EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC78: Perks Of Being The Sword Saint
Chapter 78: Perks Of Being The Sword Saint
What was the bet?
It was simple.
After they had destroyed the bandit hideout, Steven had sworn with absolute certainty that his daughter was alive.
His conviction had been so strong, so unshakable, that Azel couldn't resist needling him with a wager.
Even though he knew she was alive, after all what kind of man didn't take advantage of a rich man?
Whoever finds her first takes the winnings.
The prize? A mountain of gold.
And now, standing before everyone, Azel had just cashed in.
"I'm just cashing in on my win like any other gentleman," Azel said with a chuckle, adjusting his shirt with deliberate arrogance. "Be thankful that I didn't double it — I was feeling generous today."
Steven exhaled heavily, his massive shoulders sagging as if this loss weighed more than all the years he carried on his back.
Azel, meanwhile, looked positively smug.
Between this fat pouch of gold and the handsome "gift" the Emperor had handed him before his departure, Azel was, for the first time in his life, absurdly rich.
So rich he didn't even know what to do with it.
Steven turned away from him with a look that was part defeated, part fond.
His eyes softened as they landed back on his daughter.
"We had made a bet on who would find you first," he admitted quietly, voice low and rough, "but you're worth so much more than gold. I'm just... glad we were able to find you at all."
The words, spoken with such unguarded sincerity, washed over the room like a wave.
Emilia's lips trembled for a moment before she rolled her eyes — though it didn't hide the faint smile tugging at her mouth.
"Trust Azel to use me as an excuse to fleece you for gold," she muttered, though her voice was warm.
Azel just raised his hands innocently, smirking. "I mean, you are priceless... but that doesn't mean I won't profit along the way."
"You—!" she huffed, cheeks puffing.
Steven chuckled faintly at the exchange, though his eyes shimmered again as he turned his attention toward the others.
"Now," he said, his tone suddenly formal, "please — show me to the people who have taken care of my daughter all this while."
Emilia immediately motioned toward Hilda and Elga, who were sitting stiffly as though the entire situation had paralyzed them.
The moment Steven's gaze fell on them, both women froze in place, unable to so much as breathe.
The Sword Saint walked forward slowly.
Then, to their utter shock, he dropped to one knee.
Both women's jaws fell open.
The Sword Saint — one of the strongest living humans, a legend that could shape history with a single swing of his sword was kneeling before them.
"I thank you," Steven said, his voice rough but steady.
His hands clenched tight as if barely containing his emotions. "From the bottom of my heart. If you had not found my daughter... I would never have seen her again. I owe you a debt greater than any words can repay. Please, if there is anything... I mean anything within my power, I will grant it to you."
Elga and Hilda scrambled up from their seats, flustered beyond belief.
"P-please, there's no need for this!" Elga stammered, her hands flailing as she tried to help him up. "She was... she became like a daughter to us as well! We could never stand by and do nothing."
"Exactly," Hilda added quickly, though her voice trembled. "We're just... glad she's safe. That's all that matters."
But Steven wasn't the type to let debts go unpaid.
Even as they protested, he flicked his hand and, with a shimmer of light, several large sacks of gold materialized and thudded onto the floor.
The weight of them made the wooden boards creak.
The women gawked.
"It's not much," Steven said, bowing once more. "But please — accept it. And if you ever need anything more, you need only ask."
Elga's lips quivered as her hands shook.
This was too much.
She wanted to refuse — yet who in their right mind would refuse such a gift?
And more importantly, who would dare refuse the Sword Saint when he insisted?
But then she gritted her teeth, an odd fire sparking in her eyes.
With sudden resolve, she grabbed Steven by the front of his shirt.
Everyone froze.
"Sorry, Mr. Sword Saint," Elga said firmly, though her voice cracked under the weight of her own audacity, "but my favor... is that Emilia stay here."
Steven blinked, stunned.
Elga continued, forcing the words past her pounding heart.
"I know you want to bring her back. But she goes to school here. She has a life here. Friends, family... us. So please — don't take her away."
The room went silent. Everyone braced themselves.
Even Hilda grabbed Elga's arm as if trying to stop her before she went too far.
Was she trying to separate a father and daughter that had newly reunited?
But then Steven... smiled.
"Oh, I already know," he said softly. "I wasn't planning on moving her out. I was planning to move in."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Everyone's eyes went wide.
"What?!" Emilia squeaked, staring at her father in disbelief.
Steven chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly.
"Well, I didn't know if you would allow an old man like me to intrude," he said, though there was mischief in his eyes. "So I thought I'd simply head to the church and check whether my abode here is still mine."
Azel's jaw dropped slightly. Then it clicked.
"Oh, right..." he muttered.
The Sword Saint — being the Sword Saint had a residence in every single major city and town in the Empire.
A gift from the people, from the nobility, from the Empire itself.
Just because he was who he was.
A living legend.
'I might need to inherit that title someday,' Azel thought dryly.
The perks alone made it worth it.
Steven, meanwhile, walked over to him again.
The two men locked eyes — one with the serene calm of experience, the other with the reckless spark of youth.
"There's something else," Steven said quietly, reaching into his coat.
He pulled out a sealed letter and pressed it firmly into Azel's hand.
Azel raised a brow. "What's this?"
"The Winters clan," Steven said. "They've invited you to the Winter Region."
The words rang heavy in the air.
Azel stared at the envelope in his palm, his expression unreadable.
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC79: Winter Region
Chapter 79: Winter Region
The Winter Region was unlike any other land in the known world.
It was neutral like the Elven land yet untouchable — it stood as though carved directly from the will of the Ice Goddess herself.
It was a place of perpetual frost, where the sun's warmth rarely touched the earth and snowflakes blanketed every inch of land without pause.
Temperatures dropped so low that travelers often claimed even their blood slowed in their veins, and when night came, the cold transformed into something cruel, enough to claim lives within hours if one was unprepared.
There was magical equipment to help with that but still, that was how cold this place was.
Yet the most curious thing about the Winter Region wasn't its climate, nor its natural fortifications.
It was its people.
Every man, woman, and child born there shared a distinct mark of heritage: silver hair that shimmered like spun moonlight.
Across the Empire, silver hair was rare enough to draw whispers, but within the Winter Region it was as ordinary as breathing.
Azel narrowed his eyes at the folded letter in his hand.
The Winters Clan.
The ruler of the Winter Region, Azariah Winters himself, had sent an invitation.
That alone was monumental.
The Winters clan rarely sent invitations to outsiders, let alone to someone who wasn't already tied to them by blood or marriage.
He had suspicions, of course.
The original owner of this body — whose memories had been wiped might have had ties to this region.
It wasn't an unreasonable thought.
The silver strands in his own hair, faint though they were, felt almost like a clue deliberately left behind.
And if that wasn't enough, there was another hint that gnawed at him: his name.
Azel Winters.
That had been his name back on Earth too.
Coincidence? Or fate laughing in his face?
The problem with the Winter Region, however, was simple yet absolute: one could not enter it without permission.
Sneaking in was not only implausible — it was impossible.
Their borders were sealed tight by treaties, runes, and the will of the Ice Goddess herself.
Anyone who attempted to force entry risked igniting a war, and no empire was foolish enough to provoke it.
Why? Because the ruler of the Winter Region wasn't merely a man.
He was marked.
Blessed directly by divinity of the Ice Goddess.
And no sane ruler wanted to challenge one whom a goddess had chosen.
Azel slowly unfolded the letter, letting his eyes scan the elegant, deliberate script.
To Sir Azel,
May the cold winds of the North carry this message safely into your hands.
I, Azariah Winters, Patriarch of the Winter Clan and steward of the Winter Region, extend to you an invitation most rare.
It is not common that one from the Empire of Starbloom receives word from our house, and rarer still that they are asked to cross our threshold.
Yet your name has reached my ears, carried by sources I trust well.
For reasons both personal and grave, I bid you come to the Winter Region with all haste.
You may bring with you companions of your choosing; our gates shall open for them as they would for you.
I urge you not to delay, for opportunities such as this are seldom given twice.
May the goddess watch over your steps,
Azariah Winters
Azel closed the letter, tucking it carefully away into his ring.
"Am I going?" he murmured under his breath. "Hell yes, I am."
How could he possibly miss such a chance?
Not only would he finally see the legendary Winter Clan for himself, but maybe — just maybe he'd uncover the truth about his own connection to them.
