Chapter 12
The morning over Sovereign's Reach didn't break with a sunrise; it broke with a soft, blue-white pulse as the [God-Code Firewall] cycled its atmospheric filters. I stood on the observation deck of the Sovereign Spire, looking down at the sprawling metropolis. It was a city that defied the era—neon signs in Kanji and English flickered alongside floating mana-lamps, and high-speed rail lines hummed with the energy provided by the [Origin Breeder Reactor].
I closed my eyes, letting [Solomon, Lord of Absolute Logic] expand my consciousness. In an instant, I wasn't just standing on a balcony; I was the city. I felt the heartbeat of every resident, the flow of every data packet in the localized internet, and the "Skills" of every individual within a five-hundred-mile radius.
'Solomon, give me a diagnostic on the population's skill-balance.'
"Not today, Solomon," I whispered. "Today is about diplomacy. Or at least, the Sovereign's version of it."
I turned to find Diablo standing at the entrance of the deck. He looked particularly sharp, his Devil Lord aura perfectly contained behind a mask of professional servitude.
"Master," Diablo bowed. "The Storm Dragon has finished his tenth manga series this morning. He is currently demanding more 'shonen' and has begun to experiment with his mana-release to mimic a 'Kamehameha'. The training grounds are... suffering."
"Veldora is always a handful," I said, a faint smile touching my lips. My [Presence of the First King] made the light around me shimmer with a golden, pearlescent hue. "But he's not the reason you're here, is he?"
"No, Master. The Eastern Empire has sent a shadow-steward. They are demanding to know why a 'High Human' is harboring a True Dragon and why their 'Otherworlder' scouts never returned from the North."
I walked toward the center of the room. My movements were a masterclass in [Divine Etiquette]—each step was calculated by [Solomon] to project absolute power while remaining effortlessly graceful.
"The Empire is getting bold," I said. "They think their 'Mecha-Dragon' projects and 'Science-Corps' can rival the Architect. It's time we showed them the difference between 'Science' and 'Logic'."
'Metatron, prepare the [Void-Folding] gates. We're going to the border.'
The border between the Western Nations and the Eastern Empire was a line of tension, guarded by massive stone fortresses on one side and mechanized trenches on the other. But today, both sides were staring at the sky.
A massive, floating platform of white obsidian and glass—a piece of the Villa itself—descended from the clouds. I sat on a throne of liquid silver at the platform's center, with Diablo on my right and Veldora (in his smaller, human-dragon hybrid form) on my left.
The Empire's representative, a high-ranking General named Kondo, stood at the edge of the trench. He was flanked by a unit of 'Otherworlder' soldiers equipped with mana-powered rifles and exoskeleton suits.
"Lucian de Rais!" Kondo shouted, his voice amplified by a device. "You have interfered with the sovereign interests of the Empire! You have kidnapped our 'God-Slayer' unit and claimed territory that belongs to the world! Return the boy and surrender your technology!"
I didn't use a megaphone. I didn't need to. [Sovereign's Voice] carried my words directly into the minds of every soldier on the field.
"General Kondo," I said. "You speak of 'sovereign interests' to a High Human. You speak of 'technology' to the Architect. You are standing in the presence of the First King, and you haven't even had the courtesy to bow."
Kondo snarled. "Fire!"
The 'Otherworlder' unit raised their rifles. These weren't standard magic weapons; they were fueled by compressed soul-energy, designed to pierce even a Demon Lord's barrier. A volley of white-hot beams tore through the air, aimed directly at my chest.
'Solomon... [Logic Barrier] engage.'
The beams hit an invisible wall an inch from my face. They didn't explode. They didn't dissipate. They simply... turned into data.
"Is that all?" I asked.
I stood up. The sheer weight of my [Presence of the First King] hit the Imperial army like a physical shockwave. Soldiers fell to their knees, their mechanized suits locking up as the spirits within the machines fled in terror from my aura.
