"I will ask you again—identify yourself, or you will be charged for unlawful entry if you refuse to cooperate."
Julius's voice carried across the shattered parade square with crisp authority, sharp and dignified even though half the courtyard looked like it had just survived an argument between gods.
Even after everything that had happened—after the crash, the impact, the shockwave—his composure remained almost insultingly intact.
The man he addressed—who, at this exact moment, was being held in a bridal carry by a golden and blue-haired girl who had literally crash-landed from the sky—slowly stepped down onto the fractured stone.
That man?
Yeah.
That would be me.
Zevion.
Now, before you start forming conclusions about why I was just delivered into another world's royal capital like a romance novel protagonist who took a wrong turn—
I agree.
It looks bad.
Suspicious, even.
But I promise there is context.
Is it a long story?
Is it short?
At this point, I genuinely don't know anymore.
Time gets strange when you accidentally begin speedrunning godhood.
The pacing becomes unreliable.
So how did I get here?
Well…
Flashback.
And no, not the poetic, "once upon a time in a land far, far away" kind.
This was earlier today.
Which somehow makes it worse.
———
After dropping Mashiro back in England and retrieving our belongings—because yes, even while destabilizing supernatural power structures, I still believe in proper logistics—I returned to Grigori.
The atmosphere had changed.
Not in an obvious way.
There were no alarms, no chaos, no open hostility.
But it was quieter.
Heavier.
Like the lingering silence after a corporation undergoes a devastating audit by something unspeakable and mildly traumatic.
Which, to be fair, they had.
I walked into the main hall with my hands casually tucked into my pockets, like I was visiting a business partner instead of a fallen angel organization I had strong-armed hours prior.
"Yo! Old timers," I called out brightly, my voice echoing far too cheerfully for the setting.
"Did you arrange my reparations yet? Because I'm not particularly famous for my patience."
Azazel stood near the central platform, arms folded, wings half-extended behind him in a posture that screamed restrained exhaustion.
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Existentially.
Like a man who had just realized the universe could, in fact, get worse.
"Yes…" he replied slowly, each syllable carefully restrained behind forced professionalism.
"We have gathered all materials, currency reserves, artifacts, and assets of value. They are prepared in the storage hall ahead."
I nodded approvingly.
"Good. See? Cooperation makes everything smoother. You guys really should've started with this energy."
I walked past him and gave his back two friendly pats, as though we had just finalized a mutually beneficial trade agreement.
He did not appreciate it.
I did.
The storage hall doors opened.
And I stopped.
Because in front of me—
Was a mountain.
Not metaphorical.
Not exaggerated.
An actual mountain of wealth, rising in deliberate, almost reverent stacks beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Gold bars were arranged in precise towers, reflecting the overhead light in warm, blinding waves.
Crates filled with differently colored natural diamonds refracted that same light into fractals, scattering tiny galaxies across the walls.
Ancient portraits framed in materials that hummed faintly with spiritual pressure leaned against reinforced cases.
Strange alloys pulsed with internal glow.
Unfamiliar technological constructs vibrated softly, their mechanisms whispering in languages I didn't recognize.
Weapons that looked ripped straight out of a sci-fi battlefield.
Scrolls that felt like they belonged in a high cultivation realm.
Crystals straight out of a mining fantasy.
Artifacts radiating subtle, oppressive auras.
And then—
A golden heart.
Beating.
Suspended mid-air within a transparent containment field.
It pulsed slowly.
Steadily.
Like it was alive.
Like it was aware.
I stared at it for a long moment.
"…What the heck is with that heart?"
Azazel did not answer.
Which was probably the correct move.
Did I care?
Yes.
Did I care enough to actually investigate?
Not particularly.
Look.
I'm a normal human with a relatively normal mindset.
I just happen to exist in abnormal circumstances.
If I stopped to evaluate every glowing organ I encountered morally, I would never finish anything.
So I shrugged.
And focused on what truly mattered.
Jackpot.
This wasn't reparations.
This was a stimulus package for reality itself.
Finally.
Finally!
I had enough resources to summon the original Arceus over a hundred times.
Even level up each of them thousands of times!
Do you understand what that implies?
I could create my own multiverse.
Entire realities crafted purely for aesthetic satisfaction.
A world populated exclusively by absurdly cute girls who are inexplicably, helplessly in love with me?
Possible.
A universe based entirely on some random anime I binge-watched at three in the morning?
Also possible.
Or maybe—
Just a realm where legendary swords fall endlessly from the sky in slow motion.
No logic.
No civilization.
Just pure, cinematic coolness.
Honestly?
My excitement was peaking.
Anything I desired—
Could become the truth of existence.
One hundred and ten trillion yen worth of assets stood before me.
And in my Pokémon System Shop, the most expensive entity—
Arceus.
Ten billion yen.
Do the math.
I could buy eleven thousand of them.
Not that I would.
Probably.
…Probably.
Though now that I thought about it, everything had been suspiciously easy.
Difficult fights?
Sure.
High stakes?
Definitely.
But in the end?
I didn't grind for centuries.
I didn't climb some hell-tier divine tower.
I didn't endure a thousand-year tribulation.
I just… showed up.
Threatened a few powerful beings like a mildly unhinged delinquent.
And won.
If this were a game, I had somehow triggered the ending sequence before finishing the tutorial.
Guess I won't be able to tell my future kids that I earned godhood through a legendary questline.
"Back in my day, I punched some old guys and bought divinity wholesale at a discount."
Not exactly epic.
Still.
No point complaining.
I stretched my arms and exhaled slowly.
"Alright," I muttered to myself.
"Let's collect my sweet, sweet reward."
I opened my system inventory.
The mountain shimmered.
And then—
It vanished into my inventory.
All of it.
Then I converted it.
The system then digitized.
Absorbed into raw numerical authority.
My System Points flickered.
From:
[System Points: 23,890]
To:
[System Points: 110,080,897,475,345]
I stared at the number.
And for once—
…Okay, maybe not once, but for the sake of feelings and vibes, for once—
I was speechless.
"…Beautiful."
Something is intoxicating about cheat-level currency in a game.
That absurd imbalance between your wallet and the shop prices.
The kind of number that makes planning irrelevant.
Budgeting obsolete.
Consequences theoretical.
It feels like standing at the edge of infinity and realizing you own the deed.
Better than any drug.
Not that I've tried any.
Bad comparison.
Ignore that.
I was still grinning like an idiot when—
The system screen exploded in light.
Fireworks.
Actual animated fireworks.
Golden sparks cascaded across the interface.
Confetti burst from invisible corners.
Sparkling overlays shimmered as I had just defeated the final boss of existence.
Text appeared.
[Congratulations, dear Zevion. You have unlocked the God-Rank Hidden Achievement.]
My grin widened slowly.
Of course I did.
Naturally.
[New functions are now available.]
Oh?
Now we're talking.
I leaned forward slightly.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
[To unlock the new function, please use 100% of your current System Points.]
…
…
…
My smile froze.
The fireworks continued celebrating.
The golden number blinked temptingly.
And beneath it—
The requirement.
Everything.
Every single point.
Silence filled the hall.
Azazel shifted slightly behind me, completely unaware that an existential gamble was hovering in front of my eyes.
I stared at the screen.
"…That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"
The fireworks kept sparkling.
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