His instincts screamed at him that this was no coincidence.
"I see," Azel said aloud, his voice firm. "I'll be going. In a few days."
Steven, who stood nearby, gave a slow nod of approval.
"Good. Even I haven't had the honor of stepping into the Winter Region. If you're granted entry... then fate has chosen something special for you."
That alone told Azel how significant this invitation truly was.
If the Sword Saint himself had never been invited, yet Azel had... then his presence was not only requested, it was demanded.
"Anyway," Azel stretched and gave a lazy wave. "I'll leave you guys to your reunion. Don't get too emotional, or I'll start crying too."
Steven gave him a wry smile, while Emilia looked at him as though torn between gratitude and annoyance.
But Azel was already stepping out the door.
By "rest," of course, he meant something entirely different.
He had already promised Medusa that they'd go somewhere once they returned.
A promise was a promise, and Azel, for all his antics, kept his word.
He hadn't made it far down the quiet street before a familiar presence fell in step behind him.
Azel smirked without turning his head.
"Not gonna pretend you weren't tailing me, Rain?"
Instead of replying, Rain quickened her pace, overtook him, and with surprising boldness, grabbed his hand.
She dragged him unceremoniously into a narrow alley, the shadows swallowing them both.
Before he could joke about it, she pressed him back against the wall, her grip trembling slightly.
Their faces were inches apart.
Azel had to lean forward a little, his height forcing her to tilt her chin up.
Their eyes locked — and in that instant, the fire in her gaze flickered, replaced with hesitation.
Her breath hitched.
Her body froze.
Azel's smirk faltered.
'Wait... is this trauma?' he thought.
The way she stiffened, the way her hand slipped away — it wasn't nerves, it was memory.
Rain stepped back sharply, eyes wide, and whispered, "I'm sorry..."
Her voice carried shame.
Azel tilted his head, studying her with calm curiosity rather than mockery.
He wasn't bothered.
In fact, he found the reaction almost... cute. But that only deepened his curiosity.
What had Reinhardt done to her?
He broke the silence. "Did you want to ask something?"
Rain stiffened again, then, as if gathering her scattered courage, glared at him with renewed fire.
"Do you even understand what you've done, idiot?!" Her voice cracked, almost a scream.
"What did I do now?" Azel muttered, scratching his cheek.
He could list a hundred questionable decisions he'd made recently, but he was curious which one she'd fixated on.
"You—" Rain pointed at him, her voice shaking with frustration. "You let yourself get seduced by a goddess! A goddess who's existed since the creation of this world!"
[Hey now, calm down. You're not gonna talk to my hubby like that.]
'Shut up, whore!' Rain snapped inwardly.
The goddess's laughter rang in her head, airy and mischievous.
She didn't care for the insult.
What she did care about — what she wondered about was how it would feel if Azel himself called her that in the middle of taking her from behind.
The thought alone made her shiver, her lips parting as she bit down lightly.
Her body betrayed her.
"I'm well aware," Azel said, stepping forward, forcing Rain back until her shoulders brushed the opposite wall.
His eyes bored into hers, unflinching. "But the goddess is mine. She's mine. M-I-N-E."
Rain's breath caught.
"She's hot. She's beautiful. She's older. What more could I possibly want?" Azel's grin turned unapologetically wicked. "Yes, I like older women. Sue me."
Rain's eyes widened.
"I don't care if she's been here since the dawn of creation. She's breathtaking. I can't take my eyes off her. Her body? Perfect. Her voice? Like every melody I've ever heard woven together into something divine."
He pressed a hand against his own face, smirking.
"I don't regret it. Not a damn bit. She's fucking beautiful, okay? Now — if you're done with this lecture, I have somewhere else to be."
And just like that, Azel stepped past her, leaving Rain speechless in the cold alley.
Her fists clenched at her sides.
"Wow..." she whispered, jealousy coiling in her chest.
If Reinhardt had ever described her with even half that intensity... would she still hate him so much?
Or would she have fallen harder?
She would have probably fallen harder but right now... She hated him to the bone.
Meanwhile, the goddess herself was so flustered she could barely string thoughts together.
Her cheeks metaphorically burned, her divine composure cracked.
She could only muster one trembling word.
[Daddy~]
'I can hear you perverted goddess!!!!!!'
[Authors Note]
Phew I'm done with the 3 Chapters for today, well fam I'll release 3 more Chapters later today when I wake up, and use them for a new privilege...
I hate filling up privilege but yeah, See you guys later!
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC80: Medusa's Predicament
Chapter 80: Medusa's Predicament
Medusa sat on the edge of the bed, her slender fingers weaving nervously through strands of her violet hair.
She tugged at it as if trying to wring the indecision from her mind, though the action only made her more restless.
The groan that escaped her throat carried both frustration and a kind of disbelief at herself.
Edna was busy with Lillian.
From the faint laughter trickling through the inn's walls, Medusa could tell they were enjoying themselves — bonding in that effortless way only mother and daughter could.
She wanted to be Lillian's mother as well but that would have to wait.
It warmed her heart, but it also made her feel like she stood apart, caught in her own storm of nerves.
Because she had her own appointment.
Her Master — Azel had promised to take her into the city today.
Not for a mission.
Not for reconnaissance.
Not for a slaughter.
But simply to... spend time together.
Medusa's golden eyes drifted over the mountain of clothes sprawled across the bed.
Every dress, robe, and casual piece Azel had purchased for her yesterday was scattered in a storm of silk, cotton, and lace.
She had more options than she had ever possessed in her life.
And yet, none of them felt right.
"Do I pick casual? Or... formal?" She muttered, tapping her chin with an elegant finger. "What does one even wear for... for..." Her brow furrowed as she searched for the word. "Dates? B-bates? Ates? Ugh!"
She huffed, rolling her eyes at herself.
Once, she had been Medusa the Vile Necromancer — the Tyrant who had nearly brought the world to its knees.
Her name had been enough to drive nations into panic.
Mothers had whispered her name as a warning to disobedient children.
Heroes had cursed her as the living calamity they could never quite kill.
And the world had hated her, despised her, with every collective breath it had.
And now?
Now she stood here, fretting like a maiden before her first evening stroll.
The irony almost made her laugh.
"If that world knew," she whispered, her lips curling. "If they knew Medusa the Vile was pacing about her room worrying about whether to wear silk or cotton... their jaws would break from hitting the ground."
A knock at the door froze her mid-thought.
Her heart stuttered.
She swallowed.
Was it Edna?
Her fingers tightened on her dress.
"C-come in," she called, her voice catching.
The door creaked open. And in walked Azel.
Her breath hitched.
She had been so preoccupied, she had forgotten that she could sense his aura.
She bowed immediately, flustered.
"M-Master, welcome back. I... I apologize, I should have greeted you at the door when you returned."
Azel tilted his head, his eyes sliding from her nervous face to the chaos of clothes on the bed.
And then he muttered something under his breath — something quiet, not meant for her ears.
But she heard it anyway.
"Cute."
The word detonated inside her chest.
Heat flooded her cheeks, painting them crimson.
Her knees almost buckled beneath her.
Why did every word from him feel like a spell binding her heart?
Compliments from mortals had never mattered.
They had begged, groaned, screamed.
She had silenced them with blades and tentacles alike.
Yet when her Master spoke... she burned alive.
"So you don't know what to wear?" Azel asked, gesturing at the pile of dresses.
Her lips parted and closed, before she finally managed, "Y-yes, Master. I... I only wished to choose something that you would like very much."
Azel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "When you first arrived, you wore that black dress. It looked like it was made from silk."
Her eyes lit instantly. "Yes, Master! I crafted it from spider silk. If you'd like, I can make another one for today."
Azel smiled faintly. "Yes. Though... I'd like to see how you make it. As long as it isn't too explicit."
Her cheeks deepened another shade, and she muttered softly, "I wouldn't mind showing you everything, Master."
His ears twitched.
He had heard it.
She saw the faint flush creep up his cheeks.
Her heart soared in triumph.
'This is why older women are better,' Azel thought to himself, though he didn't say it aloud.
And then she acted.
Without hesitation, Medusa's slender fingers slipped beneath the hem of her tunic.
She pulled it upward, peeling it away from her body.
Azel blinked, startled, as the garment fell to the floor.
She stood before him clad only in violet silk lingerie, her bra cradling breasts fuller and rounder than Edna's, her panties a delicate lace that clung snug to her curves.
