When they were alone, the girl faced him again.
"How are you doing, Renher?"
Renher blinked. "Feeling dead inside," he said dryly.
She laughed — a soft, melodic laugh that echoed like chimes in the wind. Despite himself, Renher found the sound oddly… warm.
"Before we go further," she said, straightening slightly, "let me introduce myself. I am known by many names — Celestial Arbiter, Keeper of Balance, and others you would not understand."
Her gaze met his, unwavering.
"But you may call me Aydra."
Renher tilted his head. "Then tell me, Aydra — should I address you as god or goddess?"
Aydra smiled faintly.
"Call me whatever you wish. This form you see — it is shaped by your own thoughts. What lies in your heart dictates how you perceive me."
He raised an eyebrow. "So… to another, you might look like an old man with a beard and thunder in his voice?"
"Exactly," she said. "Though I prefer this one for conversations."
Renher chuckled. "Fair enough. Then tell me, Aydra — why am I here?"
Her tone softened.
"You died, Renher. Your body perished, but your soul was called here. You stand in the realm between endings and beginnings."
The words hung heavy in the starlit air.
Before he could reply, the butler returned, carrying a tray of porcelain cups that shimmered like moonlight. The aroma of tea — delicate and faintly sweet — filled the chamber.
"My attendant," Aydra said simply.
The butler bowed again. His eyes never met hers — nor Renher's.
Renher watched silently as tea was poured, steam curling like silver ribbons.
The butler asked softly, "Sweet or no sweet?"
Renher, distracted, murmured, "Your name."
The butler glanced at Aydra for permission.
She sighed, amused.
"Add extra sugar. He likes sweet things."
Renher gave a reluctant smile. "I prefer bitter tea. But I'll allow that."
"We have no names," the butler said as he poured. "Our purpose is to serve the Lady."
Aydra took her cup, inhaling the scent with almost mortal delight.
Renher leaned forward. "So then, Lady Aydra — what now? Why bring me here?"
Her eyes grew distant.
"You have many questions, I know. But time is thin. Ask only what truly matters. The veil will not hold for long."
Renher frowned. "Then tell me — what happened after the battle? I heard… the roar of war, saw a flash before everything went dark."
Her gaze turned grave.
"You perished due to a… slight oversight. A mistake, even the gods regret."
Renher felt a flicker of anger. "A mistake?"
Aydra raised her hand. "Do not misunderstand. The orc chief who struck you — he was not acting of his own accord. He was… tainted. Influenced by forces outside our dominion. Outer gods, whose tendrils twist fate itself."
Her expression hardened.
"His corruption disrupted the threads of destiny, and your death came earlier than foreseen."
Renher leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "So, I died because the gods missed a detail."
"Yes," she said calmly. "And for that, balance demands restitution."
Her fingers flicked — and a set of cards appeared before him, floating midair.
Each glowed faintly, radiating an aura of immense power. Their surfaces shimmered with symbols that seemed to rewrite themselves every second.
"These are the Cards of Fate," Aydra said softly. "Each holds a destiny, a gift — and a burden. Choose one, and you shall live again. Refuse, and your essence will fade into the stars."
Renher stared at them. The power emanating from each card was palpable, but so was the subtle sense of binding — of chains disguised as blessings.
He smirked. "A mythic trial, then. Gods do love their drama."
Aydra watched him silently, unreadable.
Renher studied the cards again. They pulsed faintly — one of fire, another of mist, one inscribed with the symbol of a dragon, another whispering faintly of time.
He extended a hand — then paused.
His instincts, the same that had guided him through countless wars, whispered a warning.
Every choice here felt… scripted. Expected.
And Renher had never been one to dance to another's tune.
He drew back his hand.
"No," he said simply.
Aydra's brows lifted. "No?"
"I've lived my whole life by choices made for me — by prophecy, by blood, by duty. I won't start my next one bound by fate's leash."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the stars seemed to still.
Aydra stared at him for a long moment — then, slowly, a small, approving smile curved her lips.
"How fascinating," she murmured. "To defy even destiny itself."
