Lumian stared at the spot where the god had been, unable to shake the lingering sense of pity.
After a moment, he slowly stepped forward, the light drizzle falling over him.
Reaching the place where the figure had stood, he paused.
Raising his right hand, he let the raindrops collect on his palm.
For some reason, it felt as though something within him had shifted, like his understanding of the world, of struggle and loss, had deepened.
He exhaled softly.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and knelt before the towering statue.
He sank into a deep sense of faith as he began to pray.
"I offer this prayer on behalf of Mr. Hayes. May the Lord of Storms pour His blessings upon him, grant his heart's desires, and let his cup overflow with Your mercy… so that he may be made whole and reborn."
After finishing, Lumian slowly rose to his feet.
He glanced at the towering statue, its figure standing proud and unyielding.
With the God of Storms dead… it should be the Angel of Will answering these prayers, he thought. Maintaining the belief of unfathomable existence.
He let out a quiet sigh.
Then, pulling out his phone, he ordered a taxi.
...
A few minutes later, a car pulled up, and Lumian stepped inside.
As the vehicle moved, his thoughts began to race.
To be honest, what he felt now was grief—deeper than anything he had experienced before. Deeper even than when he lost his parents… deeper than Patricia's case, or even Lury's.
He found himself returning to a thought he once had, the statement on 'life is nothing but a video game with choices.'
Every decision shapes what comes next... and once made, there's no turning back.
He thought about his parents.
If they hadn't gone to Betyl that day… would they still be alive?
Then his mind drifted to the god he had just seen.
If he hadn't been so obsessed with becoming like his father… if he hadn't followed those whispers… would things have ended differently?
Lumian stared out at the passing streets as the car drove on.
After some moments, he suddenly thought of something.
Wait the God now is in Betyl, could he be looking for something... or could our path cross again, since he has already seen me, I should probably divine this situation.
...
Quickly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin.
A diviner couldn't simply ask a question and receive a direct answer. Instead, they had to rely on a medium, interpreting signs and drawing conclusions on their own.
He flicked the coin, and it spun.
With a some moments of spinning, it landed on his palm, displaying a forward coin.
It was a positive result, he would most likely cross path with the god again.
Wait, so we will meet again, but as what... enemies? The thought of it, unsettled him to an extent.
He couldn't ask further questions and expect clear answers—that wasn't how divination worked for a diviner. He would have to figure the rest out himself.
Leaning back into his seat, he exhaled slowly.
Could we really become enemies?
If I think about it… he lost his sons… his wife… all because of his own choices.
And when he saw me just now… he didn't question me. He simply disappeared.
Could we... could we... could we be rather good friends?
But he didn't cling with the thought, because he knew it was only his theory, and not yet determined.
...
At a quarter to twelve, Lumian arrived and quietly entered his home from the back, removed his shoes, and stepped inside. He let out a tired sigh and was just about to head upstairs when he suddenly heard footsteps echoing.
He paused.
If he blurred past now, he would definitely run into whoever it was.
His eyes moved quickly around the room before landing on the fridge, and an idea formed almost instantly.
Without hesitation, he blurred forward, opened the fridge, ruffled his hair, and grabbed a drink, forcing himself to look as though he had just woken up.
A moment later, the figure revealed itself, it was Kelvin, slowly coming down the stairs while rubbing his eyes.
He glanced at Lumian, who was casually drinking water, and looked slightly surprised.
"Long night, right?"
Lumian lowered the cup and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah."
Kelvin smiled faintly, walked over to the fridge, and took some water for himself. After placing the cup back on the shelf, he turned to Lumian and sighed, leaning slightly against the table.
"You know… I've been thinking. Like, really thinking. About my future with Helen… and my future with you guys. You said you got a pay raise, seems like your fortune-telling worked, hehe."
Lumian chuckled, washing his cup and placing it back on the shelf.
Kelvin then leaned fully against the kitchen table, letting out another sigh.
"It's just… I don't want this marriage to change things between us, you, me, and Laura. I've been thinking about whether we could build a new house and live together… or at least stay close to each other."
Hearing that, Lumian felt a quiet warmth in his chest, and his lips curved into a genuine smile.