Medusa tilted her chin, basking in his gaze.
For the first time in centuries, she felt pride not in her power, nor in her cruelty, but in her body — her femininity.
Azel's eyes lingered, his composure faltering for just a breath.
His cheeks burned red.
Her pulse hammered.
She had slain thousands without a thought.
But standing half-naked in front of her Master, awaiting his silent judgment?
It was exhilarating.
It made every cell in her body feel like it was alive.
She exhaled, steadying herself.
Then, with practiced grace, she lifted her hands.
Dark threads unfurled from her fingertips — black spider silk.
The strands shimmered faintly as they wrapped around her limbs, spiraling and weaving across her skin.
Azel watched, entranced, as the silk crawled over her body, knitting itself into a garment.
Slowly, the fabric shaped itself into a sleek, short dress that hugged her curves.
It ended just above her thighs, snug at the waist, adorned with delicate designs across its hem.
A creation both elegant and daring.
Medusa twirled, her violet hair fanning out like a silken wave.
She stopped and looked at him, her golden eyes sparkling with an anticipation she barely managed to conceal.
"Master~" she sang softly. "Do you like it?"
Azel's lips curved into a smile that sent her heart into overdrive. "Yes, Meda. I love your dress a lot."
His hand reached for hers, strong and steady.
She froze at first — then let him take it, warmth flooding her veins.
"Now," he said, his voice soft yet commanding. "Let's go see the city together like I promised."
Her chest clenched.
Her knees felt weak.
But she nodded, lips trembling into a smile. "Yes, Master."
Hand in hand, they stepped out of the inn.
The streets of Rochel were still beautiful after all, it was still morning time and Azel as well as Medusa enjoyed the feeling of wind against their faces, it was amazing.
"Master, what did you go out to do?" Medusa asked and Azel coughed.
"Well, the Sword Saint is here now," Azel said and he could visibly feel her body stiffen, "I helped him reunite with his real daughter so he's happy,"
"I see..." Medusa said and smiled, "Well it's time for us to spend time together."
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC81: Thank You Talia…
Chapter 81: Thank You Talia...
Medusa sighed, her violet lashes fluttering as her gaze swept across the bustling streets.
The world she was seeing right now was so much different from the world she once knew.
Or perhaps, she realized with a bitter smile, it wasn't the world that had changed.
It was her.
In her former reign, whenever she walked through a city, the very ground seemed to cry beneath her feet.
Word of her approach spread like wildfire, and entire cities evacuated in frantic terror.
Families packed up in desperation, merchants fled, and even mages were ordered not to waste their spells on her — because what was the point?
Against her, they were nothing but gnats awaiting smothering.
It was faster to abandon entire strongholds than resist.
So in her memories, she always walked alone.
Empty avenues.
Shattered windows.
Silent homes where laughter had once thrived.
The sound of her own footsteps echoing through hollow streets.
But now...
Now she walked in a city alive.
A place that did not shrink from her but embraced its own rhythm.
People strolled past her, brushing shoulders in the crowd.
Merchants shouted prices from their stalls.
Children darted through gaps, their laughter like little bells.
And though some glanced at her — how could they not, with her violet hair shimmering under the sunlight, their eyes held no crippling fear.
Instead, she saw curiosity, admiration, even... desire.
A few of those lustful gazes prickled her skin, instinct surging like an old reflex, urging her to lash out, to drown their insolence in suffocating death.
But she calmed herself.
She wasn't that monster anymore.
Instead, she held tighter onto the warm hand clasping her own.
Her Master's hand.
Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at Azel beside her.
His grip was steady, grounding.
A reminder of why she was here and why she had chosen to live differently.
'I love Master so much...'
He was the first one to treat her as more than a weapon or tyrant.
With him, she wasn't Medusa the Vile Necromancer — scourge of the world.
She was Medusa, a woman.
His servant that was obsessed with him, and she loved it this way.
Her heart trembled with every thought.
He was forgiving where no one else would be.
Playful one moment, serious the next.
Strong yet kind.
And never once had he raised his voice at her.
She prayed it would stay that way.
'I never want Master to be angry with me. If he ever was... it would break me.'
A breeze stirred the air, and with it came a scent.
Medusa froze mid-step, her nose twitching.
Her throat tightened.
The smell was unmistakable.
A chicken skewer.
Memories flooded back — sharp and bittersweet.
In her reign, she had stumbled upon an abandoned stall.
The owners had fled, leaving behind their livelihood.
On the counter had rested a forgotten skewer, cold and half-charred.
Out of boredom more than hunger, she had taken it.
And it had been delicious.
So delicious, in fact, that she had tracked down the stall's owner afterward — a timid woman with deft hands and brought her to her palace.
Out of all her subjects, that woman had been the one she liked most and spoiled on countless occassions.
Not because of power, not because of fear.
But because she had recreated that skewer for Medusa every day.
For a time, it had been comfort.
A warmth in a throne room otherwise drenched in cruelty.
Until the woman died.
And the recipe died with her.
Now, for the first time in many years, that familiar fragrance drifted into her nose.
Only this time, it was spicier.
"Do you like it?" Azel asked beside her, noting how she had gone still.
Medusa's eyes glimmered, and she gave a tiny nod, her lips curving shyly.
"Let's go get some skewers then," Azel said with a grin.
Internally, Azel was less romantic.
'Do all these women have a skewer fetish? First Edna, and now Medusa.'
At this point, he half-expected even the Goddess to demand one.
He made a mental note to stash some in his inventory so he would give her when he visited her later.
They followed the trail of smoke and spice until a small wooden stall came into view.
The vendor behind it was a woman with glossy black hair tied back neatly, her face carrying the warm sturdiness of a homemaker.
Medusa halted for a split second, her eyes widening.
For a heartbeat, she swore the woman resembled her — the skewer-maker she had once kept in her palace.
Her chest squeezed painfully.
But when she looked again, she realized she was imagining things.
The features were different.
This woman was not her dead subject.
The woman looked up, saw them approaching, and her lips parted in surprise.
"Ooh~ Customers!" she chimed, her voice bright.
Then her eyes landed on Azel. More specifically, his silver hair.
Recognition flashed instantly.
Her pupils shrank, and without a second thought, she bowed.
"Lord Azel! I greet you to my humble stall."
Azel blinked, bewildered.
'What's with these people and treating me like a noble? He wasn't one.'
His father, the Sword Saint, had refused every noble title, remaining proudly a commoner.
By that logic, shouldn't he also be considered a commoner?
"You don't need to be so formal," Azel said, lifting a hand. "I just wanted to try your chicken skewers. I had one back in the Empire, and they were good."
The woman straightened, her smile returning.
"Ah, that must have been my brother's stall. His wife rears the chickens we use. It's a family trade."
Azel chuckled. "A family business then."
"Yes, my lord. Though I'll say mine are spicier than my brother's," she declared proudly. "People here prefer a hotter bite, so I adjusted the recipe."
"I see," Azel said, intrigued. "Could you get us two? I want to test them before I buy more."
The woman lit up and hurried back to her grill, expertly turning skewers over glowing coals.
Soon enough, she brought two, the aroma stronger up close, the glaze dripping spice and char.
She offered them reverently, both hands extended.
If Lord Azel, the Sword Saint's son, approved of her food, her stall would gain instant renown.
Customers would line up just for the chance to taste what he had eaten.
Azel accepted them and passed one to Medusa.
She held it gingerly, her violet eyes shimmering. "Thank you, Master," she murmured, her voice unsteady.
They bit in.
The taste was bold, fire and smoke dancing across their tongues.
Azel savored it with a grin.
"This is good," he admitted.
He always liked spicy food.
But beside him, Medusa froze.
Her lips trembled. Her body shivered. And then, suddenly —
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"M-Meda?" Azel blurted, alarm shooting through him. "What's wrong? Is it too spicy? Did it hurt your throat?"
Medusa's shoulders shook... and then she broke into laughter, pure and light.
Her tears sparkled in the sun, trailing down her cheeks as her lips curved into the widest smile he had ever seen on her.
"It's tasty, Master," she said between sniffles, her round eyes gleaming with joy. "So tasty. I love it."
For that brief moment, she wasn't Medusa the Tyrant.
She was just a woman rediscovering something precious she thought was lost forever.
And deep in her heart, she whispered a name she hadn't spoken aloud in so many years it felt like eternity.
'Thank you, Talia.'
