Chapter 526 – Waiting for a New Life
Morning sunlight filtered gently through the dimensional layers around the hidden home. After the long night of conversation and laughter, the garden was quiet. The table from the previous evening still stood beneath the flowering tree, but only a few soft petals drifted across it now.
Inside the house, a different kind of warmth filled the air.
Alex sat in the main hall, a cup of tea in his hand, listening to the soft voices of those who had stayed behind. Today was quieter than most. The gathering had ended, but many of the women had chosen to remain, enjoying the rare peace of a morning where the outside world couldn't touch them.
It was Ciel who spoke first, her golden eyes warm as she glanced between Vira and Mira. "It has been a full year now."
Morgan looked up from her book. "And still, not a single change anyone else can see."
Hanabi smirked and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "That's because their bodies keep secrets better than their faces."
At that, Mira laughed—a soft, bright sound, very different from Mary's quiet voice. "What did you expect? High elf and succubus pregnancies are slow by nature. Ten years is nothing."
Reyne nodded. "For a dragon it's long, but for your kind? It's normal."
Airi tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her blue eyes. "And you're fine with that? Waiting?"
"Of course," Mira said without hesitation. "I can wait a hundred years for something I love."
Across from her, Vira sat with her usual pride, emerald hair glinting in the light. Her golden eyes softened when she spoke, but her voice was steady. "The time doesn't matter. It will be his child. Ours. That is enough."
Amaterasu smiled faintly, holding a still-sleeping Yuka on her lap. "You will find that the waiting becomes part of the joy."
Iris, sitting quietly near the window, spoke softly. "They… they will be beautiful children."
All of them already knew—everyone except the three newcomers, who had left the previous night. It was a quiet secret, one carried close.
The long gestation of high elves and succubi made the pregnancy invisible for now, but everyone who knew could feel the difference: a new, delicate life resting deep within them. There was no growing belly, no outward sign, but there was a warmth that radiated from both women—a small but unshakable certainty.
Alex looked at them, his dark eyes steady. "You've already waited a year. Are you both feeling well?"
Vira met his gaze first. "Perfectly well. It's slow, but there is no pain. You don't need to worry."
Mira smiled, softer this time. "Besides… the waiting lets me think about the future. About holding them. About watching you hold them."
Hanabi teased, "And about corrupting them with all your terrible habits?"
Mira stuck her tongue out at her. "Of course."
The others laughed, the sound filling the hall like sunlight.
Alex set his cup down and reached across to take their hands, first Vira's, then Mira's. "Whether it's ten months or ten years, we'll wait together."
There was no grand declaration, no magic. Just those words, spoken simply, and the silent promise behind them.
Outside, the wind moved through the garden, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers. A year had passed, but in this house, time felt slower, measured not by the rush of the world but by the quiet steps of a future they were all building together.
Hanabi's playful remark had opened the door, and soon the room's soft, bright mood turned into something else—hopeful, almost dreamy.
Ciel set her cup down with a small smile. "It feels like the house is already different just knowing that one day there will be more children here. It will be lively in a way even Yuka cannot match."
Nefertiti's golden eyes softened, her tone gentle. "I have wondered what it will be like when little feet run through the halls. This home has been filled with strength for so long. It will be good to hear laughter in every corner."
Reyne adjusted the pillow on her lap, looking at Vira and Mira with faint amusement. "Though with him," she said, "every child will be dangerous from the moment they are born. I hope they inherit a little restraint."
"They will inherit whatever they choose," Ciel said. "Strength is not everything."
Airi glanced at Alex, shy for a moment before speaking. "It's not easy, though, is it? Fertilizing with someone like you. Even for us, even if we want children, it's… complicated."
Amaterasu nodded, holding Yuka as she slept. "The stronger the parent, the more resistant the bloodlines become. That resistance grows with every increase in power. It is why Yuka herself was a miracle—it took all the patience in the world, and even then, fate's help."
Morgan closed her book and set it aside. "It will never be simple. It may take years, even for these two, and it may be the same for the rest of us. But that's how it should be. Things worth having rarely come easily."
Mira tilted her head, smiling softly. "I don't mind waiting. I can feel them already. And if I can do it, so can everyone else. Whether it takes ten years or twenty, in the end, this house will be full of life."
Vira gave a faint, proud nod. "When the time comes, they will know that this family is theirs."
Hanabi laughed quietly. "I can already see it—tiny versions of everyone running around. Alex will be outnumbered even more."
That made everyone smile, even Iris, who ducked her head behind her blindfold as her cheeks turned pink. "I… I hope that when it happens, I will be ready."
Ciel reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "You will be. None of us are alone in this."
Aphrodite, who had been silent until now, spoke with a tone softer than usual. "I have seen many children born among gods and mortals, but these ones… these will be different. They will be born from love that has no boundary. That will make them stronger than anything else."
Alex looked at all of them in turn. Their words weren't just idle thoughts; they were pieces of the future they were imagining together, a picture of what this house could be years from now.
