With the fire of his conviction, Samuel illuminated the heavens and earth, banishing "beasts" and safeguarding humanity.
He stood dazed on the church platform, eyes vacant, as spells emanated from his body, cocooning him like a chrysalis.
These spells formed directly from his AIM Diffusion Field, proof of his fusion of magic and ability.
Wherever his AIM field extended was his domain, where magic and abilities could be wielded at will.
Currently, his AIM field enveloped half the planet, its computational capacity still growing. When Samuel completed his transformation, he could single-handedly fulfill Aleister's ambition: the creation of an Artificial Heaven.
Ancient wisdom intertwined with modern intellect, sacred words resonating with the soul's essence.
The above summarized Samuel's path to Level 6.
God's Right Seat pursued bodily divinity, believing the soul was already divine. Purifying the body of sin brought it closer to "angelic" status, unlocking the soul's power.
Academy City, conversely, sought the soul's power, experimenting on the brain and soul to create a controllable "artificial god." This shortcut aimed to awaken the soul's divine potential first, addressing the rest later.
Aleister's urgency stemmed from needing a force to counter the magic side's millennia of accumulated power.
The phrase "with a mortal body, hear the will of God" encapsulated his ambition.
Aleister waited, unable to act openly, needing a trump card. Thus, he resorted to any means necessary.
Samuel, too, needed power—enough to rival God's Right Seat's Right Fire—in the short term, so he took the shortcut.
His AIM field surged from his brain, materializing and instinctively evolving his three Level 5 programs and two grimoires.
Golden radiance, crimson flames, blue electromagnetism, green electrons, and colorless invisible waves.
The five programs clashed, countless minor programs and spells blooming and fading like fleeting flowers. A chaotic haze formed above Samuel's head.
This was the chaos of wisdom, of computation. Every success, short or long-term, arose from a spark in this chaos.
Though chaotic, the spark was inevitable—his accumulation and process ensured it. If not this second, then the next.
Samuel's foundation was complete; the result was imminent.
A crimson-gold light shone in the chaos—a flame, the eternal fire of wisdom and computation.
Within it, a figure took shape, cradled in a lotus-like flame. It stood alone, a radiant halo extending wing-like ribbons behind it. Its eyes burned, its face obscured.
This was Samuel's soul—or "Primordial Spirit."
The flames became a divine sword in its hands. With a casual swing, the chaos ignited, then merged into its form.
Samuel's consciousness, linked to his body, entered the Primordial Spirit. He surveyed his surroundings, gazing skyward with disgust.
"Utterly repulsive. No wonder Aleister wants to eradicate magic, and Right Fire thinks this world needs saving."
The world was no longer the pristine beauty Samuel once saw. Having reached the pinnacle of power, he saw its true, distorted form.
Billions of veils and filters overlapped, turning a clean world into a chaotic, grotesque mess—like a white canvas splattered with clashing colors, an abstract blend of postmodern beauty and ugliness.
Countless phases interwove, shrouding the world in heavy veils.
Myths, religions, legends, and even false histories and rumors formed an intricate web of energy modules, creating a mottled crucible. Billions of phases clashed, sparking in their intersections, merging into the void with an indescribable sense of falling and scattering.
Amid the sparks, droplets spread like saliva from a mouth, too numerous to count, seeping into seven billion souls, shaping fates, causality, thoughts, and wills—a collision of divine minds.
His enhanced computational power, spurred by his ascension, tried to analyze them, but compared to this, all his prior calculations seemed feeble, laughably inadequate.
Like an elementary student tackling an international mathematician's problem.
So laughable that the "Beings" creating this scene didn't mock with malice, but with the gentle amusement of watching a child's folly.
"Do you feel it? This distorted world, its original form nearly lost."
As Samuel recoiled at the chaotic, phase-laden world, a hollow yet amused voice spoke from behind.
"Ah, I see it! Greetings, Chairman's trump card, DRAGON - Aiwass!"
***
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