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC82: Shopping
Chapter 82: Shopping
"Talia... the skewers today are amazing."
Medusa sat cross-legged in her private chamber, her fingers still sticky with the spiced glaze of the roasted meat.
Before her stood Talia, a young maid with soft brown hair pulled into a bun.
The maid should have been trembling.
She should have been silent, careful, afraid — like all the others who ever served the Tyrant Empress.
But Talia smiled.
It wasn't the kind of smile people forced to appease her, nor the nervous curl of lips from someone who wanted to keep their head attached to their neck.
No — Talia's smile was warm.
It was genuine.
Medusa blinked at her, unnerved.
'Why does she look at me like that? Doesn't she know I could crush her with a thought? And yet...'
There was no faking in that smile.
It was pure.
"My lady, the people would be surprised if they saw their tyrant like this," Talia teased with a soft giggle.
Medusa pouted, shoving another bite of skewer into her mouth. "Mean woman."
Talia's giggles deepened.
She was the only one who could speak so lightly in Medusa's presence without losing her tongue.
That was how close Medusa had grown to the maid she'd once kidnapped.
Burping softly, Medusa reached for her cup, only for Talia to immediately step forward and offer it with both hands.
"My lady, take it slowly. The skewers aren't running away."
Medusa accepted the water, taking a sip before murmuring, "I know."
She glanced at the bed, then added quietly, "Thank you, Talia. For everything."
There was a sharp intake of breath. Then a delighted snicker.
"My lady, did you just say thank you?"
Medusa's cheeks heated.
"Forget it!" she barked, turning her head away.
But Talia's soft laughter lingered, and deep in Medusa's chest, a warmth she didn't understand began to bloom.
This girl was annoying, but for some reason she never wanted her to go.
...
The memory faded as Medusa blinked back the last of her tears.
The world of Rochel's lively streets came into focus again.
Beside her, Azel was still holding her hand, his thumb brushing the back of it gently.
"Are you feeling better now?" he asked, eyeing her cautiously. "Maybe the pepper was too much?"
Medusa huffed, puffing her cheeks like a sulking child.
"Pepper isn't strong enough to defeat me, Master!"
She threw a light punch at his stomach to prove her point.
Azel grunted, biting his lip.
'I swear I have high endurance and defense... so why do her 'soft' punches feel like this?'
It wasn't only her but it was the same with Edna, it was worth wondering why.
Medusa smirked, chest swelling with pride.
They wandered further into Rochel, the city alive with sound and color.
Medusa's violet eyes darted everywhere, wide with fascination.
They were in the marketplace, she had seen markets before — burned them, emptied them, ruled them.
But never walked through one hand-in-hand with someone who mattered.
'It feels... different,' she thought. 'Almost like I belong here. Like... I'm not a monster at all.'
Azel pulled out a folded parchment.
"Edna gave us a list. She said if you really wanted to go out with me, you should buy everything here. Apparently, she wants to cook."
Though Azel really doubted it, Edna and Cook? In the same sentence? It was just atrocious, she used to be an Empress that didn't lift a hand in the kitchen, how did she plan to cook?
But then he decided to trust her.
Medusa straightened immediately, her expression sharp.
"Then we must succeed, Master. My Lady entrusted us with this mission."
Azel chuckled. "A mission, huh? Let's see what we're up against. After this we'll explore the city a bit more."
He scanned the parchment. "Onions, garlic, bell peppers... ginger."
'These are normal ingredients,' Azel thought, did she plan to cook an Aegis Empire dish? After all it was only in Aegis dishes that these kinds of ingredients were usable.
Medusa leaned close to peek at the list, her hair brushing against his arm.
Azel stiffened at the faint tickle, and she caught it, lips curling smugly.
"Yes. And don't forget the ginger," she said seriously.
"You're awfully into this," Azel teased.
"I am not excited," she shot back too quickly. Her cheeks warmed as she lowered her voice. "...It's just — I've never done this before. Not like this. Not as... a person."
Azel's gaze softened. "Then let's make it a first worth remembering."
Medusa looked away, clutching his hand tighter.
The first stall sold vegetables in overflowing baskets.
Onions piled high like golden hills, garlic strung in braids, peppers bright as jewels.
Medusa crouched down, inspecting them as though they were treasures of war.
She picked up one onion, frowned, and tossed it aside.
"Too soft."
Another she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "This one smells wrong."
The vendor laughed nervously. "My lady, perhaps I can—"
"No need," Medusa interrupted, plucking a perfect onion and thrusting it into Azel's hands.
"This one's alive."
Azel raised a brow. "Alive?"
She nodded sagely. "Yes. Vegetables must be alive to be worthy."
He smothered a laugh, adding it to their bag.
Soon she had gathered the freshest vegetables with uncanny precision.
When Azel tried to carry the bag, she swatted him away.
"Master carried me here. I can at least carry the vegetables."
"Fair enough," he said with a smile.
Next came the butcher's row.
The air was thick with the smell of meat and blood.
Butchers shouted their wares, cleavers gleaming as they hacked through ribs and bone.
Azel handled the negotiations, haggling firmly while Medusa stood at his side like a silent sentinel.
Or not so silent.
She noticed a group of young men across the way staring at her.
They were staring lustfully, even more so than the people before.
'What's it about men and eyeing women that they can't get?' She didn't understand.
Her lips curved into a cold smile.
One violet strand of her hair split into a serpent-tendril, invisible to all but the gawkers.
It hissed low, its tongue flicking in warning.
The men blanched, paling as though they'd seen death itself, and bolted.
When Azel turned back with wrapped bundles of meat, Medusa was the picture of innocence, blinking up at him.
"What?" she asked sweetly.
"Nothing," Azel said slowly.
But he could sense a bit of mana from her hair.
'Did she do something?'
They moved on to spices and herbs, where Medusa declared herself the ultimate authority.
She sniffed each sprig of rosemary, inspected every bulb of ginger, and dismissed half the stock with a disdainful flick of her wrist.
When she finally approved an item, she handed it to Azel with a tiny, ceremonial nod.
Each time his fingers brushed hers, her heart hammered faster.
'Why does this feel... nice?' she wondered. 'Even more than victory ever did...'
At last, they reached the final stall — tomatoes, ripe and red, glistening under the sun.
Medusa chose each one carefully, placing them in the basket like fragile treasures.
"That's the last of the list," Azel said, tying the bundle to his storage ring.
He dusted off his hands.
"Not bad. We didn't even get lost."
Medusa hugged her bag of vegetables to her chest, cheeks pink.
"...I liked it. This... shopping."
Azel turned to her, amused. "If you want we can do it more often."
She huffed, looking away. "I'd like that Master, maybe I can cook for you next time."
He chuckled and ruffled her violet hair gently.
Medusa froze, breath catching, her face burning.
"Good," he said softly. "Then we'll do it again sometime."
[Author's Note]
Phew I'm finally done, I woke up a bit later than expected but when I woke up, I saw Novelius had gifted a castle.
Thanks for the castle, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying the book, I'll do a 5 Chapter mass release if we get to 100 GT by tomorrow.
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC83: In The Kitchen
Chapter 83: In The Kitchen
Azel sighed softly as he stood outside the inn with Medusa.
The day had stretched long, after visiting the market, their "date" if one could call it that, had gone uphill from there.
They had visited so many places that even Azel was surprised she hadn't burned out halfway.
Everywhere except the church.
Azel's lips tightened as his eyes flicked toward the towering spire visible in the distance, bells tolling faintly.
He hadn't told Medusa outright, but there were places he didn't intend to step foot into until absolutely necessary.
A church was one of them.
The church in this world was similar to other churches from fantasy worlds, they were a corrupt bunch of people drunk on power.
Medusa tugged gently at his sleeve, dragging him out of thought.
She bowed lightly, though her lips were caught between her teeth in a way that betrayed nerves.
"Thank you for today, Master," she murmured. Her tone softened, almost shy.
Then she hesitated before asking, "Could I... ask for something?"
Azel didn't need to read her mind to know what it was.
A pack materialized in his hand from his storage ring — still hot, wrapped in brown paper.
He handed it over.
"This is what you wanted, right?" he asked with a knowing smile.
He'd noticed how she had been sneaking glances at his ring all afternoon, as if waiting for the moment he would remember.
Medusa's eyes lit up, violet irises shimmering with delight.
"Yes, Master~" she said, voice curling into a singsong as she turned her face away, pink dusting her cheeks.
