Laia knelt atop the glowing patch of land that defied the void's corrosive grasp, her mind fixed on one reckless thought: to merge this entire territory into her realm. If she could lock away the void's threat for good, she'd never waste divine crystals on stabilizing her power again—and that meant more gold saved for her long-awaited cheese sandwich shop.
She closed her eyes, channeling every thread of her divine energy outward, trying to weave the land's essence into the core of her realm. But an instant later, a crushing, unyielding force slammed back into her chest, sharp and unforgiving. She gasped, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she collapsed onto the soft, luminous grass, chest heaving with exertion.
What had she been thinking? A mere Rank 3 god had no hope of subduing an ancient land that stood immune to the void's wrath. It was a fool's errand, plain and simple.
Yet the attempt had not been for nothing. First, she'd pulled every vein of divine ore deep into the soil of her realm, stashing the precious minerals for later use—whether for crafting trinkets or, if she ever found a buyer, turning a quick profit. Second, she'd absorbed roughly one ten-thousandth of the land's primordial rules. The power was vast, but manageable; with enough repeated tries, she might fully claim this place one day.
A warm, surging rush of power flooded her veins, and Laia's lips curled into a stunned grin. She'd broken through to Rank 3 Peak, just like that. If her ragtag group of overlords and exiled tribesmen had stronger faith to fuel her, she would have leaped straight to Rank 4 without a second thought.
Stranger still, her realm's size had not grown, but it hummed with a new, hidden depth, as if veiled layers had unlocked. A new mark burned in her divine core—a permanent anchor to this land, letting her return whenever she pleased. No more getting lost in the endless void.
When full absorption proved impossible, she tried a different tack: stripping away the land's core rule rather than the whole terrain. A brilliant golden crystal, pulsing with ancient, untamed energy, settled into her palm. She could not name its purpose, but her instincts screamed it was priceless. Yet without noble connections or a black market channel, she could never sell it. She was sitting on a fortune she could not spend, a frustration that gnawed at her more than the earlier pressure.
She tucked the crystal deep within her realm, then turned away. The fragments of rule she'd absorbed had gifted her a clear sense of direction—she could feel the divine realm's pull, bright and unmissable. This land must share a primordial link with the divine realm itself, but such mysteries were far beyond a small-time god just trying to run a sandwich shop.
Her triumph soured quickly. At Rank 3 Peak, she still had not ignited her divine fire, leaving her unable to wield her full authority. Even with her new strength, victory in the upcoming tournament was far from guaranteed. To make matters worse, her exiled, void-tainted followers had been banned from competing, their unique traits deemed unfit by the tournament council. The whole world seemed stacked against her.
With a frustrated huff, she stepped into the swirling void mist, letting it swallow her whole as she raced back toward the divine realm.
Only one day remained before the Imperial Divine Realm Tournament, and tension hung thick over the academy grounds. Among those scrambling to prepare was the Voss family, once a noble house of great standing, now clinging to its status by a thread.
In their opulent temporary manor, Elara Voss sank onto a velvet couch, her expression sullen. She'd just arrived via the family's enchanted carriage, flanked by high-ranked divine servants, and she wanted nothing more than to mope. Her training had become a nightmare, overseen by her cousin Caspian Voss, who knew every quirk of her realm's traits and foiled every one of her lazy shortcuts. Worse, she had not seen Laia for three days—her only friend at the academy, the one who'd fixed her broken realm stabilizer when no one else would bother.
Caspian stepped into the room, his silver armor glinting, a faint, exasperated smile on his face. "Must you look so miserable? You've been distracted for days."
"Your constant meddling is exhausting," Elara muttered, refusing to meet his eye. "I have no privacy, no freedom."
Caspian's smile faded. "This is not a game. You must place top twenty in this tournament. The Voss family cannot withstand another scandal, another loss."
"Why does it have to be this way?" Elara demanded, sitting upright. "Laia is stronger and kinder than any noble you'd force me to befriend. We're in this mess because Grandfather gambled billions of divine crystals on a fake divine shard. You're walking the same destructive path."
"Naivety," Caspian said, his voice cold. "Resource warfare is cruel. We lost that bet, but we will not surrender. A potion exists that can grant followers Void Resistance and Abyss Resistance—traits that let one harvest the void's untold riches. It is the only way to restore our house."
Elara paled. "That potion slaughters nearly all who take it. You would sacrifice our followers for power?"
"Every last one," Caspian snapped, the air growing frigid as elven archers materialized behind him, silent and loyal. "At Rank 5, followers become weapons. Their traits transfer to their god. Those resistances will make us untouchable. Sacrifice is the price of power."
Elara stared at him in horror, thinking of Laia and her ragtag, beloved followers. This was a world Laia would never accept.
As Caspian turned to leave, Elara vowed to find Laia—and to stand with her, no matter the cost.
Laia burst through the void's edge, the golden spires of the academy coming into view. She was back, just in time. Her mind was fixed on one goal: win the tournament, claim the prize gold, and finally open her cheese sandwich shop.
She did not yet know that the Voss family's desperate greed, and the secret of the golden crystal she'd hidden away, would soon collide with her quiet, food-focused dreams—and turn the tournament into a fight far bigger than a little shop.