I had just walked through the front door of my penthouse, completely drained and smelling faintly of smoke and charred werewolf, when the sharp ringtone of my smartphone shattered the quiet of the apartment. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. It was Stella.
"So, how did it go?" her sweet, bubbly voice chimed through the speaker.
"Crispy," I answered, tossing my keys onto the counter. "It went smoothly. I killed the entire pack, burned their compound to the ground, and now I know exactly which asshole paid them to try and end me."
"It's good nothing unexpected happened," she said, letting out a small sigh of relief. "Was it Luke?"
"No, surprisingly, it wasn't our favorite psychotic half-vampire. It was one of my lovely new family acquaintances," I replied, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. "Don't worry about it. Once I've settled the score with him, I'll give you all the juicy details."
"I see. Be careful, Samsara," she warned softly. "Speaking of cleaning up messes, the boss of Pixie & Associates wishes to meet you."
I paused, halfway to the fridge. "Clarice? Why?" I asked, genuinely surprised. I had just paid her an exorbitant seventy-grand fee two days ago. Was she trying to squeeze me for more cash?
"She didn't say. She just reached out through the underworld channels and said it was highly urgent."
"Fine. Give her my number and tell her to send me the meeting place and time," I sighed, grabbing a bottle of cold water.
"Will do," Stella said, her tone instantly shifting from serious informant back to seductive succubus. "So... when are you coming to see me again?"
I nearly choked on my water, my mind instantly flashing back to the soul-draining marathon in the VIP room.
"Cough, cough. As soon as I can," I replied awkwardly, my voice cracking slightly. "I need to make sure my mortal coil is fully recharged first."
"I can't wait," she purred mischievously before hanging up.
I stared at the phone with a wry smile. After the call, I drew a long, scalding hot bath to scrub away the grime, blood, and the nauseating scent of roasted flesh clinging to my skin. I then crashed into my massive bed and slept through the entire night like the dead.
I woke up the next morning feeling absolutely phenomenal. My glitchy immortal stamina meant that an intense, grueling workout was necessary just to burn off the excess energy. I went for a two-hour run through the city, took a quick shower, and ate a light breakfast.
Checking my phone, I saw a text from an unknown number. It was Clarice. She wanted to meet in one hour at her private residence. I was intensely curious—and mildly wary—about what a ridiculously powerful, thousands-of-years-old demigoddess could possibly want with me.
I grabbed my keys, hopped into my newly restored, jet-black sports car, and headed toward the Brook district. It was an incredibly upscale, highly exclusive neighborhood, which perfectly fit the profile of a supernatural monopoly boss. Since the traffic was unusually light, I arrived at the gated community in just thirteen minutes. After the heavily armed security guard meticulously checked my ID, he raised the barrier and let me in.
Clarice's house was situated at the very end of a winding, private road near the southern gate. It wasn't a towering gothic mansion like Atticus's, but rather a sprawling, beautiful modern estate surrounded by a vibrant, lush, magically flourishing garden.
As expected of a Fae, I thought, admiring the impossibly vibrant colors of the blooming flowers.
I stepped out of the car, walked up the cobblestone path, and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, the heavy oak door swung inward.
The person standing in front of me was dressed in a light, elegant purple sundress adorned with intricate floral patterns. She was a stunningly beautiful woman with delicate features, cascading hair, and sharp, intelligent eyes.
I stood there on the porch, completely speechless.
Now, you are probably thinking: Samsara, who else did you expect to see? You're here for a meeting with her. And you wouldn't be wrong. But the Clarice currently standing in front of me wasn't a thirty-centimeter-tall, fluttering pixie. Her present height was just a few inches short of reaching my own imposing 189-centimeter frame, meaning she was fully human-sized. Furthermore, her translucent, magical wings were absolutely nowhere to be seen.
My confusion was entirely justified.
"This is my second form. You should have learned about my dual nature by now, yes?" she said, observing the sheer bewilderment plastered across my flawless face.
Her tone was radically different from our first encounter. In her pixie form, she had been highly mischievous, greedy, and upbeat. In this human-sized form, she was incredibly stern, composed, and radiated an aura of ancient, untouchable authority.
