Nova had spent his first night in the apartment sleeping on the floor. There was no mattress, and the wooden boards were hardly comfortable, but he didn't mind. Talia had told him the furniture would arrive either today or sometime during the week. Until then, he had a roof over his head, a place to sleep, and enough room for the kittens to move around without getting themselves into trouble.
Morning light entered through the living room window, illuminating the empty space around him. Nova sat with his back against the wall, watching the kittens crawl over his legs. One had decided that the hem of his clothing was an excellent toy, while another kept attempting to climb onto his lap, only to slide back down each time.
He reached out and gently lifted the struggling kitten. It settled against his hand, apparently satisfied with the assistance, and began purring.
"You've got an easy life ahead of you," Nova murmured, stroking its head. "At least, that's what I'm hoping."
He still needed a job, of course. The kittens were surviving for now, but they would need proper food, somewhere comfortable to sleep, and someone to care for them. As soon as he began looking for work, he knew exactly where his priorities lay.
While lowering the kitten beside its siblings, Nova noticed the faint marking on his right hand.
The Circle of Pillars.
He raised his hand toward the sunlight and examined the sigil. Its appearance in Talia's office the previous day had been accompanied by an irritating itch, but the sensation had since disappeared. The marking itself remained, however, and seeing it there brought back everything he knew about the system governing mortal progression.
So this is what I'll be working with from now on.
The Circle of Pillars was one of the fundamental laws governing the mortal realm. Every mortal was bound by it throughout their life, whether they eventually awakened an ability or never managed to awaken at all. To those who succeeded, it offered a path toward strength that, at least from a mortal's perspective, seemed almost limitless.
The system had been designed to let mortals experience something resembling the ascent toward Godhood. They could improve their abilities, overcome their previous limitations, and reach heights that would have once seemed impossible. Yet, even after a billion years of training, none of it would make them equal to a true Supreme God.
Nova knew the difference better than anyone.
Immortals were not bound by the Circle of Pillars in the same way. They possessed an innate ability from birth, and its nature varied considerably between individuals. Some immortal abilities resembled the final evolution of powers that mortals might awaken after years of progression. Others were remarkably ordinary, scarcely different from the abilities found among the weakest awakened humans.
For awakened mortals, however, the Circle of Pillars provided a visible measure of their progress.
Nova studied the two concentric circles on his hand. The outer circle represented a person's core energy, while the inner circle reflected their control and mastery over that power. Vertical pillars connected the two circles after awakening, indicating both rank and the stability of an individual's magical strength. As their strength increased, the circles gradually drew closer together, until they eventually became one.
At present, his own circles had no pillars between them.
That was perfectly normal for someone who hadn't awakened.
Every human possessed the underlying circles, but the pillars appeared only after an individual awakened and gained an ability. Some people spent their entire lives without reaching that point. Talia herself had the Circle of Pillars, yet she had never awakened an innate ability.
The thought made Nova look more carefully at his hand.
One pillar. That's where I'll need to start.
The ranking system began with the unawakened, who had no pillars at all. Once someone awakened, their first pillar marked them as F-rank. From there, additional pillars represented higher ranks, all the way up to ten pillars and EX-rank.
There was another complication, though. The rank of an awakened person was only part of the story. The ability they received mattered just as much, and sometimes considerably more.
I need to awaken my ability quickly, he thought, resting his head against the wall. If I want to live properly in this realm, I can't spend the entire month sitting here without a source of income.
Talia had already been generous enough to offer him a month's accommodation without rent. He had thanked her, and he intended to keep his promise to pay once that month ended. Depending on someone else's kindness forever would hardly count as the independent mortal life he had come here to experience.
His gaze drifted toward the kittens. One was lying on its back with its paws raised, completely unconcerned with his financial difficulties.
"Yes, yes. I know you don't care about money," he said quietly. "Unfortunately, the rest of this world does."
He could always solve the problem in an instant by drawing upon his divinity. A slight nudge would be enough to awaken something extraordinary, bypassing the uncertainty ordinary mortals had to endure. For a moment, the possibility crossed his mind almost out of habit.
Then he shook his head.
No. Absolutely not.
He had chosen to come here because he wanted to experience the struggle. Using divine power to arrange an easy awakening would defeat the entire purpose of his reincarnation. There was no point in calling himself a mortal while quietly making sure he never faced the disadvantages of one.
No shortcuts. Not this time.
Instead, he would find a way to awaken through the mortal system itself. Talia had mentioned the American Guild, which was only a short distance from the apartment. Becoming an Adventurer seemed like the most practical option. Even F-rank Adventurers could earn a respectable amount by completing assigned work, and it would allow him to train while supporting himself and the kittens.
