Razeal stood up slowly, brushing dust off his clothes, as if the divine encounter had never occurred. His expression was calm too calm, like the eye of a brewing storm.
"System," he muttered under his breath. "Is he gone?"
[Affirmative, host. The Supreme Entity known as Riven has vacated the area. No traces remain.]
Only then did Razeal allow himself a long, silent breath of relief. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly.
"Tch. Looks like I need to grow stronger fast," he said, fists clenching by his sides. "Now I'm absolutely sure how hypocritical this world really is."
His voice was steady, but rage swirled beneath it the kind that carved itself into bone.
"He said it himself. I've done nothing wrong. But one day, I still have to die? Just because the world has already decided what I am? What kind of logic is that?"
The bitterness welled up inside him like a poison. Razeal wasn't shocked he had always known the world was unfair. A god had stood right in front of him declaring with a gentle smile that Razeal was innocent… yet must die one day. Just like that.
"You may stand opposite me someday."
Those words rang in his ears like a cursed echo.
"All-knowing, all-seeing... and still part of the game," he murmured. "They pick their favorites, name them Chosen, call it for the greater good. And the rest of us? Sacrifices." His jaw tightened. "Why should I pay the price for someone else's story?"
"The peak of hypocrisy," Razeal spat bitterly. "Just who gave you the right to decide who's fit to live or die… for your so-called greater good?"
His clenched fists trembled slightly, his breathing shallow but intense. "Why should I, someone who did nothing wrong, be the one to suffer?"
He turned inward, calming himself, and asked the question that had been clawing at his soul.
He turned his gaze skyward, fists trembling. "System, is it possible to kill a god?"
[Affirmative, host. As some novels have stated many gods have perished. Though the causes remain unclear, even mortals have, at times, wounded the divine. Some author notes hint at it: a mortal can hurt a god.]
The system's voice continued with a mechanical calm, but the content was chilling.
[After a deep scan and analysis, I confirm: the entity Riven was not present in his true divine form. He used a mortal shell created and birthed on Earth for reasons yet unknown. While I cannot access deeper truths about him, it's clear: in that shell, he is vulnerable. If harmed, he will bleed god or not.]
Razeal didn't respond immediately. His lips tightened. The idea of a god being vulnerable was almost intoxicating.
Razeal didn't reply. just humed.
"...How powerful is he? Compared to the villains ranked in the Valley of Villey?"
[I lack exact parameters, host, but I can estimate: Villains ranked S or SSS might be able to challenge him. Some of them are gods. Others are 'God Slayers'. And those at EX rank… they might even surpass gods entirely.]
"Then there's a path..." Razeal murmured. He looked down at his hands, still trembling from the earlier confrontation, but now they were trembling with resolve. "Good. I'll walk it."
[But I'll be honest: Before you worry about him you should look at your strength now the slower your growth, the higher the chances of death.]
"I know. I need to finish the Trial first... then get to the next villain," he said, eyes narrowing.
He checked the system timer.
"How much time left?"
[One hour 40 minutes host]
Razeal didn't get flustered. Now wasn't the time for panic not yet.
"It's impossible…" he muttered under his breath
Collecting 1000 elemental cores in the short time they were given? He didn't need to be a genius to see how absurd that was. Anyone with common sense would understand it. The standard trial to get admitted into the strongest academy only required 100 cores. That alone was brutal. But for those who aimed for the royal classroom the most elite and prestigious among all the requirement jumped to 1000.
One thousand monsters.
And the total time allowed for the trial?
Nine hours.
Even for the so called strongest geniuses who were expected to dominate the trial, this challenge would push them to their absolute limits. For most participants, success meant just barely collecting 100 cores. Many wouldn't even make it that far. Some might lose their lives trying.
That alone showed how nightmarishly difficult it was to enter the academy, let alone aim for its peak.
Razeal narrowed his eyes.
"Even if someone could kill a monster in one minute, they'd still need 1000 minutes over 16 hours. And we only get nine." He scoffed quietly, the corner of his lips twitching bitterly.
The difference was staggering. To reach 1000 in this timeframe, you'd have to kill two monsters every single minute, without pause, without rest.
And it's not like the monsters were just lined up neatly, waiting to be slaughtered.
No. You had to find them first. Track them down. Fight them. Waste time searching between each kill. And hope nothing unexpected happened.
This trial wasn't just difficult it was designed to be impossible.
Anyone asking "why make it this hard?" was missing the point.
Because the academy knew. They knew no one could do this alone.
To get into the royal classroom… you'd need help. You'd need others to hunt for you, to gather cores and hand them over.
But who would willingly give up their hard-earned cores? No ordinary person would. No matter how strong they were.
So why would the academy create such a setup?
Simple. Because they expected only the rich and the powerful to reach that level.
People with status, with influence, with servants or followers.
They made the system unfair on purpose but disguised it behind a "neutral" challenge. It was politics wrapped in the cloth of merit. A perfect trick to seem fair while favoring the nobles.
Two birds, one stone.