"Oh... yes, I see. Please excuse my rudeness, Miss Clarice," I answered, quickly shaking the shock from my head.
"It's nothing. Come on in."
She turned and led me through the pristine hallway into a sunlit living room, gesturing for me to take a seat on a plush sofa. She gracefully poured me a cup of incredibly aromatic tea from a porcelain set. As I sipped the hot liquid, she sat across from me, staring at me with an intense, unblinking gaze that made the hairs on my arms stand up. If it had been before, I might have just thought she was being weird, but since Stella had explicitly warned me about her true nature and terrifying prowess, I knew she was absolutely not someone to be trifled with.
Finally, she placed her teacup down and broke the heavy silence.
"The reason I called for this urgent meeting is that I felt something which shouldn't exist in this city, or even in this world. And the source of it was you," she stated, her ancient eyes piercing directly into mine.
I set my cup down, genuinely puzzled. "I don't understand."
"A god's power," she clarified, her voice dropping to a serious whisper. "I should know, after all, my father is one himself. Even though it was an extremely weak vibration, it couldn't escape my notice. It appeared twice. Once two days ago in the middle of the city, and the other time was yesterday night in the forest located a few kilometers outside the city limits."
My heart skipped a beat. If I didn't know the exact power she was talking about by now, I would be a hopeless idiot. She was explicitly referring to my Willpower. The first time was when I disintegrated the patio furniture on my balcony, and the second time was when I mass-combusted the werewolf pack.
I was stunned. She had sensed it from miles away. As expected of a demigoddess, her sensory radius was monstrous.
But what I don't understand is... why is she calling it a 'god's power'?
"I see what you mean," I said carefully, maintaining my poker face. "But why are you calling it a god's power?"
"Because it is what it is. What else do you think it is?" she countered, tilting her head.
"Willpower," I answered bluntly.
"Hmm... it's not entirely wrong to call it that, either," Clarice conceded, crossing her legs. "It's true that a god's power is basically a supreme exercise of will. But no mere human, and certainly no ordinary supernatural, is able to manipulate their will into physically affecting reality, let alone possess a will strong enough to do so. The ability to mandate reality through sheer will is a strict prerogative of the divine."
"You mean to say that I shouldn't be able to use it?" I asked, my mind racing.
"Unless you are the direct offspring of a god, or a god yourself in hiding, then no. You shouldn't."
I stayed completely silent, absorbing the massive lore drop. So the Willpower I unlocked through my glitchy resurrection system is fundamentally the same energy used by literal deities?
"You need to understand that the reason gods are so incomprehensibly powerful is that they strengthen their divine will with the collective faith of their followers," she explained, her tone taking on a lecturing quality. "Their absolute immortality is also due to this same reason. Unless one slaughters all the followers of a god across all realms, and then kills the god, they will never truly die. At least, so the theory goes. Nobody has ever successfully tried it."
I see. So that's how it works for them, I thought. I only coincidentally gained this ability through my system's 'Death with benefits' loop, entirely bypassing the need for a religion.
"All I wanted was for you to realize the sheer danger you are in," Clarice warned, leaning forward. "You can never, ever let the gods learn of your existence, or else it will raise all kinds of complicated, highly lethal issues. This is a power belonging exclusively to their domain. To see it manifesting in a non-godly individual is deeply unsettling to the natural order and will cause an absolute uproar in the higher realms."
She sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "Well, you don't need to worry too much. You clearly aren't a god, so it's impossible for you to absorb faith and actively infringe on their territory. You are also incredibly lucky that most of the gods on this plane have completely abandoned this world, except for a few lingering deities in the Faerie Realm. You should absolutely never set foot there."
I probably shouldn't tell her that I can effortlessly improve this 'divine' power just by getting myself killed, I thought wryly, keeping that highly confidential detail locked tight in my brain.
"Why did you tell me all this?" I asked curiously. She was a demigoddess. At least half of her belonged to the very race she was warning me against. Why would she actively help me hide instead of atomizing me on the spot for blasphemy?
"It's simple," she said calmly, picking up her teacup as if discussing the weather. "I hate gods."
"Why?"
"Let's just say I have my reasons." The cold, absolute finality in her eyes made it glaringly clear she wouldn't elaborate further.