"Children aren't easy," he said quietly. "And with me, it will always be harder. But if you want that future, I'll do everything I can to make it real. However long it takes."
The hall fell silent again, but this time it was the silence of agreement, of hearts that were already picturing the same dream.
Outside, the sunlight deepened to the gold of late afternoon, and the wind carried the sound of the garden leaves like a lullaby.
The hall fell into a comfortable hush, a silence that carried no tension. It was the silence of many hearts that shared the same hope. In the center of the room, Amaterasu cradled her sleeping daughter, the small girl's steady breaths the only sound for a long moment. Around her, the others exchanged quiet looks, their expressions soft, each of them seeing a piece of their own dream in the same vision.
Hanabi leaned back, her tails curling lazily, but her grin was softer now. "Well," she said, "then I guess we all have the same goal. No rush. We'll just fill this house with love until it happens."
Ciel laughed gently at that, and even Morgan allowed a faint smile to cross her usually cool face. Mira, still holding Alex's hand, gave it a squeeze, and Vira's proud expression softened as her gaze settled on him.
There was nothing more to say. It was enough to sit there, all of them together, knowing that one day this home would echo with even more voices, more laughter, and more lives bound to the same thread that had brought them here.
Outside, the wind carried the fragrance of the garden as the late sunlight slanted across the floor, and the quiet warmth of that moment settled over them like a promise.
Chapter 527 – A Knock Against Stillness
Several weeks passed in quiet.
The hidden home, sealed away from the storms of the outside world, had settled into a slow, comfortable rhythm. Each day was filled with soft voices, the sound of the wind through the layered gardens, and the occasional playful chaos whenever Yuka was awake. It was a rare stretch of time when no messages came through the rings, no summons from gods or factions—only stillness.
The golden fields of Earth continued to spread, the world continued to change, but within these barriers, time moved at its own pace.
Evenings often ended with everyone gathered beneath the flowering tree, sharing a meal as the lanterns came to life. Ciel and Morgan sometimes argued over spell theories, Hanabi teased Airi relentlessly, Reyne napped in a sunny patch like a cat, Vira spent long hours reading beside Yuka while Mira whispered shamelessly into Mary's ear to make her blush.
And Alex? He spent those days simply living.
It was during such a quiet evening, when the shadows of the lanterns had just begun to stretch long across the garden, that the knock came.
A sound that didn't belong.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
It was not the ring—this was the soft, deliberate sound of knuckles against the air itself, like someone was rapping on the barrier that separated this sanctuary from the rest of the world.
Everyone paused. Ciel's golden eyes narrowed as she turned toward the source. Morgan had already set aside her book, and Vira rose smoothly from her seat, her pride giving way to instinctive wariness.
"No one should be able to reach here," Morgan said quietly.
"They shouldn't," Ciel agreed.
Alex was already standing, silent, his black eyes watching as the air shimmered near the edge of the barrier. The knock came again, soft but insistent, and this time it resonated through the entire hidden world.
Tok… tok… tok.
With a faint motion of his hand, the barrier parted just enough to reveal a sliver of the outside. Beyond it stood a single figure cloaked in a gray mantle, hood drawn low, their presence so faint that even the sharpest senses hadn't detected them until now.
No words came from them. Only a calm, steady gaze lifted toward him as they waited.
Hanabi whispered under her breath, her usual grin fading. "Who the hell finds this place?"
"They weren't forced in," Ciel said softly, watching the stranger. "They asked permission to enter."
Alex's eyes lingered on the figure for a moment longer before he spoke. "Come in."
The barrier opened just wide enough, and the cloaked visitor stepped through without hesitation. As soon as their foot crossed the threshold, the air shifted, the heavy pressure of their presence becoming something clear, deliberate.
When they pushed the hood back, the lantern light revealed a face no one here had expected to see again so soon.
The hood fell back, and a spill of silver-blonde hair caught the light. Eyes like clear blue glass looked up at him, wide and full of mischief.
"Big brother!"
The voice was bright, warm, and unmistakable.
Skuld—the youngest of the three Norns—smiled up at him, looking utterly at ease as if she had not just crossed a barrier no one else in the realms could breach.
"Skuld," Alex said, his voice calm, but there was a faint softness in it.
"I told you I'd visit often," she said with an innocent grin, stepping forward before he could say anything else and wrapping her arms around him. For all her divine power, she clung to him like a little sister.
Behind him, Hanabi whispered to Reyne, "Big brother, huh?"
"She's bold," Reyne murmured back.
Skuld let go and looked past Alex. Her gaze swept over the table, and her lips parted slightly as she noticed the same golden-silver-blue rings gleaming on each of the women's left hands. Her eyes brightened.
"Big brother! What are those? They look like… a family mark!"
Vira, who had been watching carefully, lifted her chin. "They are. Rings that connect us to him."
Skuld's eyes widened, and she turned back to Alex, clasping her hands together. "I want one!"
"Skuld—"
"I'm serious!" she said, pouting just enough to make her look younger. "If all of them have one, then I want one too. I'm your little sister! Shouldn't I get one?"
