can't keep up with you. Even these little seeds… grow as if years pass in seconds."
Alex replied without looking away, "It's easier this way. If a result fails, I can see it immediately. If it succeeds, I can start improving it right away."
Plant after plant grew under his control.
Some withered as soon as they reached maturity, discarded.
Others survived, their traits carefully noted down.
The room was filled with soft light from hundreds of small growth pods, the faint smell of fresh leaves and soil mixing with the clean scent of magic.
Fenrir's ears twitched as she leaned forward, watching a strange vine curl around the inside of one of the glass chambers.
"Strange," she murmured. "I have seen gods create weapons and tools. I have seen them shape storms and mountains. But I have never seen anyone shape life this way. Not this carefully."
Alex adjusted another set of parameters and set three more pods to work, the seeds glowing as they began to sprout instantly.
"You'll see stranger things before this is over," he said quietly.
"I'm just getting started."
Chapter 442 – Two Years in a Thousand-to-One World
Two years had passed inside the slowed world of World Frontier.
Outside, only 17 hours had gone by.
For Alex, the glass-walled research center had become a world of its own.
Every day he tested, failed, and started again.
Rows upon rows of plants had lived and died under his hands.
Each failure was recorded, every success refined.
Fenrir remained with him for most of this time. Often in her smaller form, she would wander between the transparent rooms and watch, her golden eyes following him silently as the seasons passed in accelerated isolation.
The results, after those long years, were nothing short of extraordinary.
The first great success was rice.
It began as a simple idea:
A grain that could feed the hungry, no matter where they lived.
After thousands of trials, he created a seed that could grow in dry, arid lands with almost no water, surviving in deserts where even hardy weeds struggled. The grains were enormous, five times larger than ordinary rice, with thirty times the nutritional content.
When cooked, a single serving could sustain a person for an entire day.
And because of its unique structure, it could be ground into flour for bread, or boiled like traditional rice.
Even without magic, it reached full maturity in just two weeks.
With magic, it could be harvested in a few days.
The second breakthrough was more unusual.
In one of the side laboratories, a new plant had taken root—a strange-looking herb with shimmering leaves that glowed faintly in the dark.
Its properties were astonishing:
Leaves that could be ground into a paste to heal wounds far faster than any potion.
Roots that, when brewed, calmed the mind and purified the body of toxins.
Seeds that, when eaten raw, strengthened the immune system and reinforced mana flow.
It was a single plant with the properties of dozens, more efficient and potent than anything that had existed before.
And there were more.
Hybrid fruits that never spoiled, vines that could store mana and release it when cut, trees with wood harder than steel yet light as air.
Dozens of experiments, each one a quiet miracle born from trial and patience.
But he did not explain them to anyone—not yet.
For now, the only witness to these creations was Fenrir, who had seen them grow from nothing.
On the last day of the second year, Alex stood in the center of the greenhouse, rows of thriving plants stretching out behind him. The black fortress walls loomed faintly in the distance through the glass, but here, in this vast hall of green, there was only life.
Fenrir padded to his side, her smaller form brushing against his hand.
"You have changed this world again," she said softly. "When I look around, I see more than just fields. I see a future that belongs to no one else but you."
Alex looked at the golden fields of his desert rice, then at the glowing medicinal plants.
"This," he said quietly, "was worth the time."
Alex gave the order, his voice calm but certain.
"Deploy them."
At once, the robots stationed throughout the research center lit up with a soft blue glow. They picked up sealed crates filled with carefully selected seeds — grains, fruits, nuts, medicinal plants, vines, trees — everything that had come from two years of tireless work.
Through the wide glass walls, Alex and Fenrir watched as the robots streamed out in every direction, carrying life into the wilderness.
The robots moved across plains, through forests, over mountains, even to the edge of deep deserts.
Everywhere they went, they opened containers and released seeds into the soil, planting them in places where magic, sunlight, and time would take care of the rest.
In the deserts, the new rice grains took root where no green had ever grown.
In the forests, new fruit trees joined the existing ones, each fruit dense with nutrients.
Along rivers and lakes, nuts and legumes were scattered to create food sources for the wildlife.
And in the remote areas, medicinal plants were planted in clusters like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.
This was not just farming.
It was the beginning of a new ecosystem, crafted by Alex's hands.
Fenrir, in her smaller form, sat beside him on the grassy rise in front of the greenhouse, watching the silver robots fan out across the horizon like stars scattering from a center point.
"You plan to change this world forever," she said.
"Yes," Alex replied. "I don't want World Frontier to be empty when no one else is here. This place should live on its own."
A faint sweet smell reached Fenrir's nose. She turned her head, spotting a nearby crate that had not yet been carried away. It was open, filled with glossy, deep-red fruits the size of a fist.
She sniffed once, then plucked one with her teeth. Sitting down like a patient hound, she bit into it.
Her golden eyes widened slightly.
"…Delicious," she said, juice dripping down her muzzle. "This is much better than the ones that grow wild here. It is sweet, but not heavy. I like this one."
