There is some kind of omnipotence.
Easily capable of creating and destroying worlds, this omnipotence can manipulate its creations at will.
Its power is so great that it can even pull beings that should not exist from an entirely different world.
However, crafting a world spanning billions of universes just for one being is a burdensome task.
Likewise, it’s no simple feat to create hundreds of transcendent beings to reign over that universe.
Thus, the omnipotence established rules.
Rules that even it must bow to, ones rarely broken.
The rules to which the omnipotence bows are absolute, allowing for the creation of a universe with minimal expenditure.
These rules and the world itself transcend any omnipotent existence.
But does this mean there’s a flaw in its omniscience?
Does its omnipotence suffer any lack?
It did not.
Beyond time, ignoring space,
the omnipotence devised a plan.
The true plan of a being surpassing divinity knows no distinction between past, present, and future.
The omnipotence’s plan was simple.
To limit the power of ‘prey’ under the rules.
Power is fearsome.
Even if destined to be reaped, it cannot be carelessly handed over.
Thus, it was split.
Divided in half and restricted.
Furthermore, it was granted to a certain lineage.
To an existence devoid of combat experience or talent.
A lineage that had fallen far from greatness.
Now, one worry is lifted, but another arises.
This lineage might actually accomplish something.
The omnipotence prepared a countermeasure against it.
Fate-driven bijou opened a door and glimpsed into the world.
It learned the omnipotence’s secret. Knowledge that shouldn’t have been known ravaged its mind.
The personality shattered, the character fragmented like sand and scattered, and the stench overwhelmed memory beyond mere smell.
Then, the twisted fate met another recently twisted fate.
Two mismatched gears accidentally collided.
Fates interlocked.
Death loomed.
Once upon a time, a girl who received both the favor and curse of fate reached Olpasbet.
Now grown into a woman, she could hear death whispering in her ears.
The presence before her was here to kill her, spanning thousands of years to do so.
And Angie sensed it.
The death lurking faintly, an ominous premonition, emanated from the dark-skinned figure before her.
It wasn’t about having dark skin.
Unlike I’taar, this being’s entire form was pitch black.
Angie was familiar with this darkness; she’d seen it many times already.
It was the symbol of the Dark Ram.
More precisely, it was the final state reached by those who worshipped the Dark Ram.
Limbs made entirely of black crystal.
Yet, this was different from the priests of the Dark Ram she’d seen before.
The black crystals were shaped like human muscles.
They were thickly formed, and the scraping sound they made sent shivers down the spine, much like nails scratching on a metal door.
For a moment, Angie felt the soul trapped within that body groaning and screaming as it clawed at the flesh.
That interpretation wasn’t far off.
The bijou screamed.
“―!”
“Ugh…!”
Angie was bewildered. That scream carried a volume and malevolence no human could produce.
Just understanding it was enough to tear apart the brain.
Fortunately, Angie couldn’t comprehend it and reflexively covered her ears.
The body was sturdy.
Built with 30 points of health, it wasn’t easily breached. It was a fortress.
In fact, it had a special trait.
Health 20 Special: Hero’s Blessing.
As Aslan would say, it grants 50% resistance to physical, magical, and divine attacks.
The omnipotence bowed to the rules and bestowed absoluteness upon them.
These rules couldn’t be ignored, even by an omnipotent entity—because that’s how it designed them.
Angie’s strength stemmed from these rules.
Hence, the wailing that could tear apart physical beings only managed to rip a bit of Angie’s skin before stopping.
Still, she couldn’t avoid it completely.
It wasn’t harmless either.
Blood flowed from the arm she used to cover her ears, and blood gushed from her eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
Her internal organs were damaged but quickly regenerated. The blood remained in her mouth.
But Angie couldn’t expel the blood filling her mouth.
In the brief moment it took to raise her arm, the enemy before her vanished.
Angie realized instinctively:
An unavoidable death.
The death fate so desired for her was right there.
Indeed, it was.