Before any of that, however, he had to consider the ability he might receive.
If I end up with some terrible ability, I'm going to have a problem, he thought. Some of them are so shitty that even evolution doesn't make them worth using.
The system was unpredictable. An awakened person might receive an unusually powerful ability from the beginning, while someone else could end up with something common, such as water manipulation. A common ability was not necessarily useless, however, because its potential depended partly on how it developed.
Evolution was the mechanism that made the difference.
For example, someone who awakened with water manipulation and reached six pillars might be offered a choice. They could evolve their ability into Water II, an advanced version of their existing power, or take a different route and awaken the foundations of blood manipulation, known as Blood I.
Choosing an evolution came at a cost. Their pillar count would reset to one, requiring them to build their strength back up to six pillars before taking another evolutionary step. It was hardly an effortless climb, and even the direction of advancement mattered.
Nova found that part especially interesting.
As abilities evolved further, users could begin incorporating external powers into their inborn abilities. One example was Storm Weaver, a cross-dominion ability that combined air and water manipulation. It could create storms, generate lightning, and influence patterns of rainfall while still strengthening the user's original water-based power.
The diagonal crosses on the Circle of Pillars showed how far an ability had evolved. A circle without a diagonal cross indicated someone who had never evolved. The first cross represented a first evolution, generally a higher form of the original ability. A second cross marked another evolution and the possibility of cross-dominion, combining powers that had previously remained separate. A third cross represented a further evolution of that cross-dominion ability.
Nova turned his hand slightly, picturing those markings appearing across the empty circles.
It would take time. That was the entire point.
And even these stages were only the beginning. Beyond the Circle of Pillars were the Unified Rings and the Transcendence Pillars, systems requiring far greater development. Each transcendence was such a significant leap in power that the Circle of Pillars seemed almost like a child's toy by comparison.
He lowered his hand and let the sigil fade from his immediate attention.
Now he was sitting on a hard floor, unable to produce a single pillar.
The situation should have been humiliating. Strangely enough, it made him smile.
Even if ascent defies the climb, even if the odds are never kind, still the right to strive is mine. As it is for every mortal beneath the sky.
He blinked, surprised by his own thoughts.
That wasn't a bad poem.
For a brief moment, he considered becoming a poet as a side job. People evidently earned money by writing poems and reciting them, so perhaps it was worth looking into. Then he thought about spending his days doing little besides writing and speaking, and his interest disappeared almost immediately.
"No, thank you," he muttered. "I've had enough of being bored."
A soft meow interrupted his thoughts.
One of the kittens had climbed onto his chest and curled into a small ball, while the others settled against his arm and side. He adjusted his position carefully so none of them would fall. Their breathing soon became slow and steady, and the faint sound of purring filled the otherwise quiet apartment.
Nova looked down at them.
These little creatures knew nothing about ranks, awakening, ability evolution, or any of the extraordinary systems he had spent the morning considering. They didn't know that the person holding them had once possessed enough power to destroy worlds. Nor did they seem particularly interested in finding out.
They wanted food, warmth, and somewhere safe to sleep.
And for the moment, they trusted him to provide those things.
It was a responsibility far smaller than anything he had once overseen, yet it required something his divine duties rarely demanded of him: attention to the needs of a few helpless lives, day after day, without solving everything through overwhelming power.
He found himself taking it seriously.
Nova leaned his head back against the wall. The floor remained uncomfortable, and he was beginning to feel the stiffness in his back from sleeping there all night. His body would need food, rest, training, and time to recover whenever he pushed it too far. There would be moments when he failed, when an opponent proved stronger than him, and when he had no choice but to accept help.
He had asked for all of it.
Freya would have laughed if she could see him sitting here, surrounded by sleeping kittens and worrying about rent. He smiled at the thought of her, wondering what she was doing in the Inner Heaven. Perhaps she was tending to another one of her beloved celestial creations, speaking to it as affectionately as though it were her child.
He missed her. That much was undeniable.
But he had made a choice, and she understood why he needed to experience this life. When he finally saw her again, he wanted to have stories worth telling, things he had done through his own efforts rather than simply because he was the Supreme God of Destruction.
For now, he had an apartment, four walls, a month to find work, and several kittens depending on him. It was a modest beginning, but it belonged to him.
The sunlight shifted across the wooden floor as the morning continued. Nova closed his eyes, careful not to disturb the sleeping kittens resting against him. He wasn't trying to return to the comfortable existence he had left behind. He wanted to learn what living meant when every achievement demanded something in return.
Soon, he would begin taking those first steps.
And this time, it would all be real.