After the baby's trial concluded, the other demi-gods who had gathered began stepping forward one by one.
Each pricked their finger, letting a droplet of blood fall upon the massive root of the Tree of Origin.
Kafka watched closely, fascinated as the results varied wildly—some dazzling, some humble—but each unique in its own way.
In one trial, the leaves of the tree transformed into glistening streams of water that cascaded gently into the air.
In another, the branches erupted with flocks of glowing birds that shimmered like jewels.
One demi-god's essence even manifested as tiny golden insects that buzzed joyfully around the trunk before vanishing in light.
The spectacle was breathtaking.
But not all results were remarkable.
Some demi-gods received only faint reactions, small ripples of color, slight movements of the leaves, causing their faces to fall in quiet disappointment.
The crowd would offer half-hearted claps, polite but pitying.
Kafka, however, refused to follow that pattern.
Every time a participant stepped up, whether they achieved glory or not—he clapped earnestly.
"Beautiful result!" He called out.
"Don't worry, you'll get an even better one next time!"
"You did great!"
His voice carried warmth and sincerity that caught everyone's attention.
One by one, heads turned toward him, the murmur of admiration spreading among gods and demi-gods alike.
The girls who had walked away dejected now smiled, their spirits lifted by his kindness.
Even those who had received lower scores found themselves laughing softly, their disappointment fading as Kafka encouraged them.
Somehow, the energy of the entire gathering began to shift.
The other gods whispered among themselves:
"That boy...he's different."
"Such charm. No wonder Lady Vanitas adores him."
"He's got a warmth about him. Makes even failure feel lighter."
Every praise directed at Kafka made Vanitas's chest swell with pride. Her posture straightened, chin raised higher and higher until she looked like she was floating.
In her mind, every compliment was a reflection of her own greatness.
"Yes." She murmured to herself with a smug smile. "That's my son."
But then she noticed something that soured her pride, some of the young demi-gods were staring at Kafka with lovestruck gazes, their eyes shimmering like moons.
A faint twitch formed at the corner of Vanitas's mouth.
"Oh, no." She muttered under her breath, suppressing the urge to glare at them all. "Not my precious boy, you don't."
Despite her irritation, she kept her composure. The trials continued until, at last, the final name was called.
Kafka.
The crowd quieted instantly. Every eye turned toward him.
And in response, he froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of their stares.
He swallowed hard and glanced back at his mother.
"I-I don't feel so good, Mom." He muttered nervously. "Maybe I should just...skip this part. You know, for everyone's sake. I'm perfectly fine with not knowing my potential."
Vanitas sighed dramatically and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him a firm push toward the center.
"Absolutely not. Go forward confidently and do what you must. You'll be fine."
Kafka turned his head over his shoulder, whispering, "But I'm seriously reconsidering this, you know."
But Vanitas just smiled, her eyes glinting.
"Relax. Even if things don't go perfectly..." Her tone turned chillingly calm. "...I'll pluck out the eyes of anyone who dares to laugh."
A collective shiver ran through the crowd. Some gods coughed nervously, others stepped nervously.
Kafka sighed heavily. "Great. So now they'll all clap even if I fail."
"Then all the better." She said, giving him a little push forward. "Go on, my son. Show them who you are."
He stumbled slightly from her push, earning a few amused chuckles from the crowd, then straightened himself and took a deep breath.
Every gaze followed him as he approached the ancient root, the sacred spot where dozens of divine children had tested their worth.
His pulse raced. The whispers around him blurred together, blending into a hum of expectation. He could feel it, the weight of divine eyes upon him, the pressure of being the son of Vanitas.
He looked back one last time.
Vanitas gave him a serene smile, her eyes gleaming with pride, and a promise.
'Even if you fail, I'll burn this whole place down before they dare mock you.'
He chuckled before he rolled up his sleeve, and muttered under his breath,
"Alright...no pressure, right?"
Then, stepping up to the root, he reached for the ceremonial knife.
Kafka winced as the blade nicked his finger. A single bead of crimson welled up and slid down his skin
And the moment she saw it, Vanitas went pale.
Her regal composure faltered for a heartbeat, her lips tightened into a thin line, her whole body trembling as she barely restrained herself from rushing to him.
The great Lady of Vanity, the ruler of heavens, was struggling not to heal a tiny cut on her son's finger.
Kafka then hoped for the best and let the drop fall.
'Please don't embarrass me...I'm even fine with 40%.'
It struck the root, and the root drank his blood greedily, pulling it in with a faint pulse.
He then stepped back, while crowd of gods leaned forward with barely contained curiosity.
This was different.
No one knew what to expect.
A demigod born from Vanitas, the God of Vanity herself, and carrying the incarnation of lust within him—what form could his affinity even take?
It wasn't like fire, or water, or nature. None could even begin to imagine it.
The silence deepened.
And then—
Mmmm!
A low hum rippled through the air.
The trunk of the massive tree began to glow faintly—a soft pink light threading its way through the bark like veins of living fire.
Gasps broke through the crowd as the hue brightened—rosy at first, then deeper, richer—until it burned with an impossible pink radiance.
