"What if I have a better idea?"
Azravel didn't move, but her attention sharpened slightly.
"What idea?"
Eitan didn't answer immediately. He looked at her for a moment, like he was weighing how to approach it, then said,
"First, let me ask you something. If you go the usual way—conquest, expansion, all of that—how long would it take to take control of a planet?"
She answered without hesitation.
"On a mortal planet, twenty to thirty years."
Eitan caught the word instantly.
"Mortal planet?"
Azravel watched him, already knowing where his thoughts were going.
"A world where there individual ascension isnt possible," she said.
Eitan's slightly felt down thinking about this.
"So there are worlds where people can actually become stronger."
"Yes."
"How?"
"There are many paths," she said. "Cultivation. Magic. Genetic development. And others beyond your current understanding."
For a brief second, something excitement flickered through his face.
"Then can I try it?" he asked.
Azravel didn't even pause this time.
"No."
Eitan frowned. "That fast?"
"It is not possible on this plane,but u don't need to worry about that you can become stronger by becoming my herald."
"Is that so but what about my family."he asks
Azravel looks toward him and wait for few seconds then replies "they can also become strong if i use origin power, so if you want to make your family become stronger with you,then help me expand my influence."
Eitan couldn't help but get happy after hearing this "So humans can also use origin power." he asks
"They can if they have origin energy and because they can't gather origin energy that means they can't use it . This is a paradox.
Eitan didn't look away from her.
"What if I can help you conquer more planets at the same time?" he said. "Faster too. Not just mortal ones—superpowered ones as well."
A faint pause.
Then he added, quieter, but sharper, "What do I get in return?"
Azravel's lips curved slightly.
"Careful," she said. "You're starting to sound like you believe you're a mastemind."
"I asked a question."
She watched him for a moment, then said, almost amused, "If you can provide something worth calling a plan, I can make your family stronger along with you."
Eitan didn't react much to that. Not outwardly.
"We'll talk about rewards later," he said. "I need answers first."
Her gaze narrowed a fraction.
"Go on."
"Is a Herald necessary on every planet for conquest?"
For a second, Azravel just looked at him.
Then she let out a mocking laugh.
"So," she said, "your grand idea is to build an army."
Eitan didn't interrupt.
"That is how it has always been done," she continued. "I don't see anything impressive in it yet."
"Answer the question."
Her eyes flickered.
"Yes," she said. "It is possible to expand influence without a Herald being physically present on every world."
Eitan leaned forward slightly.
"But?" he said.
"But it requires structure," she replied. "A Herald may choose others to act in his place. Representatives. Subordinates. Layers of command."
She paused, then added, "Think of your world. A general does not fight every battle. Orders pass downward. Authority flows through those beneath him."
Eitan's eyes sharpened.
"So it's possible."
"Yes."
Eitan didn't rush it.
He let the idea sit between them for a moment before saying,
"What if I can help you conquer faster than armies?"
Azravel's eyes didn't change, but something in her attention did.
"Then," she said, almost lazily, "why don't you explain your so-called plan?"
"I will," Eitan replied. "But first, we talk about rewards."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And you think you're in a position to negotiate?"
"I think if my idea works, I am."
A brief pause.
Then he added, almost casually, "Just so you know—it'll also need some investment first."
"What do you want?" she asked.
Eitan didn't hesitate this time.
"Origin Essence."
Silence.
"I want a split," he continued. "Seventy–thirty. For everything gained through my method."
Azravel stared at him.
Then she laughed.
It wasn't loud, but it carried weight.
"You are greedy," she said. "You reach for power before you even understand its scale, and now you ask for thirty percent of Origin Essence."
Eitan shook his head slightly.
"No," he said.
That made her pause.
"Then what?"
"It's seventy–thirty," he repeated. "Seventy for me. Thirty for you."
For the first time since they met, her laughter came without restraint.
It echoed across the empty black sea, sharp and cold.
"Greedy mortals," she said. "Give them an inch, and they take far more than they're worth."
Eitan didn't react to her laughter.
"Tell me something," he said instead. "Do you have enough Origin Essence right now to build an army?"
Azravel's expression didn't change.
"No."
"Then your plan is to start small," he continued. "Conquer mortal planets first, gather enough, then build an army later."
"Yes."
"And how long does that take?" he asked. "A hundred years? Two hundred? More?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Eitan watched her for a second, then said, "My way doesn't take that long."
Her gaze shifted back to him.
"How long?"
"Two to three months," he said.
That made her laugh again.
Not amused this time—dismissive.
"You speak as if you understand what you're proposing."
"I understand enough."
"No," she said. "You don't."
Eitan didn't interrupt.
"You're thinking of using power directly in a mortal realm," she continued. "Origin Essence. Influence. Forcing control quickly."
Her eyes stayed on him.
"That will not work."
"Why?"
"Because every world has its own will," she said. "You cannot impose higher power onto it without adapting first. Without becoming part of its system, its structure will reject you."
Eitan frowned slightly.
Azravel went on.
"That is why I can strengthen your family," she said. "They are natives of this world. They belong to it. Power can settle into them."
"That's not what I'm thinking," he said. "Forget that for a second."
Azravel watched him, waiting.
"If my plan actually works," he continued, "will you agree to the split?"
Her lips curved again.
"If your plan works," she said, almost amused, "I can give you thirty percent."
Eitan didn't even pause.
"No."
That made her raise an eyebrow.
