The first spell was simple in concept and brutal in effect: a massive fireball, roughly two meters across, launched straight at the target. On impact it detonated in an explosive radius of about ten meters. At Xien's current level of power, it could reduce same-tier monsters to ash in an instant—finally patching, at least in part, his glaring weakness in wide-area damage.
The second spell was pure control. Hardened vegetation burst from the ground, wrapping and pinning down anyone Xien designated as an enemy.
He tested it.
The binding strength was no joke. Against weaker targets—upper-floor monsters, for example—it could quite literally twist them to death on the spot.
Fire and nature were covered.
Space, of course, couldn't be neglected.
But reality was cruel: space-element magic was as strong as the legends claimed, and its learning curve was just as monstrous. Several times harder than other magic of the same tier—sometimes tens of times harder.
He wanted a short-range teleport—something like a flash-step through space.
Unfortunately, even with the system's support, time wasn't enough. It felt like tackling an advanced mathematical proof: no matter how clever you were, you still had to grind through the logic. His progress hovered around twenty percent.
Another difference stood out as well.
Unlike the skills Xien already had, these newly learned spells required chanting.
The "orange cat" had adjusted the incantations according to this world's elemental-calling rules, ensuring the local elements would actually respond to Xien's voice.
The chants weren't long—just three lines each.
But at Xien's current proficiency, he needed about five seconds of chanting to cast.
For someone who had barely experienced cast times before, it was novel… and then immediately infuriating.
Too slow.
Too easy to interrupt.
In real combat, it was basically useless.
Forget human opponents—if a monster rushed him while he was chanting and nobody covered him, he'd be a stationary target waiting to die.
So he needed a solution.
Orario's combat mages had already demonstrated the best answers:
Dodge while casting.
Shorten the chant.
Or cast while fighting in melee.
The strongest mages in the city generally mastered all three—his own mentor being the perfect example.
So if he wanted to shorten incantations and truly integrate magic into combat, he had to work harder. At minimum, he needed to learn techniques like battle-casting and high-speed chanting—and that was something his mentor could teach him.
No need to waste intervention points on it yet.
Beyond magic, his parameters and martial skill also rose sharply through that "staring death in the face" style of instruction. In terms of results, the special training had been an enormous gain—
…if you ignored how much blood and sweat it cost everyone.
A Few Days Later
Everyone finally started to crawl out from the despair of those days.
Something unintentionally hilarious happened in the meantime: routine patrols—normally dull and thankless—suddenly became the hottest assignment in the familia. Because patrols let people spread their attention out, they felt like a vacation compared to the Level 7 death-grind.
People actually fought over patrol shifts.
Alise could only laugh in disbelief and shut the whole farce down as captain.
None of that mattered to Xien.
What shocked everyone was that he didn't do what they did—he didn't try to find time to relax.
His stamina and energy were simply too abundant for him to sit still. Every day, he poured himself back into fundamentals—sorting what he'd learned, refining what he'd gained, forcing his body and mind to remain sharp.
While he was training, Lady Astraea came to find him.
This time, she came for one reason:
the Denatus—the gods' gathering held once every three months, where they exchanged information and opinions.
It was also the meeting where adventurers who had leveled up received their titles, and where city-scale plans were discussed.
Yes.
Since Xien had reached Level 2, Orario's customary naming was due.
He'd become famous as the fastest Level 2 in the city's history, easing some of Orario's unrest. And the free clinic he ran had earned the familia an overwhelming surge of goodwill.
But because Xien spent nearly all his time training outside his clinic hours, countless people came to Astraea herself—wealthy outsiders and powerful patrons alike—offering absurd sums for a chance at Xien's healing.
Many of them weren't even citizens of Orario. They'd simply heard the rumors, gathered their money, and rushed in, hoping to buy a cure.
Astraea intended to discuss that with Xien later and hear his wishes.
But first, the Denatus.
Seeing how hard he worked, Astraea also wanted to secure him a title that would truly suit him. She came specifically to ask if he had a preference—something he wanted to be called.
"So," she asked with bright expectation, "any ideas?"
Xien looked… strangely indifferent.
"I don't know why," he admitted, "but giving myself a nickname feels unbearably embarrassing."
"No," Astraea said firmly. "You have to pick one. Alise and the others have wonderful titles, and I refuse to let you end up with something ridiculous."
She clenched a fist, her excitement wildly out of sync with her usual gentle composure.
"This is the one hobby all gods share," she added, almost proudly. "Even I'm not immune. If you don't choose, you might get stuck with a title so absurd you'll regret it forever."
Xien sighed.
"All right. Then… 'Wayfarer of Abundance.'"
He couldn't come up with anything better on the spot. And honestly, it fit well enough.
Astraea tilted her head.
"That's… unusual. Does it connect to your magic?"
She remembered his ability had been reclassified as something like "Touch of Abundance." Was it linked?
Xien answered with a single sentence—one that captured his current state perfectly.
"A living soul who walks the path of abundance, spreading the law of life with a compassionate heart."
Astraea's eyes widened slightly.
"I see… So your power isn't just power. It's a path. A vocation."
Not merely an ability that granted strength—but something that demanded the bearer live by a certain ideal.
"That's right," Xien said softly. "After what happened last time, I've taken my first real steps onto that path."
"To bring warmth of life to the world… that's the beginning of why I walk it."
His intention shaped his power. Because he wanted to save, his life-force leaned toward healing and support rather than killing.
"Wayfarer of Abundance…" Astraea murmured, visibly intrigued.
Then she smiled with bright confidence.
"Leave it to me. By the name of the goddess of justice, I'll make it happen."
"Thank you, Lady Astraea."