Renher's gaze remained steady. "If I live again, it'll be on my own terms."
Her eyes glowed — galaxies stirring within.
"Then so it shall be."
And with that, the cards shattered — scattering like fragments of light across the endless chamber.
Renher didn't flinch. He simply closed his eyes, ready for whatever came next.
For the first time since death, he had felt alive.
Renher thought to himself , "how ironic , feeling alive after death".
Then in a split second the scattered fragments started to condense into new cards with new figures printed onto them .
The cards have reforged themselves but something was different , renher thought.
Soon afterward renher chose a card lying in front of him
Renher's vision burned with fire.
Not metaphorical fire — but living, roaring flame.
The world before him reshaped itself in an instant.
He stood within an ancient forge carved from blackened stone. Rivers of molten metal flowed along forgotten channels in the floor. The air shimmered with unbearable heat, and the walls glowed a dim, angry red.
At the center of it all stood a tall man.
His hair was wild, his eyes alight with unrestrained joy, and fire itself answered his every breath. With a careless flick of his wrist, a blazing orb of flame formed in his palm. He tossed it upward, laughing like a child at play, before catching it effortlessly.
More fire followed.
Orbs, serpents, blooming explosions of light — they danced around him like loyal familiars, bending to his will with playful obedience. The flames did not burn him. They worshipped him.
Renher could feel the heat on his skin even though he knew this was only a vision.
Raw. Destructive. Absolute.
Power.
Then —
The world folded in on itself.
The forge vanished.
Renher was seated once again in the Divine Chamber, the endless galaxies spinning silently behind Aydra's throne. The faint floral sweetness of osmanthus tea lingered in the air.
Aydra smiled knowingly.
"That," she said gently, "is what one path looks like. Each card reveals a possible future. A power you may walk toward."
Renher lowered his gaze.
The card in his hand had changed.
Its back had turned, revealing an illustration of a robed man wreathed in ember light, flames curving around him like living armor. Beneath it, delicate divine script shimmered briefly before fading.
Renher exhaled slowly.
"So this one turns me into a walking calamity."
Aydra tilted her head. "Some would call it freedom."
"Some would call it a fast way to kill everyone around me," Renher replied calmly.
He placed the card back onto the floating table.
Then he took another.
And another.
Each time, the room vanished.
One card pulled him into endless shadow, where a figure commanded darkness like a second skin. Another hurled him into a storm-torn sky, wings of radiant wind carrying a lone being across the clouds. One showed the earth itself splitting at a gesture. Another whispered with time, bending moments like fragile glass.
Storms. Silence. Destruction. Ascension.
Power after power.
Path after path.
Renher lost all sense of time.
He examined each vision with the same methodical scrutiny he once used in war councils. Strength. Weakness. Cost. Dependency. Risk.
By the time he returned the final card to the table, the soft glow of the chamber had subtly shifted. Even in a realm without time, something had passed.
Aydra still sat where she had always been, sipping her tea with small, patient movements. Her eyes were relaxed—but Renher could feel her attention locked firmly onto him.
The angel stood at her side, motionless.
Renher straightened.
His expression had darkened.
None of the visions stirred longing.
Only suspicion.
He looked directly at Aydra.
"None of them are to my liking."
Silence struck the chamber.
For the first time, Aydra's composure cracked.
"…Pardon?"
Even the angel's gaze shifted slightly, his perfect stillness disturbed by a fraction.
Aydra blinked once. Then again.
Her voice sharpened. "You inspected every one."
"I did."
"And you reject them all?"
Renher nodded without hesitation. "Every single one."
A faint flush crept up Aydra's cheeks.
"Some of those powers were personally designed by me," she said tightly. "Your rejection is bordering on an insult to my imagination."
Renher allowed himself a faint, amused grin.
"If imagination alone decided survival, gods wouldn't need balance."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then tell me—what, exactly, do they lack?"
Renher leaned back in his chair.
"Some are excessive in offense. Others rely too much on defense. Nearly all of them depend on external conditions, borrowed authority, or divine reinforcement."
His voice hardened.
"And every single one of them places my survival at the mercy of something greater than myself."