[ < PRESENT > March 14th, 2087 | Niero's Ego-Space > Sector 13's Central Park > Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City > Midnight ]
-
Niero's awareness drifted back to the present.
He still lay sprawled on his bed within his Ego-Space—that quiet, unreal pocket of existence that felt more honest than reality ever did. The ceiling above him was an endless gradient of dark blue and starlight, unmoving, patient. His chest rose and fell slowly as the last fragments of memory settled back into place.
His first night as a Stargod.
His first kill.
His tenth birthday.
Hovering before him was a familiar, translucent panel—small, unassuming, yet heavy with meaning.
> [Rank-E (Uncommon)] Hachishaku's Tattered Dress
> Remnants of a Hollow entity that mirrors a child-kidnapping Yokai of archaic Japanese folklore.
> Residual malice detected.
> Minimum containment recommended.
The cloth itself floated silently, torn and scorched at the edges, its sundress shape warped as if screaming had been stitched into the fibers. Even now, years later, it radiated a faint wrongness—like a memory that refused to fade.
> "…Hard to believe that thing almost killed you," Vuldyr mused, drifting upside down beside him. Her tone was lighter than the words themselves.
>"You were so small back then. Barely more than a helpless kid swinging fists at nightmares."
She rolled midair and smiled, something fond flickering across her expression.
> "And then you weren't."
Her voice softened.
> "Watching you grow… it's like seeing a spark turn into a wildfire. Also—" she entusiatically shadowboxing the air, "—that fight? Absolute high-octane superhero action drama. Ten out of ten. Would archive again."
Niero exhaled a quiet breath through his nose, eyes still fixed on the relic.
"I almost died."
> "Details," Vuldyr chirped. "Very cinematic details."
He didn't argue. Instead, he let his gaze wander.
The five doors of his Ego-Space stood exactly where they always had—massive, symbolic constructs arranged in a slow arc around the chamber. Each one represented a pillar of himself. Power earned. Power sealed. Power waiting.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five—
Niero froze.
"…That's not right."
He sat up.
He counted again, slower this time.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five—
Six.
His breath caught.
At the far edge of the space, half-hidden by drifting starlight, stood a **new door**.
It was larger than the others. Older. Its surface gleamed with a radiant gold, not polished but alive, as if light itself had been forged into metal. Intricate carvings sprawled across it—warriors locked in eternal combat, blades raised, expressions frozen between fury and resolve. Tiny gems were embedded along the frame, arranged in unfamiliar constellation patterns, each one twinkling faintly, like distant stars acknowledging his gaze.
The air around the door pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A slow, deliberate rhythm—almost like a heartbeat.
Niero swallowed.
"Vee… was this door... here... before?" he said quietly.
Vuldyr stopped joking.
For once, she didn't float. She stood beside him, eyes narrowed, expression unreadable as she studied the door.
> "…No," she admitted. "It definitely wasn't here before."
The golden surface shimmered again, its presence pressing against his senses—not hostile, not gentle.
Inviting.
As if something on the other side had finally decided he was ready to notice it.
Niero swung his legs off the bed and landed lightly on the ceramic and metallic floor.
The moment his feet touched down, the sixth door pulsed brighter—as if acknowledging his intent.
He and Vuldyr moved together, their steps slow, deliberate. The closer they got, the heavier the air became, humming with restrained force.
Vuldyr's expression shifted into something analytical, almost reverent.
> "This… isn't like the others," she said, eyes scanning invisible data streams only she could see.
> "Every door in your Ego-Space corresponds to a function of the Stargod System—combat frameworks, cultivation matrices, survival protocols. They unlock through levels, trials, or proof of worth."
She paused.
> "But this one?" Her voice dropped. "It doesn't register as unlocked."
Niero frowned. "Then what is it?"
Her gaze lingered on the golden carvings—warriors frozen mid-battle, constellations etched with impossible precision.
> "My best guess," she said slowly, "is that it was somehow hidden from us, some sort of a new subsystem that was wasn't present until now."
She turned to him.
> "Something… emergent."
That word sent a thrill down Niero's spine.
His eyes gleamed, excitement cutting through the lingering caution.
"A new system," he said, unable to stop the smile creeping onto his face. "That means new power. New possibilities."
He took another step forward.
"Whatever it is—it didn't show up for no reason."
The door loomed over them now, its golden surface reflecting the star-speckled sky of the Ego-Space. The embedded gems shimmered faintly, rearranging themselves into new constellation patterns as if tracking his presence.
The air throbbed, not violently, but with restrained anticipation—like a weapon waiting to be drawn.
Vuldyr floated closer to his shoulder, her voice dropping into a whisper meant only for him.
> "Be careful, Kiddo. New subsystems don't always play by the rules. They can be volatile. Unstable."
Then, softer—almost fond:
> "But… I don't know why. I just feel it."
She looked at him.
> "As if... this one was meant for you, Niero."
He swallowed.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached out.
The moment his hand placed against the massive auric door, warmth surged into his palm—gentle, but unmistakably powerful. A low vibration traveled up his arm, resonating through his bones, through his chest, straight into his core.
It didn't feel foreign.
It felt… familiar.
Like something that had always been his, merely waiting for the right moment to be claimed.
"Here goes nothing…" he muttered.
He glanced back at Vuldyr.
She nodded, encouragement laced with unmistakable caution.
> "Whatever happens," she said, "you won't face it alone."
Niero turned back to the door.
And pushed.
The towering golden door split open with ease upon him pushing it open, as if the door open itself for him.
The doors rumbles as it opens.
The instant Niero and Vuldyr crossed the threshold, light devoured them.
