The Goddess’s divine realm was, as usual, more of a lounge than a throne room. A half-sprawled couch occupied the center, draped with silken throws from at least five different worlds. Somewhere in the distance, a waterfall of liquid light poured endlessly into a crystal basin, the sound meant to inspire serenity.

  It clearly wasn’t working on the Akashic Record.

  She appeared in a flicker of pale glyphs, clutching a scroll tucked under one arm and wearing the look of someone who’d already worked three shifts before breakfast.

  “Up,” she said flatly.

  The Goddess, reclining in her cloud-colored robe, didn’t even look away from the mortal world projection she was watching. Below, Academy City was a swirl of motion — merchants unloading supplies, engineers adjusting the academy’s floating wards, and, in the central plaza, workers hammering the skeleton of a vast arena into place.

  “Up for what?” the Goddess murmured, lazily twirling a strand of hair. “If this is about the mortals’ latest sporting event, I already blessed the Colosseum. I gave it… what’s the phrase… divine curb appeal?”

  Akashic Record’s voice stayed level, but the faint twitch in her left eye betrayed the strain. “We have a meeting. Urgent. And you can’t skip it.”

  The Goddess finally turned her head, an arch look in her golden eyes. “With whom?”

  “The trio.”

  The way she said it carried weight — like naming a dangerous spell in a crowded room.

  The Goddess raised an elegant brow. “The… villains?”

  Akashic Record’s sigh was the long-suffering kind usually reserved for explaining simple math to someone for the twelfth time. “Don’t antagonize them. They’re the ones doing the work you can’t. And before you ask — yes, I’m aware you’ve already cursed one, destroyed another’s world, and generally obliterated any chance they’ll treat you like worshippers.”

  The Goddess shifted uncomfortably but masked it with a shrug. “They’ll get over it. Eventually. Mortals have short memories.”

  “They’re not mortals,” Akashic Record said pointedly. “And if they decide they’re done cooperating, this world doesn’t get a recovery arc. It just gets destroyed.” She rolled the scroll open, showing glowing diagrams of dungeon convergence points, the ink shifting restlessly like it knew how bad things were.

  “So.” She met the Goddess’s gaze. “Do not curse them. Do not threaten them. Do not sabotage them. This is our last chance — and they have something vital we need.”

  The Goddess’s lips pressed into a thin line, but after a moment she stood, adjusting her robe with deliberate grace. “Fine. I’ll play nice. But only because you’re asking.”

  “Good,” Akashic Record said, already reaching for the teleportation glyphs. “Try to keep that attitude for at least an hour.”

  The two stepped toward the open balcony. Below, the Colosseum’s skeletal frame cast long shadows across the plaza. The clang of hammers echoed upward, mingling with the faint hum of magic weaving through the foundation.

  The Goddess looked down at the scene, head tilting. “You know… it really is going to look spectacular when it’s done.”

  “Yes,” Akashic Record said, and with a snap of her fingers, the divine realm dissolved into motes of light, carrying them toward the meeting place.

  The divine glow peeled away, leaving them in a cavern of black stone. The chamber was quiet, the air cool, carrying the metallic tang of steel and ink. Floating crystals shed pale light across a heavy circular table cluttered with scraps of parchment, runed diagrams, and half-finished tools from Nolan’s latest forging attempt.

  Three figures already waited.

  Nolan sat nearest, sleeves rolled to his elbows, soot smudged across his arms as if he had only just left the forge. His Hero Deck rested neatly at his side, the edges worn from constant handling. He glanced up when they arrived, not with reverence, but with the flat readiness of someone about to negotiate terms.

  Across from him, the Lich was composed, his pristine robe drawn tight, skeletal fingers turning the pages of a weathered tome. A faint glow burned in his hollow sockets, steady and thoughtful.

  And at the table’s edge lounged Vaelreth, cross-legged, tail flicking idly against the floor. She held a fire card between her claws, its surface flickering with ember-light, more as a distraction than a weapon.

  When the Goddess and Akashic Record materialized, the room stilled.

  The Goddess’s golden gaze drifted over each of them. She gave a faint smile, as though to soften the tension. “So these are the ones you wanted me to meet. Not infamous yet… but I see the potential.”

  Vaelreth’s smirk widened, a curl of smoke leaving her lips. “Give us time.”

  The Lich shut his book with a soft thud, the sound carrying across the chamber. “Titles and reputations are irrelevant. What matters is the work ahead.”

  The Goddess’s expression sharpened slightly, unused to such directness. But before she could speak, the Akashic Record lifted a hand, already weary of where this could go.

  “We’re here,” she said firmly. “Let’s begin.”

  Her gaze shifted to Nolan, giving the faintest nod.