Alex glanced at her. "Then take as much as you want. Those were designed to be good for beasts as well as people."
"I will," Fenrir said simply, and she immediately took a second one, chewing it slowly with obvious enjoyment.
The wind rolled across the plains, carrying the faint sound of the robots' movements. Far in the distance, seeds were being sown into the soil that Alex had cleansed long ago.
Soon, World Frontier would bloom again.
The sky of World Frontier was endless and clear, painted in deep blue and slow-rolling clouds.
Alex and Fenrir walked side by side through one of the newly planted regions just beyond the fortress, a gentle wind bending the grass around their feet.
Rows of freshly turned soil stretched out like silent promises. Some of the seeds had already sprouted; small shoots of green dotted the fields like stars on a dark canvas. Behind them, the robots continued to plant in precise patterns, but Alex paid them little attention now.
Fenrir trotted a little ahead, her smaller form weaving between the newly planted rows. Every now and then she stopped to sniff the air or glance up at the sky.
"In a few years," she said, "this place will not be the same. These plants will spread across the land, and the animals here will feast on them. They will grow faster, stronger. Even the weak ones might change."
Alex looked over the empty fields, imagining what she said.
"That's part of the idea. The fruit, nuts, grains—they're all packed with energy and nutrients. If the creatures here adapt, the entire balance of life could shift."
They reached a small rise where the soil gave way to open grassland, and the view widened.
To the north, a river curved through the plains, its banks already marked with seedlings.
To the east, the glass fortress stood like a jewel in the sunlight.
And all around, the silver robots planted life into the land.
Fenrir sat down on the hill, curling her tail around her paws. "You know what I think?"
"What?"
"One day, this place will be filled with creatures that no other world has ever seen. Stronger. Faster. Wilder. Some of them might become like me. Beasts that rule the land."
Alex stood beside her, quiet for a moment.
"If they do," he said finally, "then this world will truly belong to them. That's fine."
Fenrir's golden eyes turned up to him, reflecting the clear sky. "And you will just watch?"
"Yes," he said. "I've already done my part."
The wind carried the scent of new soil and fruit blossoms.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just looked at the horizon, imagining the future of the world that was now theirs alone to see.
Fenrir stretched out on the grassy rise, her tail flicking lazily as she looked over the wide, fresh fields. Her golden eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful glint flickering within them.
"These plants you've made," she said, her voice slow and certain, "will also make me stronger."
Alex glanced down at her. "Stronger?"
"You know I am at the top of the food chain here," she said without pride, just as if it were a fact of the land. "The beasts here already fear me. But when the prey grows faster and stronger from eating these fruits and grains, then I too will change. Hunting them will make my body sharper."
Her gaze followed the robots in the distance. "The weak will grow tougher. And then I will devour them, and I will grow stronger."
She licked her lips once, as though she could already taste the future. "Perhaps in a hundred years, this place will be full of creatures worth chasing. Then I will have more fun."
Alex's expression stayed calm, but there was a faint, amused exhale from him. "So even these plants are part of your training."
"Everything is," Fenrir said simply, her tail swishing. "You create. I hunt. It balances out nicely, doesn't it?"
They stood there for a while, looking over the vast, empty spaces that would, in time, become full of life.
The soil was still fresh, but Alex could already picture what she saw:
creatures running across grassy plains, sleek predators chasing after them, and Fenrir among them — always at the very top.
Chapter 443 – Fruit of Two Years
The golden gate opened quietly in the living room, its soft light fading as Alex stepped out.
Seventeen hours had passed on Earth.
For him, it had been two full years.
The air of home was warm and familiar. The moment he appeared, Airi, Hanabi, Iris, and Yuka turned toward him.
Ciel, Morgan, and Reyne, who were still in their physical forms, immediately noticed the faint smell of soil and greenery clinging to him.
"You've been gone a while," Hanabi said with a teasing tone. "What did you do this time?"
Alex sat down on the edge of the sofa, answering simply, "Research. For two years in World Frontier."
Yuka tilted her head. "Two years? But that's only… seventeen hours here, right?"
"Yes," he said. "I slowed time."
Everyone nodded; they were already familiar with how the time ratio in World Frontier could be adjusted. It was no surprise to them.
"What kind of research?" Airi asked curiously.
"Agronomy," Alex replied. "I've been experimenting with plants. Creating new ones. Food that can grow anywhere—even in deserts. And fruit with nutrients that strengthen the body."
At that, Yuka's eyes lit up. "Papa! Did you bring some back?!"
"Yes," he said calmly. With a simple motion of his hand, a storage seal opened and a wooden box appeared. Inside, red fruits the size of a fist shone faintly, fresh and full of sweet aroma.
Yuka scrambled over, holding out both hands. "I want to try it!"
Alex handed her one. "Eat slowly."
She bit into it with a sharp crunch, her face lighting up instantly.
"It's so sweet! And juicy! Papa, this is amazing!"
she devoured the rest of the fruit in just a few bites, licking the juice from her fingers.
"Let us try too," Hanabi said, leaning over with interest.
"Agreed," Airi said with a calm smile.