It wasn't merely bright—it was alive, a radiant pressure that pressed against Niero's skin and bones, resonating in perfect sync with his heartbeat. Each pulse of light answered each beat of his heart, faster… faster… until instinctively he raised an arm to shield his eyes.
Vuldyr did the same, her halo flaring as warning glyphs flickered and vanished in overload.
Then—slowly—the brilliance receded.
What greeted them stole Niero's breath.
The chamber was vast beyond reason, dwarfing most constructs in his Ego Space. It felt less like a room and more like a consecrated domain, carved by gods who understood both beauty and authority. The architecture echoed an ancient Greco-Roman arena—an Ekklesiasterion reborn in divine scale—where judgment, revelation, and fate itself might once have been decided.
Pearlescent-white tiles stretched endlessly beneath their feet, polished so perfectly they mirrored the heavens above. Blue-violet flames danced atop golden lanterns and candles, their light soft yet profound, casting shadows that seemed to move with intent rather than chance.
Golden liquid flowed everywhere.
It streamed through shallow channels etched into the floor, pooled in reflective basins, and spilled gently from miniature waterfalls like a divine garden brought indoors. The liquid shimmered with warmth, not heat—like sunlight made fluid—its glow washing the chamber in quiet reverence.
Towering pillars ringed the arena, each one engraved with intricate spirals, heroic reliefs, and sigils reminiscent of ancient Greek artistry. They climbed impossibly high, vanishing into an open ceiling where the cosmos itself was laid bare.
Above them, constellations hung suspended—not painted, not projected, but real—a living star map slowly shifting, as if time itself flowed differently here.
At the center of it all, a golden waterfall descended from the back end of the chamber with no visible source, cascading into a deep basin of radiant light. The liquid sang as it fell, a low harmonic sound that resonated in Niero's chest, blending with the chamber's omnipresent hum.
It felt sacred.
It felt divine.
Around the chamber stood twenty-seven statues, arranged with deliberate symmetry.
One stood at the forefront, taken a from of a pearlescent statue with small patches of gold, taken a from of a masked warrior with leather-like armor and a beast's skull as shoulder guard, sitting on a throne with its large rectangular hatchet-like claymore that was pierced to the ground. At the bottom of the statue lies the word "The Outsider..
Thirteen flanked each side.
They were not uniform.
Some depicted warriors clad in ancient armor, weapons poised mid-motion. Others bore the likeness of scholars, mages, tacticians, and beings whose forms defied easy understanding—inhuman silhouettes with eyes carved to convey wisdom older than stars.
Every statue radiated purpose.
They were not memorials.
They were some sort of records.
Witnesses.
Judges.
At the chamber's heart rose the bema—a circular altar elevated just above the flowing gold. Its surface was submerged beneath a pool of luminous liquid that churned slowly, particles of arcane energy drifting like embers in suspension.
The liquid rippled as Niero drew closer.
Not from footsteps.
From recognition.
The altar felt aware—an interface, a core, a nexus that connected the statues, the stars, the chamber itself into a single living system.
A shiver ran through Niero, equal parts awe and anticipation.
This wasn't just another function of the Stargod System.
Behind him, Vuldyr hovered in silence—rare for her. Her mechanical halo reflected gold and violet light as unfamiliar data cascaded through her perception. For once, her smug confidence was absent.
> "This…" she said quietly, reverence bleeding into her tone, "this is unlike anything in your Ego Space—or any system architecture I've cataloged."
She scanned the statues again, slower now.
> "The energy here isn't just active. It's definitely simmers with traces of the Astra Force but seems to be semi-sentient."
Her gaze settled on the bema.
> "I advise caution, Niero. Every subsystem has rules. Boundaries." A pause. "This one feels… divine."
Niero didn't look away from the altar.
His reflection shimmered faintly in the golden liquid—older than his years, sharper around the eyes, touched by something that had no name yet.
"Divine or not," he said, voice steady despite the weight pressing on his soul, "This chamber got here, and so are we, seemingly rolling out the red carpet."
He took a step forward.
The chamber responded—the constellations shifting, the liquid brightening, the statues' shadows subtly leaning inward.
His eyes burned with quiet determination.
"Let's see what this golden door wanted to show me."
As Niero and Vuldyr drew closer to the circular bema at the heart of the chamber, it seemes to answer them.
The golden liquid rippled outward in slow, deliberate waves, each pulse perfectly synchronized with Niero's heartbeat. A low hum vibrated beneath his feet—not sound, not quite—more like a memory buried in the floor itself, stirring as it recognized him.
And then it hit him.
A sudden ache bloomed in his chest, tight and heavy, as if something unseen had reached inside and gently squeezed his heart. His vision blurred.
Warmth traced down his cheeks.
Niero blinked, confused—then froze.
"…Huh?"
He lifted a trembling hand and brushed beneath his eye.
Wet.
He was crying.
Not from fear.
Not from pain.
He didn't even know why.
The realization unsettled him more than the Hollow ever had. His breath hitched as emotion welled up uninvited—vast, wordless, and ancient—like standing at the edge of something too immense to comprehend.
Before he could take another step, before he could even ask himself what he was feeling—
> "—NGH! AARRGGHH!!!!"
Vuldyr screamed.
She clutched her head midair, her body convulsing as if struck by an invisible force. Her mechanical halo spun wildly, glyphs flashing and collapsing into static as a sharp crackle echoed through the chamber.
It sounded like lightning breaking inside glass.
Niero's heart lurched. "VULDYR! What's wrong?! Are you—"
> "P–pain… headache—!"