She clutched the bag of kebabs like a dragon securing treasure, then suddenly unable to handle the moment, she spun and dashed inside the inn, her violet hair swaying like a comet's tail.
Azel blinked.
Then he chuckled to himself. "...Cute."
He followed after her, stepping into the quiet warmth of the inn.
The living room was empty, lanterns swaying faintly in the evening draft.
The faint scratch of quill against parchment led his steps toward his room.
When he pushed the door open, he froze.
Lillia was perched on the floor, legs folded beneath her, giggling as she scribbled furiously on a piece of paper.
Beside her, Edna leaned in, covering her mouth as she tried (and failed) to stifle her own laughter.
The two looked so comfortable together — like they had always been this way, mother and daughter bound by more than blood, basking in simple peace.
'They really look good together,' Azel thought, warmth curling in his chest.
His old life — hours spent grinding games, screens glowing in dimly lit rooms felt like a different universe compared to this.
He loved his new life... watching this was better than any victory screen, better than any game cleared.
"Papa!"
The little girl's bright cry shattered his thoughts.
Lillia teleported forward in a spark of light, appearing midair before him with the paper clutched in her hands.
Azel instinctively caught her against his chest, steadying her as she giggled.
"Whoa there, speedy," Azel said, looking down at her as her silver eyes sparkled.
Edna's gaze lifted from the floor to meet his.
She blew him a playful kiss, eyes glinting with warmth.
Azel, lips twitching, puckered back before turning his attention to the bundle of energy in his arms.
"Yes, cutie?" he asked gently.
"Papa, I drew both of us!" Lillia announced proudly, nearly shoving the paper into his face.
Azel took it with one hand while balancing her with the other.
His eyebrows arched.
At the center of the page was... well, him. Or at least, a thin stick figure version of him.
A very thin one.
With long hair.
Long enough that, for a second, Azel swore Lillia had drawn him as a woman.
Beside him was a smaller stick figure holding his hand, smiling brightly with pink scribbled hair.
Clearly Medusa, down to the detail of her round eyes and prideful stance.
"Cuteee," Azel drawled, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face.
He rubbed his chin against Lillia's cheek until she squealed.
"Yes, Papa," she giggled, pressing against him.
Then her small voice dropped into a whisper, trembling faintly. "I haven't seen Papa since I slept yesterday. I was worried."
Azel's chest tightened.
He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "Papa's really strong. Nothing can happen to him."
"Of course nothing can," Edna chimed in as she stood, walking toward them.
Her smile softened as her eyes lingered on Lillia. Then she tilted her head toward Azel. "Now, can I borrow your papa for some minutes? We want to go and cook."
Lillia puffed her cheeks like Medusa, then nodded dramatically.
"Okay, Mama." She wriggled free, landing gracefully on the floor with her small feet, her silver hair bouncing. "I'll draw some more while you two do boring stuff."
"Boring?" Azel muttered with a smile as she skipped back to her corner.
...
The kitchen smelled faintly of woodsmoke and herbs, the lantern above casting a soft glow over the counter.
The ingredients they had carried back from the market were spread neatly across the surface — onions, garlic, peppers, fresh meat still wrapped.
"You know," Azel said as he rolled his sleeves back, "we don't have to do this."
Edna shot him a look, her pout instantly forming. "Are you trying to insinuate that I can't cook?"
Azel turned his face away, biting the inside of his cheek.
He could face monsters, blades, conspiracies... but not the cuteness of Edna puffing her cheeks like that.
"That's not what I meant," he said quickly. "You don't have to."
Truthfully, he doubted any of these women could cook.
Lillia was too small, Medusa had likely never touched a stove in her tyrant's life, and Edna was a former empress had always had servants and maids to handle such things.
In his mind, the idea of her cooking was absurd.
Charming, but absurd.
"I can," Edna said with surprising confidence, resting her hands on her hips. "I watched how the maids used to do it."
Azel's lips twitched.
He watched her turn toward the ingredients with a flourish, the confidence in her posture radiating like sunlight.
She picked up a knife dramatically.
And then froze.
"...How do you chop an onion again?" she whispered to herself.
Azel choked back a laugh.
Edna glanced at him, her confidence visibly wavering.
Inside, her thoughts spiraled.
'I actually can't. I don't remember. Why did I say that with so much confidence? Ugh, Edna, you fool.'
But when she looked back at him, she straightened her shoulders again, cheeks flushed.
"Don't just stand there, Idiot. Peel the garlic."
Azel grinned, stepping closer until his arm brushed hers. "Yes, my lady."
[Author's Note]
1/5
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC84: Cooking Lesson
Chapter 84: Cooking Lesson
Azel cut through the garlic with swift, fluid strokes.
The sound of the blade striking the cutting board echoed with a rhythm so steady it could have been mistaken for music.
He didn't even look strained — his hand moved with precision, each clove reduced to neat fragments as though it were second nature.
Edna stood nearby, holding back a sigh.
She should have expected this.
Azel did everything with that same air of quiet competence.
Whether he was fighting, walking, or now, chopping garlic, he made it look effortless.
Her gaze lingered on his hand, the way his fingers curled around the knife, firm but relaxed.
She glanced at the onions laid out before her.
How difficult could it be?
'I can at least manage this,' she thought, squaring her shoulders.
She picked up one of the onions, clutching it with exaggerated seriousness.
The skin crinkled under her fingers as she set it down.
She raised the knife, a bit higher than necessary, and brought it down in what she hoped would be a clean slice.
Instead —
The onion split raggedly, and a sharp sting flared across her palm.
"Ah!"
She dropped the knife, pulling back her hand instinctively.
A line of red welled across her skin, the sudden pain making her flinch.
Before she could even think of reaching for a cloth, warmth pressed against her back.
Azel's presence enveloped her, solid and close.
His arm slipped around her waist, steadying her, while his other hand clasped hers.
A golden glow bloomed between their joined fingers.
Light surged, not harsh but soft, pure — almost too pure.
The warmth seeped into her skin, and in an instant the pain dissolved.
The wound closed before her eyes, the blood evaporating as if it had never been there at all.
Edna stared.
She had seen holy magic before, once from a Church healer in her youth.
But there was a difference between the way his power felt and the way Azel's magic felt.
This... this was something else.
The light felt cleaner.
"You shouldn't force yourself to do something you've never tried before," Azel's voice brushed her ear, low and steady.
Edna swallowed.
She was very aware of how close he was — the press of his chest against her back, the heat of his arm around her waist.
The sting of her wound was gone, but now she felt a different kind of ache, one she couldn't heal.
'Idiot... don't get so close if you don't mean it that way.'
She puffed up, more to hide her embarrassment than anything.
She could feel the arm, the way he could pull her closer with the smallest movement.
'I've been holding myself back long enough,'she thought, her cheeks burning as her shameless side stirred.
Part of her wanted to spin around, shove him against the counter, and kiss him until he stopped breathing so calmly.
The rational part reminded her this was hardly the time.
He let the glow fade, finally releasing her hand.
"Idiot," he said simply.
She puffed up further, hiding her fluster behind an indignant glare.
But when his arm slid away from her waist, she couldn't stop the dissatisfied grunt that escaped her lips.
He chuckled, clearly amused, but turned back to the counter.
"Come on. Let me show you how to cut an onion."
Edna's pride bristled, but she bit back a retort and watched closely.
Azel picked up another onion and held it steady.
"First, peel away the skin. Don't just slice through it. Watch."
With calm movements, he scored the side of the onion, peeled back the outer layers, and revealed the smooth, white flesh beneath.
Then, with effortless precision, he chopped it into even pieces.
"Don't force the blade," he continued. "Guide it. Let its weight do the work. See?"
He stepped back, offering her the knife.
Edna picked up another onion, mimicking his movements.
Peel, slice...
"Too much pressure," Azel said, standing at her shoulder.
She adjusted, cutting slower this time.
The knife slid more cleanly. The pieces came apart, not perfect, but neat enough.
Her eyes brightened. "I did it."
Azel gave a small nod. "Better. Do it again."
They continued, side by side, until the vegetables were neatly prepared.
Carrots, herbs, and the remaining garlic joined the pile.
Finally, Azel glanced at the counter. "Now. We can make Roselain stew."
Edna blinked. "How did you know what I planned to make?"
"Well..." His lips quirked. "It's a dish from Deymoor. I used to have it when I was out in town."
"Do you know how to make it?"
