Blessings

Soren knelt before the altar.

For a moment, it felt as though the entire chamber had gone silent—not just quiet, but suspended, as if even time itself dared not move. The gentle pulsation of the luminescent flowers halted, frozen mid-glow, and the soft hum of essence in the air fell into a still hush.

Aeternis had taken over his body again, leaving Soren as little more than a silent witness. He could only watch through his own eyes as the dagger moved his lips.

Then the prayer began.

The words that spilled from his mouth were like nothing Soren had ever heard—ancient and foreign, rough in texture but strangely delicate, each syllable shaped with a reverent softness. He couldn't decipher a single word. It was like listening to a lullaby sung by an extinct world.

The more Aeternis spoke, the deeper the silence in the room became. The altar seemed to resonate with the language—responding not with movement, but with stillness. A sacred hush, heavy and full, pressing gently against the soul.

When the final word was spoken, Aeternis fell silent and released control.

Soren remained motionless, dazed and breathless, still kneeling. The words continued to echo in his mind, strange and incomprehensible, like faint ripples across still water.

And then…

A second passed.Then three.Five.Ten.

Nothing happened.

And just as doubt began to flicker at the edge of his thoughts—

A presence bloomed.

Not violent. Not overwhelming. But vast—ancient and serene, like the soft weight of a hand placed gently on his shoulder. The air grew warmer, like sunlight filtering through the veil of early dawn. It wasn't oppressive—it was protective. A shield wrapped in kindness, descending like a queen rising from her throne to watch over her sleeping child.

And then… a voice.

It didn't echo through the chamber. It didn't come from the air.

It spoke from within him—from the deepest part of his soul.

"It seems… someone still lingers."

Soren's breath caught. His chest tightened, startled by the sudden intimacy of it.

"Child… you have prayed to me, but I cannot see you. I cannot reach you. If not for your faint soul, flickering so delicately… I would not have known anyone was here at all."

The voice was soft, gentle—like wind whispering through forgotten ruins. But there was something tragic woven beneath it… like she was speaking through distance, through decay… through time itself.

Soren couldn't fully comprehend the feeling that was rising inside him. It wasn't fear. It wasn't awe. It was something deeper—gentler. A strange warmth blooming in his chest, threading through his soul.

The voice spoke again, soft and serene."Child, do you wish for my blessing?"

Soren hesitated for a moment, wondering what kind of blessing a goddess like this could grant. But the warmth surrounding him offered no trace of malice—only calm. Only kindness. There was no reason to be wary.

"...Yes. I do."

The voice answered."Since I cannot see you... I believe this is your will. May the gods protect you in your travels."

In the next instant, a wave of warmth enveloped him. It poured over his skin and soaked into his soul, weightless and tender. A slight tingling sensation pulsed around his index finger, subtle at first—then stronger.

It wasn't painful. It was… comforting. Like basking in the sun's embrace, never too hot, never too heavy. A moment of divine serenity. Brief, but unforgettable.

And then, little by little, the feeling faded—gently, quietly—until nothing remained.

Soren opened his eyes quickly, scanning the chamber. It had returned to its quiet stillness, the same as it was before Aeternis had begun the prayer. But he could feel it—something inside him had changed.

His gaze lowered to his hand.

There, on his index finger, rested a ring—crafted from pale marbled white, its surface laced with delicate gold inlays. It shimmered faintly in the dim light. Refined. Elegant. Beautiful.

But it wasn't just decoration.

Soren's instincts flared. Without hesitation, he gathered his focus and slipped into the abyss—his soul.

Everything around him turned to darkness, and once again, he stood before the screen that reflected his existence.

There it was. A new line beneath the title 'Inheritance.'

His eyes scanned over it.

Ring of Apostles

He focused, and a description bloomed across the screen.