Ciel, who had been silent until now, smiled faintly at the scene. "She does have a point. If she treasures this bond, why not?"
Morgan sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "Another one to add to the circle."
Skuld spun around at that, sticking her tongue out at Morgan with no hesitation. "I'm not here to steal him, cold lady. He's my brother! You can have him as a man all you want—I just want him as family!"
Mira laughed. "Bold and honest. I like her already."
Alex raised a hand, and the teasing subsided. He looked down at Skuld, who was now watching him expectantly, almost bouncing on her heels.
"Why do you want one?" he asked.
"Because…" She paused, thinking, then said with a serious expression that seemed out of place on her usually playful face, "you saved me. You gave me something no one else did. I don't want to forget that. I want to always be able to hear your voice, even if I'm far away."
For a moment, the garden fell quiet. Then Alex reached out and touched her forehead lightly. A small circle of blue and silver light spun between his fingers, shaping itself into a slender ring.
Her eyes lit up as he slid it gently onto her finger.
"It will do the same as theirs," Alex said. "It's a bond, not a toy."
"I know," Skuld whispered, her voice soft now. She looked at the ring, then back at him, smiling so brightly it seemed to light up the whole garden. "Thank you, big brother."
Hanabi whispered to Airi, "Another sister joins the family."
"And this one doesn't even hide it," Airi whispered back, smiling.
Skuld sat at the table without waiting to be asked, folding her hands neatly like an excited child, looking at everyone. "So, what were you all talking about before I came in? Is there dinner left? Tell me everything!"
The table was still half-covered with dishes from dinner, but it didn't stop Skuld from leaning forward, her eyes bright as she looked around at everything with unabashed curiosity. Though she had been here once before, that visit had been brief, a different mood altogether. This time, she let her gaze wander over the long wooden beams of the ceiling, the lanterns swaying outside, and the way the house seemed to breathe like a living thing.
"I forgot how much I like this place," she said with a grin. "It's so calm. Even the air feels soft. It's nothing like Asgard… or Olympus. Those places are so noisy. This house feels like… like when you're little and you crawl under a blanket and everything outside disappears."
Hanabi's tails swayed lazily behind her as she teased, "Careful. If you keep talking like that, you'll make it sound like you want to stay."
"I wouldn't mind," Skuld said, without an ounce of hesitation. "Big brother's house is nice."
Ciel, always gentle, smiled. "You're welcome here anytime."
At that, Skuld's grin widened, and she reached across the table for a piece of bread before pausing, her eyes flicking toward a familiar figure curled up against Amaterasu's lap.
Her eyes softened instantly. "Is that Yuka?"
Amaterasu nodded, her voice warm. "She's been asleep for a while. She ran herself out of energy last night."
"Can I see her?"
Alex gestured, and Amaterasu leaned down so that Skuld could get a closer look. Yuka's long black hair spilled over her shoulder, her tiny hands curled up against herself, her breathing soft and steady.
"She's so cute," Skuld whispered, her voice full of genuine fondness. "I didn't think I'd get to meet her while she was this small."
"She'll probably be awake soon," Vira said, brushing a hand across the child's hair as if to reassure her.
Skuld looked up at Alex, her expression thoughtful. "She calls everyone 'mama,' right?"
"She does," Alex said.
"She's smart," Skuld said with a smile, then looked back at Yuka. "The next time I come, she can call me Skuld-mama. Or maybe Skuld-sis."
A ripple of quiet laughter moved around the table.
Then, suddenly, Skuld perked up, clapping her hands once. "Oh! Big brother!"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Last time you promised me something, remember?" She pointed at him dramatically. "Cotton candy. You said you'd make it yourself."
Hanabi blinked. "Cotton candy?"
"Yes!" Skuld said with a grin. "I don't care about meat or drinks or anything else. I just want that soft, sweet cloud you made before. It's the best thing in all the realms!"
Alex sighed, but he stood up anyway. "You haven't changed."
"I don't plan to," she said cheerfully.
While he worked, everyone watched Skuld's eyes follow him, almost sparkling as the sugar spun into soft, delicate threads, swirling into a perfect, fluffy sphere.
When he set the stick in front of her, she accepted it like it was the rarest treasure in existence. She bit into it, her eyes lighting up instantly. "Still the best!" she said, the words muffled around the bite.
Hanabi whispered to Airi, "That little sister act is dangerous. He spoils her."
"She's harmless," Airi whispered back with a small smile.
For the rest of the meal, the conversation drifted everywhere. Skuld asked endless questions about the house's strange architecture, about the gardens that seemed to stretch into other worlds, and about the floating koi pond she remembered from her last visit.
She asked Ciel about the glowing flowers that only bloomed under her mana, made Mira laugh by asking if succubi really lived in caves (to which Mira replied with a very detailed, very mischievous explanation), and even surprised Vira by politely asking about elven books, listening with genuine curiosity instead of arrogance.
By the time Yuka finally stirred awake, blinking sleepily and mumbling "Papa…" before curling against his chest again, Skuld had eaten three sticks of cotton candy and stolen everyone's attention without even trying.
