Mana trembled!
It was subtle at first—like wind holding its breath. Then it began to pull. Gather. Outside the pagoda, the golden mana condensed like fog in reverse, drawing together as if sculpted by invisible fingers. It formed a vague humanoid shape—tall, radiant, glowing from within like molten glass. A silhouette only. No face. No voice, only presence.
And then it spoke.
[Host. Have you ever heard of the Endlesses?]
The voice was neutral, layered with a mechanical cadence—but Pyris tilted his head and raised a brow.
"Yes, goddess," he muttered smoothly. "But only if you drop the system voice and facade. Can we talk normally?"
There was a pause.
Then a chuckle—low and amused, like distant thunder licking the horizon.
"You sneaky one."
"Says someone who tried to flame the system," he fired back, smirking.
A second of shared laughter hung between them—oddly human. Oddly comfortable. Even the silhouette seemed to soften at the edges.
