Every god and demi-god stood in silence, encircling a much more smaller root that jutted from the ground, its surface smooth, faintly glowing, and covered in sacred markings that pulsed with an otherworldly energy.
Kafka glanced around at the scene, brow slightly raised.
"So...how exactly does this trial work? Don't tell me the tree starts talking or something. Sounds like one of those fairy tale moments."
Vanitas's lips curled into a soft, knowing smile.
"Just watch, my son." She said. "You'll find out soon enough."
And almost on cue, the murmuring among the gods hushed as one figure stepped forward from the crowd.
The goddess who approached was breathtaking, literally.
Her presence shimmered like light refracting through a diamond, her every step leaving behind traces of glimmering dust.
She carried in her arms a small bundle wrapped in ivory cloth. The faint sound of a baby's cooing could be heard from within.
"It's her." Vanitas murmured under her breath. "Aurelia, the Goddess of Beauty."
Kafka blinked, finally recognizing her. She was indeed divine perfection personified, hair flowing in silken waves of rose gold, eyes the color of clear skies at dawn.
But right now, all her attention was fixed lovingly on the small child in her arms, her firstborn daughter—the demi-god whose arrival had sparked this entire event.
As Aurelia reached the center beside the great root, she turned gracefully toward the gathered gods, her voice sweet and warm.
"I thank you all." She began, her tone both humble and proud. "For taking the time to come here. Truly, it has been a long while since a new demi-god has been born, and I worried that few would attend."
"But seeing all of you here today, seeing the excitement in your eyes, brings me more joy than I can express."
A few soft murmurs of approval rippled through the audience.
Aurelia's expression softened as she looked down at the bundle in her arms.
"And this little one...my Viona...she too is grateful, even if she can't say it yet."
The crowd melted into smiles and affectionate laughter. Even Vanitas couldn't help but grin faintly.
But then Aurelia turned, her gaze landing directly on Vanitas, and Kafka by her side.
"I also must give special thanks to Lady Vanitas." She said sincerely, bowing her head. "It's not often that one such as your graces an event like this."
"...Though I doubt it's for me or my daughter specifically, your presence still honors us greatly."
Vanitas, standing elegantly beside her son, gave a faint, regal smile.
Kafka also nodded with a polite smile, though he could sense the awe, and a little fear, around them.
Aurelia smiled softly before turning back to the crowd.
"Well then..." She said, wiping some drool from her daughter's lips. "There's no need for me to speak any longer. Let us begin the trial."
A hush fell.
She moved gracefully to the tiny root that could barely reach her knees, where the earth itself seemed to hum in anticipation.
A small, glimmering knife then appeared in her hand looking delicate, but its edge shone with celestial sharpness.
Kafka leaned forward slightly, curious. "She's not...going to hurt the baby, is she?" He whispered.
"Watch." Vanitas simply smirked.
Aurelia took her daughter's tiny hand and whispered soothingly, "Just a little pinch, my love. Mommy's here."
Then, with a careful touch, she pricked the baby's finger.
A single droplet of blood, bright and shimmering gold, formed at the fingertip. The baby, startled by the sensation, began to cry.
"There, there..." Aurelia whispered, rocking her gently. "Mommy's here. It's alright." Her voice was tender, the very sound of comfort itself.
Once the baby calmed, Aurelia extended her small hand toward the root.
The droplet of divine blood trembled, then fell—landing gently upon the ancient wood.
Instantly, the air changed.
The blood vanished, absorbed into the root like water into parched soil. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then, with a low, thrumming sound, the entire tree began to react.
Rumble!
The trunk glowed faintly, the veins of its bark pulsing with golden light. The ground trembled softly beneath them.
Up above, the emerald canopy shivered like a thousand bells chiming together, and the air was filled with the sound of resonating power.
Kafka's eyes widened.
"It's...alive." He breathed.
Then the transformation began.
