That night, sleep refused to come.
I sat on the sofa beneath the glow of the inn's warm crystal heater, my gaze fixed on my right hand.
Red.
Not the red of blood or flame—but something denser. Axiom flowed beneath my skin like a living current, pulsing faintly, rhythmically, as if my arm had become a conduit rather than flesh. Pure Axiom. Dungeon-borne. Unfiltered.
I clenched my fingers.
The air around them trembled ever so slightly.
People couldn't see this.They mustn't.
I reached for a roll of bandages from the cabinet and wrapped my arm carefully, layer by layer, until the glow vanished beneath cloth. To anyone else, it would look like a severe burn—ugly, painful, pitiable.
To me, it was a reminder.
Power that could not exist openly.
As I tied the last knot, I felt it.
A presence.
I looked up.
The girl stood half-hidden behind the doorway of her room, peeking out like a cautious animal. When our eyes met, she immediately retreated—
—only for me to speak first.
"No need to be shy. If you want to sit, come."
There was a pause.
Then she stepped out and walked toward the sofa with measured, silent steps, sitting at the far end. She had changed clothes—simple white sleepwear from the inn's wardrobe. Clean. Almost ceremonial.
I let out a dry laugh."So they keep clothes in the closets. Didn't know that."
She looked at me, head slightly tilted.
"You remain caked in soil and blood," she said, her words still wrapped in that archaic cadence. "Why dost thou not cleanse thyself?"
"Not your concern."
Silence settled between us, thick but not hostile.
I studied her more closely now—crystalline hair catching the lamplight, skin unblemished despite everything we'd been through. Too pristine. Too untouched.
"…A goddess," I said at last. "I don't buy it."
She did not bristle.
"Caution befits one who hath been betrayed," she replied calmly.
I exhaled, then straightened slightly.
"Pardon my discourtesy. I never gave my name." I met her gaze."I am Elrin Therion."
She did not react to the weight of the name.
"I am Yna," she said. "Divinity of Purity."
My breath hitched.
That title—
In the oldest scriptures, before the First Lie, there were chieftain gods—pillars of the pantheon who governed concepts rather than elements.
Purity was one of them.
"…That's blasphemy," I said quietly. "Use that name again in public and you'll be burned at the stake."
"There is no falsehood in stating my true name," she replied. "I have already declared it. I am a god."
I stared at her. Then pointed upward, toward the star-filled window.
"Then why are you here," I demanded, "and not there?"
Her gaze followed my finger. The stars reflected in her eyes—but something darker stirred beneath.
"Humanity claims we gods forsook you," she said slowly."But the truth is inverted."
She looked back at me.
"You forsook us."
The air felt colder.
"The truth was clouded," she continued. "Layered. Diluted. What thou knowest is but a fraction of what was."
Goosebumps rose along my arms.
I swallowed.
"…I see."
I leaned back, exhaustion seeping into my bones.
"Seeing you in that dungeon," I said quietly, "used as a battery—its nervous system—it's hard to deny it anymore."
I laughed softly, bitterly.
"A god reduced to fuel."
I turned to her.
"You and I aren't so different."
She listened.
"I was a noble," I went on. "An heir. Now I walk among commoners as an exile."
"You were a goddess. Now you walk as a human."
I met her eyes.
"As long as your feet touch dirt… you are human."
She flinched.
"So am I."
For a moment, sorrow passed between us—shared, unspoken.
"…What really happened?" she asked softly.
I looked away.
"It's a long story," I said. "Not one I can tell a stranger."
She nodded."I understand."
I stood.
"Let's rest."
"Good night," she replied, using an archaic blessing.
—
Morning came.
We dressed in simple, practical clothes from the inn's wardrobe—travel-worn but clean. Together, we descended the stairs.
"Good morning, travelers," the receptionist greeted cheerfully. "Let's settle your rental papers."
She paused.
"I'll need a Guild ID for verification."
My stomach sank.
"A-ah—yes. We're just about to register," I said quickly. "Today, actually."
"Oh?" she smiled. "Then your fortune must be family legacy."
"…Yes," I nodded stiffly. "Something like that."
She glanced at Yna.
"My, lucky girl. Such a dependable boyfriend."
"No—!" I cut in. "We're not— We're childhood friends. She's uhh… having trouble with speaking straight."
Yna nodded obediently.
The receptionist smirked knowingly.
"Names, then?"
I almost said it.
Therion.
I stopped myself. It would be risky to give our names, especially Yna's.
"…Elrin Mornye," I said. "And this is Ynara Vaelar."
From that moment—
Elrin Therion ceased to exist,
—
The Adventurer Guild of Silia Town stood apart from the market's chaos.
Where stalls were noisy and colorful, the guildhall was solid—thick stone walls reinforced with iron braces and faint Axiom etchings dulled by age. A carved insignia hung above its entrance: crossed tools beneath a star, not weapons—an Assembian philosophy. Adventurers were workers first, killers second.
Inside, the air smelled of ink, sweat, metal, and old parchment.