"Let's wait," he said. "After the wedding preparations, we can sit down and decide properly."
"I guess you're right," Kelvin replied.
He turned and began climbing the stairs, yawning.
"Goodnight, Lumian."
...
Lumian watched his brother's retreating figure and smiled.
Turning, he began walking toward the stairs, saying inwardly, I'm actually really good at lying… I'm sure anyone else in that situation would've fumbled.
He let out a small chuckle.
As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, a low grumble escaped his stomach.
Seems like I'm still hungry… to be fair, I didn't eat much at dinner. I barely touched my food.
With that, he turned around and headed back down, walking into the kitchen. He warmed the food, dished it out, and carried it back upstairs.
Sitting by the window in his room, he ate slowly, enjoying the quiet of the night. It was so still that it felt like the entire house had fallen asleep.
The only sound that reached him was the faint chirping of crickets.
At first, it felt distracting, but after a while, it became oddly soothing, blending into the calmness of the night. Before long, he even found himself humming along to the rhythm, as though he were part of some quiet, unseen choir.
After eating a reasonable amount, Lumian returned to the kitchen, washed his plate, and was just about to leave—
when his stomach growled again.
He paused… then chuckled.
Seriously?
Shaking his head, he took out some chicken, fried it, and headed back upstairs once more.
...
He returned to his room and closed the door behind him, then collapsed onto his bed, continuing to eat the chicken until he was finally done.
Lying there, he stared at the rotating fan above him.
After a while, the light flickered, and the fan began to slow, its speed gradually dropping.
Lumian sighed, stood up, and walked to the window, pushing it fully open before returning to his bed. His gaze lingered on the fan as it slowed further, the room growing quieter with each passing second.
But his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Back to the Son of Storms.
When I checked the Angel of Will… I could still see her "profile," even though she's stronger than me… why?
Did she allow it?
But I didn't even see much… just that she was the Angel of Will…
He let out a quiet breath.
With the story of the Son of Storms still lingering in his mind, something began to click.
At that moment, Lumian finally grasped the meaning behind the spell given to him by Mr. Hayes—
Power isn't everything.
...
It isn't just about strength or dominance.
True power should come with peace of mind… with happiness… with clarity of thought.
Relying on brute force alone can't solve every problem, and without a stable life, what's the point of being strong? A person might possess great power, yet still crave a sense of peace they've never truly known.
He thought back to the war.
The God of Death hadn't relied on strength alone. He must have anticipated their movements, realizing they had come to scout, and prepared an ambush for their return.
Then there was the God of Storms. He had a family. He had peace. Yet in the end… he wasn't as calculating.
Lumian let out a quiet sigh.
Power isn't a single thing. It isn't something that exists on its own.
It's a combination of strength, intelligence, timing… and the life that surrounds it.
...
As soon as he thought of those words, a cool breeze drifted in through the open window.
Wait… how come I don't have the spell?
A frown formed on his face.
Did Mr. Hayes trick me? I thought that once you truly understand something in your Order, you gain a skill… a spell… or did he actually scam me?
The thought annoyed him. As someone as greedy as he was, the idea of being cheated didn't sit well at all.
No… maybe I just didn't understand it deeply enough. Or maybe that wasn't the real conclusion.
Or… maybe it takes time to appear… like how a game downloads new content.
He let out a small chuckle at that.
But soon, his expression grew serious again.
His thoughts shifted to St. Mary's warning, the one about how many people would die on the 30th.
A quiet tension settled in his chest.
I have to advance. I don't care anymore if the captain or the others get suspicious.
I can't end up like the God of Storms… hesitating.
I have to protect my family. That's why I joined the Faculty in the first place. Tomorrow, after work, I'll perform the spirit dance… and find a way to get the potion recipe.
But… what exactly is going to happen on the 30th?
...
Lumian ran through countless scenarios in his mind, replaying them again and again, trying to find any clue or connection between the incidents.
But no matter how much he thought, nothing linked together.
The pieces refused to fit.
Still, he kept thinking… and thinking… until, at some point, without even realizing it, he fell asleep.
The cool night breeze drifted through the window, brushing past his hair as he lay there, his expression finally at peace.