She gasped, her voice fractured, stripped of its usual arrogance. She winced, teeth clenched, as though her thoughts were being ripped apart and rewritten at the same time.
For the first time since he'd met her—
Vuldyr looked distressed.
The statues surrounding them reacted.
Their carved eyes shimmered faintly, glowing gold, not turning—but watching.
Niero instinctively stepped back, every nerve screaming that something profound—something irreversible—was happening.
Then—
Silence.
The static vanished.
The glow receded.
Vuldyr's body sagged as she exhaled shakily, her halo slowing until it hovered once more in perfect alignment. She stared ahead, unblinking, her expression no longer pained—
—but changed.
> "It's… gone," she murmured. "…But I—"
Her words trailed off as her gaze locked onto the bema. The golden liquid reflected in her eyes, bathing them in a soft, reverent light.
> "I understand… a little now."
Niero swallowed. "Understand what?"
She floated forward, voice quieter than he had ever heard it.
> "This place…" she said slowly, as if speaking the name itself carried weight. "It's called the Empyrean Reliquary."
The words seemed to settle into the chamber like a decree.
Niero tilted his head, curiosity pushing back the lingering distress. "Empyrean… Reliquary? What is it?"
Vuldyr turned to him, her usual smugness absent—replaced by something closer to awe.
> "I'm not entirely sure but from the new data that essentially... injected into my mind...painfully...it's part of something that was known as Torchbearer Protocol," she said. "A subsystem older than your Awakening. Older than... me."
She gestured to the statues, the golden liquid, the constellations hanging overhead.
> "This is a repository," she continued softly. "Of the Stargods… before you."
Niero's breath caught.
"Before me…?"
Vuldyr nodded.
> "Others existed," she said. "Other Stargods. Others who walked this path before you—each with their own will, their own triumphs, their own failures."
Her eyes flickered to the statues once more.
> "This chamber preserves their legacies. Their knowledge. Their power." A pause. "…And their echoes."
The golden liquid in the bema swirled, responding to her words.
Niero blinked, the words still ringing in his ears.
"Others… Stargods… before me?" His voice came out quieter than he intended. "I didn't even know that was possible." He swallowed.
"Do you… know anything about this or them?"
Vuldyr slowly shook her head.
> "No," she admitted, and the uncertainty in her voice was unmistakable. "I didn't even know this layer of the Stargod System existed—let alone the existence of other Stargods before you."
Her gaze drifted toward the statues, toward the golden liquid that flowed like living light.
> "It's hidden. Even from me. All I can sense are the remnants… traces of will and existence that refuse to fade or extinguish. Residual essence."
The silence that followed felt heavy—almost suffocating.
Niero's chest tightened as the implications settled in. If there were Stargods before him, then his path was not unique, nor was it simple. This wasn't just about becoming stronger. It was about inheriting something vast—something unfinished.
A legacy.
Or perhaps a warning?
His fingers twitched at his side, an instinctive urge pulling him toward the bema. Toward the golden liquid, the drifting particles of light, the echoes of those who had walked this path long before he was born.
"…Then this isn't just a subsystem," he murmured, more to himself than to Vuldyr. "It's a bridge." His eyes narrowed with dawning realization. "A bridge to the past of the Stargods."
He lifted his gaze, resolve sharpening.
"Maybe even a way to learn how to surpass them."
Vuldyr's eyes glimmered faintly in the candlelight, her expression turning serious.
> "Be careful, Niero. Knowledge like this is never free. The Torchbearer Protocol doesn't grant itself without demanding something in return."
Niero felt his heart pound harder—not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"Got it, Vee" he said firmly.
He stepped closer.
The golden liquid responded instantly, rippling outward as if stirred by his will alone. The floating particles brightened, dancing with anticipation, the chamber itself seeming to hold its breath.
Niero stepped closer to the bema, drawn by something deeper than curiosity. At its center, the golden liquid and drifting particles slowly converged, forming what resembled a divine screen—a hybrid of sacred altar and holographic interface. Symbols shimmered and rearranged themselves, as if the chamber itself were thinking.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the liquid, a shiver ran up his arm.
It was warm—thick and heavy, like molten mercury tempered by golden light. Not painful. Not burning. Just… *present*. As though it acknowledged him in return.
"…It's alive," Niero whispered.
Behind him, Vuldyr hovered uneasily.
> "More like its reactive, in my opinion. This must be the core interface of the Empyrean Reliquary, acting like a liquid-like touchscreen. But as for the Torchbearer Protocol…" She hesitated, her expression tightening.
> "My knowledge is incomplete. Fragmented. Like my own memories."
She folded her arms, eyes drifting toward the statues lining the chamber.
> "All I know is this: the Protocol exists so that Stargods may pass on what they've forged—to those deemed worthy. Power. Insight. Will. Everything that couldn't fade, even after their end."
Niero slowly turned, looking at the statues again—twenty-seven figures frozen in eternal vigil.
"…So they really are Stargods," he said quietly. "The ones before me."
Vuldyr shook her head, then paused.
> "It's strange. I don't recognize any of them," she admitted while her voice softened.
> "But yet, I sense a form of… familiarity. Like echoes brushing against the edge of my awareness. As if I've seen them before. Or stood beside them once."
That answer unsettled him more than a direct confirmation ever could.
The fate of these previous Stargods was unknown. Stargods, as once told by Vuldyr herself, are immortal in the sense they elevated from spacetime by the divine-like Astra Force, making them essentially living gods. But If this chamber meant for deceased immortal Stargods, then what happed to them. The idea itself sent a chill down his spine, thinking that else this chamber had to offer and what could have happened to...**them**.
Before he could speak again—
Chime.
