Caelum had just begun preparing to return to his divine domain when another knock sounded at the door.
His stomach tightened.
’Mira, back for round two? Or did Solaris come up with another complication already?’
He opened the door.
A familiar face stood on the other side, accompanied by a small spherical drone hovering at shoulder height.
The man was Corwin Blake, one of the more recognizable students at Elysian Academy.
"Eccentric" was the polite word people used for him.
After awakening his divine domain, Corwin had abandoned the traditional path almost immediately. He’d married a stranger during the Academy’s infamous husband-catching event, walked away with a dowry worth several million credits, and then handed most of the serious work, cultivating his retinue and developing his domain, over to his wife’s family.
He’d chosen a different career instead.
Content creation.
Being a literal deity who could show off his divine realm to an audience turned out to be an excellent business model. Add good looks, easy charisma, a talent for entertaining people, and the occasional manufactured scandal, and Corwin had somehow become one of the academy’s highest-earning streamers.
The two had never actually spoken.
Which made his appearance now, immediately after Caelum’s very public downfall, rather interesting.
"Can I help you with something?" Caelum asked.
Corwin studied him for several seconds.
He’d expected to find a broken man.
Instead, Caelum looked strangely calm.
There was no trace of the arrogance he’d once carried, but neither was there the hollow despair Corwin had expected. He looked contained.
Like a blade still resting inside its sheath.
Corwin glanced past him into the villa.
"Aren’t you going to invite me in?"
There was no mockery in the question.
Caelum considered him for a moment before stepping aside.
"Come in."
They settled beside the courtyard pond, taking the two seats arranged along its edge.
Caelum poured tea for both of them.
Then his gaze shifted toward the drone hovering behind Corwin.
"State your business."
Corwin followed his gaze, smiled faintly, and powered the drone down.
Only then did he take a slow sip of tea.
"What are your plans from here?"
’Why does he care?’
Caelum kept his expression relaxed.
"My path to godhood is finished. I’ll return to an ordinary life. Find a job, earn enough to live comfortably, and move on."
"You don’t look like someone whose edge has been broken."
Corwin’s eyes remained fixed on him despite the casual tone.
"You look more like a blade that’s still in its sheath. Someone who’s genuinely accepted an ordinary life doesn’t carry himself like that."
Caelum didn’t blink.
He had no idea what Corwin actually wanted.
That meant there was no reason to give him anything.
He sighed quietly.
"My domain is destroyed. My retinue is extinct. Even if I wanted to fight my way back, I have nothing left to fight with."
Corwin watched him carefully.
Nothing.
No hesitation. No nervous movement. No crack in the composure.
If anything, the absence of those things confirmed his suspicion.
This wasn’t the expression of a man who had given up.
It was the expression of someone hiding his cards.
Corwin decided not to push.
Time to show his own.
"I’m here to help."
Caelum’s eyes sharpened slightly.
"Whatever you need right now, name it."
"Help?"
For the first time, Caelum looked genuinely interested.
He leaned back slightly, studying the man across from him.
"Aren’t you worried that kind of help will disappear into the ocean? No return at all?"
Corwin laughed.
There was something calculating behind his easy smile.
"The only reason I can even approach someone like you is because you’ve fallen."
He shrugged.
"If you were still where you were a week ago, I wouldn’t have a chance. You’d be a sun, and I’d be standing in your shadow. You wouldn’t even notice me."
He took another sip.
"We’re both deities on paper, but combat and support deities live in completely different worlds. And I’ve already built myself a reputation as the academy’s resident weirdo. Combat deities look at me and see an entertainer, not a potential partner."
He leaned forward slightly.
"As for your ocean comment, every investment carries risk. I’ve already accepted that I might lose everything I put into you."
His smile faded.
"But if it works? If I actually build a connection with someone with your potential?"
His eyes gleamed.
"That’s not a small return."
The difference between combat and support deities was enormous.
Combat deities formed the backbone of divine warfare. They cultivated armies, trained soldiers, expanded territory, and personally took the field when battles demanded it.
What they lacked was infrastructure.
Supplies.
Logistics.
Healing.
Sustainment.
That was where support deities came in.
A good support deity could keep an army supplied, heal the wounded, reinforce allied forces, and maintain the infrastructure necessary for prolonged warfare. Even if the combat deity they supported fell, a support deity could often retreat with their own divine realm intact.
The problem was that talented combat deities wanted talented support deities beside them.
Nobody wanted to invest in mediocrity.