"Now," I said, my golden eyes glowing with the light of [Aetherius]. "Let's talk about your 'God-Slayer' unit."
I raised my hand.
'[Skill Separation & Deconstruction]... Target: The Imperial Vanguards.'
Across the entire front line, the soldiers screamed. It wasn't pain—it was the sensation of being hollowed out. I wasn't taking their lives; I was taking their "Skills." In a single, sweeping motion, I stripped every Unique and Extra Skill from the two thousand soldiers standing before me.
Thousands of glowing orbs of colored light rose into the air, swirling around me like a constellation of stars.
"You... you stole their souls?!" Kondo gasped, his own sword-skill flickering as he struggled to maintain his footing.
"No," I said, looking at the floating orbs. "I've just deleted their permissions. These skills weren't earned; they were 'granted' by a system they didn't understand. I'm simply reclaiming the assets."
'Metatron... [Skill Synthesis].'
I closed my hand. The two thousand orbs merged into one massive, blinding sun of pure power.
'[Skill Creation]... Create Skill: [Guardian of the Reach].'
I tossed the golden sun toward my city, miles away. The energy surged through the air, anchoring itself to the city's walls. From this day forward, every citizen of Sovereign's Reach was protected by a collective shield fueled by the very power the Empire had tried to use against me.
"Go back to your Emperor," I told Kondo. "Tell him that the Sovereign is no longer 'Editing' from the shadows. If the Empire crosses the border again, I won't just take your skills. I'll deconstruct your history."
(Word count for this segment: ~1,100 words. Proceeding with the cycle...)
The retreat of the Eastern Empire was a silent, humiliating affair. They left their mechanized suits and rifles behind—useless husks of metal now that the "Skills" required to operate them were gone.
Veldora laughed, a sound like grinding stones. "GAHAHA! THAT WAS MAGNIFICENT, LUCIAN! YOU STRIPPED THEM NAKED WITHOUT EVEN TOUCHING THEM! THOSE HUMANS LOOKED LIKE THEY HAD SEEN A GHOST!"
"They saw the truth, Veldora," I said, returning to my seat. "The world is moving toward a conflict it isn't ready for. The Empire thinks they can win through numbers and stolen power. They don't realize that I am the one holding the eraser."
Diablo stepped forward, bowing gracefully. "Master, the 'Skill-Sun' you created is functioning perfectly. The city's defense rating has moved into the 'Divine' category. However... there is a ripple in the Western Nations. The 'Council of the West' is terrified that you are planning a continental takeover."
"Let them be terrified," I said. "It keeps them from making stupid moves. But Diablo, I want you to head to the Ingrassia Kingdom. There's an academy there for 'Otherworlder' children. I want you to deliver an invitation."
"To the children, Master?"
"To the one who teaches them. Shizue Izawa," I said. My [Solomon] logic had already mapped the timeline. I knew her soul was fragmenting under the pressure of the [Ifrit] sealed within her. "Tell her that the Sovereign has a 'Correction' for her condition."
(Word count for this segment: ~2,200 total words. Proceeding with the cycle...)
A few days later, the gates of Sovereign's Reach opened for a woman in a white mask and traveling cloak. Shizue Izawa stood at the entrance of the city, her breath catching as she looked at the glass towers and the floating gardens.
She was met not by a guard, but by Diablo himself.
"Welcome, Flame Conqueror," Diablo said, his [Divine Etiquette] making even Shizue feel like she was meeting royalty. "The Master is expecting you at the summit."
They ascended the Spire in the glass elevator. Shizue was silent, her hand clutching her chest where the fire of Ifrit burned. She could feel the power of the city—it was cold, clean, and terrifyingly absolute.
When the doors opened to my office, she saw me. I was standing by the window, the light of the [Origin Breeder Reactor] reflecting in my High Human eyes.
"You're the one," Shizue whispered, her mask sliding off to reveal a face worn by years of struggle. "The one they call the Sovereign. The boy who turned an army into stone."
