I'm not a god

"Blindness?" She was pulled back to reality by his words. Her face tightened, lips parting slightly as goosebumps trailed her arms.

"Yes, blindness," he said, calm but firm. "The energy from the sword still lingers in your body. It's no ordinary sword. I've studied it... and found that it's forged from the bones of a dying dragon, the wings of a rose-gold bird, the Soulflame of a dead Asura… and the venom of an underhog hydra."

"Impossible—"

"So I thought." He scoffed, shaking his head. "These mortals… you gods always underestimated them."

Her eyes narrowed. "The dying dragon lies in the void beneath the ocean of Atlantis. It appears every hundred thousand years. It's not seen or felt unless it chooses to be. It's impossible for mortals to get their hands on it—"

Her voice came fast, fluid, certain—until he cut in.

"Let me guess." He leaned forward slightly, one brow lifted, his voice dry. "You heard that somewhere? Read it—what—from a scroll? A book?"

"Just a casual read… from the book Scales of Realms," she muttered, almost offhandedly.

His eyes flickered wide for a split second, then settled, expression smoothing into something unreadable.

Scales of Realms? His thoughts tightened. That book's locked in the Sacred Lab of Atlantis. Only high gods are licensed to even look at it. I thought she was just another godling… could she be a high god? No wonder... she could host Master's soul. But—why can't I feel any divine sense around her?

"Interesting," he said aloud, the cup brushing lightly between his lips as he took a slow sip of tea.

"What about the Asuras?" he asked, setting the cup down, voice casual. "Is that impossible too?"

"Asuras were long dead before Atlantis was even built. How in the world would their Soulflame be used to forge a weapon?" She paused. "They're gone. So is their flame."

She said it with finality—chin raised, eyes hard, mouth a taut line.

"If a god's soul can be summoned and invoked into a vessel…" he said slowly, locking eyes with her, "why would the rest be impossible? I've seen it happen. More than once."

He snapped his fingers. The silver rope binding her vanished, disintegrating like mist. He stood halfway, reached toward her, and tapped a sequence across her body—her acupoints released. She exhaled sharply, breath returning.

Without warning, her hand shot to the blade strapped to his waist.

Steel rang out.

Before he could react, the knife pressed against his neck. She pressed harder. A thin line of blood surfaced, warm and dark, trailing slowly down.

He chuckled.

She scoffed and leaned in, twisting the blade slightly. Blood flowed faster.

"You're not mortal," she said, voice sharp. "Neither are you a god. Yet you know so much. What are you?"

"How sure are you I'm not a god?" he asked, still smiling. "You don't even have a divine sense to perceive that."

He raised his tea cup toward her in mock salute. "Ah… I see what you're doing. You're trying to force me to defend myself."

His smile widened.

"Smart," he said, "but old-fashioned. A six-year-old human could see through this trick."

She deepened the cut.

He didn't flinch.

"You can sense me?" she asked, brows twitching.

"Yes. I can."

The voice came from behind.

She spun—eyes wide.

The man stood just behind her, expression calm. "Little god," he murmured, leaning in slightly, "is this how you treat your savior?"

She turned sharply back to the one she had pressed the knife against—

Gone.

Nothing there. The body faded like smoke.

Her breath caught.

"You—" she began, but the words caught in her throat. The wound she'd made on his neck was already healed. Not a single mark remained.

Healing… that fast? Her thoughts whirled. I wasn't this fast… before I lost my ability.

"You're right," he said, adjusting his robe. "I'm not a god. Neither am I mortal. And yet…" He placed a finger under his chin, thinking. "I can sense you. I just can't place what rank of god you are."

"…Thank you for saving me," she said flatly.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it. You didn't hesitate to put a blade to my throat. You thought I was weak. Now that I'm not, you think a casual 'thank you' will spare you my wrath?" He laughed—loud and full, the sound shaking the walls.

"Little god," he said, shaking his head, "there's time to figure out who I am. No need to rush. We still have a long road ahead."

"I'm leaving—" she started.

"To find the Ash Fire," he interrupted, not missing a beat, "to open your veins, reignite with your soulflame and reclaim your divine sense."

Her breath stilled.

"…How did you—"

"That's the first thing a broken god would do," he said, stepping toward her. "It's fine—for other gods. But you… you're too broken."

He stopped inches from her. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"The energy from that sword will blind and kill you long before you ever reach the Ash Fire."

Her jaw clenched.

He leaned closer.

"But I can help you," he said softly.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're not doing this for me. Your intentions are bad."

He smiled faintly.

"Maybe. But at least it won't kill you. That makes it a win-win, doesn't it?"

"Why should I believe you?" she asked, her voice steady but her breathing quick.

"Because…" he whispered, his breath brushing her cheek, "you're about to start struggling to stay awake."

Her pupils dilated.

And then—

Her body gave out.

She collapsed.

Eyes rolled. Limbs limp.

The last thing she heard was his voice.

"Oh. I guess she didn't expect that."