Alex handed the rest of them a piece each. Soon the room was filled with the sound of bites and quiet exclamations.
"It's delicious," Airi said softly, surprised.
"This isn't normal fruit," Iris murmured, fingers lingering over the smooth skin before taking another bite.
Hanabi finished hers and gave a low whistle. "I hate to admit it, but… this is the best thing I've ever tasted."
"This fruit will help your growth," Alex told Yuka. "It has nutrients and energy that will strengthen your body and mana flow. It'll be good for you as you grow."
Her ears perked up, and she hugged him tightly. "Then I'll eat them every day!"
Alex glanced at the wooden box. "I'll also be giving some to Amaterasu and to Vira. They helped me collect plant species from their worlds. It's a small return."
"That's fair," Airi said. "I imagine they'll appreciate it as much as we do."
For a while, the house was filled with the scent of sweet fruit and the calm of a rare, quiet evening.
The results of two years in a distant world had finally found their way home.
The sound of footsteps echoed lightly through the hall as two more familiar figures entered.
Morgan, her silver hair cascading down her back, and Reyne, elegant as always, both paused as they noticed the open box of fruit.
The sweet scent in the air made even Morgan raise an eyebrow.
"What's that?" she asked, voice cool but curious.
"Try one," Alex said simply, handing them each a piece.
Morgan took a slow bite, her pale blue eyes widening just slightly. For a moment, the poised, cold Morgan seemed to forget herself.
"…It's… unexpectedly good," she murmured, finishing the rest without a word.
Reyne, after taking her first bite, smiled faintly.
"It's not just good," she said, her voice soft. "There's strength in it. I can feel it."
Before the conversation could continue, the front door opened again.
Iris stepped in, followed closely by Mary — freshly returned from the Vatican. The travel dust had barely settled on them before they both froze, sensing the rich aroma hanging in the room.
"What is that smell?" Mary asked, blinking as she caught sight of the fruit.
Without hesitation, Alex handed each of them one.
The moment Iris took her first bite, she tilted her head with a small, genuine smile beneath her blindfold. "Sweet. Pure."
Mary's reaction was even more animated; her eyes widened in surprise, and then softened as she savored the taste. "This… this is unlike anything I've ever had."
By the time the last fruit was eaten, everyone had the same impression — something beyond ordinary taste. Something that seemed to fill the body with a quiet, gentle strength.
Later that evening, Alex prepared Yuka for a visit.
"You'll spend some time with your mother," he said gently.
"Okay!" Yuka said, her tail wagging with excitement.
With a wave of his hand, a soft golden portal opened, leading to the tranquil realm of Takamagahara.
The light of Takamagahara was warm, and the breeze that met them was soft and sweet.
Amaterasu was waiting near a wide pavilion, dressed in flowing white and gold, her expression softening as Yuka ran into her arms.
They spent some time together — just mother and daughter — while Alex watched in silence. It was a rare, peaceful moment.
When the time was right, Alex approached. He handed Amaterasu a small lacquered box containing several of the large red fruits.
"I created these," he said. "Two years of research in World Frontier. They're good for Yuka. And for you."
She looked at the box, then at him, her golden eyes thoughtful. "You made these?"
"Yes," he said simply. "They'll help strengthen her body as she grows. And if you eat them, they'll nourish you as well."
Amaterasu held one of the fruits in her hands, studying its faint glow before smiling softly.
"Then I will make sure she eats them," she said. "And I will try one as well."
Nearby, Yuka's voice rang bright and clear. "Mama, it's really good! Papa made it just for us!"
For a moment, the three of them stood together beneath the gentle light of Takamagahara, as peaceful as if the rest of the worlds no longer existed.
When the visit with Amaterasu and Yuka had come to a peaceful close, Alex left them to enjoy their time together.
With a thought, the light around him bent, and the next moment he stood beneath a different sky.
The air here was lighter, perfumed with the faint scent of blooming trees.
Alfheim.
The realm of the elves was as dazzling as ever, filled with cascading green terraces, silver-white towers entwined with vines, and streams that reflected the colors of the sky.
It didn't take long for Vira to appear.
She had clearly felt him the moment he arrived.
Her emerald hair, caught in a faint breeze, shimmered like the leaves of the sacred trees as she stepped forward, eyes narrowing at him with a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"You," she said softly. "You came here… just like that. Without even telling me?"
"I needed to see you," Alex said, lifting a small case in his hand. "And I owe you an explanation."
The words made her pause.
"An explanation?"
"You asked me why I needed so many seeds," he said. "Two years ago—here and in Takamagahara—I asked for plant samples from everywhere you could find. I didn't tell you why at the time. That's why I'm here."
Vira's expression softened slightly, though curiosity flickered in her bright green eyes as she tilted her head.
"I assumed it was for something strange," she admitted. "But the request came from you, so I didn't question it. I only sent you what you asked for. You've been… busy?"
"Yes," Alex replied. "For two years in World Frontier. It's why I asked you for Alfheim's seeds. Your people have the largest collection of rare plant species out of any race. You had what I needed."