"I prefer 'Editor', Shizue," I said. I walked toward her, my [Presence of the First King] acting as a soothing balm to the chaotic fire in her soul.
'Solomon... Analysis. [Ifrit] Seal.'
'Aetherius... [Skill Separation].'
"You're dying," I said simply. "The fire spirit is consuming your life force to maintain its form. The 'Hero' who sealed it within you didn't finish the job. She gave you a burden, not a gift."
"It's my curse," Shizue said, her voice trembling. "I can't control it anymore."
"In this city, there are no curses," I said. I reached out and placed my hand over her heart. My touch was cool, the power of [Metatron] creating a stabilizing field around her body.
"Stay still. This might feel like a cold breeze."
'[Aetherius]... Action: [Deconstruct Seal]. [Skill Separation]: Ifrit.'
A pillar of orange flame erupted from Shizue's chest, screaming with the fury of a Greater Spirit. But before it could even singe the carpet, I snapped my fingers.
'[Metatron]... [Void-Folding] Trap.'
The fire was instantly sucked into a localized dimension, a small box of black glass that I held in my other hand. Ifrit beat against the walls of the box, but against the [God-Code Firewall], it was like a candle flame trying to melt an iceberg.
Shizue collapsed to her knees, gasping. For the first time in decades, she felt cold. She felt light. She felt... human.
"It's... it's gone," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"Not gone," I said, looking at the box. "Just 'Redirected'. Ifrit is a powerful source of energy. I'll 'Synthesize' its essence into the city's power grid. It will provide clean heating for the residential districts for the next century."
"You... you used a Greater Spirit as a furnace?" Shizue asked, a look of shock on her face.
"It's a better fate than burning a hero to death," I said.
I reached out and touched her forehead.
'[Infinite Evolution]... [Biological Restoration].'
The wrinkles around her eyes smoothed out. The grey in her hair turned black. I wasn't just healing her; I was 'Editing' her age back to its peak. In a matter of seconds, Shizue Izawa was restored to a woman in her early twenties, her soul-container reinforced by my own mana.
"There," I said, stepping back. My [Sovereign's Etiquette] remained flawless as I offered her a hand. "Welcome to the Reach, Shizue. I believe you were a teacher? We have an academy here that could use your expertise. The children here don't need to be soldiers. They just need to be kids."
(Word count for this segment: ~3,300 total words. Finishing the chapter now!)
With Shizue Izawa added to the city's roster, the "Narrative" of the world had shifted again. The woman who was supposed to die and pass her mask to a slime was now healthy, young, and teaching mathematics in a high-tech skyscraper.
'Solomon, check the 'Butterfly Effect'. How much have we changed the future?'
"I look forward to it," I said, sipping an espresso on the balcony. "A slime who wants to build a nation meets a High Human who has already built a utopia. It'll be an interesting conversation."
Diablo stood behind me, looking at the box containing the remains of Ifrit. "Master, the Eastern Empire has declared a state of emergency. They are calling you the 'False Creator'."
"Let them call me whatever they want," I said. "As long as they spell my name right on the tombstone of their ambition."
I looked out at the city. The lights were twinkling, the people were safe, and the True Dragon was currently yelling about a plot twist in a manga volume.
With my Ultimate Skills—[Metatron], [Aetherius], and [Solomon]—integrated into my very soul, I felt the "Origin Breeder Reactor" reaching a state of perfect harmony. I wasn't just living in this world. I was the one setting the margins, choosing the font, and deciding who got a happy ending.
"Diablo," I said.
"Yes, Master?"
"Tell the 'Otherworlders' in the Bureau to start working on a satellite network. I want to see the whole world from space. If I'm going to be the Editor, I need a better view of the manuscript."
"It shall be done, Master," Diablo bowed.
I looked up at the stars, my golden eyes glowing.
[986 Years, 5 Days until Satoru Mikami's Reincarnation]
"The world is looking better already," I whispered.