The night wound down slowly, laughter lingering long after the plates were cleared. It was a rare night where the world outside felt far away, and the house was full of warmth.
The night settled over the hidden home like a soft blanket. The last of the plates had been cleared, lanterns dimmed, and the garden was quiet except for the gentle rustle of the leaves.
Skuld leaned back in her chair, holding the last stick of cotton candy in her hands, smiling as if she didn't want the moment to end. Her clear blue eyes drifted from one face to another, then back to Alex.
"I'll come again soon," she said finally, breaking the comfortable silence. "I like it here. Next time, I'll bring Yuka a gift. And maybe," she added, looking down at the little girl who had drifted back to sleep in her father's arms, "I'll teach her how to make cotton candy herself."
"You'll spoil her," Alex said.
"That's what little sisters are for," Skuld replied with a mischievous grin.
One by one, the evening began to wind down. Rings glimmered faintly as the others prepared to leave. Iris stood and adjusted her blindfold, bowing her head slightly to Alex before vanishing in a shimmer of gold. Mary and Mira disappeared together, Mira blowing a playful kiss as she left.
Vira crouched briefly to stroke Yuka's hair before stepping into the light of her ring, emerald hair catching the lantern glow. Mircella and Ileana went together, crimson and silver flowing like silk as they left.
Aphrodite lingered only long enough to smile, eyes bright, then vanished in a swirl of rose-colored light. Athena and Artemis, after a moment of quiet thanks, followed.
Amaterasu rose last, brushing a strand of hair from Yuka's face. "I'll take her home," she said softly.
Alex nodded, passing the sleeping girl into her arms. For a moment, the child stirred, murmuring "Papa…" before settling against her mother's shoulder. Then the two of them faded away, leaving only a faint trace of divine warmth in the air.
When the light cleared, the garden was quiet again. Only the soft breeze remained.
Skuld looked around once more, then turned toward Alex. "I'll be back soon, big brother," she promised. Then, with a step into the glow of her ring, she was gone.
The house fell still, the warm echo of laughter and family lingering like the aftertaste of a perfect meal.
Chapter 528 – The World With No Ordinary People
Seven months later, the news spread across the globe, first as whispers, then as headlines so large they could not be ignored.
"100% OF THE WORLD NOW AWAKENED – NO ORDINARY HUMANS REMAIN"
Every paper, every screen, every broadcast carried the same message. In just over two years since the golden grains had been sown across deserts and plains, Aten rice had finished what no god, no spell, no war had ever achieved: the transformation of an entire species.
There were no more powerless children. No farmer, no laborer, no merchant remained without mana flowing through their veins. From the smallest villages to the brightest cities, every human being on Earth now carried mana—some faint as a candle flame, others strong as rivers.
The world had changed forever.
Schools had become mana academies. Cities had built new walls to withstand strength that once belonged only to legends. Government leaders, once skeptical, now appeared in public carrying the glow of their own awakened mana.
Reporters wrote of a "Second Dawn," a day when the age of mortals ended.
Inside the dimensional sanctuary, the women gathered around the table as the screen in front of them played the broadcast. Hanabi sat with her chin propped in her hands, tails swaying lazily. "Well," she said, "there it is. We're officially living in a world with no 'ordinary people.'"
Reyne crossed her arms. "It was only a matter of time. Two years was fast, but not surprising."
Airi glanced at Alex. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
Alex's expression didn't change. "This is the first step. Power doesn't make people wise. But it means no one has to be helpless ever again."
Ciel, sitting beside him, smiled gently. "It also means the line between the supernatural and humanity no longer exists. They are one now."
Mira laughed. "That's going to make everything messy… and fun."
Mary swatted at her with a shy frown, but even she couldn't hide her smile.
Vira leaned back in her chair, elegant as always. "It was inevitable. The seeds you planted always grow. Even the gods must now accept that humans are no longer below them."
Amaterasu, who had Yuka sitting on her lap, smoothed a hand through her daughter's hair as she said, "This balance will change everything. Forever."
The screen showed footage of children in once-starving regions racing each other across open fields, mana trailing faintly behind their feet. Farmers shaping their own tools with mana. Scholars lighting their hands as they worked. And on the edges of the news reports, groups of beings—elves, vampires, dragons—watching, no longer from shadows, but as neighbors.
The era of hidden worlds had ended.
The broadcast ended, but the impact of the announcement had already swept across every hall of power on Earth and beyond.
In Olympus, the marble floors of the council chamber echoed as gods gathered. Athena and Artemis stood silent, their gazes fixed on the glowing map suspended in the air, each country marked with a rising tide of mana. Zeus's brows furrowed as he stared at the projections, while Hermes tapped his staff nervously against the polished floor.
"This is no longer a world of mortals," Zeus said at last, his voice heavy. "It is a world of mana."
Aphrodite, who already knew more than she chose to say, smiled faintly. "It was always coming. Now even your storms will not frighten them."
Poseidon's eyes narrowed. "We've seen what humans are capable of with technology. What happens when they have mana as well?"
