Back in her academy dorm, Laia flopped onto her bed and propped open her divine realm panel, her fingers brushing over the new [Marked Descension] ability glowing in the corner. After hitting Rank 3 Peak, she'd realized there was only one way to unlock her full divine authority before the tournament: ignite her divine fire.
It was a win-win, after all. Lighting the fire wouldn't just grant her formal godly rights and rule over her realm—it would also give a massive permanent boost to her followers. She'd even run the numbers: with the right authority, she could unlock a [Bountiful Harvest] trait that would double the milk production of her realm's dairy cows, a [Weather Weaving] ability to keep the wheat fields perfect for sandwich bread, and a [Sturdy Forge] boon to cut down on supply waste for her shop. There was no way her followers wouldn't jump at the chance.
Grinning to herself, she activated the descension.
Down in her divine realm, the twelve overlords had just finished settling in the three newly rescued Void-Forsaken clans. The new arrivals had been wary at first, annoyed at the thought of more mouths to feed in the realm—until they'd realized more people meant more hands to work the fields, mine the divine ore, and expand the realm's infrastructure. They'd accepted the newcomers grudgingly at first, then split them between the elves, dragons, and shadow kin; the demon volcanic plains were unfit for the soft, void-weary clans, and the humans and dwarves were too busy building a massive cold storage warehouse to bother with extra labor.
For three days, the original clans had taught the newcomers the rules of the realm: work hard, pay your taxes on time, never waste good cheddar, and above all else, never question the Overgod's plans. The new clan leaders had nodded along, awestruck by the power of the twelve overlords, and had only just started to settle in when the sky split open.
A deafening boom rolled across the realm, and a colossal pillar of golden light crashed down from the clouds, right onto the central divine altar. The three new clan leaders gaped, eyes wide, and dropped to their knees, trembling. The twelve overlords, by contrast, simply straightened their postures and stepped forward to the edge of the altar, already used to their Overgod's dramatic entrances.
The light faded, and Laia stepped out, chin held high, ready to greet her followers with all the grace a proper god should have.
Then her boot caught on a cracked stone slab.
She stumbled forward, and with a squawk, landed face-first in the mud at the base of the altar.
The entire realm went dead silent.
Before anyone could even react, a deafening CRUNCH rang out. The altar's foundations, already hollowed out and weakened, gave way entirely. The entire stone structure collapsed inward, crumbling into a pile of rubble and dust right on top of where Laia had fallen.
Kane, the human king, turned slowly to Torin the dragon lord, his expression deadpan. "You lot really never bothered to fix this thing?"
Torin rolled his eyes, flicking a piece of flying rubble away with his tail. "We're dragons. We have claws, not delicate little human hands. How exactly were we supposed to repair it?"
Kane stared at him. "You moved a whole mountain last week to build a better grazing field for the dairy cows."
"That was different. That was for the Overgod's cheese."
Before they could bicker further, the rubble exploded outward. Laia stood in the center, her divine aura flaring, her hair full of dust, her face bright red with rage. The three new clan leaders cowered, already convinced they'd witnessed a god's most embarrassing moment and were about to be erased from existence.
"You overgrown lizard!" Laia snarled, rounding on Torin. "You have ten seconds to explain what the hell just happened, and I swear if it's another one of your nonsense excuses, I'm banning you from the cheese storage for a month!"
Torin cleared his throat, fighting back a snicker. "Look, boss, this is a complex situation. To understand the altar's structural failure, we have to first analyze the long-term corrosive effects of void energy on divine stone, and then—"
"Stop. Just stop." Laia threw her hands up, her voice rising with every word. "I don't care what you brats get up to in your free time! You can blow up mountains, you can race starships across the void, I don't care! But you couldn't even be bothered to keep the one altar I use to descend intact? I've slaved away in the void for weeks, scraping together divine crystals just to keep this realm running, to keep all of you fed and safe! And this is the thanks I get? I can't even show up in front of the new clans without face-planting into the mud! Have you no shame?"
The twelve overlords all suddenly found the sky, the ground, and the distant wheat fields incredibly interesting, refusing to meet her eyes. The three new clan leaders, meanwhile, were still frozen in terror.