The sound rang out clean and resonant, reverberating through the chamber like a struck bell of gold.
Niero was spooked.
Vuldyr's eyes widened.
From the liquid interface, radiant glyphs surged upward, assembling into a golden status window that hovered between them—solemn, vast, and unmistakably authoritative.
-
━━ ✦ [ STARGOD SYSTEM : EMPYREAN RELIQUARY ] ✦ ━━
RECOGNITION RATIFIED.
By rite fulfilled and threshold surpassed,
the Empyrean Reliquary acknowledges the Stargod—
NIERO RIPLEY.
—
Welcome, Torchbearer.
Bearer of the flame that defies oblivion.
You stand within a sanctum bound to the undying Astra Force—
a reliquary where legacies are not only remembered,
but refuse to die.
Before you rest the 27 Vestiges.
Each is a crystallized testament to blood shed, will hardened, and purpose refined.
They are not relics of power freely given,
but echoes of divine warriors who earned ascension through ordeal.
Each Vestige embodies an aspect of their bearer—
strength honed beyond mortal limit,
knowledge carved through sacrifice,
skill sharpened by unrelenting conflict.
Those who once wielded them did not merely command reality—
they imposed their will upon it.
Understand this truth:
The path of inheritance is long.
The ascent to glory is unforgiving.
Only those who prove dominion over self, fate, and hardship
may inherit the archetypal forces that once bent worlds into submission.
—
For your defiance in the face of imminent, near-inescapable end,
for your resolve to tread the razor's edge of death without surrender,
your existence has drawn the gaze of the Stargod who toys with chance and destiny.
Judgment has been rendered.
Recognition has been granted.
> REWARD CONFIRMED:
> Stargod Archtype Unlock: The Greedmonger
> Stargod Trait Roll: +1
━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━*
-
The golden light pulsed—slow, deliberate—like a distant heartbeat echoing through the chamber.
Niero's breath caught in his throat.
A luminous status window hovered before him, flawless and untouchable, its surface unmarred by dust or time. Yet something about it felt *aware*. Not passive. Not inert.
It was watching him.
No—judging him.
Lines of text shifted subtly, updating in real time, as if the Reliquary itself were observing his every choice, every hesitation. The word Vestiges lingered at the edge of his thoughts, heavy with implication. Were they fragments of the Reliquary's will? Or echoes bound to the colossal statues looming silently around the chamber, their hollow gazes fixed upon him?
"Defiance in the face of imminent, near-inescapable end…" Niero murmured.
The words tasted bitter.
His mind betrayed him with memory: the Orkoid Orc's roar, the crushing impact, the sickening snap of bone. A shattered leg. Blood pooling beneath him as the world dimmed. Death had been close enough to breathe down his neck.
Was that what it meant?
Had the Reliquary been there, unseen, as his life slipped toward oblivion? Watching. Measuring. Weighing his worth like some grotesque spectator sport—his suffering reduced to criteria, his survival a data point.
The thought sent a chill through his spine.
And then there was the other phrase. The one that refused to loosen its grip on his mind.
The Stargod who toys with chance and destiny.
Who—or what—would claim such a title?
Questions spiraled endlessly, but they were all eclipsed by one thing.
At the center of the window, a single button pulsed softly, insistently, radiating a quiet, seductive gravity. It felt less like an option and more like an invitation that had already been accepted.
[ Stargod Archetype Unlock: The Greedmonger ]
"Greedmonger…" Niero whispered.
It glowed with an inviting warmth, as if it wanted to be pressed. Not demanded. Not forced.
Invited.
Shock and intrigue tangled in Niero's chest. His instincts screamed caution, yet something deeper—older—urged him forward. This wasn't greed.
It was curiosity sharpened by destiny.
Behind him, Vuldyr's voice cut in, still edged with awe.
> "Niero… be careful. Even if the Empyrean Reliquary has revealed its purpose, this is the first time I've ever witnessed this subsystem before. Unknown protocols are never without consequence."
Niero exhaled slowly.
"I know," he said.
Then, after a brief nod—more to himself than to her—
He pressed the button.
The chamber answered.
A deep, resonant tremor rippled through the Empyrean Reliquary, as though something massive had shifted its weight beneath reality itself. The constellations overhead rearranged, star-patterns sliding into unfamiliar alignments. Blue-violet flames atop the golden lanterns flared violently, their light stretching and warping.
The pool of golden liquid surged.
It rose from the deep basin in flowing arcs, spilling upward like liquid sunlight drawn by unseen gravity. Even the waterfall at the rear of the chamber reversed its course, its radiant stream peeling free from its fall and racing across the marble floor.
All of it converged on one statue.
The marble surface of the chosen figure softened, becoming fluid and translucent, veins of gold spreading across it like molten veins beneath skin. The statue depicted a warrior clad in ornate armor, fists encased in three-ringed gauntlets, each ring etched with symbols reminiscent of spinning reels.
As the golden liquid filled the grooves carved into its base, a title burned into existence—
THE GREEDMONGER
The name echoed through the chamber, not as sound, but as concept.
Then, the light rose.
From the pool before the statue, the golden liquid answered a silent summons. It rose in a slow, reverent spiral, trembling as if it remembered pain, greed, and prayers all at once. The glow dimmed, then deepened, folding in on itself until a humanoid silhouette took shape. With each heartbeat of light, it hardened, armor sealing like a vow, jewels blinking awake with quiet hunger.
A "human" woman stepped forth.
Her face was striking in a way that refused innocence, pretty yet unmistakably mature, wearing a knowing, mischievous calm as though she had already won a game no one else realized they were playing. Violet hair framed her features, neat yet untamed, dusted with drifting gold flakes that caught the light like forbidden indulgence, as if wealth itself had taken a liking to her.