Athena answered without looking away from the map. "They will adapt. They will learn. And if they choose wrongly… they will be corrected. But this change cannot be undone."
Far away in Asgard, Odin's single eye burned like an ember as he stood before the roots of Yggdrasil, listening to the threads of fate. The hall of the Aesir was restless.
"They are no longer prey," Thor said, his booming voice cutting through the air. "Will we still watch from the skies while the land fills with warriors?"
"They will forge themselves into something new," Odin replied. "If you fear them, it is because you fear what you will become when you stand beside them."
The Valkyries, silent at the edges of the room, whispered to one another. They had already begun to prepare training halls, wings of Asgard where mortal-born warriors could learn alongside them.
In the underground cathedrals of the Vampire Courts, the crimson-eyed lords sat around a long table lit by blood-red glass. Ileana and Mircella's words from months ago now rang true.
"Mana-rich blood," said one ancient lord, licking his lips, "will be the most exquisite we have ever tasted."
"And the most dangerous," another replied. "A foolish vampire who underestimates them will find their prey striking back with fire and light."
Ileana, seated at the head, rested her chin on her hand. "This is not the time for arrogance. We will guide them when necessary. But those who seek to hunt without thought will meet their end."
Mircella added softly, "The age where we are alone in strength is over."
In the vast halls of Alfheim, the royal court of elves was ablaze with debate. Emerald banners hung like rivers of silk, their ripples mirroring the unease in the voices below.
"Humans with mana are still humans," one elder said sharply. "They lack centuries of discipline. Their mana will be wild. Dangerous."
"Perhaps," said another. "But it will also be creative. That is what makes them dangerous to us—not strength, but unpredictability."
Vira, seated near her mother, Queen Ao, spoke calmly but firmly. "Humans will rise, and they will no longer be beneath you. If you cannot accept that, you will be left behind. They are already changing faster than you can imagine."
Her words silenced the hall.
The dragons met not in a hall, but in the air above their hidden valleys, their vast bodies coiled around mountain peaks as they spoke in deep, rumbling voices.
"They climb quickly," said one dragon, scales the color of stormclouds. "The little creatures who could barely stand against us now shine with mana in every heartbeat."
Another dragon's voice, deep and amused, answered, "Good. Perhaps, at last, the skies will hold a challenge worth facing."
The eldest dragon simply closed his golden eyes. "We have lived through ages where gods rose and fell. Now a new age has begun. Watch. See who among them reaches for the clouds."
Across the world, the hidden halls of supernatural races, divine pantheons, and old powers whispered the same conclusion:
The age of powerless mortals had ended. The world was now a world of equals—at least in potential.
But none of them could agree on whether that was hope or the beginning of chaos.
Chapter 529 – Farewell to the Age of the Ordinary
The news had traveled to every corner of the world.
For the first time in history, humanity was united by a single truth:
there were no longer any powerless people.
In city squares, on riverbanks, across mountain villages and deserts, celebrations began.
What started as small, local gatherings became festivals that spread across nations—farewells to the age of the "ordinary human."
In Tokyo, the streets blazed with paper lanterns and holographic lights. Children, their hands glowing faintly with the first sparks of their mana, raced each other under strings of red and gold. Musicians played on every corner, and for once the rush of the city slowed to listen.
A large screen lit up at Shibuya Crossing, showing messages from across the world: "We are all awakened now. A new era begins."
Elderly men and women—who had thought this miracle would never touch them—stood on the sidelines, laughing as young children taught them how to feel mana flow for the first time.
In Cairo, the Nile reflected the light of thousands of floating candles, drifting downstream as if carrying away an entire era. Priests of the new temples of Aten spoke not of worship, but of change:
"Tonight, we honor the world we leave behind," said one, as fireworks burst in the sky. "And we welcome the world ahead."
Crowds gathered along the riverbanks, hands joined, their hearts full of a hope they had not felt in generations.
In New York, giant banners stretched across skyscrapers:
"FAREWELL TO THE AGE OF WEAKNESS – HUMANITY RISES"
The lights of Times Square pulsed with colors drawn from mana, powered by the people themselves. For one night, there were no politics, no divisions. The crowd roared with laughter as people tried to see who could glow the brightest, their mana flaring like fireworks against the night sky.
In the villages of Africa, where Aten rice had first appeared, the celebration was quieter but deeper. Bonfires lit the savannah as dancers moved in long circles, their feet pounding into the earth like drums. Children born after the miracle, already faster and stronger than their parents, danced alongside them. Old wounds of famine and despair felt like memories from a dream.
Across the oceans, in Iceland, Peru, India, and countless other countries, the story was the same.
People released lanterns into the night sky.
They carved the word "farewell" into the air with glowing trails of mana.
They celebrated—not just their new strength, but the end of being helpless.
The world had changed.
In the skies above these countless celebrations, the auroras shimmered brighter, and unseen eyes—gods, immortals, and ancient races—watched silently.
This was the last goodbye to the old world.