  Nolan exhaled, reached to the table, and set down a sphere wrapped in golden threads. Inside, patterns shimmered and shifted like roads twisting across a map, glowing gates opening and closing in slow rhythm.

  The chamber seemed to draw a breath with it.

  The Goddess’s eyes widened. “What is that?”

  Akashic Record simply gestured to Nolan. “He’ll explain.”

  The golden sphere pulsed faintly on the table, its glow spilling across the diagrams and tools like sunlight cutting through storm clouds. Within, shifting lines of light formed roads and arches, endlessly rearranging into gates that opened only to collapse and reform anew.

  Nolan steadied it with one hand. “This is the Glory Road. Essential for any Hero’s journey. Without it, they’ll just be a titleholder — strong, maybe, but never the kind of figure who can shape the world.”

  The Goddess tilted her head, blinking. “Glory… Road?” She said it like it was the first time she’d ever heard the term.

  Nolan froze, staring at her in disbelief. “You don’t know?”

  Her golden eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

  For a moment, Nolan had no words. His thoughts scrambled. This wasn’t some obscure dungeon mechanic or a buried ritual. This was the foundation of the Hero’s path. The fact that she, the supposed architect of the world, had no idea what it was —

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “…Unbelievable.” His gaze slid to the Akashic Record. “Please tell me she’s joking.”

  The Akashic Record’s sigh carried centuries of exasperation. She stepped forward, voice even but sharp. “The Glory Road is your creation, Goddess. You might not remember — but you left the framework behind when you pieced this world together from fragments of the Chaos Book. It’s divine order condensed. A path of luck, trials, and potential. Without it, the Hero is nothing but ceremony.”

  The Goddess frowned, brows knitting. “I made that? Why would I bother?”

  “Because mortals need structure,” the Record snapped. “Heroes cannot just be declared — they must be forged. The Glory Road gives them a path. Without it, your whole system collapses into pageantry.”

  The Lich, who had been silently observing, let out a low chuckle. “So the Goddess herself forgot her own cornerstone. Fitting, in a way.”

  Vaelreth leaned back, smoke curling from her lips as she smirked. “Explains why the world is such a mess. Convenient, though. If she won’t use it properly, we will.”

  Nolan rubbed his temple, bafflement still lingering. “I can’t believe this… She didn’t even remember her own creation.”

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  The Goddess’s pride bristled. “Watch your tone, mortal. I don’t need to remember everything.”

  Akashic Record shot her a glare. “In this case, you do.” She pointed at the glowing orb. “The Glory Road isn’t a trinket. It’s the difference between a Hero and a placeholder.”

  Nolan straightened, his voice firm again. “Which is why we’ll deliver it. Not as a gift. As a challenge. Something the Hero has to earn.”

  The Goddess scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “So you mean to stage it?”

  “Exactly,” Nolan said, not flinching.

  The orb pulsed brighter between them, as if confirming the choice.

  The sphere’s light shimmered over the chamber, tracing golden lines across the black stone walls.

  Nolan’s tone was flat, practical. “The plan is to crash the Hero Selection Tournament. Break the function. That’s it.”

  The Goddess’s eyes snapped wide, outrage spilling across her face. “You dare—!? That ceremony is the highest act of divine order! The Colosseum is being built for my glory, to crown a Hero under the eyes of the world!”

  Vaelreth tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Then it’ll make a prettier bonfire when we drop in.”

  The Lich turned a page in his book with skeletal calm. “Ceremonies are fragile things. Once shattered, their illusions cannot be restored. That is exactly why it will work.”

  The Goddess bristled, her voice climbing. “Work? You mean to sabotage me in front of mortals, to tear down what little reverence remains? Do you have any idea what you’re inviting?”

  Nolan leaned his elbows on the table, unflinching. “The point isn’t your reputation. The point is to break the stage you’ve built. Whatever comes after, we’ll decide when we get there.”

  For a moment, silence pressed down, heavy as stone.

  Akashic Record finally broke it, her voice sharp but calm. “It’s ugly, but it’s the only way forward. If we leave everything in neat order, nothing changes. The system you built is already collapsing — they’re just painting over the cracks.”

  The Goddess’s jaw clenched. “So your great solution is to make yourselves villains. To ruin my order. To drag my Colosseum into chaos.”

  Vaelreth let out a low laugh, smoke curling from her lips. “Call it what you like. Villains, shadows, monsters in the stands. We’re the only ones willing to do what you won’t.”

  The Lich closed his tome with a quiet thud. “Infamy is a small price for necessity.”

  The orb pulsed once between them, its glow flickering across all their faces, as if listening to the choice but offering no answer yet.

  The silence after Nolan’s words stretched. The golden orb hummed faintly, the only sound filling the chamber.