He opened the case, revealing several of the red fruits within, glowing faintly in the soft light.
"I used those seeds to create something new," he said. "Food that grows anywhere. Plants that will change the land itself. And these fruits… they are part of the result."
Vira stepped closer, peering at them, the scent already reaching her sensitive senses.
"So this is what you made," she murmured. "This is why you wanted Alfheim's help."
Her voice was quiet now, thoughtful.
"In Alfheim, the Sunleaf Court guards our seeds as if they were treasure. We thought you would use them to make something dangerous. But instead…" she looked back at the fruit, "…you used them to create something like this."
She glanced up, her expression softer than before. "I see. Now, it makes sense."
Alex held the case out toward her. "I came to give you some. Try them. They're good for the body and mana flow. They're a result of everything you helped me start."
Vira reached out, her slender fingers brushing against his as she took one of the fruits.
The faint glow reflected in her emerald eyes.
Vira lifted the fruit to her lips and took a bite.
The crisp sound of the skin breaking was followed by a rush of sweetness, so vivid and pure it seemed to coat her senses.
Her emerald eyes widened slightly as she chewed, a hint of surprise flickering across her face — a rare expression for someone usually so poised.
"…Delicious," she said at last, her voice soft. "Even for an elf, I've never tasted anything quite like this."
Alex gave a faint nod.
"These fruits aren't ordinary. Some of them are just rich in nutrients. Others…" He paused, looking straight into her eyes. "Some of these can permanently strengthen the body. And a few can increase mana permanently."
That made her go still.
She lowered the fruit slowly, studying it as though it were a divine artifact.
"Something like this," she said quietly, "if planted openly, would cause endless conflict."
"That's why I brought them to you," Alex said. "I know you'll know how to use them. You're careful. You won't misuse them."
Her lips curved into a faint, serious smile. "You trust me with something that could change the balance of every nation. That is… dangerous."
"I wouldn't have brought them otherwise," he said simply.
For a moment, the sound of the wind moving through Alfheim's high trees filled the silence.
Vira looked at the fruit again, then spoke with deliberate care.
"You're right," she said. "I won't plant these openly. I'll keep the rare ones hidden — the ones that change strength and mana. They will be preserved, studied, but never spread.
What I will plant are the ones that only enrich the soil, grow faster, and feed more people. Those can help our lands without turning them into battlefields."
Alex nodded in approval. "That's what I hoped you'd do."
She glanced back up at him, expression gentler now. "You know, Alex, you come to Alfheim and change things without even realizing it. These seeds will shape this land for hundreds of years."
After finishing his talk with Vira and leaving her with the box of carefully chosen fruits, Alex left Alfheim behind.
In the next heartbeat, the shimmering light of teleportation faded, and he stepped into the living room of his house.
Inside, the familiar warmth greeted him.
Ciel, Morgan, Reyne, Airi, Iris, Hanabi, and Mary were already gathered there, waiting for his return. Their gazes turned toward him the moment he appeared.
Mary spoke first, smiling softly. "Back already?"
Alex nodded. "I visited Vira. Gave her the same fruit I gave you."
"And?" Reyne asked from where she sat, her posture relaxed but her voice curious.
"She understood," Alex said simply. "She'll be careful with the more… dangerous plants."
He set down a plain wooden box that he had brought with him. This time, it wasn't filled with fruit.
Inside, resting in orderly rows, were grains far larger than any of them had seen.
Everyone leaned slightly forward.
"This," Alex said, "is the other project. The one I'm most satisfied with."
Ciel's golden eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the grains. "Rice?"
"Rice," Alex confirmed. "But not ordinary rice. These seeds can grow in dry, arid regions where normal crops fail. They need almost no water. They're five times the size of normal grains, and they hold thirty times the nutrients. Without magic, they can grow to full harvest in two weeks."
Mary's eyes widened. "That means… anyone with this can feed an entire nation."
"Yes," Alex said. "And that's exactly why I made them."
He glanced around at the group.
"I'm going to use these where they're needed most. There are places on Earth where people starve. Even now. I plan to plant these grains there myself — and make sure they grow immediately."
Ciel tilted her head, a soft smile touching her lips.
"If you're going to do that," she said gently, "you should consider doing it as someone else."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Someone else?"
"As Aten," Ciel replied. "That identity already belongs to the world as a symbol of healing and restoration. If you appear as yourself, you'll only attract political trouble. If you appear as Aten, then the people will see it as a blessing."
Morgan crossed her arms, nodding slightly. "She's right. If you try to do this openly as Alex, you'll have more than grateful people chasing you. You'll have governments trying to seize the fields."
Hanabi's lips curled into a grin. "If you do it as Aten, though, they won't dare interfere."
Alex considered their words in silence for a moment.
Finally, he nodded once.
"Alright," he said quietly. "I'll go as Aten."
Chapter 444 – Seeds of Aten
In the quiet of his private room, Alex stood still.
The high-tech armor on his body shifted and unwound like living silk, black plates dissolving into threads that wrapped around his form. Within seconds, the sleek armor had transformed into black bandages, tight and seamless, covering him from neck to toe.