Space seemed to condense in a circular motion as a black figure flew without leaving any trace.
The accelerating trajectory was invisible. Angie belatedly lowered her hand.
The acceleration didn’t stop, and the moment the black figure revealed itself again was the inevitable point of deceleration.
Pain followed the deceleration.
The black crystal flying in a curve—it was a fist.
But Angie didn’t even realize it as she blocked the punch.
With a sound like a drum bursting, Angie’s arm was thrown back.
Chunks of flesh tore and scattered, and Angie’s eyes distorted in pain.
Her elbow was bent—not just because of brute force.
It was a precise attack that broke Angie’s elbow.
The punch swung by the black figure wasn’t a reckless brute-force attack.
It was a martial art honed by a warrior over decades.
The body turned faster than the punch retreated.
The black figure spun around.
This attack couldn’t be blocked.
Faster and stronger than Angie.
Not just in technique but overwhelming in raw power.
Angie didn’t even see the spinning kick coming.
An invisible heel struck her side.
Even with the Hero’s Blessing reducing the impact, the shock was terrifying.
It shattered her ribs and shredded her lungs.
Her mouth opened, and the blood she had been holding in spilled out instantly, emptying the breath she had taken.
She couldn’t endure.
And thus, Angie’s body fell from the ground.
The impact shattered the buckle of her armor, and the victory she carried on her back flew away.
Breaking free from the accumulated rocks and debris, Angie floated into the air.
Since it wasn’t by her own will, a scream should have escaped her lips.
But due to the severe shock, no sound emerged.
A spurt of blood briefly came out, and then the silent scream flowed due to the intense pain.
A soundless scream. Angie hovering in the air.
Her golden eyes flickered faintly with fear.
The black figure approached, leaping up and swinging a punch.
No, it’s different.
Leaping up while swinging an uppercut.
Driving it in without losing any momentum.
Angie desperately moved her arm.
She couldn’t stay still; otherwise, she’d die getting hit.
Instinctively sensing the crisis, Angie whipped her body.
A sonic boom sounded, and the sky seemed to split.
The elbow-broken arm of Angie was forcibly moved.
Stretching it out, she threw a punch.
The punch heavier and more powerful than any projectile made the air roar as it burst like a drum.
Despite Angie’s strength being law-like—able to exert consistent force regardless of injury—her arm couldn’t withstand it.
Perhaps not comparable to the Supreme Divinity, but the power possessed by the enemy before her was stronger than any being she had faced until now.
“Guh… uuuuugh…”
Angie was pushed back.
Blood spurted from her elbow, cartilage was exposed, and broken bones pierced through her arm.
And yet, regeneration began immediately. Regeneration was extremely fast.
Her regenerative ability, reaching level 30, could rival the high priest, the tyrant, who gave birth to her.
But the offense was faster than her regeneration.
Interlocking fists.
The black crystal fingers loosened the punch and grabbed Angie’s wrist.
Pulling her close, a knee strike was delivered.
No scream could escape.
Blood gushed from her mouth as the sharp knee pierced through her abdomen.
Even as it regenerated immediately, instinctively realizing the danger.
The ground was approaching.
If this force could do this in mid-air, it would be even more devastating on the ground.
Reactively, Angie thrust her fist forward.
KUNG!
The punch didn’t land properly.
Simultaneously with Angie’s punch, the black figure twisted its body to the side, pushing the elbow with its arm and pulling it.
“Aaaahh!”
SNAP!
The arm, previously broken at the elbow, bent in a direction it shouldn’t and ended up behind Angie’s back.
The target was her head. Angie’s regenerative ability differed from Ereta’s.
If her skull shattered and her heart stopped, she would die.
Desperately, Angie twisted her body.
KWAAAAANG!
Debris scattered like a meteorite falling, and rock fragments flew upward.
The violence inherent in the fragments was enough to kill hundreds of humans merely by contact, devouring their insides.
But it didn’t affect the woman at the center.
