The world was still ringing.
After the sky itself had bled with crimson runes, after that voice had whispered Aira's name and vanished, silence came crashing down like a wave. Even the wind didn't dare move. The forest around them looked half-frozen—leaves suspended midair, dew trembling but never falling.
Leonard stood in that stillness, eyes half-lidded, pulse steady.
Aira wasn't so calm. Her heart still hammered against her ribs, lungs aching from holding her breath through the unnatural quiet.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he said dryly, "Well. That could've gone worse."
Aira blinked at him, torn between screaming and fainting. "Worse? The sky just called my name like it was about to file my death certificate!"
Leonard tilted his head, expression unreadable. "Ah, you heard that too. Good—means your soul hasn't cracked yet."
Before Aira could find a response strong enough, something—or someone—cleared their throat nearby. A high-pitched, squeaky "Ahem!" echoed through the trees.
Both turned.
Out from a shimmer of light stumbled a small figure, no taller than Aira's shoulder. His robes were three sizes too big, covered in star-like embroidery that looked handmade, possibly by someone drunk. His silver hair was a mess, and a tiny monocle kept slipping off his nose.
"Finally!" the stranger huffed, clutching a stack of glowing scrolls. "You two have no idea how long I've been chasing that divine residue! Do you know how hard it is to track illegal celestial manifestations without a permit?"
Aira just stared. Leonard sighed.
"Quniand," he said flatly. "Still alive, unfortunately."
The little man puffed his chest. "Transcended, thank you very much! Not that you'd know humility if it slapped you with a mana debt notice."
Aira blinked. "Uh… who exactly is this?"
Leonard replied like someone forced to admit to an embarrassing childhood friend. "A scholar of the old world. Quniand the Overly Talkative."
"The Historian of Ascension!" Quniand corrected, smacking Leonard's leg with a glowing scroll. "Respect your intellectuals! I've charted every rank of existence from Human to Outer God! Without me, half the realms would still think 'Transcended' is a skincare brand!"
Aira snorted, then quickly covered her mouth. Leonard looked mildly betrayed.
Quniand noticed her amusement and puffed with pride. "At least someone here appreciates art and order. You see, dear girl, since your boyfriend here—"
Leonard: "Not her boyfriend."
Aira: "Definitely not."
Quniand, unbothered: "—since your emotionally constipated companion refuses to educate mortals, allow me."
He twirled his finger, and glowing runes appeared midair—tiny holographic figures illustrating his words.
"Now then! The Power Hierarchy—simple in design, painful in application! It begins with Human, your basic mana-bearing lifeform. Then Peak Human, for those who've pushed their bodies and spirits to the edge. Easy enough, yes?"
Aira nodded slowly, curiosity creeping in.
"From there," Quniand continued, pacing on a floating scroll like a teacher on a stage, "we move to Master, then Peak Master, then Grandmaster, and finally Peak Grandmaster—the last stop before the truly absurd."
He snapped his fingers. The glowing figures expanded, their bodies wreathed in flame and lightning.
"Next comes Transcended—the limit of mortal existence. The last rank one can achieve while still being, technically, human. After that, we enter divine territory: Demigod, Angel, Archangel, and God."
He leaned toward Aira, whispering like a conspirator, "And let me tell you, the paperwork for each divine promotion is hell."
Leonard's voice cut through his theatrics. "You're rambling again."
"I'm educating!" Quniand snapped. "Now hush before I downgrade your cosmic ranking out of spite."
He turned back to Aira, waving away the glowing forms.
"When gods ascend, their Divine Power expands their Area of Control. A planetary god governs a single world. A solar system god—well, you can guess. Then galaxy gods, universe gods, and finally... the Outer Gods. Beings so vast their existence overlaps reality itself."
Aira felt the weight of those words. "So… Leonard's one of them?"
Quniand hesitated, eyes flicking to Leonard. "He was. Once."
Aira looked at Leonard sharply, but he said nothing.
Quniand's usual cheer dimmed. "Before the apocalypse, before the rifts tore this world apart… he was the first human to reach Angel rank. The first to break the mortal ceiling. He turned the impossible into a question of effort."
Leonard's tone was even, but distant. "And effort turned into arrogance."
"Arrogance turned into murder," Quniand muttered.
Aira's breath hitched. "You… killed a god?"
Leonard didn't look at her. His gaze was somewhere else—somewhen else.
"I killed many. Started with the Earth God. He thought humanity should remain beneath divine rule. I disagreed."
Quniand rubbed his temples. "Disagreed, he says, as if it was a philosophical debate and not a planetary massacre."
Leonard ignored him. "Each god held dominion over certain domains. When I killed them, their domains—those fragments of control—flowed into me. Planets, storms, elements. For a while, I thought I'd found freedom."
Aira whispered, "And then?"
"Then the higher gods intervened. The Outer Ones. They made the Pact—gods could no longer meddle in mortal affairs directly. Any who tried would have their divinity locked by the next higher authority."
Quniand floated upside down now, sighing. "And your dear Leonard here abuses that loophole beautifully. He knows they can't touch him unless they want to risk being chained themselves."
Aira turned to him. "So that's why the sky—why they couldn't descend?"
Leonard nodded. "Their laws bind them tighter than any chain. They built the rules out of fear… of me."
A heavy silence followed. Even Quniand didn't interrupt it.
Then, after a long pause, Aira said softly, "You sound… lonely."
Leonard looked genuinely caught off guard. Quniand cackled. "Ha! Took someone centuries to notice!"
The tension cracked. Aira laughed a little despite herself. Leonard shot Quniand a glare sharp enough to cut stone.
The little scholar waved it off. "Oh don't pout, almighty godslayer. You're terrifying, yes, but also catastrophically bad at small talk."
Leonard sighed and turned away. "Why are you even here, Quniand?"
"To warn you," the scholar replied, suddenly serious again. "That divine flare didn't just trigger alarms in this world. The Celestial Council will investigate—and they will send someone below the rank of god, someone they can legally unleash."
Leonard smirked faintly. "Let them come."
Quniand rubbed his forehead. "Of course you'd say that. Honestly, do you ever stop to think before you antagonize beings who can fold reality like paper?"
Leonard's response was dry. "Thinking is for people who regret."
Aira muttered under her breath, "He probably has a degree in not regretting."
Quniand snorted. "She's learning fast."
Leonard looked between the two of them—one mischievous scholar, one mortal with too much curiosity—and for a fleeting second, his expression softened. "You two will be the death of me."
"Already been there," Quniand said cheerfully. "Didn't stick."
Aira laughed, and for the first time, the air didn't feel heavy. The forest's light returned, the unnatural stillness finally breaking.
Then Quniand's tone shifted again, the humor fading under a thin layer of dread.
"Still… jokes aside, Leonard. If they send an Archangel, you'll be forced to reveal yourself. And once that happens, the Council will revoke your divine seal."
Leonard's voice dropped low. "Let them try. The day they unlock my divinity… is the day the gods remember fear."
Quniand swallowed hard. "You really haven't changed."
Leonard's lips curved slightly. "Would you want me to?"
Aira watched them both—one ancient, one broken, both hiding too much—and realized something. The apocalypse wasn't an ending. It was a pause. A breath before something even bigger woke up.
The runes in the sky might have faded, but their echo lingered. And somewhere far beyond the stars, something old stirred.
End of Chapter 5