"So, you can use this power too?" I asked.
"Yes, somewhat. But I am nowhere near the level of true gods, as I absolutely refuse to gather followers."
As she said this, the pieces finally clicked together in my head. Was that the true reason an ancient, powerful demigoddess was running a glorified mafia cleanup business? She was laying low, blending into the gritty supernatural underworld to actively avoid the divine politics of the higher realms.
"Let me see the current level of your power," she demanded suddenly.
I simply nodded. I focused my mind, pointing a single finger toward my empty porcelain teacup resting on the glass table. With a sharp flick of my Will, the cup rose smoothly, levitating in mid-air between us.
Clarice looked at it, and then she slowly closed her eyes.
Instantly, a formless, invisible, and overwhelmingly massive power spread from her body and reached out toward the floating cup. I immediately felt her 'divine power' envelop mine. The difference in scale was terrifying. It felt exactly like I was a small, fragile wooden rowboat suddenly tossed into the middle of a vast, raging ocean.
The oppressive pressure lasted for a few tense minutes before she gracefully retracted her aura. She opened her eyes, a look of genuine surprise crossing her beautiful features.
"It's quite decent," she admitted, sounding impressed. "I genuinely thought it would be significantly weaker than that."
I gently lowered the cup back onto the table, releasing my grip. "Can you teach me how to use it? Or perhaps a specific technique to better control and refine it?"
"There is no need for a control method, or anything structured like martial arts," she shook her head, a distant look entering her eyes. "The absolute only limits are the sheer depth of your power and your imagination. Only you can refine its use. There is no guidance to be given by anyone else. It is entirely unique to your mind."
So I just need a powerful will and a creative imagination. Well, considering I was a full-on otaku, I definitely have the latter covered. But then, a highly practical question arose.
"Wait. Is there a way to actually strengthen this Will without needing to absorb faith like the gods do?" I asked. I mean, I couldn't always rely on getting brutally murdered to trigger a system upgrade. And as she had explicitly stated, I couldn't absorb faith.
She didn't answer immediately, taking a slow, thoughtful sip of her tea.
"There are two ways," she finally said. "First, you need to find 'Objects of Will' and absorb the residual willpower locked inside them. Generally, they are ancient, historical relics with a particular, heavy significance, or the deeply cherished belongings of highly prestigious, world-changing historical figures. These items absorb the concentrated will of humanity over centuries."
She placed her cup down, her gaze turning serious. "There is also a second way. You need to actively challenge highly dangerous, life-and-death situations to manually temper your will against the crushing weight of mortality."
I sat there, warring between excitement and mild depression. On one hand, I had concrete methods for leveling up my new, reality-breaking attribute. On the other hand, it required me to either become a supernatural Indiana Jones searching for extremely rare, mythic relics, or deliberately throw myself into lethal danger—which, ironically, I was already doing on a weekly basis.
"Thanks for the advice," I said gratefully. If she hadn't explicitly warned me, I would have had absolutely no idea about the massive, divine target I was painting on my back every time I used it.
"I don't know exactly what you are, Samsara, or the deep secrets you are hiding," Clarice said, offering a faint, mysterious smile. "But I have the distinct intuition that helping you will be highly beneficial for my own future endeavors."
"I see. Much thanks nonetheless. I'll take care."
"I hope to meet you in good health the next time as well. Go. You must have things to do."
I nodded respectfully, stood up from the plush sofa, and let myself out of the beautiful estate.
Driving my sports car back home through the upscale streets of the Brook district, I was entirely lost in thought, dissecting the massive influx of information and the potential, godly trouble heading my way.
At least there is a silver lining—the gods have apparently left this world, I mused, tapping the steering wheel. I wonder why, though? With the mundane human population sitting at a staggering ten billion individuals, compared to ancient times, this world is a veritable all-you-can-eat buffet of faith. Why abandon it?
Clarice had seemed entirely unwilling to answer those core, cosmic questions despite her blatant hatred of deities, so I would just have to figure it out myself.
Well, first things first, I thought, a determined smirk crossing my face as I merged onto the highway. How the hell do I find these 'Objects of Will'?