The fragments that struck her eye only managed to break the lens before losing their force, and the ones that hit her body crumbled on their own.
None of the flying rock pieces could scratch her solid flesh.
An unattainable hardness even for ancient deities. It was an impregnable fortress forged by the Hero’s Blessing and the flesh of a god.
Yet, a hole was pierced through this fortress.
Blood gushed from her mouth as Angie looked at the arm piercing her abdomen.
And then, she grabbed the wrist.
“Gulp… Krrk!”
Blood flowed from her mouth, almost like saliva, lacking its usual metallic smell.
Though her burst eye couldn’t be seen, the remaining eye would soon regenerate the damaged one.
The wound on her stomach would heal in a few seconds.
But Angie wasn’t confident she’d survive until then.
“Sssshh, you little bastard!”
Thus, Angie had to endure. If she couldn’t overcome this pain, she would die.
There was no room for her waist to move.
The black figure was mounted on top of Angie.
So Angie briefly tilted her head back and then snapped it forward, whipping it around.
KWAAAAAAAAAAAANG!
A headbutt.
The thunderous sound was so massive it hardly seemed like a headbutt.
The part that collided was dented. The chest that got rammed.
Even with poor positioning, reducing the impact, a clear mark of destruction remained.
CLUNK, as the black figure’s body floated, Angie twisted her waist and pulled the black figure down on top of her.
KUNG, the black figure was slammed into the ground and bounced back up.
As it turned upright, Angie stood up too.
Simultaneously, the two behemoths charged towards each other.
Here, there was someone who had fatefully come to know knowledge they shouldn’t have.
A being controlled by rules set by omnipotence, possessing strength beyond normal limits.
His strength surpassed the usual cap of 20, reaching 30.
His martial arts skills were at a level that could be called the best of the ancient empire, surpassing the knowledge and warfare of even the strongest ancient gods.
On the other hand, Angie’s strength barely reached 27.
A mere difference of 3.
But Angie lacked the skill to overturn that gap.
Moreover, fear crept into her mind.
Rarely facing an opponent who overpowered her.
An opponent who was also technically superior.
And an enemy harboring inexplicable hatred towards her.
She couldn’t run. She would win here or die.
But could she win?
Really?
Angie couldn’t imagine herself defeating this enemy.
CRACK!
“Guh…”
Her head twisted. The broken neck bone regenerated and realigned, but it paused momentarily.
Even this short span of less than a second allowed merciless brute force to strike Angie’s body.
Four attacks landed.
The descending punch pierced her abdomen again.
The elbow swing from the opposite arm shattered her jaw.
As Angie’s body floated and briefly touched the ground, another punch plunged into her.
The sensation of her spine breaking was palpable.
Finally, a kick.
The roundhouse kick carved a hollow circle into Angie’s abdomen and sent her flying backward.
It hurt. She felt like she might lose consciousness.
The pain was so excruciating that after initially feeling it, she lost all sensation.
Had enduring such pain been worthwhile? No, it hadn’t been.
Angie’s punches were easily caught by the wrist, and her front kick was grabbed and twisted.
It ended after just two moves.
The disparity in skill was evident.
KUNG, KUNG, CRACK, CRASH!
Thus, Angie’s ankles were broken, her knees crushed, and her abdomen thoroughly pierced as she rolled across the ground.
Although her body, long ago surpassing human limits, clung to her soul, her fighting spirit faltered.
It hurt.
In the pain, Angie was no longer the rider of an ancient deity but the impoverished tail district dweller Angela Tail.
‘I can’t win.’
Her teeth chattered and clashed, and bile mixed with the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
Outclassed in strength, disadvantaged in speed, and overwhelmed in skill.
The only advantage was the durability and regeneration of her body.
The chest of the black figure was still dented where Angie’s headbutt had struck.
Clearly, her attacks were landing.
Otherwise, there would’ve been no reason for the black figure to block them.
But she couldn’t find a way to land another blow.
Every attack Angie launched was futile.
Her techniques were too amateurish to connect.
