High atop the illuminated Eiffel Tower, Noah sat there calmly, watching the vast metropolis of Paris stretching out before him like a labyrinth drawn by gods to torment mortals. But it was not made by gods.

It was made by mortals themselves.

It was awe-inspiring.

He sat there, his legs dangling over the void, his mind swirling in many directions at once. After his recent talk with Emmie, Noah found himself freer than he had ever thought possible.

He had believed he'd forgotten…forgotten what Emmie had made him go through despite all the power and women he had gained after his death… but no. He had only been fooling himself.

He hadn't forgotten. Even if his mind had buried it beneath all that had happened since, his soul never did. But now, things had changed. Now Noah had made peace with his past self. He had settled his grievances, choosing to forgive the imperfections of humanity rather than retaliate in petty vengeance against someone who had been drowning in her own pain.

It hadn't been easy for either of them. Though Emmie had brought it upon herself, you could hardly blame a child for doing something she didn't understand, much less a clueless girl swallowed by the noise of society and the poison of her so-called friends.

Where did she end up? An alcoholic.

Noah found that… almost normal, as he expanded his senses and covered the entire world.

Emmie's story was not unique. But in a way, it was, because Noah was part of it. And unlike many who never found redemption…

She did.

And because of that…

{Noah Vaelgrim…}

The Records didn't chime as they usually did. They spoke softly to him, like a mother whispering to her child as if they now understood something they never had before. Or perhaps as if they were finally seeing something they had long ignored.

Noah smiled faintly, his eyes still fixed on the glowing streets below, letting the Records finish their words.

{You have made peace with the unknown past of yourself. You have now fully merged with both your past and present, becoming someone whole…in soul, in mind, and in body.}

A pause. Then…

{You have obtained a distinction unique to you. You have received a mark.}

{Mark obtained: The Mark of Self.}

{Mark of Self: You will not lose yourself. You will not lose your path. Your power cannot be copied, stolen, or devoured in any way or form.}

Then…

{You have been… fantastic, Noah. You… you have grown.}

Then the Records fell silent, though their warm gaze never left him, watching as Noah sat quietly upon the tower.

After the notification faded, a glowing silver sigil shaped like an ordinary human heart appeared on his chest, right where his real one rested.

Noah closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling a different kind of power veil his entire body, like a white shroud made for the dead, soft and solemn.

A faint smile edged across his lips.

"A mark, huh? It's my first time hearing of this," he murmured, curious. He could feel the strange power embracing him. It resembled an authority, yet on a far more refined and unique scale.

He sensed that no one could truly take anything from him anymore. More than that, his self was anchored, absolute.

Meaning, his existence could no longer be denied or erased. If someone wanted to kill him, it would no longer be possible unless they destroyed the very reality he existed within…something unthinkably difficult, even for the divine.

So the only way left would be to imprison him forever.

It should have been comforting… and yet, Noah knew that sometimes death was the only true peace, the only rest.

Still, he wouldn't reject this new power. And if the Records had granted it — or rather, if he had earned it through his own merit — at this moment, on this day, at this exact hour… then it was for a reason.

But for what, exactly? Noah didn't know.

It was ironic.

For one who commanded Providence, his own fate remained something even he struggled to decipher. It was tangled in countless threads — some he couldn't even trace the origin of — all interwoven into something maddeningly complex, and utterly without sense.

"…and despite all of this, life is still beautiful," Noah said with a grin, enjoying the view. "Right, Providence?"

Its sudden interjection startled her, but eventually…

[Yes, it is, Noah.]

Noah paused a bit, then continued.

"This is the world where we met. The world where everything changed. Emmie left that day… I threw the ring into the ocean and ran after it. I drowned, then met you before dying and awakening in Laeh."

He chuckled softly. "It was a series of events so improbable, so random, and so meaningless on their own, but together… these seemingly trivial moments created me…Noah Vaelgrim."

How curious.

"And all of this makes me wonder many things."

He smiled faintly, then reached out his hand, summoning a bottle of soda — Fanta, to be precise. He opened it with a fsshhh, letting the sound echo faintly around him, brought it to his lips, drank two small gulps, then lowered it again.

He shrugged lightly.

"But I'll know eventually. For now, I just want to enjoy the place of our beginning," he said.

[You have come a long way.] Providence said.

"I? We have come a long way. Things would have been completely different if I didn't have you."

[I only gave you the means, you were the one who used them well enough to stand where you are now. You are the owner of this world, the progenitor of a new race, the father of two talented children, and the husband of many incredible women.]

Noah chuckled lightly.

"Slow down, lady. It's been a while since I enjoyed the feeling of a creaking bed," he teased, making Providence chuckle. Then, softer, "I've made many mistakes along the way too, made my loved ones suffer needlessly."

His smile faltered slightly at that.

[Isn't that life?]

Noah couldn't see Providence, but he could feel her shrug.

[Life is built on mistakes and failures. Only through them can one learn and grow.]

[So don't be too hard on yourself.]

"You're unbelievably sweet today."

[I have always been sweet.]

"Today you're being extra."

[Heh? Is this how you thank my deep emotional support?]

"Have I not been a good companion to you?" he said with a grin. "Did I not even give you some first-hand experience of—!"

[No need. I understand!]

"…war battle?" Noah tilted his head, smirking. "What did you think I was going to say?"

Providence fell silent in embarrassment before muttering in a small voice, [I hate you.]

Noah laughed, and for a moment, it looked as if stars were dancing in his eyes. He lifted his Fanta and took another sip.

A peaceful silence settled around them, broken only by Providence's voice.

[What's left now?] she asked. [You've made peace with Emmie, is there anything else you need to do before beginning the process?]

Noah nodded simply. "Yes. There's still something left. Someone I need to see before I begin."

"You want to know who?"

[I already know who.]

Noah laughed. "Figures."

Then he vanished from the Eiffel Tower, leaving behind the weightless bottle of Fanta, which burst a moment later. But instead of the usual orange color, what poured out was a silver liquid shimmering like starlight.

It fell, fast — faster than anything in this world could perceive — touching a few humans and animals wandering idly below.

…

Earth — Morocco, Rabat.

Space parted like a curtain, and Noah stepped through, appearing before a quiet graveyard, unseen and undetected. The air around him was still, heavy with the scent of loss and old grief.

There were countless tombstones scattered about, names etched upon each. Some looked new, the stone still clean, uncracked, with fresh flowers laid beneath them.

Others were worn and forgotten, neglected by time.

He stopped suddenly when he noticed, at the far left of the graveyard, a small group of people dressed in black, in the process of burying someone, their expression filled with woe. He watched for a few moments before quietly turning away, walking toward a specific spot.

He wasn't disturbed by the sight.

And how could he be? He had seen death, caused it more times than he could count.

He was used to it.

That's what he told himself.

But the moment he stopped before a particular tombstone, his heart felt as though it had been pierced by a sharpened spear.

The tombstone was weathered and cracked, the stone surface veined with fractures like a web of faded light. With all this, Noah hadn't expected to find flowers there…

But there was one.

A single lily rested at its base. Beside it lay two pictures, one of Brandon and a beautiful woman with a gentle, motherly smile, and the other…

A picture of him and…

"…Emmie?"

Noah's voice came out weaker than he expected, his mind and heart collapsing in silent disarray.

He slowly crouched down before the tombstone, reaching out his right hand to brush away the dust. The name became clearer as he wiped it softly, and Noah read it with a trembling smile, holding the pictures and the lily close in his hand.

"Halima Meryem Imane."

His mother.

Or rather…

Brandon's mother.

—End of Chapter 366—

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