A single drop of blood fell, setting off ripples.
A thousand long years ago, this was called a ceremony.
A mortal vessel would receive the droplet from a deity, then begin their climb toward
the next level. Some said this ritual was the key to grasping the future, providing
people with the strength needed to crush evil and overcome great challenges.
But the gods heard that story and laughed, saying there was no need to overcomplicate
things.
The blood was a stimulant, merely a trigger. It released the potential that was shut
away within mortals, unlocking limitless abilities that even the gods could not foresee.
These mortals were the ones who carried themselves along unending paths, overcame
cresting waves, withstood torrential rain, and faced storms head-on. They were the
ones who pulled their oars through the vast sea as they journeyed to places beyond
the horizon.
One deity apologized, saying it was wrong to push their Wills upon the children.
One deity dodged the issue, saying that all parents found happiness in watching their
children grow.
One deity prayed for a hero to shoulder the burden of the appointed era.
Across the ages, many deities bled their fingers and, with their own designs in mind,
drizzled their blood onto the world.
Ever since long ago and still to this day…
After the falling droplet set off ripples of light, the human's skin trembled like the
surface of a pool of water as it was splashed with ichor. All at once, black characters
danced across the flesh. The flitting symbols looked exactly like the words of an oracle
floating within a sacred flame. One by one, as a slender finger traced them, they
became part of a carved seal that resembled an epitaph.
Hieroglyphs.
Using excelia—the invisible chronicle of the children—in place of ink, the hand of the
deity induced the Falna to sublime into a new form.
As if she was writing down a new story.
As if she was turning to the next page.
She enjoyed this sensation. Her heart danced indescribably as the fragments of a tale
filled the blank page. It was her special privilege to be the first to read the story. It was
a treasure that no one could steal from her. This was a special time, a moment of her
personal, unique connection with the boy. More than anything, that was what she held
dear.
Like a child whose eyes glittered as she listened to a fairy tale, she smiled faintly at the
orbit of the story's star.
And then she turned to a fresh page.
Drawn on his back, the true names of the deity and her familia members glimmered
subtly alongside their symbol, a flame.
Finally, she stopped moving her hand and pulled away from his back.
Having finished penning the story, the goddess spoke with emotion, as if letting out a
breath she had held for a long time within her breast.
"Congratulations, Bell… You've leveled up."