"Yes but I haven't actually made it before," He said with a small sigh, "Now watch me,"
He set a pot on the stove and poured oil inside.
The faint shimmer told of heat building quickly.
"First, the onions." He tossed a handful in.
The pan hissed instantly, oil snapping upward in tiny, vicious droplets.
Some landed on Azel's face but he didn't even blink.
Edna squeaked and stumbled back. "It's attacking!"
Azel laughed under his breath.
"That's just the oil. Stir them. Don't let them burn."
She hesitated. The pan still crackled like a live thing.
"Here," Azel said, handing her the wooden spoon. "Keep it moving. You'll get used to it."
With a wary frown, Edna took the spoon.
She stirred carefully, half-expecting the oil to leap at her again.
But as the onions softened, their sharp smell mellowed into something sweet and fragrant.
She stole a glance at Azel, who watched her with a faint smile.
"Not bad," he said.
She smirked back. "Of course it isn't. I'm a quick learner."
"Mm." His eyes twinkled. "Quick to cut yourself, too."
Her face flared red.
She almost slammed the spoon at him, but restrained herself when the mix hissed in protest.
They added the carrots, letting them soften before Azel dropped in chunks of meat.
The sizzling grew louder, filling the air with a savory aroma that made her stomach growl.
Broth followed, bubbling as the flavors began to blend.
Azel sprinkled in herbs, explaining each one with the calm tone of someone who had done this many times before.
Edna stirred, occasionally splashing broth onto the stove, earning a patient sigh from him.
But with each step, she grew more comfortable.
Cooking was an art, it was like a rhythm...
The stew simmered, filling the room with warmth.
"Phew we're done." Edna said and then Azel stroke his chin.
"Wait we didn't buy rice," Azel said and Edna looked at him.
"Rice?"
Azel blinked.
"You don't know what rice is?"
"Is that something I should know?"
'This woman is hopeless at cooking.'
[Author's Note]
2/5
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC85: Family Man
Chapter 85: Family Man
The small dining room of the inn was filled with warmth.
The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting golden light over the wooden walls.
The table was crowded with plates and bowls, their steam carrying the scent of herbs, stewed meat, and fresh vegetables.
Everyone sat together in the little room, and for a moment, It felt like they were a big family.
Lillia sat on Azel's lap, spoon clutched in her small hand, though more of the food had ended up on her chin than in her mouth.
Azel, patient as ever, guided her movements, showing her how to scoop, how to tilt the spoon without spilling, how to bring it carefully to her lips.
"There," he murmured, steadying her tiny hand. "Not too much at once."
Lillia puffed her cheeks as she swallowed. "Papa, it's hard."
"You'll get it."
His smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Next bite, slower."
Edna watched them from across the table, her own spoon paused mid-air.
There was no mistaking it — her chest warmed at the sight.
Azel, strict but patient, and Lillia, eager but clumsy.
It was a picture of the ordinary life she had once thought impossible.
Most of the things she dreamed about had become possible... ever since she met him.
By the time they were finishing, Azel reached into his storage space and pulled out a pack wrapped in parchment.
He placed it on the table in front of Edna with a casual motion.
"Here," he said.
Another, smaller pack appeared in his hand, which he opened for himself.
Edna blinked, curious, and tugged at the string.
The parchment fell away, and the scent hit her at once — charcoal smoke, grilled meat, and that faint sweetness of marinated glaze.
Her breath caught.
They were Chicken kebabs.
The same ones they had eaten together on that day, when she had snuck out of the castle dressed as a commoner.
The same ones Azel had bought from that little street vendor, brushing her hand when he passed the skewer to her, walking beside her as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"He remembered..." The words left her lips before she could stop them, barely more than a murmur.
Her fingers lingered on the stick.
That memory had been simple and yet Azel had carried it forward, placing it here before her as though it had always mattered.
Her chest tightened, but she kept her eyes on the food, unwilling to let him see how flustered she was.
Across the table, Medusa groaned dramatically.
'Ugh... I ate mine too fast.' She flopped onto the table, pressing her cheek against the wood. 'I was so excited I didn't pace myself. Now I don't have any.'
Azel looked at her blankly. "Want one?"
He extended his skewer toward her without much thought.
Medusa lifted her head, blinking at the offering.
The kebab was still hot — its juices glistened under the light, the heat trapped perfectly thanks to his storage magic.
Her gaze flicked to Edna, who was focused on her own food, chewing slowly, lost in thought.
'This is one of the few moments I can claim Master,' Medusa thought, a sly glint flashing in her eyes.
Instead of reaching for the stick with her hand, she leaned forward slowly.
Her lips parted, and she closed around the kebab.
Her tongue slid forward, rolling against the skewer as she drew the meat into her mouth.
When she leaned back, her tongue trailed along the stick, leaving a glisten of saliva that slid down onto Azel's fingers.
"Thanks, master~" she said, smiling with feigned innocence, her voice dipped in honey.
Edna nearly dropped her spoon.
Azel blinked at her once.
Then twice.
His expression flattened, though his ears had turned the faintest shade of red.
Without a word, he set the now-damp stick down on the edge of his plate.
"You're welcome," he muttered, too casually, before turning away.
As though the act had never happened, he lifted another kebab and offered it to the little girl still on his lap.
"You haven't had this before, have you?" he asked.
Lillia sniffed at it curiously, nose wrinkling at the smoky aroma.
"No, papa. But it smells... really good."
"Don't stick it to your nose," Azel said, tilting it back before she got sauce on herself.
She pouted. "Feed me. Feed me like you fed Mama."
Edna's spoon froze mid-air, her face flushing scarlet.
Medusa, across the table, was suddenly as red as the sun, her shoulders shaking as she suppressed the need to squeal.
Azel sighed, helpless, and brought the skewer to Lillia's mouth. "Open."
She bit down happily, chewing with wide eyes as the flavor filled her mouth.
Her little face bloomed into delight.
"Papa, it's so good!" she exclaimed with a muffled mouth, smiling with greasy cheeks.
Edna exhaled, covering her lips with her hand to hide the smile tugging there.
The sight of Azel patiently feeding both Medusa and Lillia — whether he realized it or not was disarming.
He made it all seem so easy, so natural, as though family had always been his role.
'He'll be a very good father... I'll make sure I have his kid...'
Dinner carried on in warm silence after that.
When the food was gone and the plates cleared, they each drifted to their rooms.
...
Later that night, Azel pushed open the door to Edna's room.
She was seated cross-legged on the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady.
Around her floated five glowing cores, each one pulsing faintly as she drew in their lingering energy.
Mages at the two star level could usually absorb two or three at a time but she showed why she was a prodigy with mana.
Her concentration was absolute, her hair shifting gently in the aura that surrounded her.
Azel lingered at the doorway, watching for a moment.
She looked untouchable like this, and fierce as well.
"I'll need to spin the Fate Wheel more," he muttered under his breath.
With a soft sigh, he turned away, leaving her to her meditation.
In his own room, he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
He willed himself forward, reaching for that familiar thread to the Plane of Light.
The heaviness in his body gave way to a strange weightlessness.
His limbs grew distant, his breath shallow.
Then, with a final tug, he felt himself rise.
His vision tilted — his body remained on the bed, motionless, as though asleep.
[If your body is in danger, the System will forcefully eject your soul from the Plane.]
"Nice," Azel muttered, faintly impressed.
Then the world blinked.
He stood in the radiant chamber once more — the Plane of Light.
And there she was.
The goddess.
Azel's eyes widened, his jaw slackening, threatening to hit the ground.
"Darling~ Welcome back~" Her voice was a sing-song purr, playful and dangerous.
His throat worked before his voice broke out:
"Wh — what are you wearing?"
[Author's Note]
3/5, the rest will come afterwards.
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC86: A Satisfying Gift
Chapter 86: A Satisfying Gift
The moment Azel's vision cleared, he blinked rapidly, almost convinced the system had thrown him into a dream.
The goddess was there, but not dressed in the flowing divine garbs of yesterday.
No — what she wore could barely be called clothing.
A bikini.
Though it was not like a regular bikini at all.
The fabric clung to her curves like a lover's caress, thin strands of cloth doing the impossible task of covering what could hardly be covered.
Her breasts threatened to spill from the flimsy cups, the swell of soft flesh rising and falling with each breath.
Her hips curved out in perfect symmetry, leading down to long, sculpted legs that shimmered faintly with divine light.
