Chapter 155: To Prevent Divinity Taking Over, Is To Seek A New Mortality
Kivas paced the sealed chamber with restrained steps, her focus razor-sharp as the final wards clicked into place around the New Vaingall Consortium’s core.
The isolation about this vital project was total—no leaks, no whispers slipping through.
Even Azulus, with her relentless archival probing, hit impenetrable veils to even know of the place’s existence, as her latest inquiry was mostly about anomalous energy spikes regarding a certain piece of Vaingall that had been unfortunately got relocated by the world’s distortion and was now surrounded by an arid land of fire.
Karen, buried in the Feather Library’s stacks as usual, found her access queries unfounded about this project either as if nothing critical was happening in Vaingall right now. After all, the new infrastructure was also built far away from the usual lab where she would often visit and work.
To the outside, Vaingall hummed on unchanged, farms yielding ethereal harvests, Limbo Tiers patrolling perimeters and playing intelligence, envoys from Karasu and many allied factions exchanging rote pleasantries.
But beneath the facade, an undercurrent pulsed—a nameless pressure coiling through the air, seeping into souls like an unspoken dread.
Claturians, who had greatly bonded their faith to their Living Deity, felt the weight.
Something vast loomed, unnameable yet insistent, as if the bastion itself held its breath.
Thankfully, they too didn’t showcase any anomalous reactions or activity to this looming dread, for they know very well that the moment they showcase weakness even inside their very own land, it would be used against them.
By the 70th day, that tension crested into action, veiled in utmost secrecy.
Deep underground, 150 meters—or roughly 492 feet—beneath Vaingall’s heart, the facility stood complete.
A vast platform suspended over a yawning, closed manmade chasm, its edges curving into graceful arches that framed the abyss below.
Artificial light cascaded from spell runes etched in concentric rings overhead, bathing the space in a steady, ethereal glow that highlighted the platform’s symmetrical design—radial pathways converging on a central dais, engineered for focus and containment, though, not exactly made for many much purpose than for it being a sanctuary in aesthetic.
Only seven knew of its existence.
Kivas, Samael, Fymnhendyr, Oizys, Yoiglah, Uryusha, and Blanchette, who had somehow wormed her way into the knowledge with her uncanny knack for uncovering what others buried.
It was still unknown how she managed to know many things that was veiled in mystery and secrecy, even when probed with the command of the Unrelenting Vow, she managed to not slip a single hint on how she was able to bypass reality.
Blanchette might be the chaotic and troublemaking, yet reliable little sister of the very Sovereign and Living Deity of the New Vaingall Consortium, but she was still none other than a walking and breathing ticking timebomb to those around her.
"To think that I will essentially need to perform a schrodinger murder on myself to ensure my own safety, heh."
The Fateline’s probing had begun that morning—a subtle tug at Kivas’s soul, like a fisher testing the line.
From now on, each dawn carried the gamble, would the third apotheosis erupt today, or hold off another cycle? Would Kivas be able to stand without much dread and fear that everything around her would be destroyed by her own fated hands?
Living like that was not different than torture.
The facility’s creation owed much to Samael’s Divine Hive command, her hundreds of Limbo Tiers laboring in silent efficiency to carve and fortify the space over the past days.
Now, Kivas stood at the platform center, her gaze steady on two ceremonial beds laid out side by side.
One awaited her for the severance; the other already held a lifeless vessel, inert and waiting—the temporary haven for her unbound soul until stability returned.
"Mmmh, I can’t wait to wake up and see my actual body sleep peacefully like this, from a different eyes."
She examined the vessel closely, tracing its form with a critical eye.
Built under her guidance, with input from her Soulmates’ expertise, it diverged deliberately from her own features to avoid any mistaken ties.
Red draconic eyes that mirrored Samael’s intensity was hidden beneath the sleeping lid. That adorable face was then framed by three-toned black hair where inner layers shifted to reddish and purple hues for a deliberate aesthetic flair.
Small devilish horns curved upward, adding an edge of otherworldly menace far from Kivas heavenly divinity.
This feminine vessel stood tall at 187 centimeters—about 6 feet 2 inches—nearly matching Samael’s comfortable 188 centimeters.
At first, Kivas wanted this body to be at least two meters tall, but Samael somehow rejected the notion, saying that she didn’t want Kivas to be taller than her.