A long yellow cloak unfurled from his shoulders, its folds rippling like sunlight caught in cloth.
The only part of him left exposed was his face—and even that was hidden behind layers of black fabric.
The god Aten.
Without a word, he disappeared.
Sudan, Africa
The dry wind hit him like a wall.
Before him stretched miles of cracked, thirsty earth, a place where water had been gone for years and people had grown thin from hunger.
With a wave of his hand, seeds scattered into the soil like sparks.
Normally, they would take two weeks to grow without magic.
But today, Alex added his power.
The moment the seeds touched the ground, the earth shivered and split open as green shoots burst upward, becoming golden fields within seconds.
The people nearby froze, their tired eyes widening as the dead earth bloomed.
Somalia, Horn of Africa
Next, he appeared under a sun so hot it seemed to melt the horizon.
A group of children looked up at him, too shocked to speak.
Seeds left his hand and fell in waves, covering the parched soil.
Golden stalks rose behind him as he walked, a path of life spreading in every direction.
Yemen, Arabian Peninsula
The city outskirts, where famine had bitten deepest.
He scattered seeds again, watching them explode into growth, green and gold painting the sand.
The scent of grain filled the air as exhausted villagers whispered in disbelief, bowing low.
Afghanistan, Badghis Province
Among valleys where drought had turned fertile land to dust, Aten appeared.
Wherever the seeds landed, the fields came alive.
Farmers dropped their tools and knelt, unable to believe what they were seeing.
Ethiopia, Tigray
Famine had carved lines into every face.
Here too, Aten walked slowly across the earth, leaving a trail of life behind him.
For the first time in years, the soil looked like it could breathe.
Haiti, Central Plateau
In the Caribbean heat, where barren patches had been abandoned, green swept across the plains like a wave.
People came running from every direction, shouting prayers, as Aten vanished without a sound.
Northern India, Rajasthan
Among villages surrounded by desert, golden rice filled the sand dunes, sprouting instantly as though the earth had been waiting for this moment.
Sahel, West Africa
From Mauritania to Niger, wherever famine had stalked the land, Aten appeared, scattered the seeds, and left before anyone could approach.
He moved from continent to continent, country to country, scattering life wherever there was famine, drought, and despair.
By the time the sun set, he had planted fields across the world, leaving behind not just food but hope.
Everywhere he went, the people would pick up the remaining seeds and carry them home. And even without magic, those seeds would grow into golden fields in just two weeks.
When night came, Aten disappeared as quietly as he had come.
The world slept, but by dawn, miracle fields swayed in the wind where there had been only death before.
The next day the world woke to a miracle. Across deserts, cracked valleys and barren plains there were now seas of green and gold where nothing had grown for years. People who had been starving only yesterday found fields of grain taller than themselves, swaying under the morning light.
The first videos came from Sudan. A man's shaking hands held a phone as he walked through fields that hadn't existed the night before. His voice was choked as he said, "This wasn't here yesterday. It just appeared. We saw him. We saw… a god."
More videos followed from Somalia, Yemen, Ethiopia, Afghanistan, India, Haiti. In every video the people said the same thing. They had seen a figure wrapped entirely in black bandages, a yellow cloak flowing behind him like sunlight. They didn't know his name, but they called him "the god who sows."
News agencies went into a frenzy. Helicopters flew over miles of new farmland that had grown overnight. Reporters stood in disbelief, surrounded by villagers holding golden grains in their hands. "We don't know what to say," one journalist whispered live on air. "This is… impossible."
On social media, photos and sketches of the figure spread faster than wildfire. Hashtags appeared in every language: #YellowCloak, #TheSower, #Aten. The comment sections were overflowing. "This can't be real.""We saw him. He just appeared, spread seeds, and the land came alive.""This god doesn't speak. He just gives."
Everywhere there was gratitude and awe. For the first time in decades, famine-stricken places were filled not with despair, but with hope. In one interview, an old farmer clutched a handful of the huge grains and said, "We will plant these. We will never forget him."
By noon the entire world was talking about it. News screens in cities showed the same image: a man wrapped in black bandages, covered in a yellow cloak, faceless and silent, standing in a field of gold.
As the hours passed and testimonies poured in from every continent, something remarkable happened. It wasn't just one voice, or a few scattered groups. From Africa to the Middle East, from Haiti to India, every person who had witnessed the cloaked figure called him by the same name. In their languages, their accents, with tears in their eyes, they said the same word. "Aten. The god Aten."
The name spread like wildfire. Broadcasters repeated it, newspapers printed it in their headlines, and social feeds across the globe echoed with the same word. Aten. The god who had sown life where there was none.
In the days that followed, researchers and scientists traveled to the fields to study the new crops. What they discovered left them stunned. The golden grains were five times larger than any rice ever grown. Laboratory tests revealed something even more shocking. Each grain contained thirty times the nutrients of normal rice. Thirty times the energy, vitamins, and minerals, all packed into a single grain that could keep a person full for an entire day.