Far from the vast cities, in Henri's quiet hometown—the birthplace of the Golden Brew Festival—the streets were alive with laughter and music. The scent of hops and sweet Aten rice filled the air as people gathered in the square, mugs of golden beer raised high in a toast to the end of the old world.
Henri himself stood behind a long wooden counter, serving drink after drink with his usual calm smile. Around him, stalls overflowed with food, tables were packed with villagers and travelers alike, and everywhere, there was joy. The little town that had once been sleepy had become, for this night, the heart of a celebration.
Near one of the barrels, a skinny sixteen-year-old boy crept forward with the practiced stealth of someone who had tried this before. He waited until the adults were looking the other way and reached for one of the freshly filled mugs.
Before his fingers could close around the handle, a strong hand caught him by the back of his shirt.
"And where do you think you're going?" one of the older men asked, hauling him back with an amused snort.
The boy wriggled. "Come on, just one! It's not fair!"
"You're sixteen," another said. "You know the rules. No beer until you're eighteen."
The boy puffed out his cheeks in frustration and crossed his arms. "That was for when we were normal! I've awakened! Look, I can run faster than a horse now, I'm strong, and my body's super healthy. I can handle a little beer!"
The crowd nearby chuckled, listening in.
"And besides," the boy added quickly, "beer made from Aten rice doesn't even make people get heavy drunk! Everyone knows that! It just feels warm and nice!"
There was a ripple of laughter from the adults around him. Someone ruffled his hair.
"You think just because you've got mana now you get to break all the rules?"
"Yes!" the boy said, standing as tall as he could.
The older man smirked. "Nice try. Come back in two years. Then you can have as much as you want, mana or not."
The boy groaned dramatically as the mug was taken out of reach, earning another round of laughter from the onlookers.
"Go on, run with your friends," someone said, shooing him away gently. "Tonight is for everyone. You'll get your turn soon enough."
The boy grumbled under his breath, but a moment later, he ran off, darting through the crowd with the kind of speed that only an awakened teenager could manage.
Henri, who had watched the entire exchange from behind the counter, couldn't help but laugh softly to himself. There was something comforting about seeing that even in a world where everyone now held mana, some things—like the stubborn impatience of youth—never changed.
The music rose again, the mugs clinked, and the night went on in Henri's hometown, bright with joy and golden light.
In the coastal city of Lisbon, the smell of grilled seafood mixed with the sharp tang of salt in the air. The wide streets of the old quarter had been cleared for a massive open-air feast. Humans danced to the rhythm of violins while pale-skinned vampires—who once kept to the shadows—walked freely among them. Crimson banners marked areas where Crimson Gold, the legendary vampire brew, was shared in tiny golden cups. Young men and women laughed as they took careful sips, feeling the warmth of magic spread through their veins.
In Kyoto, the riverbanks glowed with hundreds of lanterns floating on the water. Kitsune spirits, their tails lit with tiny embers, mingled with families who had come to see the fox-fires. A fox-child, no older than five, tugged at a human girl's sleeve and asked shyly, "Can you see mana too?" The girl nodded, and together they stood by the river, tracing trails of light in the air with their fingers.
Far to the south, in Rio de Janeiro, the beaches were packed. The sound of drums rolled through the night as samba lines wound along the boardwalks. Awakened humans showed their new strength in friendly contests, leaping across wide gaps, balancing on poles, using mana to color the air with sparks. Beside them, capoeira masters—both human and supernatural—danced in circles, their bodies weaving with energy. It no longer mattered who was human or who was something more.
In Prague, ancient streets once guarded by secrecy now rang with the deep voices of dragons in their human forms. They laughed with the locals, their towering statures and golden eyes no longer hidden. Together, they poured mana into the cobblestones, making the streets themselves glow with faint, shifting patterns while musicians played under the moonlight.
In the Himalayan villages, celebrations were quieter but no less profound. Monks and villagers sat together in long rows, their hands linked, and for the first time in centuries, they saw the wandering snow spirits sit among them. No one hid; no one ran. The mountains, usually silent, echoed with the sound of a hundred different chants, all harmonizing as if the very peaks joined in.
In the forests of Scandinavia, the aurora painted the sky while elves walked openly through human towns. They brought bows, instruments, and stories, sharing their songs under the green and purple light. For once, their proud, distant expressions softened as human children climbed on their laps, demanding to hear tales of Alfheim. They no longer pushed them away.
From desert to forest, from ocean to mountain, the wall that had divided the world into "ordinary" and "supernatural" was gone.
The new age was here, and tonight, they celebrated it together.
Chapter 530 – The Last Stream of the Ordinary
The celebrations that had begun in the streets did not stop at the borders of cities and towns. They spread into the glowing screens of the new age.
Across the world, on every platform, streamers and video creators—ordinary people who had spent years behind their cameras—turned on their microphones and cameras for one last shared moment.
"Today's different," one of the biggest streamers in America said into the camera, her eyes bright. Behind her, fireworks from the city skyline flared. "Today, we're not just saying goodbye to a year. We're saying goodbye to what we used to be. We're not normal anymore."