Azel froze.
He had thought he glimpsed her beauty before through her dress, but this — this was something else.
This was truly the splendor of a goddess.
His throat went dry, and his eyes betrayed him, running shamelessly down her figure until they landed on the perfect roundness of her ass.
"...Beautiful," he muttered without even realizing.
The goddess twirled on the spot, her silvery blond hair whipping playfully, her voice a melody as she said.
"I didn't hear you."
But she had heard him.
She was relishing every second of his stunned admiration.
Her skin prickled with the strange, ticklish warmth of being desired — something she had not felt in eons.
Azel shook his head as if waking from a trance and spoke louder, "I said you're beautiful."
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward in one smooth motion, closing the distance between them.
His hand slipped confidently around her waist, tugging her against his chest.
The goddess gasped softly, her body stiffening for an instant before melting into his embrace.
His voice was low, sincere, heavy with intent.
"So very beautiful."
If she had been a normal woman, her knees might have buckled from the sheer weight of those words.
But she was a goddess — immortal, revered, untouchable.
Or so she liked to think.
Her cheeks burned like a ripe peach as she pressed closer, using all of her summoned courage, she leaned toward his ear so he couldn't see her flustered face.
"Only you can see me like this," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin.
Her words dripped with temptation, sweet and dangerous. "I can even let you see beneath... if you'd like."
Azel stiffened. "Beneath?"
"Yes, beneath, you could touch me anywhere you want or even make me — got you!"
Before he could even process, the scenery warped.
The divine chamber vanished, and in its place stretched a golden beach under a blazing sun. L
Sand shifted beneath his feet, warm and soft, while the sea roared faintly in the distance.
[The concentration of Holy Mana in the air is dense.]
[Your core is now absorbing the mana in the air.]
Azel's gaze shifted.
The goddess stood ahead of him, still in that scandalous bikini, laughing — her voice like chimes in the wind.
"Look at how ready you were to see beneath my clothes," she teased, pointing at him with a victorious grin.
Azel's face heated.
He rubbed the back of his head, awkward yet defiant.
"Well, I didn't want that," he said.
The goddess blinked, almost stumbling. "...Wait, you didn't?"
"Yeah," Azel replied with a calm shrug. "You're not the kind of woman who'd just open her legs for anyone, are you?"
The goddess nearly shouted.
"No, I wouldn't!"
Her pout was adorable, though she didn't realize how much it betrayed her flustered heart.
Inside, however, she was a mess.
'I would do it with you because I like you,'she thought desperately, 'but I can't let you think I'm desperate.'
Men didn't value what was easy...
Rain's memories made that clear.
Her lips pressed together, conflicted.
The longer she stood near him, the harder her heart pounded.
She had lived countless years, untouched by mortal desire, but this... this man was different.
He had pulled color into her otherwise boring eternity.
Countless times of watching humans, selecting Saintesses, watching heroes face calamities and those couldn't even be as enjoyable as this.
She wanted him.
And yet she wanted to be valued more than that.
"My heart hurts," she muttered under her breath, though she forced a smile when Azel looked back at her.
Then his voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "Oh, that reminds me."
The goddess tilted her head. "Hm?"
'System,' Azel asked silently, 'can the kebabs be brought here?'
[Yes, Host.]
'Good. Bring them.'
A package shimmered into existence in his hand.
Azel tore it open, and at once a wondrous aroma filled the beach.
Spiced meat, grilled to perfection, the smoky-sweet fragrance carried by the sea breeze.
The goddess froze.
She knew that smell.
Through her faint link with Rain, she had once caught the scent when the girl passed by food stalls, but Rain had been too stingy to buy any.
The goddess had longed for it secretly, a silly wish buried beneath her pride.
"You... got this for me?" Her voice trembled.
"Yes," Azel said casually, though his lips curved into a smile. "I wasn't sure if I could bring food from the human realm into this place, but—"
He didn't get to finish.
The goddess launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck.
She pressed her lips to his cheek once, twice, then again and again, showering him with kisses like a storm of affection.
"Thank you, darling~ I love you~ I love you~" she sang, her voice drunk with joy.
Azel blinked, utterly stunned.
Nothing had prepared him for being kissed to death by a goddess in a bikini over kebabs.
'Perhaps the way to a woman's heart is truly a kebab,' he thought wryly as he offered her the first skewer.
The goddess's eyes lit up.
She bit into it eagerly, her divine composure shattered as her lips sank into the tender, juicy meat.
Flavor exploded across her tongue, it was savory, smoky, tinged with sweetness.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and a tiny, embarrassing moan slipped out.
"This... this is divine," she whispered, licking the sauce from her lips.
"You're divine," Azel said without missing a beat.
Her face turned crimson.
She swatted at him half-heartedly, her heart thundering in her chest.
'He's going to kill me at this rate...'
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC87: Mischievious Goddess
Chapter 87: Mischievious Goddess
'Life used to be boring.'
The thought rolled softly through the mind of Nyala, goddess of the Plane of Light, as she sat cross-legged upon a smooth, sun-warmed stone at the shore.
Her eyes half-closed, her lips curled into a faint smile, she let the radiant sea-breeze comb gently through her silken hair.
The Plane of Light stretched endlessly around her: skies painted in a bright eternal dawn, sands as white as powdered pearl, and an ocean glowing faintly with divine sheen.
It was her dominion, her very essence woven into the fabric of this paradise.
Holy energy here was absolute.
If mortals from the church could even touch a fraction of this mana, they would ascend into myths.
And yet... the goddess, eternal and unchanging, had found herself long starved of thrill.
Centuries upon centuries of quiet perfection dulled into monotony.
Until him.
Her gaze drifted toward the young man beside her.
Azel sat calmly with a skewer of meat in his hand, chewing slowly, the light of the Plane coursing invisibly into his core.
He did not resist it — his body drank it greedily.
Something only possible because of who he was.
He was a human, but not just a human.
He was hers.
Nyala bit into her own kebab, teeth sinking into tender meat seasoned with salt, fire, and memory.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
The taste was an explosion dripping with richness that no divine fruit nor ambrosial nectar could replicate.
Her heart melted once again.
'I haven't had anything from the human realm in so many centuries...'
Her lips parted in a delighted sigh. 'So this is what I was missing.'
She had lived above humanity, and yet with one bite she remembered why mortals cherished food, laughter, warmth.
She remembered why she had watched over them in the first place.
"This tastes so amazing," she said at last, licking her lips with girlish delight.
Azel smiled faintly, watching her joy as though it was worth more than the heavens.
"I'm glad. It's even better than you imagined when you caught a whiff, right?"
Nyala's eyes sparkled. "Yes. So much better."
But then her pout returned, cheeks puffed slightly.
"You know, I smelt this once before. Through Rain."
"Through Rain?" Azel tilted his head.
"Yes," Nyala said, flicking her hair as though to emphasize the obvious. "I can manifest in her body a little. I can also share her senses. I've seen through her eyes, heard through her ears, even tasted."
"I see." Azel's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "So you could perceive the barbecue from her."
Nyala nodded once, her pout deepening.
"Exactly. She has enough money, but she was too stingy to buy one!"
Her irritation was genuine.
For centuries she had been deprived, and when finally close to indulging through Rain... the girl denied her.
A mischievous idea struck her.
Without warning, she waved her hand.
Holy light shimmered before them, forming a translucent screen.
Rain appeared on it.
The mortal girl was half-dressed in her room, only her underwear and bra covering her pale skin, her hands fumbling as she tried to slip into shorts.
Then, she froze — eyes widening as she realized the goddess and Azel were watching.
"Hey Rain~!" Nyala teased in a sing-song voice.
"KYAAAA!"
The squeal nearly shattered the screen as Rain dove off-frame, and Nyala dismissed the vision with a flick, laughter ringing like a bell.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" she said, biting once more into her kebab.
"Yes," Azel admitted calmly, though inwardly he shivered.
If Nyala could conjure visions of Rain, she could just as easily expose him.
But before he could follow that thought further, her voice softened.
"Azel..."
"Yes?"
"Do you think I'm... easy?"
The words fell heavy.
He blinked.
Slowly, he turned, meeting her gaze.
And he saw something he would never expect to see on the confident goddess's face, she was unsure.
A faint flush touched her cheeks, her lashes lowered.
"Why would I think that?" he asked gently.
"Because I approached you first," she said quickly, almost nervously. "Because I wanted to be your lover before you even asked. Because I keep... touching you."