Images of the enormous grains were shown on every screen. Scientists who had initially thought this was some kind of hallucination now stood in front of cameras, holding the seeds in their hands, saying, "This is real. We don't know how this is possible. It is not of this world."
All over the world, from the smallest villages to crowded cities, the same thought took hold: With these grains, no one will ever starve again. And the name of the god who had brought them this gift—Aten—was spoken everywhere.
News crews returned to the villages where the golden fields now stood, curious to see what the people would do with this grain that appeared from nowhere. Cameras followed as the villagers harvested the first stalks, their hands almost reverent as they held the huge rice grains that spilled from the plants.
In one Sudanese village, the camera caught a woman kneeling over a clay pot. She washed the grains carefully, then set them to boil over a wood fire. A reporter asked her how it smelled. She smiled through tears. "It smells like hope," she said softly. "We haven't had this in years."
Half an hour later she opened the pot. The steam rose, fragrant and warm. The rice was glossy, golden-white, and soft. When she served it into wooden bowls and the children tasted it, their eyes went wide. "Sweet," one of them said, chewing quickly before holding the bowl tighter, as if afraid it would be taken away.
In another place, Yemen, a group of men had ground the grains into flour. They mixed it with a little water and salt, then baked flatbread over hot stones. When the first piece was broken apart, the camera zoomed in to see its texture: soft, light, with a faint sweetness. One man tore a piece, tasted it, and looked at the camera with tears streaming down his cheeks. "This is the best bread I've ever eaten," he said. "I cannot remember the last time I ate until I was full."
Everywhere the reporters went, the story was the same. In Ethiopia, they boiled it in large iron pots; in Afghanistan, they steamed it with spices; in Haiti, they used it in stews. No matter how it was prepared, the taste was rich and full, unlike any food they had eaten before.
The camera crews couldn't hide their awe. "This is not just food," one anchor said during a live broadcast. "It is a miracle. A gift that will end hunger in these places for years to come."
And every time the reporters asked the people who they believed had given them this gift, the answer came without hesitation.
"Aten," they said. "The god Aten."
Two days later, news crews returned to the same regions, expecting to see little change. Instead, what they found left even the reporters speechless.
The villagers had already begun planting the seeds Aten had left behind. Wide plots of earth had been turned over by hand, simple tools digging into the soil. Where there had been nothing but dry dust just days ago, the ground was now full of neat rows of freshly sprouted green shoots.
The camera zoomed in on the seedlings: strong, thick stems already standing several inches tall after only two days. It was as if the earth itself had been waiting for these seeds.
Reporters interviewed an elder in Sudan, who stood in the field, smiling for the first time in years. "We planted them two days ago," he said. "Already they grow. If it continues like this, in two weeks these fields will be ready to harvest. We have never seen anything like it. Not even in the best years."
In Somalia, another farmer held up a handful of soil where the sprouts had already broken through. "It is as if the land has come back to life," he said to the camera. "Even without rain, even without help, they grow."
The same scene repeated itself in Yemen, Ethiopia, Afghanistan, and Haiti. Everywhere the miracle rice had been planted, tiny green carpets were spreading over the ground in just forty-eight hours.
Children ran barefoot between the rows, laughing as if they were running through treasure. Mothers and fathers watched them, their faces full of relief.
One reporter closed the segment with a solemn voice as the camera panned across fields of young shoots swaying in the wind. "The experts said it would take two weeks to see signs of life. But after only two days, the seeds of Aten have already begun to change these lands. If the growth continues as predicted, famine will be over in these places in less than a month."
Chapter 445 – Powerless Before a God
The day after the green shoots appeared in every famine-stricken land, the world's news channels could talk about nothing else.
Every screen, every feed, every broadcast showed the same images: miles of new fields where there had been nothing but wasteland, and the silent, bandaged figure in a yellow cloak who had walked across the world leaving life in his footsteps.
In the great cities, people gathered in the streets to watch.
For them, there was only awe and gratitude.
But in the halls of governments, the mood was different.
In conference rooms across the world, officials argued with raised voices.
Reports from intelligence agencies were thrown onto tables: photographs, satellite footage, and countless eyewitness accounts all pointed to the same fact.
A single god had ended famine in places where billions of dollars in aid and decades of programs had failed.
One of the ministers slammed a fist on the table.
"What are we supposed to do now? He just… solved it. We have no say, no control. Everything we have built is meaningless in front of that!"
Another replied bitterly, "It was meaningless from the beginning. The day the supernatural community revealed themselves, every army, every missile, every weapon became worthless. We all know it. Against gods, our power is nothing."
There was silence in the room as those words sank in.
On the screens, Aten's image was shown again, sketched by a villager: a man wrapped in black bandages, a yellow cloak flowing like sunlight, faceless and silent.
A general leaned back in his chair, defeated.
"We can't even find him. He doesn't negotiate. He doesn't ask. He just does what he wants, and we can't stop it. Even if we wanted to, how do you fight a god who can teleport anywhere on Earth?"
Meanwhile, outside the walls of politics, ordinary people celebrated.
The once-starving children now ate until they were full.