Her chat exploded with messages. 'We made it!''No more weaklings!''Second Dawn!'
Another channel, a group of gaming streamers in Seoul, had gathered together on a rooftop. The lights of the city glittered below as they raised glasses filled with mana-sparkling drinks.
"We're still the same idiots," one of them said, laughing. "We just glow a little more now!"
The comments flew past: 'Ordinary is gone!''Wake up world!''Mana speedrun when?'
In Brazil, a music channel that had started with a boy and his guitar streamed live to over two million people. Mana pulsed faintly in the boy's hands as he strummed, the notes carrying far beyond what a microphone could hold. "To everyone," he said softly, "thanks for listening when we were just kids with dreams. Let's take those dreams into the new world."
The chat flooded with hearts.
In France, a baker who had been streaming bread-making during the pandemic years now showed viewers how he could knead dough using both his hands and mana threads. He smiled at the camera as he slid a loaf into the oven. "Even with power, bread will still be bread. I just get to make it better now."
All over the world, these small voices, who had once called themselves "ordinary people," streamed into the night, saying goodbye.
The top trending tags on every platform were the same:
#FarewellNormal
#SecondDawn
#ManaEverywhere
And for one night, the world felt connected not by power, but by shared experience.
Every channel had its own way of saying goodbye, and as the night stretched on, the streams turned into something else—a show of what this new world could do.
One channel out of Chicago set up an empty parking lot with two cars parked side by side. The streamer, a huge man with arms like iron beams, grinned at the camera.
"Before all this," he said, "we needed cranes to lift these things. Now?"
He crouched, gripped the frame of the first car, and with a single exhale, lifted it clear off the ground. Viewers in the chat spammed 'IMPOSSIBLE', 'BRO WHAT', and 'World's Strongest Streamer'.
He laughed, setting it down, and then his friend stepped forward—a much slimmer man, clearly enjoying the moment.
"Your turn," the big guy said.
The smaller man flexed, bracing himself. His hands glowed faintly as mana flared around his arms, and, slowly but surely, the car rose off the ground.
"THIS IS CRAZY!" someone screamed off-camera, and the chat went wild.
Another channel from Berlin streamed a group of women who had met online just to practice new spells they had learned from the Book of Aten.
One held up her hand, tracing a glowing circle in the air. "See? Healing light!"
A faint glow flowed over a friend's scraped knee, and the chat erupted with 'IRL Cleric!'.
Another summoned a thin, threadlike strand of water, looping it through the air like a ribbon. "We couldn't do this even six months ago," she said. "It's like we're living in a fantasy."
In Tokyo, a group of teenagers livestreamed themselves leaping across the rooftops of the city. Mana flickered faintly around their legs as they sprinted, vaulted, and bounded over wide gaps that would have been impossible before.
"Look, look, look! Parkour!" the cameraman shouted, almost dropping the phone as another jumped a ten-meter gap and landed smoothly. The comments filled with laughing emojis and 'Please don't die on stream!'.
In Buenos Aires, a small family-owned channel pointed the camera at their backyard, where a boy no older than fourteen concentrated on shaping light into a small orb. It flickered like a candle. His parents clapped behind him.
"Two years ago," his mother said softly to the viewers, "he couldn't even run without gasping. Now… this."
The boy grinned shyly and whispered, "Thank you, Aten."
Streams from every time zone overlapped as the world entered this strange new night: a night of magic, of strength, of joy. People who once had nothing now shared what they could do, each display a message:
We are not powerless anymore.
And on the feeds, for the first time in history, humans from every corner of the globe didn't just watch—they celebrated each other.
As the night deepened, the streams became wilder, brighter, and full of things no one could have imagined just a year ago. Every channel seemed to want to show the same thing: what the new age felt like.
In one stream from Berlin, a group of young people had gathered in a courtyard.
"Watch this!" the streamer said, holding the camera steady.
A girl stepped forward, closed her eyes, and whispered a spell—her first spell—and a swirl of pale blue light gathered between her hands. It wasn't flashy, just a ball of cold wind that blew everyone's hair back, but the way the crowd cheered made her laugh so hard she dropped it.
In Mumbai, another livestream showed a circle of friends standing around a parked truck.
"Before," one of them said, laughing, "we needed a crane for this."
With a nod, two of them crouched down, hands under the bumper, and lifted the entire vehicle off the ground. The truck wobbled as they carried it a few steps, then set it down again. The camera shook as the group of friends burst into wild shouting and clapping.
A stream from São Paulo showed a new kind of street competition. Dozens of young people had taken to the rooftops, racing each other from one building to the next in a parkour-style dash. Bright trails of mana followed them like comets as they leapt across wide gaps. The chat scrolled so fast it was unreadable, spamming "MONSTERS!" and "NEW WORLD RECORD!"
Not everyone was as graceful. In one of the streams, a boy miscalculated a jump and fell nearly 20 meters to the street below. People screamed, the camera jerked down—only to show him getting up a second later with a bleeding knee and a sheepish grin.
"I'm fine!" he shouted. "It's just a scratch!"
