North did not return to his chambers.
After leaving the High Preservation Court, he walked through the inner halls without ceremony. Pillars carved with ancient oaths passed by in silence. Guards straightened when they noticed him, then relaxed when they realized he carried no decree, no judgment, no mercy with him.
He walked without pause.
Without destination announced.
His feet took him somewhere familiar, somewhere quiet, somewhere that asked no questions.
The library.
The doors were already open.
Inside, Yuria sat at the long central table, surrounded by stacks of books piled far beyond reason. Scrolls lay unrolled at her feet like fallen banners after a forgotten war. A cup of tea rested near her elbow, untouched for so long that even the steam had given up.
She was waiting.
The moment North stepped inside, she looked up.
"You're alive," she said flatly.
North stopped a few steps in. His voice was calm, distant, stripped of excess emotion. "That was never uncertain."
She studied him for a long second. "For someone who says that so confidently, you look like you just walked out of a funeral."
"I did," he replied. "It was simply well-dressed."
Yuria snorted despite herself, then quickly schooled her expression. "So, Did the elders try to chain you to fate again and call it balance?"
"No," North said. "This time, they listened."
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
"That's worse," she muttered. "When old men listen, it usually means they're already planning your obituary."
North walked closer. The faint cold radiating from him stirred loose pages, frosting the edges of parchment ever so slightly. Yuria noticed. She always noticed.
"You said you wanted to confirm something," he said.
Her humor vanished.
"Yes," she replied quietly. "But don't move."
"I am not."
"That doesn't make me feel safer."
She exhaled, steadying herself. "I'll phrase this carefully, because I really don't want you freezing the library again."
North's eyes flicked to her. "I did that once."
"You did it perfectly," she said. "That's the problem."
She stood, circled him once, slow and deliberate, like a scholar inspecting a dangerous artifact.
"This isn't a spell," she said.
"I wasn't going to," North replied.
Yuria stopped in front of him and met his gaze. "This is… an ability Or maybe a permission Something tied to the Creator's design."
North's expression did not change.
"I can read people," she continued. "Not thoughts. Not memories. Information. Existence-level truth. I see what the world itself acknowledges."
Silence stretched.
Then North said, "You've never used this on me before."
"I couldn't," she replied softly. "Until now."
The air tightened.
Yuria inhaled and looked at him.
And in that instant, the world she knew fractured.
It was not light. Not symbols floating in the air. Not a convenient window like in cheap legends.
What Yuria saw was reality being peeled back, layer by layer, like frozen skin cracking under pressure.
North Frozenlight no longer appeared as a man.
He appeared as an existence.
To her sight, his body was outlined in pale frost, not decorative, not aesthetic, but absolute. The air around him was silent, as if sound itself hesitated to approach. Every breath he took slowed the flow of mana nearby, forcing it into stillness.
Then information surfaced.
Not summoned.
Not requested.
Acknowledged.
—
[ EXISTENCE RECORD — PARTIALLY SEALED ]
Name: North Frozenlight
Race: Human (Transitional) → Incomplete True God
Divine Status: Ascending / Restrained
Current State: Stable, Calm, Unresolved
Core Authority: ICE (EX)
— Conceptual Cold
— Absolute Stillness
— Law of Cessation
Secondary Authority: PRESERVATION (Hidden, Passive)
— Designation: Regression
— Effect: Upon death, existence is preserved and restored to a prior state
— Memory Retention: Subject Only
— Limitation: Does not reverse world causality, only restores recorded existence
Blessing: GOD OF TIME (Unregistered)
— Classification: Silent Acknowledgment
— Effect: Resistance to temporal erosion, partial immunity to timeline rejection
— Note: Blessing predates current cycle
Divinity Compression: ACTIVE
— Method: Internal Containment
— Risk: Emotional attrition, isolation-induced collapse
Emotional State:
— Fear: Diminished
— Anger: Suppressed
— Sorrow: Fading
— Attachment: Unstable
— Humanity Index: Declining
Curse: BLOODLINE OF PRESERVATION
— Designation: Losing Of Emotions
— Effect: The bearer slowly but surely Will lose his emotions.
