Could that absurd speculation become reality?
From every angle, Brunhilde believed it was impossible.
After all, the magic circle used for divine ascension was the culmination of unimaginable divine wisdom.
And yet, Solomon, a mere human, thought he could replicate it with human intellect alone?
That would be as ridiculous as a zoo monkey imitating humans to build a spacecraft capable of reaching the moon.
Staring intently into the past, she saw the ceiling open into a circular hole, revealing the starry sky outside.
A full moon came into view, steadily approaching the center of the circle.
The moment the hole in the ceiling realigned into a perfect concentric circle, the cascading moonlight fell vertically onto the magic circle on the ground.
It was precisely midnight.
At this instant, Brunhilde's entire body tensed, her eyes widening to their limits.
Her pupils contracted, and an expression of sheer disbelief spread across her face.
The magic circle seemed to absorb and concentrate all the moonlight within the palace, dimming the surrounding light while the circle itself emitted a silvery glow.
King Solomon, standing at the center of the magic circle, began to manifest luminous patterns across his body—mystical, sprawling lines that seemed to crawl over his skin.
These patterns appeared to forcibly embed themselves into his flesh. Brunhilde could see his body trembling slightly, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
This scene bore an uncanny resemblance to the process of ascension to godhood.
There was one key difference, however: the ritual of divine ascension took place during the day, under the blazing noon sun.
"Brunhilde, this—!"
By now, even Göll had realized something was amiss. Her voice quivered with disbelief.
"Is he trying to become a god?"
This was... too absurd. It simply wasn't possible.
"No, that can't be it."
To ascend to godhood, the energy required to focus the magic circle would effortlessly reduce a human to ashes.
That was why King Solomon was borrowing the power of moonlight.
Moonlight, though seemingly originating from the moon, was in fact sunlight scattered and reflected off the lunar surface—far weaker than direct sunlight.
The ritual before them seemed to be nearing its end. The glow of the magic circle gradually faded, and the patterns on King Solomon's body appeared to vanish.
No—they weren't vanishing. They were seeping into his body, becoming invisible.
His condition had improved as well. He no longer seemed in pain; instead, he wore an expression of quiet satisfaction. Had the experiment succeeded?
The next moment, he raised one hand before his eyes, holding it as if cradling something.
What was he looking at? His palm was empty—there was nothing there.
No, something was forming. Light began to gather in his hand, coalescing into tiny points of radiance.
From a few, they multiplied into hundreds, then turned a deep crimson, like a cluster of embers. Finally, with a soft whoosh, a flame burst to life in his palm.
A moment later, the flame dissipated, reverting to points of light. The white specks merged, shifting toward transparency—a writhing sphere of water.
Just as before, the water sphere dissolved back into light, and the swirling points transformed into a vortex of flowing air—wind!
"Brunhilde, is... is this magic?"
Göll's eyes were wide, her expression stiff.
Deep down, she knew this wasn't magic. But the truth was too unbelievable—she didn't want to face it.
"Yes, it's magic."
Huh? Even Brunhilde was saying that? Was she, too, unwilling to acknowledge reality?
"That is magic capable of manifesting reality, magic that can kill."
This additional statement left Göll utterly dumbfounded.
"T-that's just sorcery, isn't it?"
Indeed, it was sorcery. It was time for her to face reality.
A mere human had mastered magic—this mortal had reached into the divine domain with his own hands.
This was even more bizarre and unbelievable than the widely known deeds of a certain god in the heavenly realms.
That god was also the one Göll admired and revered most—in human terms, her idol.
The Nemean Lion, the hellhound Cerberus, and other terrifying monsters—he could subdue them all barehanded.
He had overcome twelve excruciating trials deemed "impossible," forging his legend and ascending from demigod to full divinity, earning the recognition of the gods.
He was a god without arrogance, one who doted on her like a sister.
He was the mighty Hercules of Greek mythology.
In fact, had Hercules not been delayed and missed this Valhalla meeting, he would have undoubtedly voted against it, for like Sister Brunhilde, he cherished humanity.
Yet now, right before Göll's eyes, stood someone whose feats surpassed even Hercules in their absurdity.
A mortal who rivaled the gods!
Wait—!
Göll suddenly thought of a possibility.
"C-could this have been bestowed by that god?"
Brunhilde didn't respond to Göll's question, though she privately harbored similar doubts—it was simply too outrageous.
So Brunhilde rewound the historical footage.
As the images reversed, they saw King Solomon repeatedly experimenting with this magic circle, conducting numerous human trials—all on convicted criminals.
"Ugh—!"
Göll covered her mouth to stifle a scream at the horrifying sight that made her scalp crawl.
What was so terrifying? The failed experiments—most of their bodies burst like balloons.
This effectively ruled out Göll's earlier hypothesis.
Clearly, King Solomon had deduced this through his own wisdom.
Of course, Brunhilde doubted he'd done it entirely from scratch. More likely, he'd glimpsed the divine ascension circle through some means, then adapted it for human use.
Even as derivative research rather than pure innovation, it remained staggeringly implausible.
The gods had always believed humans could never grasp the universe's truths—not even deities could create a circle allowing mortals to touch cosmic fundamentals.
To make a human divine, one typically needed either divine parentage or consumption of godly blood to access the supernatural.
Never had there been a method enabling pure human flesh to achieve this. Attempts always ended in violent death.
Didn't this imply Solomon's wisdom surpassed the gods?
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