Her voice grew smaller. "I don't want you to think I'm desperate."
Azel's eyes softened. "Goddess. None of that makes you easy."
She looked up, startled.
"It's not your fault. And even if you did come to me first, I don't see it as weakness. I see it as courage," Azel continued. "I'm just glad I got to meet you."
Her lips parted faintly. "H-huh?"
"Not just because of the magic, or the Plane, or anything else," Azel said with quiet honesty. "Just being with you makes me smile. And if being here eases your loneliness, that's more than enough reason for me to stay."
For a long moment, the goddess stared. Her chest throbbed wildly.
She could not remember the last time she had felt so conflicted — hope, fear, joy, longing, all tangled into one overwhelming rush.
Then she dropped her half-eaten skewer and suddenly pulled him into her arms.
"I'm happy," she whispered into his chest. "I'm happy I met you too. I'm happy I belong to you. I'm happy that you treasure me and you're not like the man Rain speaks of..."
Her embrace tightened. "I'll give you anything you want. Just please, stay with me. Don't let my life go back to its monotone self."
Azel raised a hand, gently patting her hair.
"Everything is fine just the way it is. We're lovers, aren't we? Eternal, until my soul passes on. I won't be leaving anytime soon."
Nyala trembled. "I love you."
"I love you too."
The air around them shimmered.
[Hidden Quest Completed]
[Make A Goddess Fall In Love With You]
[Target: Nyala, The Goddess Of Light]
[Rewards are being calculated... it will take some time]
Nyala pulled back, her teary eyes brightening like a mischievous child's.
"Now... let's go swimming."
"Alright." Azel smiled, rising with her.
But she did not move toward the water.
Instead, her hand tightened on his. Her lips curved with playful intent.
"Wait—"
She spun him around and with divine strength hurled him across the shore.
"Whooo! Go hunny!"
Azel flailed as his body soared through the air.
SPLASH!
Water exploded upward, glittering under the radiant sun as Azel vanished beneath the divine waves.
Nyala clapped her hands together, laughter echoing.
Her heart raced, not from boredom, not from loneliness, but from the warmth of mischief, joy, and love.
"Mischievous goddess," Azel muttered as the water engulfed him.
And strangely, he was smiling too.
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EXTRA'S REBIRTH: I WILL CREATE A GOOD ENDING FOR THE HEROINESC88: Mana And Aura
Chapter 88: Mana And Aura
"So these are holy fishes?" Azel asked, his eyes narrowing as he reached toward the water where a massive fish swam past.
It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Its scales glimmered like molten gold, each movement refracting light in dazzling arcs across the surface of the sea.
Nyala stood nearby, cradling one in her delicate hands as though it were nothing more than a harmless pet.
The fish wriggled, glowing softly, before she released it back into the waters.
"Yes," Nyala confirmed, her voice carrying a kind of gentle reverence as the golden creature disappeared into the depths.
"Everything in this Plane contains holiness. The air, the land, the water — every living being. Even this fish is imbued with it. That means the mana you're absorbing here... can only manifest as holy magic."
Azel tilted his head, the ripples brushing against his shoulders as he treaded water.
His brows furrowed, considering her words.
"So you're telling me I can't use anything else? Just holy magic?"
"Not exactly." Nyala smiled faintly, raising a finger as though to lecture him. "If you want to use another kind of magic, you'll need to create a separate core within yourself, then fill it to the brim with that element until it stabilizes."
Azel exhaled sharply, water bubbling at the corner of his lips. "Hah... I was hoping I wouldn't need to make more than one."
He rubbed his temple. "Guess I'll just have to take it like that. If I'm going to the winter region next, maybe I'll just make a frost core there."
Nyala tilted her head curiously. "So quick to plan ahead. You've already decided?"
He smirked. "I'm not about to meet another goddess in every region, am I? That'd be too insane."
The goddess giggled, her laugh like silver bells in the vast emptiness of the holy beach.
'I really hope he doesn't meet Ice, that whore will stop at nothing to ruin my happiness.'
"Well, that doesn't matter for now." Azel leaned back, floating lightly over the crystalline waters. "Let's test something..."
Without warning, he let aura flow into his palm.
The energy surged like a storm, compressing within his hand until his skin tingled.
With a sudden strike, he slammed his palm against the surface of the sea.
The effect was instantaneous.
The water erupted in a violent spiral, exploding outward with a roar.
The force was so strong that Azel was thrown back, spinning helplessly before crashing deeper into the waves.
His chest burned from the sudden pressure as he resurfaced, coughing.
He stared at his hand in shock. "What the hell... when did my aura become this chaotic?"
He could feel that divinity bled into his aura.
That was the cause of the explosive backlash.
"Hey! Nyala! Are you okay?!" he shouted, scanning the area in panic.
"Behind you."
Her voice brushed against his ear like a whisper, and Azel nearly leapt out of the sea entirely when he turned to see her floating lazily on her back, completely unharmed.
She sighed.
"You need to be more careful, idiot," she chided, swimming closer.
Her hand reached out, taking hold of his.
Her touch was warm despite the water surrounding them.
"You're subconsciously weaving holy magic into your aura," she explained patiently. "Aura is meant to be stable, grounded in your body. But with divine energy slipping into it... you risk burning yourself out, or worse."
She guided his hand up, tracing along the veins beneath his skin.
"Aura exists in both body and soul. It is your life energy, drawn from within. You channel it into your fists, into your weapons — strengthening them, hardening them. But to project it outward, you rely on something called Aura Veins."
"Aura veins?" Azel repeated, his brow raised. He hadn't heard of this before.
"Yes." Nyala nodded.
Her tone had shifted, slipping into something more serious, almost scholarly. "Aura veins are pathways — unique to each person that allow energy to leave your body without destroying you in the process. Without them, you risk tearing yourself apart every time you try to project power."
Azel hummed in thought, mulling over her words.
Nyala's hands shifted again, this time resting higher on his arm.
He could feel a gentle vibration, like threads weaving beneath his skin.
"Now, if aura is an extension of the body, then mana..." She pressed a little harder, her golden eyes locking onto his. "...is the extension of the mind. Magic is thought made reality. You conjure fire, ice, storms — not through muscle, but through imagination and control."
Her voice softened, a subtle smile tugging at her lips. "Some rely on chants. Others on symbols. But there are no absolute rules. Magic is creativity. How you shape it depends entirely on how far your mind can reach. The Mana vein controls the magic in the body, since you have both, Make sure to differentiate from both veins."
She pulled away, water droplets clinging to her skin as though reluctant to leave.
Then, with a playful smirk, she suddenly darted backwards.
"Now then," she teased, her voice echoing like laughter beneath the waves, "let's see if you can catch me."
Before Azel could react, the sea exploded around her form as Nyala propelled herself forward with shocking speed.
She swam like she was born of the waters, her body slicing through currents with the grace of the golden fishes themselves.
"Tch... she's fast." Azel grit his teeth. He closed his eyes, gathering aura around his body.
This time he was careful, purging the holy traces before they could destabilize him.
His form sharpened, his movements streamlined as he kicked off, chasing after her trail.
The water parted before him, bubbles swirling past his ears.
He pushed harder, faster — his lungs burning, his vision tunneling onto the silver gleam of her hair ahead.
'He learns fast,' Nyala thought, glancing back. Her eyes widened faintly.
He was already closing the distance. 'Very fast.'
She grinned mischievously, kicking harder. But it wasn't enough.
Azel's hand finally latched onto her sleeve, dragging her with him as they both broke the surface.
They erupted together, spraying water into the air before collapsing onto the waves.
"Phew..." Azel gasped, still clutching her arm. "Finally caught you."
Nyala puffed her cheeks indignantly. "It's only because I slowed down!"
"Sure you did." He smirked.
Her gaze drifted then, toward the golden shoreline in the distance.
The sands shimmered faintly, reflecting sunlight like powdered jewels. She blinked, then turned to him.
"You want to go back?" Azel asked, following her gaze.
"Yes... to the shore," she admitted, nodding faintly.
"Good," Azel said with a grin. "After that, let's make sand castles."
"Sand castles?" Nyala tilted her head, genuine confusion in her eyes.
Azel face-palmed, groaning. "Not only are you mischievous, you're hopelessly unknowledgeable too."
Her pout deepened. "Then you'll have to show me. If it's something humans build, I want to try it too."
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