The chat erupted: 'Casual 20-meter fall lol', 'Somebody give him a medal'.
On a quieter channel from Canada, a father and daughter streamed together. She demonstrated a simple mana shield she had learned from a public training center—just a thin glowing barrier in front of her hands. It wasn't perfect, but when her father tossed an empty soda can at it, the can bounced off with a faint spark of light. The look on her face, proud and astonished, made the chat explode with hearts.
And through it all, the chats from all these channels echoed the same thing:
"The world isn't ordinary anymore. And neither are we."
As the night rolled on and the streaming platforms stayed packed with millions of viewers, another kind of event began trending worldwide—football matches like no one had ever seen before.
In Madrid, at the Santiago Bernabéu, the bright lights of the stadium shone on a friendly match between two of Europe's most famous clubs. It wasn't a tournament, no points or trophies on the line, just a simple declaration:
"The rules are the same.
Let's see what football looks like in a world where everyone has awakened."
The crowd roared as players ran onto the pitch. Cameras zoomed in, showing faces that were the same as before, but bodies sharper, quicker, more balanced.
When the whistle blew, it was like watching an entirely new sport.
The ball moved at blistering speeds as feet and reflexes, enhanced by mana, turned what had once been impossible into normal play.
One defender slid across the field, kicking the ball away so cleanly that it barely made a sound. A midfielder leapt high to intercept a pass, rising so far that his knees reached another player's chest. The goalkeeper stopped a shot that had been traveling so fast the cameras almost couldn't track it.
And yet the rules had not changed. There were no spells, no supernatural tricks—just the raw strength, endurance, and coordination that awakening had given everyone.
In Brazil, a similar match played out on the beaches of Rio. This time, barefoot players darted across the sand like it was flat concrete. One boy, barely 17, sprinted down the field so quickly that by the time the camera caught up to him, he had already scored. The crowd on the beach lifted him up, shouting his name, half in disbelief and half in delight.
In Africa, a match between local teams drew thousands to a dusty stadium. The ball moved so fast that at one point, a forward kicked it from nearly half the field away, and it curved in a perfect arc before slamming into the net. Even the referee clapped, laughing in amazement.
These matches weren't about winning—they were a celebration.
Old rivalries were replaced by grins and hugs at the end of each play, and even fans of opposing teams stood side by side, marveling at what humanity had become.
The streams of these games skyrocketed to the top of the global view charts. People in the chats screamed in disbelief at the new records being set, and some whispered that this was only the beginning—one day, new leagues would rise, built for awakened players.
During one of the live broadcasts from the Madrid stadium, the commentator could hardly contain his laughter as the ball once again flew from one end of the pitch to the other in less than three seconds.
"At this rate," he said, his voice full of amusement, "we'll have to petition FIFA to make the field wider! Maybe double it!"
The co-host burst out laughing. "And the goals taller, too! Did you see that last jump? I thought he was going to clear the crossbar entirely!"
In the chat accompanying the livestream, comments scrolled by so fast they became a blur.
'This isn't football anymore, this is dragonball!'
'New sport: Mana Football!'
'I blinked and missed three passes!'
Sports everywhere were changing overnight.
In track and field, what had once been the domain of elite runners was now a spectacle of raw human speed. Races that used to be decided by fractions of a second now saw athletes finishing 100 meters in less than four seconds, and yet the stands were still full. People weren't just watching for the records—they were watching for the beauty of motion, the way bodies moved now with perfect balance and explosive grace.
In basketball, matches were being held in outdoor arenas all over the United States. Players now dunked from the three-point line, sailed through the air in arcs that made crowds scream, and fought for rebounds high above the hoop. The ball moved so fast that cameras had to upgrade to new high-speed tracking just to keep up with the passes.
In volleyball, matches on the beaches of Thailand and California showed players leaping several meters into the air to spike the ball, their shadows stretching long against the sand as the ball crashed down like a comet. These games quickly became international sensations online, as people watched for the artistry as much as the competition.
Combat sports were changing too. Martial arts tournaments had become one of the most watched forms of entertainment on the internet. Fighters still used discipline and technique, but now their reflexes and endurance pushed matches to a level that felt like watching masters of old legends. Even friendly sparring matches looked like a scene out of a movie, with bursts of mana flaring each time strikes collided.
And everywhere, the hosts made the same jokes:
"Looks like we'll need bigger arenas!"
"At this rate, referees need mana just to keep up!"
"And someone, please, tell me how to train so I can stop getting left behind by a 14-year-old!"
Entertainment was no different. Music festivals saw performers using mana to enhance sound, shaping their voices with waves of light. Parkour shows turned cities into living obstacle courses, their rooftops filled with acrobats who moved like they had no fear of falling.
Even street artists had changed: in Brazil, a painter streamed live as he sketched an entire wall in under an hour, using mana to guide his brush. The strokes moved as if alive, colors glowing faintly in the dark.
And through it all, the same phrase spread like wildfire through chats, comment sections, and screens:
"This is not just talent. This is the New Humanity."