She was clad in form-fitting leather armor trimmed in gold with a v-collar that shows off her clevage, its surface alive with jewels that shimmered like stars caught mid wager. Across her gauntlets and plates were etched symbols of chance and temptation, dice frozen in eternal tumble, cards half revealed, sigils spinning in subtle defiance of fate. At her arms, twin three-ringed devices turned with a soft mechanical chime, patient and expectant, like a celestial gamble waiting for the universe to place its bet.
Her eyes opened.
They shone with hunger, amusement, and boundless confidence.
A smile curved her lips—sharp, knowing, and dangerous.
Vuldyr went still.
> "…A legacy manifestation," she whispered. "A prior Stargod's echo… given form."
The Greedmonger tilted her head, studying Niero as though he were both wager and prize.
Before Niero could even react, she slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a rough, affectionate half-hug, headlock him while ruffling his hair with her knuckles, while his face was pressed against her breast.
"Hey there, Squirt," she laughed, voice bright and unapologetically fond.
Niero froze, stunned by the casual intimacy. Even Vuldyr stiffened, her eyes widening at the sight—this was no mere apparition, but something bold enough to cross boundaries without hesitation.
"I don't remember you were this cute little shrimp. Haha!" said the mysterious woman jovially.
When Niero finally wriggled free, his heart thudding, he looked up at her with a mix of shock and curiosity.
"W-Who are you?" he asked. "And why are you acting like you know me?"
For the first time, the woman fell silent.
The air grew heavy.
Her smile faltered, just for a heartbeat, as she searched his face—really searched it.
"…You don't remember... me?" she asked quietly.
The question landed harder than it should have.
Niero felt a strange ache in his chest, one he couldn't explain. Hen and Vuldyr glanced at each other, then back at the woman, sensing the gravity behind those words—an implication far deeper than a simple introduction.
Then—clap.
Loud enough to echo the entire chamber.
Just like that, the mood flipped.
The woman spun on her heel, energy bursting back into her posture as though the silence had never existed.
"Well! No sense sulking over bad odds," she declared cheerfully. "Let's start fresh!"
She threw her arms wide with theatrical flair.
"I am The Greedmonger—Stargod of Luck, Fate, and Gambling. Lady of luck, lord of chances, and a gal who loves gambling as much as a good Tennessee Whiskey!"
Golden light flickered behind her as the Reliquary responded.
"And since I'm the first Stargod you've awakened for your suicidal yet amazing act," she added with a wink, "I'll cut you a deal. A freebie."
A chime echoed.
-
> [ REWARD DETAILS ]
> Ascension Point +1 (Luck)
> [ Rank-A / Rare ] Ornated Golden Coin x3
> A singular ornated gold coin with a skull on one side while the other is a crossbones. It has no anomalous effects except for its exceptional value.
-
She rolled a golden ornated coin across her knuckles, grinning like a seasoned gambler who knew exactly when the odds were turning.
"Every journey needs its first risk," she said. "So for my third freebie, let me give you your very first boon from me."
Golden status window burned itself into the air.
-
> [ SKILL (Greedmonger) — Gacha Fortuna ]
> A universal gacha system that allows the summoning of anything—items, equipment, artifacts, and/or entities—from the current world and beyond, manifested as collectible Cards that can summon the said loots. Each roll consumes Gacha Ducats, with rarity ranging from Rank-F to Rank-SSSSS, determining power, uniqueness, and value. Ducats can be obtained through currency conversion, resources, or missions assigned by the system. Every pull is a gamble. Every gamble carries consequence. Risk everything—and you may change the world.
-
Niero and Vuldyr could only stare.
The golden text hovered in the air like a promise too vast to grasp, its meaning sinking in layer by layer. Ascension points. Artifacts. A system that could pull *anything* from anywhere—from worlds known and unknown.
Even Vuldyr, ancient and well-traveled as she was, found herself momentarily speechless.
> "Gacha… Fortuna," Vuldyr murmured, eyes narrowing with equal parts awe and caution. "A system that turns fate itself into a wager…?"
The Greedmonger chuckled at their reactions, clearly pleased.
"That boon's gonna carry you far, Squirt," she said lightly. "All the way to apotheosis, if you've got the guts for it. It's all about daring to roll when it matters."
She leaned closer, tapping the air where the interface floated.
"And since I'm feeling SUPER generous today—first impressions and all—I'll sweeten the pot."
Another chime rang out, another golden status window came to existence.
> Gacha Ducat +10
"Consider it your first taste," she said with a grin. "Every good gambler needs a free roll to get hooked on."
Niero was somewhat bewildered, as if a gambling addict introducing another person to the spiral depth of gambling.
Niero swallowed. His fingers twitched, an inexplicable urge pulling at him—not greed, not exactly, but anticipation. The feeling of standing at the edge of something irreversible.
He hesitated, then looked up at her again.
"…Who are you?" he asked quietly. "Really?"
She raised a finger and gently pressed it to his lips, her smile soft but knowing.
"Shhh."
Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Spoilers."
She straightened, pacing slowly around him as if inspecting a prized chip on the table.
"Secrets are more fun when you earn them. I can tell you about me. About the Reliquary. About what you're becoming." She glanced over her shoulder. "But only if you prove you're worth the odds."
Vuldyr stiffened.
> "You're treating knowledge like currency."
"Life is a gamble and everything is currency, oh little angel" the Greedmonger replied cheerfully. "Especially curiosity, even the ones that kills the cat."