Families danced in their new green fields.
And when they were asked who had done this, their answer never changed.
"It was Aten," they said. "The god Aten."
The people no longer looked to their governments.
They no longer looked to armies or leaders.
The world's power, already shaken when the gods revealed themselves, had now been silenced completely by a single man who didn't even ask for thanks.
In the wake of the miracle fields, the governments of every country began a series of emergency meetings.
Video screens lit up one after another, bringing together leaders, ministers, generals, and advisers from every corner of the world.
At first there was chaos. Everyone spoke at once. Accusations, panic, frustration.
When the noise finally died down, the truth hung in the silence like a heavy weight.
"The world has changed," one European leader said grimly. "It changed the moment the supernatural community revealed itself. And now Aten has made it official. Tell me—what relevance do our governments even have when a single god can change the fate of millions overnight?"
"We need to maintain order," another replied. "If people no longer respect governments, there will be anarchy."
Someone laughed bitterly. "Order? The people have already stopped looking at us for help. They saw Aten's fields. What can we offer that compares to that? Our planes? Our tanks? Worthless."
In another feed, a Middle Eastern official leaned forward. "Can anyone here stop him? Can anyone find him?"
A hush fell over the screens. Not one person answered.
A general from North America broke the silence.
"We can't find him. We can't even track him. He can be anywhere on Earth in an instant. And even if we did find him, what then? This is a god. An army cannot fight someone who can level a mountain with a gesture."
Then came the question that no one wanted to say aloud.
"If Aten decides to do something else," a minister whispered, "something that affects politics, or land, or power… what happens to us?"
No one had an answer.
Another voice, quieter but firmer, spoke:
"We have to face the truth. Since the supernatural community revealed itself, our power was only a shadow. The old balance is gone. This latest act proves it. Aten does not need permission. And he does not need us."
On the screens behind them, footage of golden fields played on repeat.
For the first time in living memory, the leaders of the world had no words—only the knowledge that one god had done more in two days than all their policies had in decades.
And outside their walls, the common people were celebrating, chanting one name.
Aten.
The silence in the conference call lingered, broken only when one of the younger advisers, face pale but eyes burning with some strange kind of hope, spoke hesitantly.
"There… there is one name I keep hearing from the supernatural community," he said. "Alex. The same man who, not long ago, humiliated the god Apollo in front of Olympus. And… fought Fenrir. And won."
The screens lit up with murmurs. Some of the ministers and generals had heard the rumors, some hadn't.
"Alex?" someone repeated. "The one they say moves like a shadow? That's a story for their world, isn't it? What does that have to do with us?"
The young adviser leaned forward. "Think about it. We already know our governments and armies can't stand up to the supernatural. But there are whispers—no, reports—that this man can. That he stood against gods and monsters and didn't just survive—he won. And…"
He hesitated before adding, "…Have none of you heard the story of his hair?"
That caught everyone's attention. Even the cynical faces on the screen sharpened.
"They say," the adviser continued, "that a single strand of his hair, refined into medicine, grants strength, mana, and even rare affinities. There are people all over the world searching for his hair because they believe it can awaken them. If someone like that exists… someone who can match gods… isn't he the only one who could stand against any god that became a threat to humanity?"
A deep frown crossed an elder leader's face. "Are you suggesting this Alex is Aten?"
The young man shook his head. "I don't know. No one knows. But after what happened with Apollo, with Fenrir, and now these miracles… maybe he's someone humanity could rely on. Maybe… if Aten ever turned on us, only someone like him could stand in the way."
The meeting dissolved into whispers again. For the first time, the fear wasn't just about Aten. It was about the idea that the balance of the world now depended on beings who walked far beyond their reach.
And for the first time, the name "Alex" began circulating among the powerless governments of the world as a possible counterbalance to the gods themselves.
Far from the screens of mortal governments, in temples and palaces that existed outside the reach of ordinary men, the supernatural world gathered to speak of the same thing.
The first voices came from Egypt.
In the great hall of Heliopolis, Osiris stood beneath the pillars of gold and lapis, his restored body whole and strong for the first time in millennia. Beside him were Isis, Horus, Thoth, and the other gods of the Nile, all silent as they watched the golden fields blooming across the mortal world.
Finally, Osiris spoke, his deep voice carrying both awe and conviction.
"It is Aten. There is no doubt. He has acted again."
Isis bowed her head, her tone reverent. "Once he restored you without flaw, and now he has restored the earth itself."
"Even when Ra walked among us," Thoth murmured, "no act like this was done for mortals."
Horus clenched his hands. "He walks the earth unseen, and yet his shadow protects it. There is no higher mercy than what we are witnessing now."
In that moment, every Egyptian god present lowered their heads.
Aten was not just respected—they revered him.
Even Ra himself, watching from the higher seats of power, remained silent. Among the pantheon, Aten had become something untouchable, a figure who did not compete, did not demand, but whose actions left even gods humbled.
And Egypt was not the only one speaking.