They could pretend everything was equal, while making sure only those with wealth or backing got into the top.
And sure even just entering the trial wasn't easy. It was only for a chosen few. So convincing others to help you, to give up their own shot at the academy? That was nearly impossible.
But that's exactly what the academy wanted. It was never about talent alone.
They didn't care about you if you weren't special.
Razeal knew that better than anyone.
He knew the academy inside and out and the truth behind their shining walls.
Getting in through "fair and straight or even only talent" means?
Impossible.
So what else was left?
Bribery? He had no money.
Power? Status? He had neither. In fact, the very opposite he was hated. Looked down on. Alone.
No one would help him. No one would ally with him.
Not unless he gave them a reason.
He closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. Slowly, he touched his nose, as if grounding himself.
A quiet, dark whisper escaped his lips.
"Guess I have to play dirty."
****
Far, far away from where Razeal was, deep within an empty stretch of forest and lush greenlands untouched by battle or blood a figure silently appeared, as if birthed from the very air itself.
Riven.
No flash of light. No divine presence. Just silence, and stillness as though the world itself recognized him and dared not disturb.
He stood there, alone, his posture calm, hands behind his back, gazing up at the sky with quiet contemplation. His eyes reflected endless wisdom, and a smile graced his lips gentle, kind, and eternally patient.
Then, suddenly a voice.
It didn't echo like normal sound.
It resonated.
As if the sky, the earth, the grass, the wind, the very fabric of the world all of them spoke at once. A sound only he could hear. Sacred. Distant. Omniscient.
"Are you really letting him go, Lord Riven?"
The voice asked, its tone carrying the weight of divine judgment calm, all-knowing, and deeply respectful.
Riven's smile didn't falter.
"Why should I not?" he replied gently, still looking skyward as if speaking not to the voice, but to something far beyond even it. His tone was soft, friendly, as if answering an old friend no hint of irritation or concern.
"He can reincarnate… back in time," the voice continued, the tone still serene, but layered with caution and tension. "You said it yourself. He might become a threat to the cosmic balance. A being like that should not be allowed to live."
Riven's eyes didn't blink. His voice remained steady, light, unbothered.
"It goes against the rules of rebirth... and the cycle of death. Such things shouldn't happen. How can someone die and yet continue living not once, but many times over?"
The voice was not angry. It was respectful. Calm. But its words held sharp weight, like a scalpel hidden in silk. A divine reminder one that demanded attention.
Still, Riven answered with the same smile the smile of a guardian who had seen too much and judged too little.
"You forget," Riven said, eyes still on the clouds, "I am the Preserver. I do not interfere with what is already permitted. If the cycles of death, time, and reincarnation allowed it then it is not our place to defy them."
"It is not our will that shapes the universe. But the universe that wills what it allows."
"But, my lord," the voice replied after a pause, still deferential but edged with urgency, "with abilities like his… it will one day conflict with your role, whether you wish it or not."
"He was given a great purpose a fate far larger than himself. If he continues to reincarnate, change the past, rewrite paths… it will inevitably alter the future written for him. Perhaps even break it."
Then, a number. A revelation.
"Nine thousand three hundred and fourteen."
The words struck like thunder in quiet skies.
"That's how many times he has died... and come back. Again. And again. Do you truly believe anyone else, even another god, could endure that?"
Riven's gaze softened.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, silent breath not out of exhaustion, but out of admiration.
"Even gods do not possess such will," he said quietly. "I've seen it in his eyes... the fire. The stubbornness. The rage to survive. To fight against the fate forced upon him."
He smiled again, faintly, as if remembering something beautiful and tragic all at once.
"His will is rare. Unbreakable. That tenacity... is remarkable. Let him be."
But the voice insisted, now firmer, though still respectful.
"Mortals were never meant to wield such power, my lord. He will come to rely on it. He will learn you will always be there watching, and not doing anything. He may even... fool you. Use you or might already be thinking off."
A heavy pause.
"He may even one day… believe he can kill you."
The wind grew still.
The voice though calm carried a warning now. "Mortals can be very arrogant, Lord Riven. And when ego blinds the truth... even God is ignored even looked down upon."
Then, silence.
A long, aching silence.
The trees swayed gently. The sun dimmed slightly behind drifting clouds. The moment stretched like the stillness before a divine verdict.
But Riven, unmoving, unshaken, simply smiled again.
Softer this time.
"Let him be."
He finally spoke, voice resolute not cold, but certain.
"Everyone must face the consequences of their actions. Let karma unfold. Let pain shape. Let truth rise."
"Only through hardship do souls evolve."
And with that, silence returned.
But it was a different silence now.
One filled with the weight of fate.
And then, after the voice faded into the wind, Riven remained.
Alone.
The forest was still. The sky vast above him, the ground silent below. Yet he stood there with that same gentle smile one that spoke of knowing far too much.
He wasn't smiling at anyone.
Just... to the silence.
"His end is inevitable, after all."
---
One long chapter again i wish i could write small chapters with only thousand words and be satisfied
Thanks for reading gg