With a snap of her fingers, the golden interface shifted once more, reshaping itself into a formal declaration.
-
> [ EMPYREAN RELIQUARY — Quest: Greedmonger - Roll Your First 100 ]
> Task: Perform 100 gacha rolls using Gacha Fortuna
> Tracking: 0/100
>
> Reward:
> • Relationship Points +10 (Currently: 000 / 100)
> • Gacha Ducat ×3
> • ??? x1
-
The quest sigil throbbed with a slow, patient light, like a heartbeat beneath glass.
It did not urge.
It did not explain.
It merely waited.
Niero stood frozen before it.
Power flooded his senses — knowledge earned yet unfamiliar, blessings bestowed yet untamed. Systems stirred awake within him as though they had always known his name, patiently waiting for the moment he would finally listen. Each revelation bred more questions, every answer fracturing into deeper uncertainties.
Why this quest?
Why now?
What truths still lay beyond his reach?
And why did the Reliquary feel less like a tool…
and more like something watching him, weighing his first choice?
His thoughts tangled into a tightening knot. His mind clawed desperately at scattered fragments of meaning, trying to connect what little he understood before the weight of the unknown dragged him into madness.
Then—
Clap.
The sharp sound cut cleanly through his spiraling thoughts.
Niero gasped, snapping back to himself. His senses flared as he searched his surroundings, heart pounding, until realization dawned.
The sound hadn't come from the Reliquary.
It came from her.
The Greedmonger clapped her hands together, eyes alight, laughter spilling forth with unrestrained delight.
"Man, I'm glad," she said brightly, tilting her head as if appraising a new toy. "Didn't think I'd get myself a gambling buddy this soon—let alone someone like you."
The overwhelm returned in waves — the Reliquary, the legacy of past Stargods, the quest, the system itself. Questions crowded his mind once more, heavier than before. The nature of the Stargod System. The Astra Force. And much more he barely can asked nor even thing about.
The Greedmonger noticed how Niero — and Vuldyr beside him — struggled to process the flood of revelations, each of them grasping at understanding with varying degrees of success.
For once, she did not laugh.
Her voice lowered, shedding its usual loud, roguish bravado for something quieter… almost careful.
"Look, squirt," she said, folding her arms. "I get it. All this stuff is new. Heavy. Stuffing your noggin' full of questions faster than answers can keep up."
She paused, eyes flicking briefly toward the Reliquary before returning to him.
"It's scary. I know."
She exhaled slowly.
"But everything gets answered eventually — if you're willing to put in the time… and the effort." A crooked smile tugged at her lips. "Word of advice from a professional risk-taker: don't rush it. Do things your way. Have a little faith. And try not to lose your mind over it."
Her gaze sharpened, gleaming with unmistakable interest.
"You're a Stargod, Squirt. At an age where most wouldn't even began to imagine. I'm really curious to see what you'll pull off with the Astra Force."
She chuckled softly. "That I'd bet on it."
Something shifted.
The crushing tension that had weighed on Niero since the awakening eased, if only slightly. The dread born from unexplained systems and silent watchers loosened its grip, replaced by a fragile sense of steadiness — not answers, but breathing room.
Satisfied, the Greedmonger stretched, arms raised lazily overhead, her old self slipping back into place.
"Whew… now that I've handed over the goods," she yawned, voice turning languid, "I've got this powerful urge to drown myself in some delicious bourbon and take a very nice nap for…"
She waved a hand dismissively.
"…oh, I dunno. A few centuries."
Niero blinked. "Wait—what did you mean earlier?" he asked quickly. "About me *not remembering* you?"
For just a fraction of a second, her smile softened.
Then she lifted a finger and gently pressed it against his lips, eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin and playful secrecy.
"Shhh," she whispered. "Spoilers."
She pulled back, winked, and gave him a lazy wave.
"Figure it out yourself. That's half the fun."
Before Niero could say another word, her form began to break apart—golden light flaking away like dust caught in sunlight. The laughter lingered even as her silhouette unraveled, dissolving into shimmering motes that drifted back toward the statue of The Greedmonger.
And just like that—
She was gone.
Silence reclaimed the Empyrean Reliquary.
Niero stood there, staring at the empty space she had occupied, his chest tight with unanswered questions.
Vuldyr hovered beside him, her expression uncharacteristically solemn.
> "…wow. What a character. She left more behind than power," Vuldyr said quietly. "Whatever history you share with her… it's buried deep."
Niero clenched his hand slowly, feeling the faint warmth of the system still lingering in his palm.
"But I don't even know her at all," he muttered.
> "And yet, she seems to."
When Niero asked Vuldyr about what had just happened, her response came slower than usual—measured, almost careful.
> "My knowledge is… limited," she admitted. "Spotty, at best. Whatever data I gained was fragmented, like corrupted memory sectors."
He frowned. "Then who was she?"
Vuldyr's halo steadied as she spoke.
> "A vestige of a former Stargod. Not the original being, but a living echo—a preserved memory given form. The information the system has allowed me to access is incomplete, as though her profile is being revealed in stages… redacted layers slowly peeling away."
That explanation only deepened the unease in Niero's chest.
> Vuldyr continued, "What is clear is the mechanism. By fulfilling quests issued by the Empyrean Reliquary and its vestiges, you gain more than Ascension Points and Boons." She gestured, and an invisible gauge seemed to exist between them. "Each vestige tracks Relationship Points. As that gauge fills, you'll receive additional rewards—stronger boons, deeper access, and potentially restricted knowledge about the Stargods… and the Reliquary itself."
"So the closer I get," Niero muttered, "the more secrets they're willing to tell."