In Olympus, Hera sat in silence while Athena watched the mortal news with an unreadable expression. Apollo said nothing, his pride still scarred from his previous defeat, but even he couldn't ignore the reality: where there had been nothing, now stood fields of gold.
Artemis whispered, "He did this without asking anything in return."
Zeus finally said, "This is the second time in months he has altered the balance of the world. First Osiris… now famine. And he does it while refusing the very thing we demand—worship."
In Alfheim, the elven high council spoke softly in their silver halls.
Vira, who already knew the truth, remained silent while the others whispered that Aten's gift had reached places even elves could not heal. "He does this for humans," one elf murmured, "without caring who they are. It is… terrifying."
The gods of every pantheon had the same reaction: admiration mixed with unease.
If Aten could do this quietly, with no armies, no politics, and no warning, what else could he do if he wished?
And for the Egyptian pantheon, there was no hesitation. They did not fear him.
They bowed their heads in gratitude.
While the gods debated in their divine halls, the Magic Association and countless mortal supernatural factions convened in their own way.
From the skyscrapers of London to the hidden sanctuaries under Kyoto and the fortified towers of New York, every mage, scholar, and strategist had the same footage playing on their walls — golden fields blooming out of wastelands in moments, and the silent yellow-cloaked figure who had done it.
In the Association's central council chamber, seven of the Immortals sat at the long circular table, their faces illuminated by projected maps showing all the locations Aten had appeared.
"This was not just a display of power," one of them said, their voice calm but heavy. "It was precise. He chose regions where famine was critical. He planted, accelerated the growth with magic, and then vanished without taking a single seed for himself."
A younger mage, standing off to the side, muttered in awe. "To manipulate plant life across continents, instantaneously, without rituals or constructs… it's like watching a god rewrite the ecosystem in real time."
Across their screens, lists appeared of other recent world issues: desertification, food shortages, displaced populations.
One Immortal leaned back. "If Aten can do this for food, what else could he fix? Entire poisoned rivers? Dead forests? Even climate itself?"
Another elder smiled faintly. "Perhaps this is not something to fear. Mortals can fight over scraps, but famine has always been one of the greatest sources of war. If that cause is erased, then the world will be more stable."
Outside of the Association, smaller factions whispered the same thing.
Vampire clans, werewolf tribes, independent magicians — all of them were watching, analyzing. For some, it was simply a display of strength; for others, it was a beacon of hope.
In a café in Rome, two warlocks spoke over coffee:
"Did you see those seeds? If Aten can end hunger, there will be fewer reasons for mortals to turn to dangerous contracts."
"Peace by crops," the other said with a laugh. "Who could have guessed that was the kind of god he'd be?"
Of course, not everyone agreed.
A few cautious voices warned, "If all people are fed, they may become more daring. It could change the balance of how mortals view the supernatural. They might believe they can rely on him instead of fearing us."
But those voices were small compared to the rising tide of respect.
For the first time in centuries, a god's name was being spoken not with fear or reverence, but with trust.
Everywhere in the supernatural world, one conclusion began to form:
Aten was not just a figure of mystery anymore.
He had just solved a global problem that even magic, science, and politics together had failed to fix.
And the seeds he had sown were more than just food — they were seeds of a new kind of power.
At first it began quietly. A few people in the famine-stricken villages knelt in the fields at dawn, whispering thanks to the empty sky. They had never prayed to a god before, but the figure in the yellow cloak had left them food, and no one else had. The habit spread, small groups gathering around the new green fields, leaving offerings of flowers or fruit, bowing their heads toward the horizon and saying the same word: "Aten."
By the end of the week, images began appearing online — photographs of rough shrines made from stones, woven straw, or clay pots, built next to the miracle fields. Some had no statues, just the yellow cloak painted by hand on walls or carved into wood. Others left their first harvested grains as offerings, never touching them, because they believed these belonged to the god who saved them.
The ripple spread faster than even the news could follow. In cities far from those fields, ordinary people who had never seen the miracle in person began to copy it. Small altars appeared in alleys, in abandoned buildings, in gardens. On the walls were crude but earnest drawings of a faceless man wrapped in black bandages, a yellow cloak behind him. At night, candles burned in front of these drawings, the flames flickering as groups whispered thanks.
No one called it a religion. It was just gratitude. Yet, that gratitude grew into something that looked very much like worship.
The supernatural community watched in surprise as even magicians began to follow. It was not out of fear; it was out of respect. Those who studied the miracle rice knew the power it held, and they knew Aten could have used it to buy loyalty, to gain power, or to demand worship — and yet he gave it freely.
A few young magicians in Europe were filmed placing the first harvested grains at the foot of a mural painted on an alley wall, one of them saying to the camera, "For someone who asks for nothing, we offer something."
Everywhere, the same thing was happening. From simple hand-drawn images in dusty villages to carefully made sculptures in magic academies, Aten's form — black bandages, yellow cloak — was appearing. And the name, Aten, was now spoken softly, not in fear, but as if it were a promise.
By the second week, one thing was clear:
He had not asked for worship, but the world had begun to worship him anyway.
And this time, it was not just humans. It was the supernatural as well.