Sunlight streamed through the small, framed window, cutting across the room in golden streaks. The rays touched the sleeping figure in bed, making her pale skin glow faintly. Sylvara stirred, lashes fluttering. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and slowly turned her head.
The first thing she saw was not the wooden ceiling but the man lying beside her.
Lloyd.
He was still asleep, his breathing calm, his lips pressed into a neutral line. The sunlight caught on the faint marks along his neck, faded traces of what had happened last night.
Sylvara's lips curved into a soft smile. Her hand rose, brushing against his cheek, and for a moment, she simply watched him. Quiet. Peaceful. She pulled the comforter over them both and pressed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his thin waist. Her face nestled into him as she inhaled his scent. It was crisp, like snow resting on pine branches, with something faintly sweet hidden beneath.
She had never expected her life to twist into this.
Once, she had been a goddess. Sylvara Feylora, Goddess of Land and Fertility.
In those days, she basked in endless worship. Her temples overflowed with offerings: golden grain, ripe fruit, delicate pastries made with love. Every prayer was a song, every shrine a beacon of her power. Her strength was constant. Eternal.
But gods starve when forgotten.
As humanity marched into modernity, belief faded to myth. Fewer prayers reached her. Fewer offerings filled her temples. Her strength dwindled. Every year, she felt herself grow weaker, fading like an ember in the wind.
And when she was at her weakest, her enemies struck. Framed. Betrayed. Cast from her divine seat.
Thrown into a cursed winter forest, her once-powerful body burned from within. Drugged, poisoned, and left to die. Her fever would have consumed her, her divine essence snuffed out.
If not for him.
Her eyes softened as she looked at Lloyd again. The man who had saved her. Not just from the poison coursing through her veins, but from the filthy hands of those men who would have defiled her.
As a face-con, he was perfect for her aesthetic. His features were a blend of softness and sharp edges; his presence calm yet commanding when it mattered. His words were gentle, coaxing. His blue eyes were as deep as an ocean; she could drown in them without regret.
If he had one flaw, it was his body. Too thin. Far too thin. She could see the faint outlines of his ribs when he moved. That would not do. She would fatten him up, no matter what.
Even weakened, she still held power. Closing her eyes, Sylvara pressed her forehead to his. A warm glow rippled from her, seeping into his body like sunlight melting frost. Lloyd stirred faintly, a hum escaping his lips as the comforting warmth spread through him.
So warm… he thought dimly. Is this what a heated house feels like?
A faint smile tugged at his lips as the magic lulled him into deeper rest.
Eventually, his eyes opened. But the first thing he saw was not Sylvara's face.
A soft, blue light hovered in the air, a glowing holographic screen.
Lloyd blinked, his breath catching. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake her, staring at the impossible words floating before him.
[Talent Unlocked: Farming Class]
[SSS Skill: Crops Grown Become Mythical Edibles]
His heart pounded. His hands trembled.
Did I…awaken?
In this world, only ten percent of humanity awakened. Chosen ones, touched by power. They were remnants of an ancient event; a scar left on the world millennia ago when a meteorite of unimaginable power struck the earth. The skies burned, seas split apart, volcanoes erupted in unison. When the world settled, it was no longer the same.
The very air had changed.
Invisible particles drifted unseen, present in every breath. Mana.
Most people inhaled it and remained ordinary. But a rare few could absorb it, refine it, and when their cores overflowed, they awakened.
Some gained elemental control, simple yet powerful. Others acquired abilities so unique they changed the world. The greatest blacksmith alive had once been an ordinary person, until he awakened with an S-class forging ability that let him craft weapons capable of slaying dragons.
Lloyd had given up hope long ago. At twenty-three, far past the usual age of sixteen, he had resigned himself to being ordinary.
And yet… here it was.
SSS Rank.
Higher than anything ever recorded. Higher than the SS+ talent wielded by the strongest hunter alive.
His breath shook as he whispered, "SSS-Rank…?"
The words felt unreal.
A gentle squeeze at his waist snapped him back to reality.
"Hm… be quiet~ I need my beauty sleep," Sylvara mumbled, her voice drowsy, heavy with lingering sleepiness.
Lloyd's cheeks flushed. "S-sorry."
He tried to move, but the warmth of her body pressed against him, her arm clutching him tighter.
"It's still early," she murmured, almost purring, "Stay. Sleep a little more."