The air was filled with the fragrance of perfume, and the clean, spacious, and elegant interior furnishings all embodied a noble aesthetic. This was a high-end guest room specially arranged by the elves to receive foreign ambassadors.
And in the room, there were two people.
Among them, a petite figure paced back and forth, saying in a bored and lazy voice:
“Did you see it, Orman? Their fear, and their sorrow.”
“…”
The woman with wavy golden hair paced beside the man. Her attire resembled the white cloth used in certain religious ceremonies, simply wrapped around her body a few times, but it held none of the supposed seriousness or purity—instead, it was exceptionally bold and provocative. She used her fingertip to lift the hero’s dark red cloak, brushing off a few water droplets clinging to it. Since he showed no special reaction, she sighed, then lounged on the sofa, crossing her fair legs, resting her arm beside her head, and teasingly gazed at the hero while propping her chin as she said:
“Orman, don’t you have any ideas at all? You really are the one-in-a-trillion hero, right?”
“…”
Orman clasped his hands behind his back, standing like a statue. The woman knew that before every major event, he would fall into deep contemplation just like this.
“Oh my god, you really are boring. The Creation God sent me and my sisters to this barren land with you, where we’ve seen boring things, boring people, and an even more boring hero. The human world and the gods’ world are simply worlds apart—everything beautiful here turns into ‘flaws.'”
“So, why not be straightforward? All of us together could just charge in, kill them all, and that would end it right away, wouldn’t it?”
Orman frowned slightly, like a tranquil night disturbed by the buzz of mosquitoes and flies. He impatiently waved his hand and rebuked her:
“This is the first time I’ve seen such a simple-minded god—no, a self-proclaimed Light Envoy of the gods. No one is more outstanding than me. Your worries are just groundless fears.”
“What to do? The Winter Queen has hidden that guy Dolores; we have no clues at all. In my opinion, why not directly threaten her life or kidnap her nation? Wouldn’t that be the simplest and most direct way?”
“It won’t.”
Orman’s voice was calm and magnetic. He possessed a distinctive head of golden long hair, and his eyes brimmed with the desirelessness of before his awakening.
He turned around to face the Light Envoy woman, who was flaunting her provocative figure. That body—enough to intoxicate any human—stirred not the slightest ripple in his heart.
He raised his hand like an orator.
“If I killed you, would you tell me the location of the Creation God’s heart? No, just tell me the location of Abel’s heart. After all, I can slay them at any time.”
“You’ve overstepped, human.”
The woman curled her lips into a smile, as if this hero had finally become interesting enough to excite her.
“You’re just a guy who single-handedly resolved a few S-level Worlds. Don’t forget whose power was granted to you—if it can be given, it can be taken back.”
“…”
“You’re nothing but a humble bug in the river of time. Until your soul formally sublimes, you’re no so-called powerhouse. Of course, those leaky, hole-ridden worlds are built from those nameless bugs, and you’re merely a slightly bigger bug that’s sprouted wings. Hehe, though that’s far luckier than your little bug friends~”
“Just like that girl…”
The woman continued, her words dripping with provocation, but it was all drowned out by the increasingly fierce rain battering the window outside. Perhaps Orman simply didn’t care.
“So, to your question, my answer is ‘of course not.’ Even if you kill me, you can’t erase my soul. Just like you, who’s reached beyond Soul Tier Layer 6, you won’t be swept away by the ‘Soul Stream’—you’ll return to where you’re meant to arrive. That’s the Super Tier.”
Orman finally spoke, though his voice remained devoid of any emotion.
“Bugs, huh? The Winter Queen is a bug too—a winged one. But you needn’t view her as mere vermin. Her methods are far more numerous than we imagine.”
“Hahahahahaha—”
The woman burst into hearty laughter.
She hadn’t laughed so joyfully in ages—at least not since becoming a god, when she’d rarely let herself laugh out loud like this, as it didn’t suit her dignified elegance. True, there were no strict rules among the gods, but the constraints of order forced them to cling to convention. It had to be said that arriving at this battlefield—a once-in-millions-of-years clash between Dark Filth and Light Envoy—was an utterly delightful turn of events.
Her raised legs gleamed smooth as jade, like exquisite artworks begging to be toyed with, and she crossed and uncrossed them as if teasing someone’s desires.
“Oh, so that’s what you meant. Who would’ve thought our esteemed Hero would fear an even tinier bug? Got any more lame jokes like that? This is hilarious.”
“You need to understand—standing atop the Demon God King’s corpse, nothing is beneath contempt.”
Orman extended a finger and traced it across the fogged glass window, drawing a single straight line: “1”.
The woman slapped her thigh, apparently having had her fill of laughter. She rose to her feet, scooped up the pillow from beside her, and winked one eye shut.
“You’ve got a point. Dark Filth hasn’t made its move yet—and of course, I don’t mean the Evil Dragon, but some other cause. Dangerous Demon Gods and Evil Gods, too. Until the highest mission is complete, you’d best watch your back and stay alive. Of course, if Dolores turns traitor, that’d be a major setback. Lydia needs to absorb her pronto… Hmm. So why exactly did Lydia let her slip away?”
Dark Filth was wicked for a reason: every soul could corrupt into it, Light Emissaries included. But unlike ordinary souls, before the “Demon God King” had appeared, every God had dismissed the idea of a Light Envoy falling to Dark Filth as pure fairy-tale fancy.
Orman nodded in silent agreement. He shot the woman a blank look and strode toward the door without a backward glance.
“Where are you off to?”
“The Tide of Dark Filth still holds many secrets. If it left any clues in the Elf Kingdom, we can seize the Key ahead of the Dark Filths.”
“Want me to round up the others?”
“No need. Better yet, don’t follow me.”
“Ahahaha…”
Perched on the sofa, the woman watched the Hero’s retreating back with a dreamy, foolish grin. Her smile turned slyer by the second, like a playful girl itching to toy with her new pet—though her voluptuous curves made her look more like some wild nightlife vixen.
Afraid others might overhear, she murmured to herself in a whisper:
“That’s right, Hero of Nihility. The man who cast aside everything. The self-proclaimed greatest of humanity.”
“Let’s see just how far you can go.”