> "Precisely," Vuldyr replied. "Power… in exchange for familiarity."
When Niero activated [Gacha Fortuna], a luminous status window unfurled before him. Possible rewards flickered across the interface—Rank-F and Rank-E items displayed openly—while the higher tiers were deliberately obscured, shrouded in shimmering veils of uncertainty. It was unmistakably familiar yet seemingly...predatory.
A gambler's system.
Something straigth out from those video games with predatory gacha function.
After a brief analysis, Vuldyr spoke again.
> "The system allows conversion of Omnia Matter into Gacha Ducats. The rate appears fixed: one Gacha Ducat requires 160 units of Omnia. A ten-roll demands 1600."
Niero stiffened.
"…I only have...like... about 90 Omnia Sand."
> "Which means," Vuldyr said gently, "you can't afford even a single roll."
They both fell silent.
Then Vuldyr turned toward him, eyes glinting with curiosity.
> "BUT… you were given ten Gacha Ducats for free. I'd like to observe how the system behaves in practice."
Niero hesitated, staring at the glowing interface. Those were his first Ducats—his only safety net in a system built entirely on chance. Every instinct screamed to hoard them, to save them for when he was stronger, smarter, safer.
But the Greedmonger's laughter echoed faintly in his memory.
You'll get hooked.
He exhaled slowly.
And without hesitation, he pressed the button on the floating status window of the Gacha Fortuna.
The button that displayed [Roll for 10 Gacha Ducat].
The moment Niero confirmed the roll, a chime rang the system, the Gacha Fortuna responded.
A cascade of chiming bells rang out, bright and rhythmic, followed by the unmistakable clatter-clatter of spinning mechanisms—like slot machine reels turning somewhere beyond reality. Golden symbols whirled across the interface, blurring into streaks of light as fate itself seemed to hesitate.
Then—
DING.
Cards began to materialize one by one, drifting down like falling leaves.
-
> 01. Rank-F | Rusty Pocket Knife
* Description: A dull, slightly corroded pocket knife. Handle chipped and blade barely holds an edge.
* Effect: None.
* Flavor Text: "It's not much… but you could probably poke something with it."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 5 units
> 02. Rank-F | Weathered Coin
* Description: A tarnished coin from an unknown era. Cold to the touch.
* Effect: None.
* Flavor Text: "Heads or tails, but neither seems to matter today."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 5 units
> 03. Rank-E | Candle of Whispering Flames
* Description: A small wax candle. When lit, the flame flickers as if alive and seems to murmur faintly.
* Effect: Whispered hints of nearby hidden objects for 1 minute (minor guidance).
* Flavor Text: "Light it, and maybe it will tell you secrets… or just murmur nonsense."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 8 units
> 04. Rank-D | Pocket Sundial of Shifting Shadows
* Description: A brass sundial barely larger than a pocket watch. The shadow moves strangely, even indoors.
* Effect: Slightly improves the user's sense of time and direction for 30 minutes.
* Flavor Text: "Time is always moving… even when you think it stands still."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 12 units
> 05. Rank-F | Tin Whistle
* Description: A scratched tin whistle. Produces a piercing, tinny tone.
* Effect: None.
* Flavor Text: "Blow, and hope someone somewhere notices."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 5 units
> 06. Rank-E | Locket of Faded Memories
* Description: A silver locket containing a photo that shifts slightly when glanced at.
* Effect: Briefly evokes faint feelings of nostalgia or a comforting memory. Duration: 5 seconds.
* Flavor Text: "A memory for a moment, a moment for a memory."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 9 units
> 07. Rank-F | Wooden Comb
* Description: Simple comb with a faintly sweet scent of cedar.
* Effect: None.
* Flavor Text: "For untangling hair… and maybe minor thoughts."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 5 units
> 08. Rank-D | Potion of Minor Vigor
* Description: A small glass vial containing a luminous green liquid.
* Effect: Restores a tiny fraction of energy (like drinking a small cup of tea) over 5 minutes.
* Flavor Text: "Not exactly life-changing… but it might save you a stumble."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 15 units
> 09. Rank-E | Ring of Flickering Light
* Description: A thin silver band with a tiny embedded gem that emits a dim pulse.
* Effect: Emits a faint glow when danger is near, like a subtle warning (range: ~5 meters).
* Flavor Text: "Not a hero's beacon, just a polite nudge from fate."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 10 units
> 10. Rank-F | Scrap Notebook
* Description: A small, leather-bound notebook filled with blank pages.
* Effect: None.
* Flavor Text: "Write anything… it probably won't matter."
* Omnia Sand Conversion: 5 units
-
Niero stood amid drifting motes of golden light, cards fanned out between his fingers, each one a promise made tangible. Even the weakest among them carried more weight than most of the loot he had scraped together before — more than the spoils torn from the Hachishaku, the Orkoid goblins, even the brute-force clash with the Orkoid Orc.
For the first time, the sheer volume of it truly sank in.
"…That's a lot," he muttered.
Vuldyr knelt beside him, lifting one of the Gacha cards with careful precision. Runes and data flickered across its surface as he examined it from multiple angles, eyes narrowing in focus.
> "These function similarly to the LootCubes recovered from the goblins and orcs," Vuldyr concluded. "A stabilized state of encapsulated matter. The contents are compressed, sealed, and held in stasis. However in this case, it comes in a from of a card rather than crystal cubes. Quite convinient"
He turned the card slightly, watching the light ripple across it.
> "Activation is likely achieved through destruction… or direct mental command," she added. "Upon release, the stored item should manifest instantaneously."
Vuldyr glanced back at the spread of cards in Niero's hand.