Conversations overlapped in low tones. Armor clinked. A notice board dominated the far wall, layered with parchment—requests, bounties, warnings. Some were fresh. Some yellowed with neglect.
A man stood behind the reception counter.
Broad-shouldered. Scarred arms crossed over a leather vest. He looked like he could break bones without effort—yet his eyes were alert, professional.
"Welcome to the Silia Town Adventurer Guild," he said evenly. "State your business."
I stepped forward.
"…Registration. For both of us."
His gaze flicked to Yna behind me. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Follow me."
He led us through a side door into a smaller chamber.
At its center stood a pedestal of reinforced crystal, Axiom channels spiraling through it like frozen veins. A circular couch surrounded it—not for comfort, but observation.
From a shelf, he retrieved a thick manual and set it down with a thud.
"Adventurers are ranked," he said. "Eight tiers. Not letters. Ranks reflect trust, not power."
He flipped the book open.
I skimmed as he spoke, absorbing it instinctively.
Cinder — newly registered. Cannot enter dungeons. Escort-only tasks.
Ironbound — trained. May enter outer dungeon layers in groups.
Wayfarer — licensed. Independent surface work permitted.
Fangbearer — combat-cleared. Monster subjugation allowed.
Vanguard — inner-layer dungeon access with party.
Axiomant — solo dungeon authority.
Warden — city-sanctioned enforcement.
Mythbound — titles, not ranks. Legends.
"Everyone starts at Cinder," he said. "Power doesn't matter. Survival does."
Then he gestured to the crystal.
"Axiom assessment. Measures axiom output only. No tricks. No consequences."
My chest tightened the moment I stood before the crystal.
Up close, the Axiom pedestal was far more oppressive than it had looked from a distance. Veins of translucent mineral spiraled through it, faintly pulsing, like a dormant heart waiting to be touched. This wasn't a simple measuring tool—this was an institutional instrument. Calibrated. Standardized. Trusted.
Trusted enough to ruin lives.
I swallowed.
This is where it goes wrong, my mind whispered.
If the crystal reacted violently—If it detected the pure Axiom coursing through my body—If it screamed, overloaded, shattered—
The guild wouldn't ask questions.
They would detain first, dissect later.
And Yna—
My gaze flicked briefly to her.
She stood quietly behind me, calm, unreadable, hands folded as if this were nothing more than a formality. But that was precisely the problem. If I was a liability, then she was a catastrophe waiting to happen.
A goddess registering at an adventurer guild.
I clenched my jaw.
If this goes wrong… we run. Immediately.
I stepped forward.
My palm hovered over the crystal.
This thing can't see half of me.
At least, that's what I was gambling on.
I placed my hand down.
Cold.
The crystal responded instantly.
Runes flared to life, precise and controlled, tracing a familiar measurement lattice. Blue Axiom flowed—not violently, not erratically—but cleanly, obediently, like water poured into a mold.
No backlash.
No surge.
No alarms.
A number stabilized in the air.
56
I stared at it.
For half a heartbeat, my mind went blank.
The guild officer leaned closer, eyes narrowing in mild interest. Then he hummed.
"Average," he said. "A perfect half."
…A perfect half?
I pulled my hand away slowly, pulse roaring in my ears as I forced my face to remain neutral.
Inside, thoughts crashed together.
That's it?
No abnormal spike. No distortion. No indication of pure Axiom whatsoever.
Then—
It clicked.
The crystal didn't measure Axiom itself.
It measured impure Axiom.
Of course it did.
Pure Axiom wasn't meant to exist freely. It wasn't part of any natural circulation system. To the world's instruments, it was invisible—untouchable, undefined.
The dungeon had forced pure Axiom into me.
But my body—
My body still carried impure Axiom as its base.
Half and half.
56.
A laugh nearly escaped me.
That's why it feels "average."
Relief flooded through me, sharp enough to make my knees weak.
I exhaled quietly.
Good.
Too good.
Then Yna stepped forward.
My breath caught again.
She raised her hand and placed it against the crystal.
Nothing happened.
No glow.
No resonance.
For one terrifying moment, the crystal remained dead.
No—no, no—
If it couldn't read her at all, that alone would raise suspicion—
Then, slowly, reluctantly, the runes flickered to life.
Dim.
Weak.
A pale glow formed.
A number emerged.
20
The guild officer frowned, tapping the crystal lightly. "Low output," he muttered. Then nodded. "But stable."
I didn't breathe until he looked away.
So that's it…
Yna possessed mostly pure Axiom—divine by nature—but even she carried a thin layer of impure Axiom, just enough to anchor her existence to the world after the First Lie.
Enough to be measured.
Enough to pass.
Not a goddess.
Not a threat.
Just… weak.
In the system's eyes.
A shiver ran through me—not fear this time, but awe.
He handed us two metal plates, warm from recent forging. Our names etched cleanly.
"Cinder rank. Report kills, bounties, or contracts. Follow guild law."
We thanked him and exited.