From the endless expanse of branches above—flowers began to bloom, thousands, tens of thousands—until a decent amount of the tree was covered in a shimmering veil of flowers.
Part of the canopy turned to colourful blossoms of white and pink—while the rest stayed a deep, lush green of leaves.
It was breathtaking. Half the heavens themselves now looked like they were flowering.
Gasps and murmurs rose from the crowd and Aurelia stood frozen for a moment, then looked down at her baby with tears forming in her eyes.
"You did it, sweetheart!" She whispered emotionally, kissing the child's head. "You did it. You'll be so strong one day!"
All around her, gods began clapping softly, congratulating her.
"What a beautiful result." One murmured.
"She'll be extraordinary." Another added.
"A fitting daughter for the Goddess of Beauty." A third said proudly.
While the gods continued to offer their praise and blessings to the Goddess of Beauty, Kafka remained quietly thoughtful beside his mother.
The massive tree still glimmered faintly in the distance, its blossoms swaying in an unseen breeze, yet the meaning of it all eluded him.
Finally, he leaned closer to Vanitas and whispered,
"I don't get it. How exactly do they know that's a good result? I mean, it's pretty and all, but how's that supposed to tell anyone anything? The tree shakes, some flowers bloom, everyone claps, am I missing something?"
Vanitas's lips curved in a small, patient smile, the kind that said she'd been expecting that question.
"You see, my dear, once the blood of a newborn demi-god touches the root—the Tree of Origin reads the child's essence, its divinity, potential, and the purity of its bloodline. It then manifests that energy as a phenomenon."
"What you just saw, the leaves transforming into flowers, is the tree's way of expressing that divine lineage."
She gestured toward the canopy.
"The appearance depends entirely on the parent's nature. Since the mother here is the God of Beauty—the tree produced flowers. They're the natural symbol of beauty, so it fits."
"If she were the God of Fire, the leaves would ignite into flames. If she were the God of Stars..." Her tone suddenly grew sharp. "...that stupid, glitter-obsessed nuisance, the whole tree would probably glow like a cosmic lantern."
Kafka blinked at her sudden shift in tone.
"Right...so, uh, you don't like her much, I take it?"
Vanitas ignored the jab and continued with exaggerated dignity,
"As for determining whether the result is good or not—it depends on the ratio between the transformed and the unchanged portions of the tree."
"The more of the tree that changes—the greater the child's divine potential."
She lifted a hand and began counting on her fingers.
"Forty percent is considered good. Fifty percent, very good. Sixty, excellent. Seventy, extraordinary. Eighty, well...that's where the gods start crying tears of joy."
Kafka nodded slowly. "So that little one got sixty percent? Pretty impressive."
"Indeed." Vanitas agreed. "Her mother will be bragging about it for eons."
He then paused, looking back up at the enormous tree.
"Then what about ninety percent? Or even a hundred?"
Vanitas's smile turned secretive.
"Ninety percent has only happened twice in all of recorded existence. It's the kind of miracle that reshapes the heavens. As for a perfect one hundred..." She gave a soft, dismissive laugh. "...that's never happened. Not once. The Tree of Origin itself might not even know what that looks like."
Kafka exhaled, looking awkwardly at Vanitas. "So basically, you're expecting me to be the one who pulls it off, huh?"
Vanitas froze for just a moment, her expression betraying guilt before she hurriedly composed herself.
"Of course not! I'm not expecting anything. I just want to see your potential, that's all. But..." She added slyly. "...if you did happen to achieve a hundred percent, I would be the happiest mother in all creation!"
Kafka gave her a flat look. "Right. No pressure or anything."
Vanitas merely chuckled, patting his cheek with feigned innocence.
"Oh, don't pout, my dear. You'll be magnificent regardless."
But Kafka's gaze drifted back to the tree again, curiosity still burning behind his calm exterior.
"Wait, though. Isn't this supposed to be for newborns? You said it tests the divinity from birth. I've been around for a while now. Can I even take it?"