  Then the Goddess, instead of pressing the argument further, folded her arms and cocked her head with sudden interest. “Fine. You’ve made your point. But if I’m supposed to tolerate you disrupting my stage, I want to know who I’m working with.”

  Her tone was light, almost teasing. “So—backstories. You three look like a troupe out of some tragic play. Let’s hear it.”

  Vaelreth chuckled first, smoke curling from her lips. She leaned back, tail flicking idly. “I came from another world. One that ran on older magic—contracts, blood, fire, not this fragile card obsession you pieced together. When it collapsed, I took what I could salvage. A few relics. A few cards.” Her grin sharpened. “Some of them were your precious nobles’ heirlooms. Left unattended. I claimed them. Consider it inheritance.”

  The Goddess sniffed. “So you’re just a scavenger with fire.”

  Vaelreth’s smirk widened. “Survivor. Learn the difference.”

  The Goddess’s gaze slid to the Lich. “And you? What melodrama do you have tucked in your bones?”

  The Lich’s eye-lights dimmed and flared, his voice calm but cutting. “I walked the Glory Road once. Built systems. Shaped nations. Then your curse stripped me from memory. Friends, allies, kingdoms — all erased me. The world forgot, and I was left to linger.” His skeletal hand flexed, joints clicking softly. “That is my tale. A strategist reduced to a shadow.”

  The Goddess gave a slow blink, then a yawn. “Mm. I’ve heard better sob stories than that.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Honestly, if you’re going to brood, at least make it entertaining.”

  The Akashic Record’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

  Finally, the Goddess turned to Nolan. “And you, mortal? What’s your grand lament?”

  Nolan’s answer was flat, unadorned. “I was a noble’s son. My family tossed me into a dungeon as a sacrifice. That was supposed to be the end. It wasn’t.” He shrugged. “That’s it.”

  The Goddess tilted her head, unimpressed. “Really? That’s your tragic pitch? I’ve heard better sob stories than that.” She smiled, airy and condescending. “At least Vaelreth had fire and the Lich had flair. You sound like a footnote.”

  Nolan pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Unbelievable.”

  The Akashic Record muttered under her breath, “Selective memory, selective empathy… what a combination.”

  The Goddess ignored her, stretching languidly as if bored of the whole exchange. “Well, fine. A scavenger, a shadow, and a sacrifice. Hardly epic material, but I suppose it will do. Infamy always dresses itself in pitiful tales.”

  Vaelreth’s smirk didn’t fade, but her tail lashed once against the stone. The Lich said nothing, though his sockets burned faintly brighter. Nolan only crossed his arms, unmoved.

  The orb pulsed once, as if holding its judgment.

  The Goddess lounged back in her chair, clearly entertained by her own thoughts rather than the weight of the plan laid before her. Her golden eyes glittered with mischief.

  “You know,” she said lightly, “crashing the Hero Selection Tournament might not be enough. If you’re going to ruin my ceremony, at least make it grand. Heroes need spectacle. Mortals crave theater. Why not fight not just the candidates, but the teachers too?”

  The trio stared at her.

  Vaelreth’s tail stilled mid-flick. “…The teachers?”

  The Lich tilted his skull slightly, sockets narrowing with faint blue light. “You would pit us against over a thousand trained faculty members? Even staged, that is excess without purpose.”

  The Goddess’s smile widened. “Excess is the purpose. If you’re going to be villains, then be unforgettable. Don’t just topple the Colosseum—make it a calamity.”

  Nolan’s jaw tightened. “Do you hear yourself? That’s not a plan, that’s lunacy. We’re not fighting the entire Academy just to indulge your taste for drama.”

  The Goddess leaned forward suddenly, her golden eyes narrowing. “Then give me the Glory Road. If you’re too afraid to use it properly, I’ll take it myself.”

  The orb pulsed faintly between them, its golden light trembling as though resisting her words.

  Nolan’s hand shot out protectively, steadying it. “No.” His voice was firm, absolute. “You can’t. The moment it passes directly into divine hands, the system collapses. Heroes won’t earn it — they’ll just be handed a crown of glass.”

  “Then prove you can keep it,” the Goddess countered smoothly. “Fight your way through the Fatality — the Academy’s authority, its faculty, its guardians. Let the world see you’re strong enough to hold it. And when the Hero rises, they’ll be forced to take it from your hands. Only then will its value be clear.”

  The chamber went silent.

  Nolan exhaled, slow and controlled, then looked at the Akashic Record. “…Then I’ll need permission. If we’re going to hold against the Fatality, I have to use the Glory Road. Fully.”

  The Record’s brows drew tight. She didn’t like it — that much was clear. But after a long moment, she gave a small, reluctant nod. “Permission granted. But don’t forget: every card you draw under its light ties you deeper into its path. No reckless moves.”

