"At the moment of descent, Yar lost her Energy Core and was compelled to draw upon the divine power infused within the statue of Goddess Yaran. Thus, during your fusion, you not only merged with me, but also—through my aid—absorbed a portion of Yaran's power that had not yet been refined into its purest essence. That is why you now bear the divine gift of Yaran's lineage."
Yar's form grew ever more diaphanous, her voice quickening until Robert could scarcely catch the words.
"Master, though the goddess's strength falls far short of the perfect divine force I would bestow, in your present state it would still serve you well. You must devote yourself to cultivating the Heavenly Tone of Yaran, for in the future, as you evolve toward the Perfect God-King, it shall aid you greatly. Master… I am about to fall into slumber. Leave the Dream-Sea at once."
She raised her hand in parting, the gossamer veil drifting to reveal a vision of intoxicating beauty—yet Robert had neither desire nor leisure to linger upon it.
"Yar, wait for me. I shall devour enough divine power and sacred force to awaken you again!"
Yar faltered, watching his figure vanish swiftly, her mind lingering on his words and manner. Suddenly she turned her head and smiled. "How curious! Yar has found a master who does not treat her as a mere tool. What fortune indeed."
As Robert's image dissolved completely, Yar sighed, her long lashes fluttering shut as her body scattered into starlight, fading into the boundless sea of stars.
"Master… your Yar awaits your call."
…
Robert opened his eyes in the dim storeroom. Gazing at his left hand, he felt a new and weighty sensation in his heart—a burden of responsibility.
He knew not whence this feeling arose, only told himself: Robert, you must devour divine force with all haste, for only then will that bewitching maiden awaken again. And when Yar rises, you shall tread the path toward becoming the Perfect God-King—the strongest of all.
Leaning against broken furniture, Robert slowly sifted through the tangled events of the day. In but one day, a peerless maiden had taken root within his body, and with her came the promise of ascension. All this was attested to by the shared knowledge now etched within his mind.
Recalling that knowledge, he stirred inwardly. Since the fusion, he had understood many terms and concepts, yet had not ordered the torrent of information. Now he realized its scope was vast.
Broadly, it fell into three parts. The first was a structured corpus of knowledge—gene codices, fusion, and other terms of advanced science, things Robert had never dared even to imagine. Yar called this realm of wisdom… science.
The second comprised techniques: the esoteric arts of the divine race—the enemies of Yalandis—chief among them methods for cultivating the Heavenly Tone of Yaran.
The third was perhaps most fascinating: fragments of Yar's long journeys across myriad planes. Though incomplete and blurred, these memories were enough to overturn Robert's worldview.
Once, he had mocked the goddess, even derided her as "that woman." Yet, like all born upon the Continent of Divine Grace, he had believed in his bones that gods stood loftily above, and mortals were but their servants. But now, armed with Yar's revelations, he smiled faintly. Gods? They were merely another peculiar race among countless planes of existence.
With broadened vision came a change of heart.
He delved deeper into the third trove of knowledge. Amidst the strange worlds, one azure planet seized his attention. Its denizens were human as well, yet they worshipped no gods. They believed solely in the power of science, forging a civilization Yar deemed only slightly above the primitive. Within their culture, Robert found many marvels—among them, writing and language strikingly akin to that of his own world.
The inhabitants of that blue planet named their home Earth. Robert puzzled at this—why not call it Water-Sphere instead?
"Beneath every nightfall, when I see you, feel you, I know—you have never truly gone away…"
He softly hummed a song from that distant world as he left the storeroom. When it came to singing, Robert ranked himself second in Moonwatch City—none dared claim the first. Many had said that, were it not for his father's disapproval, his voice alone could have rivaled the famed diva Xinyuesha, reigning sovereign of the continent's stage.
It was that very man—who once judged Robert's left hand—who had said so.
At the academy gates, Haus continued inspecting each student. When Robert rode away, Haus held his tongue, though his face remained dark as thunder. Students, seeing his stormy expression, gave him wide berth, lest they draw his ire.
Among them was the very youth who had mocked Robert earlier. He feigned nonchalance, though his tone carried a trace of envy. "Haus, word of Robert's newfound genius has spread through the academy. The unparalleled Heavenly Tone of Yaran's lineage! With the professors' guidance, it won't be long before you must surrender first place on the rolls to him."
Haus snorted. "That spoiled son of the city lord? So what if he's a so-called genius? He will still trail behind me, staring at my back!" He cast his companion a cold glance. "Caron, in three months comes the Yaran Selection. No matter how gifted Robert is, he cannot close the gap of ten years' cultivation in mere months. Once I seize victory, I'll take my post within the Holy See itself. Then Robert will be left only with the first place I discarded."
The Seminary of Aemiseir, like many others across the thirteen empires, existed to feed talent into the Holy See. Every year, the Church summoned the finest students from these academies for the Yaran Selection. The victor would ascend directly into service within the Holy See, winning both rank and fortune.
Haus's boast of certain victory was no idle claim—he had the strength to match his arrogance.
Just then, a muffled thunder rumbled across the southeastern sky. In broad daylight, half the heavens flickered. Haus and Caron both started in alarm. And Robert, riding from the gates, was struck with a shudder.
That thunder, streaked with ghostly white through its violet-red glow, was near identical to the bolt that had shattered the goddess's statue the day before.