"No?" she repeated.
"I want more."
Her expression cooled a little.
"Do not bite more than you can chew, mortal."
He let out a short breath, then lifted his hands slightly. "Alright, alright. Not yours, not mine—let's meet in the middle."
She said nothing.
"Fifty-one," he said. "Mine. Forty-nine yours."
Azravel looked at him for a second.
"Why not equal?"
Eitan shrugged lightly. "I don't know. I just want the bigger share."
A small, careless grin slipped through.
Azravel watched him like she was deciding whether to laugh again or end the conversation entirely.
Then—
"Fine," she said.
The word landed clean.
"I will agree to your terms."
Eitan's grin didn't widen. If anything, he grew a little more serious.
"But," she added, and this time there was no trace of humor left, "if your plan is worthless, you gain nothing."
"And you will accept the contract immediately," she continued. "No more questions. No more conditions."
Eitan didn't drag it out this time.
"Alright. Here's my plan."
Azravel watched him, silent.
"We select humans from Earth," he said. "The ones who die accidentally. The kind whose deaths don't disturb anything here."
She didn't interrupt.
"Then we send them to other mortal worlds," he continued. "We let them transmigrate."
A brief pause.
"And we give them a system."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"A system that helps them grow. Gives them rewards. Pushes them to expand influence," he said. "The more they expand… the more we gain."
Silence.
Then Azravel spoke.
"…It is doable."
That alone made him look up.
"And it is a good plan," she added.
"But it will cost too much at the beginning."
"I know," he said. "That's why I said it needs investment first."
Azravel's gaze stayed on him.
"I do not have that much Origin Essence left," she said. "I have already used most of it."
Eitan nodded once.
"How much would we need?" he asked. "And what if you use my influence on this planet to gather more?"
"It would not be enough," she said.
"How much, then?"
"For your plan to function," she replied, "we would require a minimum of one hundred units of Origin Essence."
Eitan paused.
"Units?"
"You canot measure it, you know instinctively that it is an unit " she said.
Before he could ask further, something shifted.
A faint shape formed between them—not solid, not fully visible, but clear enough that he could understand it. A fragment of something dense, contained, controlled.
"This," she said, "is one unit."
He studied it for a second, committing it to memory.
Then it vanished.
"How much do you have left?" he asked.
"Twenty-eight point four two units."
"And if you use my influence here?"
"Approximately thirty-one to thirty-two units in total."
Eitan did the math without thinking.
He let out a slow breath.
"…We're short by forty."
Eitan didn't answer immediately.
He looked down at the black surface beneath his feet, thinking it through. The numbers sat in his head—twenty-eight, thirty-one… still not enough. Not even close.
Forty units short.
For a moment, it felt like the plan ended there.
Then something clicked.
He looked up again.
"I might have an idea."
Azravel watched him carefully this time.
"What idea?"
"What if we don't rely on just my influence?" he said. "What if we use the influence of every elite on this planet?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"And how do you intend to use their influence?"
Eitan didn't hesitate.
"You already said it," he replied. "We don't need a Herald everywhere. A Herald can choose people to act on his behalf. Like a chain of command."
He took a step closer.
"We make them our subordinates."
Azravel's expression didn't change, but her voice cooled slightly.
"And why would they agree to that?"
Eitan almost smiled.
"What do you think people like my grandfather value the most?"
She didn't answer.
"Money?" he said. "They already have more than they can spend."
"Power?" he continued. "They already control enough."
He paused for a second.
"What they really want… is time."
That made her attention sharpen.
"Health," he said. "Lifespan. Staying at the top without losing everything to age."
He held her gaze.
"And what if we can offer that?"
The silence between them shifted.
"We can do that with Origin Essence, right?"
Azravel didn't answer immediately.
"…Yes."
That was enough.
Eitan nodded once, like he had expected it.
"Then that's our entry point," he said. "We don't force them. We don't conquer them. We give them something they can't refuse."
Azravel's gaze stayed fixed on him.
"And how much would that cost?" he asked.
"A negligible amount," she said after a moment. "Point one unit. Possibly less."
Eitan let out a quiet breath.
"…Then it's doable."
He looked at her again, more certain now.
"We can try this."
Another pause.
Then he added, a faint edge returning to his voice,
"So… what do you think about the split now."
Azravel watched him for a while.
Not dismissing him this time.
Not mocking either.
Just… thinking.
Then she said, "Alright I agree," she continued. "We will proceed with your plan."
That landed heavier than he expected.
"First, we form the contract," she said. "After that, we prepare for our plan."
Eitan nodded once. "Fine."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "But don't write 'Herald' in it."
Azravel looked at him.
"Use 'partner' instead."
A small smile slipped through before he could stop it. "Sounds better."
For a second, she just stared at him.
Then—
she chuckled.
It wasn't loud, and it didn't last long, but it was the first time it sounded… genuine.
"Very well," she said. "Partner."
The black space between them shifted.
A faint structure began to form—lines, symbols, something that didn't belong to his world but still made sense when he looked at it.
A contract.
It wasn't power, not immediately. Not something he could use or measure. It felt closer to alignment. Like two separate directions had just been forced into the same path.
He pulled his hand back slowly.
The contract dissolved.
Silence returned.
Eitan stood there for a second, letting the feeling settle.
"…That's new," he said.
Azravel didn't deny it.
"We are bound now," she said.
"So," he said, "where do we start?"