"In short," he said, "I gotta break it or mentally command it to summon them. Got it ."
His gaze lingered on the lower-rank cards. The Rank-F items. Junk, technically—yet not entirely useless. Not anymore. He could already see their fate: broken down into Omnia Sand, refined into something more meaningful at the very least, such as fabrication or cultivation medium. A few others, though… he hesitated. Some felt worth keeping. Others might fetch a price.
"Maybe I'll sell some of these for a good price," Niero said casually. "Eventually."
Vuldyr tilted her head.
> "Where?"
He shrugged, slipping the cards back into his [Inventory] one by one.
"I don't know. Haven't figured that part out yet. Underground market, maybe. Someone always wants something weird."
She let out a soft, synthetic hum—half concern, half amusement.
> "Two days," Vuldyr said after a pause.
> "That's all it's been. The 87th Radiant Day. A new year for humanity… and the point at which you ceased to be *only* human."
Niero didn't reply immediately.
Two days.
In that time, he'd been fighting green skinned Hollow entities behind the alleyway during a national celebration, touched relics older than history, and now stood inside a divine reliquary of forgotten gods, casually debating market logistics.
He slowly lifted his gaze.
The Empyrean Reliquary stretched endlessly around him—pillars like monuments to forgotten triumphs, golden liquid flowing as though the chamber itself breathed. It was reverent. Heavy. Alive with legacy.
Compared to this…
His usual Ego-Space felt almost humble.
A deconstructed starship bridge suspended above an infinite ocean of starlight—functional, familiar, lonely in its vastness.
Niero exhaled, something tight loosening in his chest.
"…Guess I really did step into something bigger," he said quietly.
Even as the words left his lips, his gaze drifted — caught by a lingering glyph hovering at the edge of his perception.
[ Stargod Trait Roll: +1 ]
The text pulsed faintly, patient. Waiting.
Vuldyr noticed it at once.
> "That is a reward for your first Ascension," she said, her voice measured as data unfurled behind her eyes.
> "According to the Reliquary's records, a Trait Roll allows you to manifest a random boons and attribute derived from one of your unlocked Vestiges, most likely boons such as passive and active abilities, and possibly more."
Her gaze sharpened.
> "At present, that would be the Greedmonger."
The implication settled heavily between them.
Chance. Chaos. Risk.
—or something colder. Something distant.
Niero was still reeling from the Greedmonger's revelation — her boon, her laughter, the way her presence lingered like a thumb pressed lightly against the scale of fate.
"Maybe I keep it aside for the time being. Maybe I roll a trait in the future when it was needed." Niero told Vuldyr.
> "Whatever floats your boat, Champ." Vuldyr responded.
Vuldyr raised a hand.
The Empyrean Reliquary's status window unfolded in full, layers of sigils and cascading data assembling in the air like a celestial archive tearing itself open. Her eyes moved quickly across the shifting information — until they didn't.
She froze.
> "…That's odd."
New parameters ignited into existence. Lines of data that had not been there moments ago. Systems folded inward, revealing deeper systems beneath them. Locks behind locks. Conditions listed without explanation, their purposes withheld.
The Reliquary was not finished.
> "…Niero," Vuldyr said slowly. "There's something else."
He turned toward her, unease creeping up his spine.
"Something else?"
Vuldyr hesitated — a rare thing — before continuing.
> "You didn't unlock just one Vestige," she said.
> "You unlocked two."
The words struck harder than any revelation before them.
Not chance.
Not accident.
Something had been watching closely enough to choose him…
twice.
"2" Niero snapped his gaze back toward the statues. "But we only met one, the Greedmonger."
> "That's what should have happened," Vuldyr replied. "But I don't think the data on the Reliquary is false."
She gestured toward the chamber.
The Greedmonger's statue still bore faint patches of auric matter, glowing softly—clear signs of activation. But now, unmistakably, the center statue shared the same condition. Golden veins traced across its surface like scars being remembered rather than healed.
> "The Outsider,"Vuldyr said quietly.
Niero felt a chill creep up his spine.
"That one was already lit?" he asked. "Before?"
> "Partially," Vuldyr answered. "And that's what worries me."
She paused, as if sorting fragmented memories that refused to align.
> "Some of your earlier boons—before Level 11. Before you even entered the Empyrean Reliquary. They don't match any known vestige patterns." Her voice lowered. "It's possible… they came from him."
"But you're unsure."
> "No," she admitted. "There's no direct system attribution. No confirmation. Just… implication."
Niero swallowed.
Slowly, he lifted his eyes to the central statue.
Unlike the others, it did not stand.
It sat.
A masked figure upon a throne of stone and metal, armor forged from brutal technology and alien design. Massive skulls—beasts that could never have existed in any sane ecosystem—formed its shoulder guards. A colossal claymore-like weapon was plunged point-first into the floor before him, where one hand resting upon its pommel while the other resting on the 'armrest of the throne'.
He looked like a king.
No.
Like something that had outlived kings.
The statue did not radiate warmth like the Greedmonger's influence. Instead, it emanated pressure—an oppressive stillness, as if violence itself had chosen to rest, not sleep.
Niero had the unsettling sensation that if the statue moved…
the world would simply accept it.
"…I don't remember meeting him," Niero said quietly.
Vuldyr's halo spun once, slow and uneasy.
> "Maybe... that doesn't mean he hasn't met... you."
The chamber seemed to grow quieter.
The golden patches along the Outsider's form pulsed faintly, not with invitation—but with recognition.
And for the first time since entering the Empyrean Reliquary, Niero felt something other than awe.
He felt watched.
=
<<<[ Ch 12, Part 04 - END ]>>>