Description: In the age when gods walked among mortals, they forged rings for their chosen followers—tools that allowed them to reach out across distance, across time. When the world grew vast and the people spread far, these rings served as conduits. With them, apostles could offer prayer to their patron deity at any altar, no matter where they stood.

Soren's mind swirled with new thoughts. He had already witnessed the existence of a god firsthand—something he hadn't even known was possible. He'd never heard stories of gods, much less seen one with his own eyes. And now, he had a tangible artifact left in the wake of that encounter. The term 'Inheritance' itself felt significant—like a foundation upon which deeper knowledge of the Havens could be built.

Most awakened must have had some level of knowledge about the Havens since they lived there. I didn't start my journey from a citadel, so there's no way for me to gather information except through these items.

Then something else caught his attention.

A new line appeared on the screen—one that hadn't been there before.

Blessings: Goddess of Inevitability

Soren focused on it, and another description revealed itself.

You carry a blessing from the Goddess of Inevitability: Flickering Soul.

The information behind the blessing flowed directly into his mind, clear and deliberate—as if it were introducing itself to him.

Effect: You can veil your soul's presence at will. Your existence becomes untraceable to divine senses unless you consciously allow it to be seen.

Soren's eyes narrowed.

I can veil my soul's presence… Didn't the goddess say she couldn't see me—only my faint soul? She said if not for my soul, she wouldn't have even noticed me. With this… doesn't it mean I can hide my existence entirely? Even from gods?

Why would I want to hide my existence?

Then again… maybe it's better if I do. If they can't perceive me, they can't control me either.

His thoughts lingered on the strange distinction of blessings—how they didn't seem to be part of the mastery system at all.

These blessings… they're like extra abilities—separate from the ones granted by Masteries. Maybe someone else in the Havens has already gained similar abilities from other gods. Or even stronger ones.

Soren stared at the screen, deep in thought.

The ring. The altar. The blessing.

Everything was falling into place—pieces of a puzzle he hadn't even known existed. But one thing was clear now.

This world held far more depth than anyone on the surface ever imagined.

Soren pulled himself out of the abyss and found that he was still kneeling at the altar.Aeternis, never one to remain silent, offered a smug comment.

"Even the gods respond to my brilliance. Truly, a mark of divinity lingers in me."

Soren almost rolled his eyes."The goddess spoke to me," he replied flatly.

It felt like Aeternis' metaphorical heart skipped a beat."But—But they responded to my prayer, you insolent child!"

"How many gods are there?" Soren asked, ignoring the dramatics.

Aeternis scoffed. "If you don't know, it means that you shouldn't know."

What a dignified way to say that you don't know, Soren thought.

"Can you at least tell me which god forged you?"

Aeternis huffed, as though offended by the simplicity of the question."Truly uneducated. You should read some history books and glance at the epic of adventures that I have accomplished. Your achievements won't hold a candle to my journey."

Soren suspected Aeternis knew that I wasn't even alive during their so-called era of adventures.

Still, the dagger continued rambling with misplaced pride.

"The first thing I remember," it said with theatrical flair, "was being wielded by a valiant warrior—a warrior of true character. Not by a shady, undignified hoodlum."

Soren sighed softly. A strange sense of pity washed over him—not for the insult, but for the fact that even Aeternis seemed uncertain about its own origin. Whatever glory it claimed to remember… it was only fragments of something long buried.

But he didn't press further. Not now. They had an agreement—Aeternis would boast, and Soren would ignore most of it.

He stood up slowly and turned away from the altar.

The chamber remained just as serene and divine as it had been when he arrived—the golden shafts of light filtering through the cracks above, the soft pulse of the luminescent blue flowers, and the jade altar standing in quiet reverence. Everything looked untouched… unchanging.

But something had changed.

Not the altar. Not the chamber.

Him.

There was a new thread woven into his path—one not crafted by fate, but by something far older. Something deeper.

And for the first time since stepping into this world, Soren felt like he wasn't just surviving anymore.

He was starting to shape his own journey inside the Havens.