Samael was adorable when protesting, so Kivas obliged.
"Well, I regretted that a little bit."
Kivas still wanted that 2 meters tall vessel.
Well, not like she couldn’t just morph her current body using divine miracle, but it felt less organic that way.
The chamber’s entry sigils hummed as Samael, Oizys, and Fymnhendyr stepped through, Uryusha trailing close behind, her Claturian features set in quiet determination.
Kivas turned to them with a soft smile, breaking the heavy quiet. "Everyone set? Any nerves creeping in before we dive?"
Fymnhendyr crossed her arms, her tone steady and reassuring, laced with that cosmic nonchalance she’d carried since her escape. "Nothing should go sideways as long as you nail the binding. There should be nothing to worry about with your current prowess and experience at handling miracle and fate."
Oizys shifted her weight, her fingers twisting together in a rare show of vulnerability, her voice honest and edged with a wry self-awareness. "Me? Yeah, a bit. I still have my anxiety unlike you, so I can’t help but feel like standing on top of glass that may or may not look daunting from above."
Samael met Kivas’s eyes with a deadpan stare, her thumb popping up in a casual salute that somehow blended aloofness with quiet affection. "It will work."
Kivas’s smile deepened, a flicker of warmth cutting through the ritual’s gravity. "Alright, then."
She eased onto the empty bed, settling back as the platform’s runes pulsed faintly in response.
The process began with a deep, centering breath—her focus turning inward, weaving the divine miracle like threads in a loom.
She severed the ties methodically, first the soul’s anchor to the Well of the Soul, that metaphysical core holding her fate-skills and Avatar mark; then the vessel’s physical bonds, the flesh and bone that housed her essence.
Finally, the divinity itself, rooted in that ancient skill of deity remembrance, unraveling like a released knot.
As the severance deepened, Kivas layered a divine barrier around herself—a shimmering veil of intent, permeable only to her Soulmates’ interventions if chaos erupted.
Samael won’t take that Kivas was the only one who created a security for this act, however, so her hands were already moving in precise arcs, conjuring an additional layer atop Kivas’s—an essence of powerful barrier that was infused with resilient and adaptive layering, and probably many more of her skills that she concocted into the spell.
Oizys joined seamlessly, her tendrils of influence extending like supportive threads, weaving a third stratum of psychic reinforcement.
With the barriers secure, they heightened their spiritual senses in unison, attuning to the ethereal flow.
Samael’s draconic perception pierced the veils, tracking the snips that Kivas committed like a surgeon’s scalpel. Oizys’s mirrored soul gave her an intuitive read on the echoes; and Fymnhendyr’s ancient insight mapped the cosmic ripples.
Kivas worked with precision, snipping spiritual structures—careful incisions that separated without fraying.
Midway, her attention snagged on the Imaginary Universe budding within her soul, a vast, self-contained realm tied to her Well’s Imaginary Universe Holder skill.
She paused internally, weighing the risk: keep it attached, and it might destabilize the severance; leave it, and lose a core piece of her growth.
In the end, she opted for detachment—gently affixing the universe to the Well instead, anchoring it there as she excised it from the departing soul.
The process built to its peak, a crescendo of held energy as the final ties gave way. Success rippled through—the vessel of the Living Deity slipping into hibernation mode, its form going still, divinity’s echo lingering like a preserved flame.
Where the Harvest Deity lies dormant, the land of the dwellers and the sane should soon be engulfed with blessing.
Bless be thy kin and thy companionship.
Bless be thy power and unraveling companionship.
And before long, spiritual cues could be sensed when the severance had been finally completed.
Kivas’s soul emerged, a luminous essence hovering free, untethered and vulnerable in the open air.
Samael’s voice cut sharp, urgency laced with command. "Uryusha—now. Chain it before the pull starts!"
All while everyone was protecting the severed soul, Uryusha stepped forward without hesitation, her Shrine Maiden role igniting as she channeled Yoiglah’s harvest grace.
Spiritual chains materialized from her palms—ethereal links forged of faith and miracle, wrapping the severed soul with gentle firmness. She guided it toward the lifeless vessel, the binding beginning as the chains drew taut, pulling the essence into alignment for the mend.