Warning Flags:
— Divine Authority Interference Detected
— Source: UNRECOGNITION
— Severity: Minimal
— Effect: Micro-adjustment of reasoning pathways
— Status: Neutralized by Core Stability
Projected Outcome (Uncertain):
— Eternal Isolation
— Self-Stabilized Collapse
— God Who Remains When Nothing Else Does
Her breath caught.
"…Oh."
North watched her reaction with clinical calm. "Explain."
She did not answer immediately. Her eyes moved, unfocused, as if tracking concepts rather than shapes.
"North," she said slowly, "you are not delaying ascension."
"That much is obvious."
"No," she said, voice tightening. "You are refusing it."
She took a shaky breath. "Not by rejecting divinity By containing it."
She closed her eyes for half a second, then opened them again.
"I see your existence as a sealed contradiction," she said. "An Incomplete True God."
North remained silent.
"You are already divine," she continued, words spilling faster now. "Your authority over Ice is absolute, Not elemental. Conceptual but Cold as a law, not a temperature."
Her lips trembled into a humorless smile. "Ice that doesn't freeze things. Ice that tells things to stop."
North's voice was flat. "And the rest."
She hesitated, "Preservation Not active Passive Like a curse pretending to be mercy."
The temperature dipped.
"And time," she added quietly. "You're blessed by the God of Time."
North's eyes sharpened a fraction. "That should not be visible."
"It isn't," she said. "Not normally It's… hidden Buried so deeply even causality pretends it doesn't exist."
She laughed once, weak and strained. "Regression."
North did not deny it.
" As expected it's good to have you by my side the creator's blessings are too useful."
Yuria stared at him. "If you die, the world doesn't rewind. It's preserved. Restored to a previous state. And only you remember."
"That is correct."
Her voice dropped. "That's not a second chance That's eternal punishment."
North tilted his head slightly. "Existence is repetition Meaning is what we choose to remember."
She let out a sharp breath. "That is the most godlike excuse for suffering I've ever heard."
He did not respond.
"There's more," she said, her tone darkening. "I see interference."
North's gaze hardened. "Source."
"Divine Authority," she replied. "Unrecognition Someone brushed against your reasoning Didn't overwrite it Just… nudged it."
She met his eyes, "Like a philosopher changing the definition of truth instead of lying."
North was quiet for a long moment.
"So," he said at last, "he tested whether I could be moved."
"And?"
"He failed."
Yuria rubbed her temples. "You say that like it's settled."
"It is."
She looked at him, really looked at him now, at the calm, distant eyes that held too much stillness.
"Do you know what your current state looks like?" she asked.
"No."
She swallowed. "Stable, Calm and Unresolved."
"…Unresolved," North repeated softly.
"And there's a projected outcome," she added. "Isolation-induced collapse."
She laughed bitterly. "The universe itself thinks you're going to break one day."
North's answer was immediate. "Everything does."
Silence settled between them, not heavy, not warm, simply present.
After a moment, North said, "You've seen enough."
Yuria nodded and looked away, the invisible weight lifting.
The library felt normal again Smaller and Safer.
She sat back down slowly. "You scare me," she admitted. "Not because you're strong But because you're calm."
"Emotion clouds judgment," North said.
"And judgment without emotion creates monsters," she replied. "History proved that."
He considered her words.
Then said, "History is written by survivors."
Yuria snorted despite herself and lifted her tea, took a sip, then grimaced. "This tastes like regret and bad philosophy."
North turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
"Yuria."
She looked up.
"…Thank you."
She smiled faintly. "Anytime, Your Incomplete Divinity."
North left.
And for a long time after, the library remained colder than it should have been.