The God Realm. The place where the Gods lived. Each God has created his or her own Divine Realm, and the unification of these realms gave birth to the God Realm. The Divine Realm was originally the personal territory and topographical expression of a deity. It served as the deity's work-space, residence, or retreat. The realm was so completely attuned to the creating god that its state could serve as a mirror for the deity. However, even if the Divine Realms have merged into the God Realm, that doesn’t mean that Gods do not have their personal space anymore. A place where other Gods wouldn’t bother them.
High above the mortal world of Magnolia, in the ethereal expanse of the God Realm, Lady Iseria, Mistress of Heaven and Thunder, gazed into a shimmering crystal ball. Her Divine Realm—a vast temple of marble and storm clouds, crackling with faint arcs of lightning—reflected her troubled mood. She was angry to the point that sparks emanated from her body. Iseria’s realm pulsed with restless energy, its skies darkening as she watched a mortal teeter on the edge of death.
She took a deep breath to calm down.
“Darn it,” she muttered, her voice echoing through the temple. “To think someone used the skill I created in such a manner…”
One of the most respected gods in the God Realm, Iseria’s troubled expression stemmed from the mortal Magnus Rodenburg. His reckless use of her Experience Boost skill had pushed his body to the brink of destruction. She leaned closer to the crystal ball, her crimson eyes narrowing. “For something like this to happen… I must step in. I can’t let him die!”
My mind was a haze, the memory of searing pain lingering like a phantom. I’d released my Experience Boost skill, and then… agony had consumed me. As my senses returned, I found myself sprawled on a cool marble floor, surrounded by towering columns wreathed in lush vines. Sunlight streamed through arched windows, casting golden patterns that reminded me of ancient Greek temples I’d seen in online photos back in Japan. Was this a dream? Or had I died again?
“So, you have awakened.”
A voice, commanding yet melodic, cut through my thoughts. I turned to see a woman seated on an ornate throne-like chair, her presence both regal and striking. She was well-built, with a feminine grace that captivated me for a moment—her flowing black hair and storm-topaz eyes seemed to hum with power. My heart skipped. Was this… a goddess?
“How long are you going to lie there? Stand before me,” she said, her tone sharp but tinged with a warmth that felt oddly human.
Compelled by her voice, I scrambled to my feet, brushing off my tattered clothes. My body felt strange, heavier, as if something within me had shifted. I stood straight, meeting her gaze, though a flicker of doubt gnawed at me—was this real, or another cruel trick of fate?
“I know you’re confused, mortal, but bear with me,” she said, rising from her chair with a grace that made the air hum. “I am Iseria, Mistress of Heaven and Thunder.”
Iseria? A goddess? My mind reeled, memories of Japanese light novels flashing through my head—gods and goddesses were staples of isekai stories, but standing before one was surreal. Part of me wanted to pinch myself, to see if I’d wake up in that dark alley in Magnolia. But her presence was undeniable, like a storm barely contained. Still, her beauty was disarming, and I couldn’t help but feel a spark of gratitude amidst my confusion. Better a goddess than some muscle-bound deity, I supposed.
“I am…” I started, my voice hoarse.
“I know who you are, Magnus Rodenburg, once Murakami Yamada,” Iseria interrupted, her eyes piercing. “We have matters to discuss.”
She knew my past life? My stomach churned. “Are you the goddess who granted my wish for a new life?”
She scoffed, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “Don’t be absurd. Summoning otherworlders is not my domain. Some idle god likely did it on a whim—many do when boredom strikes. But I’m not one of them.”
Her words sank in, and a chill crept up my spine. “Wait… if I’m here, in front of you… did I die?”
“You came close,” Iseria said, her tone softening slightly. “But not yet. Your unique skill, Experience Boost, which I crafted, has caused this mess. I made it on a whim, never imagining someone would leave it active for six years.”
The pain. I remembered it now—lightning coursing through me, my body breaking under the weight of power. “That agony… it was because of the skill?”
“Precisely,” she said, her voice firm yet tinged with exasperation. “You were set to receive over one billion experience points as interest. But your mortal body can’t withstand such rapid evolution. That pain was your form tearing itself apart, unable to contain the power.”
I swallowed hard, my legs trembling. “Then…”
“Do not interrupt,” Iseria snapped, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. “No skill crafted by a god should kill a mortal. If word spread that my creation caused your death, I’d be mocked across the God Realm. A low-level skill, no less! Unacceptable.”
“So… you’ll save my life?” I asked, hope flickering despite the betrayal still raw in my chest.
She shook her head, silver hair swaying. “I cannot interfere directly—that’s beyond my authority. You must save yourself. I’ve halted the experience transfer for one week by divine decree. If you fail to stabilize your body by then, you will die. And by that time, I’ll rewrite the skill to ensure no one learns of this blunder.”
One week. My heart sank, but her words echoed the loneliness of my past life in Japan—always fighting to survive, always alone. “How am I supposed to save myself?”
“The Farche Dungeon,” Iseria said, her voice steady. “Once the lair of the Undead King, now dead. He left treasures behind, including one you need.”
Farche Dungeon. Even Crimson Raid, at its peak, couldn’t conquer it. Its danger level was legendary, a maze of traps and monsters. “That sounds like you’re sending me to my death.”
Iseria’s eyes flashed with irritation, but a hint of amusement curled her lips. “If you prefer to rot in hell, I won't stop you. But listen. The dungeon’s boss is gone. Its treasure room lies there for taking, assuming you reach it. You’ve charted dungeons before—your maps saved Crimson Raid from countless traps, didn’t they? I’ve studied you, Magnus. Your knowledge and cunning can navigate the dungeon without facing a single monster.”
I blinked, a memory surfacing: late nights sketching maps for Julius, guiding our party through a labyrinth’s twists while they fought. I’d memorized every trap, every turn. Maybe… maybe I could do this. Still... My odds will still be 50/50 at best.
“What treasure?”
“A Dragon Heart,” Iseria said, her voice lowering with reverence. “A legendary relic, rare as a star’s fall. Implant it into your body, and it will reshape you, allowing you to withstand the experience surge and evolve into something stronger.”
A Dragon Heart. Whispers of such items had reached my ears in Magnolia, artifacts of untold power. Evolve… Did she mean I’d become something more than human? The thought sent a shiver through me, both thrilling and terrifying. I thought of the betrayal—Julius’s cold dismissal, the guild’s scorn, my father’s letter. The pain still burned, but I refused to let it end me. I hadn’t lived the life I wanted, not in Japan, not in Magnolia. I wouldn’t die now.
“Alright,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear. “Please guide me. I want to live.”
Iseria’s lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes softening. “That’s the spirit.”
“And… thank you,” I added, the words spilling out. “I never thought a goddess—someone as radiant as you—would care when everyone else abandoned me.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze, flustered. “D-don’t speak to a goddess so boldly! I’m not doing this for you, but to protect my reputation. Calling me radiant… I’ll overlook your insolence this once.”
Was she… blushing? A tsundere goddess? I stifled a chuckle, the light novel tropes of my past life dancing in my mind. But I focused, listening as she explained the dungeon’s layout, its hidden paths, and strategies to avoid its dangers. The odds were daunting. But doing nothing meant death. I’d spent years pouring my skills into Crimson Raid, only to be discarded. Now, I’d use that knowledge to defy fate. One week wasn’t long, but I’d make it enough. I’d carve my own path, no matter what it took.