Xien smiled—sweet, effortless.
It was enough to melt her on the spot.
Without thinking, she hugged him.
"Mmm. Xien is adorable."
And with that, she left—carrying his expectation with her.
Denatus Hall
Astraea arrived in formal attire.
Among a gathering of gods only, she quickly encountered familiar faces.
"Oi, Astraea, you actually showed up."
A mischievous voice—light, teasing, a little too sharp—called out to her.
"And if you're here, that means the rumor's true, right? That kid of yours leveled up?"
It was Loki: the ever-smirking, troublemaking goddess with a mind like a razor.
"Loki," Astraea greeted warmly. "It's been a while. Have you been well?"
"Sure, sure," Loki waved it off impatiently. "Don't dodge. Answer me. Is it real?"
Astraea already knew—if she didn't give Loki a clean answer, she'd be pestered for the rest of the meeting.
"Boasting doesn't suit me," Astraea said, smiling anyway, "but since you asked so directly… yes."
"He's my child."
The moment the words landed, Loki started clawing at her own hair in theatrical frustration.
"Aaagh! You got there first!"
"To find someone like that… damn it…"
Who wouldn't want more talented children in their familia?
For a god, collecting extraordinary souls was half the joy of living in the Lower World.
Before Astraea could reply, another voice slipped in—velvet and honey, the kind that made even gods feel the air turn warmer.
"Of course you'd be proud," the voice purred. "It's hard not to be tempted by a child like that."
Astraea and Loki turned.
There stood a goddess of breathtaking beauty—flawless face, perfect figure, an evening dress cut daringly enough to feel like a challenge.
The charm was so absolute it felt less like attractiveness and more like a law of nature.
Freya.
One of Orario's dominant powers, the goddess of beauty herself.
"Freya," Astraea said politely. "It's been a while."
"Indeed," Freya replied, her smile languid. "Though if we're being honest… you're the one who keeps vanishing. I rarely see you at any gathering."
Astraea's apology was gentle and familiar.
"I just… don't feel suited to those places."
Loki snorted.
"Then what do you do all day? You're impossible to find."
Astraea actually thought about it.
"Helping at the orphanage. Assisting in the shopping street. Distributing food…"
Loki and Freya both wore the same baffled expression—half amused, half incomprehensible.
To them, Astraea was a mystery: a goddess who descended into the Lower World and spent her days doing things most gods would consider painfully mundane.
Freya, meanwhile, felt her own quiet calculation slip off the rails.
She'd approached partly to fish for information—but Astraea was immune to such maneuvering.
The only thing Freya couldn't reconcile was Xien himself.
His growth rate was abnormal.
And when growth was abnormal, it usually meant the soul was dazzling.
But Freya had seen him twice—once as a mere unblessed mortal, once after leveling—and his soul had remained… the same.
Not brilliant.
Not radiant.
If ordinary souls were a mottled gray, filled with impurities, and exceptional souls grew purer and more polarized—brighter for the righteous, darker for the wicked—
Then Xien's soul was gray.
But not dirty gray.
A clean, uniform gray, like a single pigment poured from a bottle.
That was why she hadn't felt the instinct to seize him immediately.
And yet…
This gray soul had become Level 2 at a speed that made history flinch.
Something didn't add up.
There had to be a detail she was missing.
Freya decided she would find a chance to get closer—to look again, properly.
Loki, oblivious to Freya's internal conclusions, dragged the conversation elsewhere.
"Anyway, you're going to use your 'privilege' again this time?"
"Of course," Astraea replied. "It's one of the few ways I can truly help my children."
That "privilege" was, in truth, Astraea's unique leverage in the Denatus.
By unspoken consensus among the gods, if Astraea insisted on something in the meeting, her stance carried enormous weight—roughly equivalent to a third of the total votes.
Only once per Denatus.
A small repayment for everything Astraea and her familia contributed to the city.
And Astraea had never used it for anything other than securing the titles of her children.
Loki frowned.
"But this time it's a boy. You don't need to be that stubborn, do you?"
"No," Astraea said with sudden firmness. "If he is my child, I will not favor anyone."
"And he told me the title he wants. How could I betray that?"
Loki's curiosity snapped to attention.
"Oh? He picked one himself? What is it?"
Astraea answered simply.
"Wayfarer of Abundance."
Both Loki and Freya froze for a beat.
Loki squinted.
"That's… a weird title. What does it even mean?"
Freya's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Is it connected to his power?"
Astraea smiled—maddeningly gentle.
"That's not something I can share. A child's secret is still a secret."
Loki clicked her tongue.
"Tch. Tight-lipped as always…"
The Naming Begins
The Denatus proceeded in orderly fashion—fixed steps, repeated countless times. The gods could follow the sequence with their eyes closed.
At last, the moment arrived.
"Welcome, everyone," the presiding god announced. "To the Denatus—number who-knows-what."
"No more chatter. Let's get to business."
"This month's children who leveled up are—"
And then Astraea stood.
She produced her sword—Astraea's "blade of justice"—and planted the tip to the floor, holding it like a cane.
The presiding god went pale, sweat forming instantly.
"Lady Astraea…? What are you—"
"Nothing complicated," Astraea said sweetly.
"I'm simply informing everyone that my new child's title is 'Wayfarer of Abundance.'"
"That is decided."
"And no, I will not accept objections."
A ripple ran through the hall—half dread, half resigned amusement.
The presiding god forced a strained laugh.
"Ah… yes. There it is."
"Lady Astraea's mysterious smile—truly an unbearable pressure."
"Very well. Let us vote together."
"Shall we grant the goddess of justice her wish…?"
....
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