Meanwhile, Rywes lowered her head before the gods, stunned by their overwhelming presence. Even so, she kept her expression calm, trying not to show how nervous she felt.
"Rywes," came a deep, steady voice, "the one who gathered the players to form a raid party, and came up with the strategy to defeat Azakkin and the Flora Enchanter."
It was Pyronus, God of Fire and Destruction. He stepped forward, his flame-shaped red mask glowing faintly. His voice was calm, but heat simmered beneath it—like a volcano ready to stir.
Deimon, God of the Living Land, chimed in next. His voice sounded like a young boy's.
"Just convincing people to join is already tough. But getting a hundred players to follow you into battle? I respect that."
He nodded once, his mask glittering with multicolored gemstones.
"Even with limited knowledge about the Flora Enchanter and Azakkin, you still managed to piece things together."
"I wonder—did you also realize Azakkin was nothing more than a trap? If it got too close to death, it would've triggered a self-destruct and wiped out the entire battlefield," Juraia said, placing a finger to her chin, eyes curious.
"We didn't figure it out. The monster suddenly ran off—but I knew it had to be the other half of our raid party. They must've broken the connection just in time," came the reply.
"Is that so." said Harimon, God of Creation, Art, and Beauty. His tone was warm and friendly, with a hint of femininity in his movements.
"They were able hold off Azakkin with just fifty players right? That gave me chills. Definitely my favorite part."
He stood tall, his plain white mask accented with delicate gold lines near the eyes.
Rywes lowered her gaze again.
"I don't think I deserve this much praise. I only did what I thought was best... what was efficient."
Harimon stepped closer with a grin. He gently tilted her chin up with his hand.
"Don't be too humble. Raise your head, Rywes."
He chuckled. "That beauty deserves to be flaunted."
Rywes blinked, caught off guard, just as Horidae, Goddess of the Tempest Sky, jumped in with a teasing smirk.
"Harimon, you were quiet when it was that handsome guy Ludwig—real quiet."
"Shut up!"
"Alright. If you're all done talking, I'll start."
Dydia raised her hand—not too high, just enough to signal clearly. Her voice was calm but carried authority.
The gods gradually returned to their respective places, the light chatter fading.
"Brothers and sisters—raise your hand if you wish to align with Rywes."
The room grew still as hands began to rise, one by one.
Seven gods raised their hands to align with her. Beneath each of them, their mosaic insignias lit up, glowing with divine energy. That power flowed toward her, surrounding her in a bright yellow light.
Then, a system message appeared in front of her:
[You have been blessed by the Goddess of War and Wrath, Leonyra.]
[You have been blessed by Solarius, God of Sun, Light, and Sacred Judgment.]
[You have been blessed by Pyronus, God of Fire and Destruction.]
[You have been blessed by Deimon, God of the Living Land.]
[You have been blessed by Harimon, God of Creation, Art, and Beauty.]
[You have been blessed by Horidae, God of the Tempest Sky.]
[You have been blessed by Dydia, God of Death, the Afterlife, and Shepherd of Souls.]
---
Yor, on the other hand, kept bowing in apology. Earlier, he'd been so disoriented that he'd started coughing uncontrollably—so much that he accidentally spat all over the marble floor. A few of the gods looked visibly disgusted.
"Sorry about earlier—for spitting on the marble floor. I know this place is sacred. I get bad motion sickness," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Don't worry about it, Yor."
Harimon flashed a peace sign and tilted his head with a smile.
Yor chuckled awkwardly, still a bit embarrassed.
"Yor—a sharp warrior who spotted the boss's weak point when no one else could. Your contribution was key to its defeat," Pyronus declared, his voice firm beneath the mask.
"You impressed a lot of us, Yor—"
"You impressed a lot of us, Yor—"
But then his name echoed. Once. Twice. Then over and over, glitching like a broken record. Even the gods' movements began to stutter.
Am I lagging? What the hell is happening?
Yor glanced around. Suddenly, everyone had stopped moving—it felt like time itself had frozen.
He blinked once.
Then the thirteen Oracles were gone.
Only one person was left standing—a tall figure in a long coat, face hidden, blue eyes glowing in the light behind him.
He didn't move, just stared at Yor...
In silence.
It was as if Yor had fallen into a dream he couldn't wake from. In the vast, dimly lit divine arena, only the two of them remained—staring at each other across the silence.
"H-Hello? Who are you? W-What's happening?" Yor asked, his voice stuttered, uncertain whether he should even speak.
The man stayed silent for a moment, scratched his eyebrow, then let out a raspy, deep laugh. He started walking toward Yor, each step echoing across the vast, quiet space.
"Ohho! You sound like him too. I'm so happy!"
He stopped a few steps away. A soft light spilled over him, revealing his face—messy brown hair, slight dark eyebags, a bit of beard on his chin, and piercing blue eyes. He looked to be in his thirties, tall, around six feet, with worn clothes and a strange energy about him.
"By any chance, have you watched an anime called Mr. Zero?"
---
The Benediction had ended. In a blink, they were back in the forest clearing.
Yor immediately doubled over, coughing and groaning—motion sickness hitting him hard again as he dropped to his knees.
"Ughy-ughuhhh!"
Around them, the crowd buzzed with excitement, everyone comparing blessings—counting which gods had chosen them, and how many.
Winter swooped in, hovering just above the ground on her broom.
"Miss me?" she grinned.
"So, The Benediction has ended—I just want to congratulate you on the blessings you received. Whether you've been blessed by one god or all of them, it's still a big deal."
Her bright voice drew everyone's attention.
"Didn't get blessed? Don't worry. You can still earn their favor by visiting their churches, provide offerings, and prove your worth." She gave a small wink.
"The gods are picky. They don't waste their blessings on those who lack potential or drive." She leaned forward a bit. "And since their blessings are limited, they choose with care." She nodded repeatedly.
"The next chapter of your adventure awaits, everybody!"
She raised her hand in a sweeping, dramatic gesture—as if unveiling a grand stage before them.
A gentle gust stirred the air, just enough to lift their hair and cloaks.
"Go out there, form a guild, join a party, or venture out solo in this big, big world."
"Reach the horizon, explore, and grow stronger—and remember: death now comes with consequences."
Her voice held both excitement and warning, setting the tone for what lay ahead.
"Goodbye for now!"