To his surprise, Vanitas shook her head.
"It's not limited to infants. Any demi-god can take the trial, some do it every few decades to see if their potential has changed. A few rare ones even see improvement. That's why everyone's waiting for their turn right now."
She then turned her gaze toward the God of Beauty, who was still surrounded by a small crowd of admirers fawning over the baby.
"But before we start..." Vanitas said with a faint smile. "...I have something to do first."
She raised her voice slightly, her words carrying across the clearing.
"Aurelia, would you come here for a moment? I have something for your daughter."
Aurelia, startled but honored, quickly excused herself from the crowd and approached.
Bowing respectfully, she said, "Lady Vanitas, what is it you wish of me?"
Vanitas's expression softened slightly.
"First of all, congratulations. Not only have you brought forth such a beautiful child, but one with considerable promise. That is no small feat."
The God of Beauty's eyes shimmered with gratitude.
"Thank you, my lady. Coming from you, those words mean more than you can imagine."
Vanitas nodded and then extended her hand over the infant.
"I'd like to give her something as well."
Before anyone could react, she traced delicate symbols in the air, lines of crimson light that shimmered like flowing ribbons.
The marks danced above the baby's forehead before fading into her skin.
The air stilled and every god nearby went wide-eyed.
One whispered, "Is she...she's marking her. She's blessing the child!"
Another clutched her chest in disbelief.
"By the holy graveyard, I'm so jealous...the baby's future is secured now!"
"Her life will be perfect, Lady Vanitas's blessing ensures it!"
Meanwhile, Aurelia stood frozen in awe, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. She quickly bowed again, voice trembling.
"Thank you...Thank you so much, Lady Vanitas! I—my daughter will never forget this grace you've given her!"
Vanitas waved her hand casually, as if it were nothing.
"Think nothing of it. A gift for the little one's first step into the heavens."
As Aurelia retreated, surrounded by murmuring gods, Kafka turned to his mother once more, brow raised.
"Okay, what was that? You were drawing glowing runes in the air, what did you just do to that poor baby?"
Vanitas chuckled softly.
"I wasn't drawing anything, dear. I placed a mark, a divine seal of blessing. It's something like a protection charm, but far more potent."
"In the old days, even my smallest blessing would guarantee fortune and safety. Now, as the ruler of the entire universe, its strength is beyond anything you can imagine."
She glanced back toward the baby, who was now peacefully asleep in her mother's arms, her tiny hand glowing faintly.
"That child will never face misfortune. Her path will be smooth, her growth certain. She's set for life, Kafka, no struggles, no obstacles. That's what a true divine blessing can do."
Kafka blinked, shaking his head with an incredulous smile.
"So basically...you just made her life a cheat code."
"Exactly." Vanitas smirked proudly.
Kafka narrowed his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I wasn't expecting you to do something so kind and gracious." He said, voice laced with teasing disbelief. "You don't exactly strike me as the 'merciful blessing' type, Mom."
Vanitas chuckled softly, the sound rich and self-assured.
"With great power comes great responsibility." She replied, lifting her chin with exaggerated pride. "As the strongest being in existence, it's my duty to give gifts to the younger generation on special occasions. It's an act of...divine generosity, if you will."
"Divine generosity, huh?" Kafka crossed his arms, grinning. "In that case, how about a little divine generosity for me too? Maybe bless me before my test so I don't end up embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I wouldn't want to ruin your flawless reputation, after all."
Vanitas smirked knowingly.
"No, my dear Kafka. You don't need such tricks." She leaned closer, her voice firm yet affectionate. "You're my son. That alone guarantees that you'll astonish them all. I know it."
Kafka sighed. "You say that, but I'm the one who'll have to deal with everyone's laughter if things go wrong."
She only smiled in return, eyes glimmering with quiet confidence.
"Trust me, my son, you won't disappoint."
And just like that, the ceremony continued.