Those who failed to attract a powerful partner were often left without institutional backing, slowly falling behind until their divine paths collapsed altogether.
"Interesting."
Caelum’s interest was genuine now.
As for whether Corwin was setting some elaborate trap, he wasn’t particularly concerned.
His downfall was public knowledge.
Nobody needed an elaborate scheme to take advantage of a man everyone already believed was finished.
"I’m going to be honest with you," Corwin said. "I’ve been sitting on a ridiculous amount of money for years."
Caelum raised an eyebrow.
"Streaming, videos, the marriage, the dowry. I’ve made good money since becoming a deity."
He tapped a finger against his cup.
"But I haven’t spent any of it."
"Not one credit."
He smiled proudly.
"I don’t have many talents worth mentioning. But I am rich."
That much was true.
Every G-Credit Corwin had earned from exploiting his novelty as a deity-turned-influencer had gone directly into savings.
He’d never needed the money badly enough to touch it.
Until now.
"Solaris came here earlier."
A faint, unreadable smile crossed Caelum’s face.
"You know that already, I assume."
"I know."
"They came to collect a debt."
Caelum paused.
"Do you know how much?"
Corwin’s expression changed slightly.
"How much?"
"One hundred and twenty million."
Corwin froze.
"...How much?"
He shot to his feet so quickly that tea nearly spilled over the edge of his cup.
For several seconds, he simply stared at Caelum.
Waiting for the punchline.
There wasn’t one.
Caelum’s expression remained perfectly calm.
Corwin slowly sat back down.
He stared into his cup, then drained the remaining tea in a single motion.
The gesture would have looked more appropriate with liquor.
"A hundred and twenty million."
He placed the empty cup down.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Caelum calmly sipped his own tea.
This was a test.
Whatever Corwin decided wouldn’t change his own plans. A yes would simply make things easier.
"You can still walk away," Caelum said. "Leave now, and we’ll forget this conversation ever happened."
Silence settled over the courtyard.
The bamboo rustled softly in the breeze.
Finally, Corwin placed his cup down with a heavy thud.
His face was pale.
His expression looked somewhere between physical pain and grim determination.
"A hundred and twenty million."
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine."
His gaze lifted.
"I’ll take it on."
Caelum said nothing.
"I spent ten years scraping together ten million credits."
Corwin rubbed his face.
"Ten years. A hundred and twenty million is basically another decade of my life."
He pointed at Caelum.
"You’d better pull this off. Because if you die on me, I’m personally burning ceremonial paper in your name."
Caelum’s lips twitched.
Corwin shook his head.
"Everyone calls me the eccentric one around here."
He looked genuinely impressed now.
"But you’re the real eccentric."
He held up a finger.
"Half a semester."
Another finger.
"A hundred and twenty million G-Credits."
He stared at Caelum as if trying to understand what kind of person could accomplish that.
"Most combat deities in our year haven’t even spent five million."
A flicker of surprise crossed Caelum’s face.
He reassessed Corwin.
Quickly.
And with growing respect.
He didn’t bother correcting the figure.
In reality, only around sixty million credits had ever reached his hands. The rest had disappeared into Solaris’s fees, deductions, and various conveniently named adjustments before he ever saw them.
Most of that sixty million had gone toward sustaining his retinue and acquiring the materials required for the Bloodline Ascension Technique.
None of it had been wasted.
It simply hadn’t been enough.
Not for what had happened afterward.
Caelum rose from his seat and crossed the short distance between them.
He placed a hand on Corwin’s shoulder and smiled.
"Relax."
Corwin looked up.
"You’re not paying back the hundred and twenty million."
A pause.
"That debt is mine."
Corwin blinked.
For the first time since he’d arrived, he genuinely looked caught off guard.
"My accounts are frozen right now," Caelum continued. "They’re locked until the dispute with Solaris is resolved."
He glanced toward the courtyard.
"I need to rebuild my retinue immediately. That requires capital."
His smile faded slightly.
"If you’re willing to provide it, you’ve saved me a considerable amount of trouble. I’d rather spend my time rebuilding than waste it fighting Solaris over every credit while my domain continues to collapse."
Something cold and focused settled into his eyes.
"As for Solaris..."
Caelum paused.
"I have a plan for them."
Corwin’s expression eased slightly.
Then Caelum continued.
"But first, I need you to do something for me."
The relief that had just begun settling over Corwin’s face vanished.
His stomach dropped all over again.
"...What kind of something?"