Laia glanced at them, her scowl softening just a little. "What are you staring at? Go do a headcount of every member of your clans with an innate trait, write down exactly what those traits are, and bring it back to me. Now."
The three men jolted, bowed so deep their foreheads touched the mud, and sprinted away as fast as their legs could carry them.
Laia turned back to her original overlords, and let out a frustrated huff. She was this close to having a divine heart attack, even if gods technically couldn't have heart attacks.
Torin scratched the back of his neck with a claw, finally speaking up. "Alright, alright, we'll fix the altar. But what did you actually descend here for? We're in the middle of curing meat for the hatchlings, and if they go hungry, that's on you."
Laia almost laughed. Only her followers would dare talk to their god like this. Only her brats.
She took a deep breath, crossing her arms. "I've hit Rank 3 Peak. I can ignite my divine fire now. It's going to take a decent amount of energy, and I need you all to hold a formal offering ritual to anchor it. But before you panic—this isn't just for me. Once the fire is lit, I can unlock godly authorities that'll help all of you. Better harvests, stronger defenses, less resource waste, the whole nine yards."
She'd braced herself to argue, to explain the benefits a dozen times, to convince them it was worth the effort.
Instead, Kane pulled a rolled-up scroll from his cloak and unfurled it, revealing a complete, step-by-step ritual plan. Elara stepped forward, holding a chest full of glowing divine offering materials, already sorted and prepared. Torin let out a sharp whistle, and a dozen dragons flew overhead, dragging a massive, brand-new stone altar behind them—carved into the sides were intricate reliefs of cheese wheels, wheat stalks, and sandwich loaves.
Laia stared, her mouth falling open. "Wait. You… you already had all this ready?"
"Of course we did." Torin shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We felt you hit Rank 3 Peak the second it happened. We looked into the world rules, we know how the divine fire works. We knew you'd come to us about it sooner or later. Figured we'd have everything ready to go, so you didn't have to stress about it. We even set aside the 10-year aged cheddar you love as the main offering."
Laia blinked, suddenly hesitant. "Wait… this ritual won't hurt any of you, right? It won't drain too much of your energy or faith? I don't want you guys suffering just for this."
Elara smiled, soft and warm. "It will barely affect us at all. The small cost is nothing compared to seeing you step into your full power. We've been waiting for this, Laia."
Laia stared at them, her chest tight. She nodded, finally finding her voice. "Alright. Then we'll do it the day after the tournament. And for the love of all that's holy, fix this collapsed mess of an altar before then."
She turned to leave, heading off to check in on the three new clans, but she'd barely walked ten steps before she froze.
Wait a second.
She was the god here. She was the one who was supposed to be making the plans, giving the orders, preparing the rituals. But her followers had already done everything. They'd anticipated her every need, planned for every step, before she'd even said a word.
Who was really in charge here? Who was the god, and who were the followers?
She let out a long, exasperated sigh, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. It was her own fault, really. Sh'd summoned these twelve brats when she had nothing, when she was a broke academy student scraping by for a single divine crystal, just to fill her empty realm and make enough tax to get by. She'd never had the money for fancy life seeds to summon perfect, obedient followers. She'd never had the rare oracle cards to keep her followers fed and happy with miracles.
She'd just been herself. A girl who wanted to open a cheese sandwich shop, who'd given them a safe home when no one else would, who'd never treated them like disposable faith batteries, like every other god in the realm did.
She'd never bought into the cold, cruel godly culture that saw followers as tools. She'd seen them as people. As her people. As her chaotic, overzealous, infuriatingly loyal brats.
And that, she realized, was why they'd followed her to the ends of the void and back. That was why they'd built her a cheese-carved altar, why they'd prepared the ritual before she'd even asked, why they'd laid down their lives for her a hundred times over.
She looked out over her realm, at the elves tending to the wheat fields, at the dwarves hammering away at the sandwich shop's storefront, at the dragons playing with the new clan's children in the sky, and smiled.
They were her brats. Her stupid, overprepared, endlessly loyal brats.
And tomorrow, when the tournament began, she was going to win. For them. For her shop. For the little god she was slowly becoming.