  Vaelreth chuckled, fire dancing at her fingertips. “Finally, some fun.”

  The Lich’s voice was low, measured. “So it is settled. We carry the Road as villains. The Hero’s only path to legitimacy will be to wrest it from us.”

  The Goddess leaned back, satisfied, her smile sharp as a blade. “Good. Now you’re starting to understand theater.”

  The orb glowed brighter on the table, the golden lines within it shifting like roads awaiting travelers.

  The plan’s weight hung in the chamber, the orb of the Glory Road pulsing like a heartbeat on the table.

  The Goddess broke the silence first, her tone light, almost mocking. “And when it’s over, when the Hero rises to claim the spotlight… you’ll lose. That’s how this ends. The villains always lose. I’ll step in, take the Road, and hand it to the one chosen to carry it forward.”

  Nolan’s brow furrowed, but before he could argue, the Akashic Record spoke. Her voice was sharper, more grounded. “And I’ll be there too. Not to save face, not to crown anyone — but to keep you alive. If you push too far against the Academy, they will kill you. I’ll fight if I have to, just to keep the villains breathing long enough to hand over the Road.”

  Vaelreth smirked, fire curling lazily around her claws. “So that’s how history will paint it. We rise, we burn the stage, we fall… and the Hero takes the prize.”

  The Lich’s sockets glowed faintly brighter. “Infamy bought with inevitability. A price already decided.”

  The Goddess smiled as though she’d scripted it all. “Exactly. The Hero will stand tall because you fall. That’s how it should be.”

  The orb dimmed slightly, as if resigning itself to the path.

  Akashic Record broke the tension with a sharp clap of her hands. “Enough brooding. If you’re going to play villains, you’ll need to hide yourselves properly. The Academy has recognition wards, name-seals, and identification magic that will tear through most disguises. I can provide something stronger.”

  She reached into her sleeve and withdrew three masks — pale, featureless, edged with faint glyphs that shimmered like stars.

  “From another world,” she explained. “They block recognition magic entirely. To the crowd, you’ll be faceless shadows. Nolan can craft card-forms of them for your decks.”

  Nolan studied the masks, his jaw tightening. “So we even lose our names. Fitting.”

  Vaelreth plucked one mask up between her claws, grinning. “I’ve been called worse than nameless.”

  The Lich took his mask silently, running a bony finger along the glyphs. “A blank slate. Appropriate.”

  The Goddess laughed softly. “Perfect. Masked villains storming my Colosseum — you’ll be unforgettable.”

  The orb pulsed once, faint but steady, as if binding their roles together.

  The masks lay on the table beside the glowing orb, their blank faces staring up like silent witnesses.

  Akashic Record folded her arms, her tone brisk now, all business. “You have two months. That’s the window before the Academy finishes the Colosseum and opens the Selection. Everything must be ready by then.”

  Vaelreth stretched her arms above her head, wings twitching faintly in the dim light. “Two months is generous. I could set the place on fire tomorrow.”

  “You’ll wait,” the Lich said flatly, his skeletal hand turning one of the masks. “Precision matters. The Academy is not fragile prey — one wrong move, and we vanish before the Road ever reaches its stage.”

  Nolan leaned forward, scanning the scattered tools and notes on the table. “Two months means reforging, upgrading, and rewriting cards. We’ll need supplies — metals, inks, mana threads. Can we even use them without breaking the Academy’s rules?”

  Akashic Record hesitated, then gave a wry smile. “Technically forbidden. Mortals aren’t meant to tamper with dungeon-forged alloys or Chaos fragments. But…” Her eyes flicked toward the Goddess. “Given your role, you might get a pass. Just don’t flaunt it.”

  The Goddess waved her hand airily, clearly bored of details. “Take what you need. If you’re going to ruin my grand ceremony, you might as well do it properly.”

  Nolan exhaled through his nose, muttering, “Generous as always.”

  Vaelreth smirked, tapping her claws against the table. “So, masks on, decks reforged, Colosseum broken. Infamy written in stone.”

  The Lich inclined his head, calm as ever. “The stage is set. All that remains is to step into it.”

  The orb pulsed on the table, golden lines shifting inside like roads awaiting travelers. Its glow caught the edges of the blank masks, making them shimmer faintly — faceless villains preparing for a role that history would never forget.

  Akashic Record’s gaze swept over all three of them, then the Goddess, then the sphere. “We’re decided, then. The Hero’s path begins in fire and ruin. There’s no turning back now.”

  For a moment, no one spoke. Only the hum of the orb filled the chamber.

  Then the Goddess smiled, her voice quiet but edged with triumph. “Good. If the world must burn for my Hero to shine… then let it burn.”