The color spread also spread throughout the tree
The leaves, millions upon millions of them, shifted hue one by one—their emerald tones melting into a deep, luminous pink that shimmered like living crystal.
And soon, the entire tree blazed with color, glowing so intensely that the sky itself seemed to blush.
Kafka blinked, squinting as the light grew unbearably bright.
It wasn't just light, it was heat, energy, life itself thrumming through the air. His heartbeat synchronized with the rhythm of the tree's pulse.
And then—
BOOM!
The light burst outward like an explosion of petals.
For a single moment, everything vanished in the brilliance, an ocean of pink engulfing heaven itself.
Then the brightness shattered.
It broke apart into countless glimmering fragments, scattering across the sky like glass breaking in slow motion.
The fragments drifted down gently, glowing like soft snowflakes of rose light. The entire clearing sparkled under their descent; the world seemed drenched in color and silence.
Everyone, gods, demi-gods, creatures, watched in stunned awe.
Vanitas herself stood frozen, her expression unreadable. She'd never seen anything like it. Not once in all the eons she'd existed.
The pink snow settled slowly.
A few gods reached out slowly, brushing their hands through the glowing flakes. They felt cool, soft, harmless, like feathers or silk. Smiles spread among them as they marveled at the beauty.
"It's magnificent..." Whispered one goddess.
"So beautiful..." Murmured another. "He's outdone every result I've ever seen...even though I don't know what this means."
But then—
"Ahh!"
The first one touched by the pink light gasped. Her smile vanished. Her body trembled violently as a strange glow spread from her fingertips up her arm, curling like vines of luminous flame beneath her skin.
"Wh-What is—" She began, her voice breaking off as her eyes widened in shock.
And then more gasps followed.
One by one, every god and demi-god who'd been brushed by the falling light started to glow faintly with the same radiant pink hue.
Their energy stirred uncontrollably, their hearts pounding faster, their auras flaring with chaotic, feverish warmth.
Kafka stared, his eyes wide in disbelief. The air around him had grown hot, too hot, and even he could feel something strange coursing through it.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He turned to his mother, his voice uncertain.
"Uh...Mom? What's happening to them?"
Before Vanitas could even answer his question, a sound cut through the stunned hush like a whipcrack of lightning across still water.
"Aaaahhnn~!"
It wasn't a scream. It wasn't pain.
It was unmistakably, irrepressibly, pleasure.
A loud, raw, unfiltered moan burst from somewhere in the gathered crowd, silencing every whisper, every breath.
Kafka whipped his head toward the source, eyes wide.
One of the goddesses, high-ranking, adorned in silken golds and layered translucent veils, was trembling, her body visibly flushed.
Her knees buckled as she dropped where she stood, her back arching and her hands diving between her thighs, clutching at the delicate fabric of her robes. Her mouth fell open again, eyes glazed over as she gave another needy moan, louder this time.
"Haaah!♡~ Ahhh, nghh, noooo!♡~"
She rocked against her hand, fingers grinding over her clothed pussy like she was possessed, her hips jerking with every stroke.
Her veil slipped from her shoulders, exposing her flushed collarbone and heaving chest.
Her nipples were outlined through the damp silk, visibly hard.
Then another sound echoed from the opposite side.
"Ah!♡~ Hahhh—ahhh—what, what is...? Aaahhn"..."
A second goddess, young and lithe with wind-woven silver in her hair, had sunk to her knees as well, thighs spread and fingers buried under the curve of her robe.
She clutched her chest with one hand, gasping as her hips bucked involuntarily. Her moans spilled unbidden from her lips, breathy and soaked in heat.
"I-It's inside me." She panted. "Something's—ngh, ohh—something's making me feel so, haaah!♡~"
And then it spread.
Dozens of goddesses, wreathed in celestial power, once stoic and divine, succumbed one by one.
A wave of ecstasy crashed through the congregation as the pink flakes dissolved against their skin, seeping in through their pores, lighting every nerve like fire.
Some fell where they stood, others staggered back against divine statues or tumbled into the grass, their movements frantic, desperate.
They clawed at their robes, pressing trembling hands to their breasts, stomachs, between their thighs.
Some bit their lips to stifle moans and failed miserably, voices high and shaking as they cried out:
"It's so hot!♡~"
"Ahh, ngh—I-I can't, can't stop!♡~"
"Touch me, someone, please!♡~"
One goddess was rubbing her ass against a pillar, grinding in open motion as she writhed with her back arched and tongue out, whispering incoherently.
"It's inside...it's crawling up my spine...it feels so good..."
One more collapsed nearby, her legs spread shamelessly wide as she dragged her nails across the embroidered hem of her gown, chest heaving, breasts bouncing with every gasping breath.
"Ahh! Aaahhh!♡~ Yes, yes!♡~ It's—I'm gonna—Haaahnnn!♡~"
The air thickened with pheromonal heat, every breath tinged with arousal. It was as if an invisible aphrodisiac had bloomed in the air and woven itself directly into their flesh.
Their bodies also weren't resisting, it was the opposite. Their auras flared with pink, magic trembling wildly as if their very souls were pulsing to a new heartbeat.