Paralyzed by fear, her punches were slow, and her brain clouded by pain couldn’t make proper judgments.
She was afraid.
She couldn’t win.
Thus, she felt the intuition that she would die here.
The intuition that had guided Angie so far betrayed her, whispering of death.
Spitting out blood, Angie trembled.
Angie wasn’t a warrior.
Her fighting experience wasn’t long.
Her battles were few, her experience lacking.
Angie was merely someone who held excessive power.
And the person who knew this best was Angie herself.
Since not everyone is born a warrior, Angie writhed where she lay.
The barely regenerated golden irises.
In the direction they looked, the approaching black figure could be seen.
Angie didn’t want to die.
Yet, she had no options.
Despair gnawed at her.
In despair, to avoid the impending pain, Angie closed her eyes.
At that moment, Angie wasn’t the rider of an ancient deity but the destitute Angela Tail from the tail district.
Human nature doesn’t change, so faint footsteps approached.
When the approaching footsteps halted and Angie curled her body,
BOOM!
Something flew.
What flew embedded itself in front of Angie and emitted light.
A warm light enveloping her body.
Somewhere familiar, yet nostalgic.
Driven back by this light, the black figure retreated.
Hearing the receding footsteps, Angie unconsciously opened her eyes.
What she saw was a sword.
A sword blazing white, embodying pure determination that nothing in this world could break.
Purity.
Angie muttered reflexively.
“Asl…an.”
Here stands a man.
A man who wasn’t born a warrior and never sought to live as one.
A man who disliked fighting because hurting others pained him but became a warrior to protect what he cherished.
“It’s okay now.”
He gripped the sword embedded in the ground, lightly panting and shaking the dark scales covering his body.
Angie looked at this man, Aslan.
This Aslan who had traversed the distant continent, repeatedly teleporting and straining himself to reach Angie just in time.
This man who, despite being exhausted and depleted, stood to face a terrifying foe whose true nature he didn’t know, all to protect Angie.
Seeing his weary back, Angie understood.
This man who had slain countless demigods and divine beings was not born a warrior.
She realized that no one is born a warrior.
No one is born holding a weapon.
Rather, people pick up weapons for various reasons as they live their lives, much like Angie.
Some grasp weapons driven by ambition.
Others wield them with burning eyes fueled by revenge.
And still others are forced into it, having no choice but to take up arms.
All of them were ordinary people, just like Angie.
Everyone she had seen, including Angie, was an ordinary person who felt fear.
Yet every warrior Angie had witnessed overcame their fear and aimed their weapons.
Even her comrades who seemed naturally gifted as warriors had done the same.
They became warriors through life’s trials.
Angie wanted to become like them.
She wanted to stand firm against fear and become a strong person capable of protecting what she cherished.
She wanted to be like Aslan.
“… Angie?”
So Angie stood up.
Wobbling, she rose.
Her teeth still clicked together, her body still ached with pain, making her want to collapse, but she didn’t.
Because if she collapsed again now, she would return to being Angela Tail, the destitute from the tail district.
She would become a pitiable weakling defeated by fear.
Slowly, she stood up.
Glancing at Aslan’s dark dragon-shaped helmet watching her, she took a shaky breath and stepped forward.
Anyone feels fear, and no one is born a warrior.
Thus, she realized.
A warrior isn’t someone who doesn’t feel fear.
A strong person isn’t someone who ignores fear.
It’s someone who overcomes fear, endures it.
Someone who doesn’t kneel and overcomes adversity.
She wanted to become a warrior.
Lifting her broken elbow with effort, she raised her fist.
Her clenched fist trembled, blood flowed from her previously healed knee, but…
Breathing heavily, Angie faced the black figure.
“Watch me.”
She was still scared, terrified.
Pain coursed through her body, her brain buzzed, urging her to flee.
But Angie didn’t want to go back to that pathetic time.
She thought that if she knelt here, she would become that person again.
“I’ll try doing this alone.”
So Angie clenched her fist.
