Now that he had absorbed the artifact, he knew the truth, she wasn't the guardian she claimed to be, in fact she seemed to be imprisoned here, and more importantly he could feel that he had complete control over her.

Isylia froze. She looked at him, realizing the shift in the air. The pressure radiating from him wasn't just Ash Gray energy anymore; it was the weight of the Realm itself. The dimension itself had bent to his voice.

"You…" she whispered, trembling. "You're not supposed to have that. You're not supposed to be that."

Her tiny hands balled into fists, her pride warring with panic. She looked like a child throwing a tantrum, but her words carried the desperation of a goddess who had just lost everything.

Sol narrowed his eyes, his voice still carrying the weight of Orphos. "What happened? And most importantly, why are you like this?"

Isylia crossed her arms, though the gesture looked ridiculous in her diminished form. Her voice wavered, stripped of its usual grandeur. "I... I am stuck," she admitted, her voice small, her lower lip trembling. "My strength is sealed in this realm. My divine power… useless here. I can't command, I can't weave, I can't even break the walls of this prison. I've been stuck for thousands of years... so long I can't even remember it. The artifact... It suppressed me because it hates me. And now that you own it... it suppressed me even further."

Sol narrowed his eyes. The pieces were clicking together. He tilted his head, his tone sharp.

"And what does that have to do with your high‑and‑mighty fated one act? he said slowly, stepping closer. All that talk about destiny, about being chosen?"

Isylia flinched. She looked away, her solar eyes dimming. "Well… about that."

She shuffled, stalling, her pride warring with panic. She stomped her foot, tried to puff herself up, but the temple's silence made her look more like a sulking child than a goddess. Finally, under his glare, she cracked.

"Fine!" she spat, her arrogance collapsing into desperation. "The truth is… mortals can't touch the artifact. If they do, they explode. Instantly. Gone. Dust. And in that moment, when the artifact reacts, I would have a chance… a window… to escape this cursed place."

"You tried to kill me," Sol realized, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill. "You wanted me to touch that thing so I'd blow up. You wanted to use the explosion to escape from here?"

"I… I had no choice!" she snapped, her voice trembling. "Do you think I wanted to rely on a mortal? Do you think I wanted to beg for scraps of fate? I am Isylia, Weaver of Nebulae! I was supposed to be chosen, not trapped!"

She pouted, crossing her arms, her tiny frame trembling with indignation. "Actually, mortals are supposed to explode the moment they touch it. It's basic rule! It's not my fault you're a freak of nature! You didn't explode, which is very strange and intriguing, by the way. You should be flattered!"

"Flattered? Hahaha, you just tried to kill me and i should be flattered?" Sol asked, anger flaring in his chest.

She looked at him as if he were a fool. "Of course! We don't know each other! We aren't friends or anything! You are a just mayfly; I am eternity! If using a bug helps me escape a thousand-year prison, why wouldn't I? And didn't I just heal you?"

She pointed a small finger at his chest.

"You were rotting from countless snakes' poisons! Your ribs and countless other bones were shattered! Your lungs were collapsing, your heart was faltering! I used the last of my accumulated divine essence… the scraps I had hoarded for centuries… to fix your broken little body. Do you even understand what that means? I burned away the last of my power for you! You kinda owe me your life!"

Sol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.

She was absolutely right. No matter what, she did heal him, if it wasn't for her help,he would have died long before touching Orphos. The poisons would have eaten him alive, his body collapsing into rotten meat. And honestly… If he were in her position… trapped for eons in the dark, stripped of power, desperate for freedom… he would have sacrificed a stranger in a heartbeat. He wasn't some saint.

And she had indeed healed him. His arm was pristine, the bones knit together as if they had never been broken. His ribs no longer ached. His body felt stronger than ever, humming with vitality.

But… of course, that didn't mean he was going to let her off the hook.

Well..." Sol crossed his arms, looking down at her with a smirk. "You aren't wrong. Survival is survival. But the question is... did I ask you to heal me?"

Isylia sputtered. She pointed a trembling finger at him, her face flushing red. "Y-you! The audacity! I saved you from becoming rotting meat, and this is how you behave? You mortal humans are indeed greedy, ungrateful creatures! I should have let you rot!"

"Well… I won't deny it," Sol smirked, stepping closer, looming over her diminutive form. His shadow stretched across her, a reminder of the power he now held. "But it is also the truth that you just tried to turn me into a bomb to escape. So, I'd say our debt is equal now."

"Equal?!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "I am a Goddess! You are a mud-dweller! We are not—"

She leaned forward to shout in his face, standing on her tiptoes to try and regain some height advantage. Her cheeks burned with indignation, her hair shimmering faintly with suppressed divine essence. But then, suddenly, she stopped.

Her nose twitched.

She sniffed.

She leaned closer to his chest, inhaling loudly, almost comically, sniffing like a curious dog.

"Hmm," she murmured, her expression changing from anger to confusion. Her nose twitched again, her solar eyes narrowing. "What is this smell?"

"Sweat?" Sol suggested, raising an eyebrow, about her sudden behaviour "Snake blood?"

"No," she whispered, her eyes widening. "It's... Ambrosia. Frost, blue lotuses and stardust."

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing into slits of solar fire.

"Interesting. Interesting indeed. It seems you have met with… another Goddess."

"Hmm?" Sol frowned, stepping back. "I have? I don't remember any other giant women." But then, suddenly, a memory surfaced… faint, fleeting. The scent of frost and blue lotuses when he had first woken up.

"You don't remember?" Isylia circled him, inspecting him like a rare specimen. Her small form moved with predatory curiosity, her eyes scanning every inch of him "But I can smell her. It's faint, but it's deep. And, it's not superficial; it seems to have merged with your very marrow. You reek of Divine Intervention. Now that I look at it…" She paused, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Your body is indeed not of an ordinary mortal. No, let alone a mortal, I haven't seen this body on anyone before. Very strange. It's my first time seeing such a perfect vessel.

She poked his chest hard, her tiny finger pressing against him with surprising force.

"Who touched you, mortal? And why is your body like this? Is it by birth, or someone or something helped you achieve this? if yes, then how.?" She asked multiple questions at once like a machine gun.

Sol blinked, unsettled. Even he was intrigued now. Was his body really that strange? He didn't remember the previous Sol having anything special. Heck, his body had been worse, utterly weak and frail. He had thought this strength was simply a benefit of transmigration… a gift of starting anew. But now, it seemed he was wrong. There was still some info he didn't know yet, well, actually there was a lot, including this new mystery.

"Of course, a body this perfect shouldn't be possible, especially on a human mortal." she said, her tone dripping with condescension, as if he were a fool for not realizing it himself.

"Seems my assumption was wrong," she murmured, her tone shifting from arrogance to wary fascination. "You, human… you are definitely not an ordinary one."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with reluctant awe. She tilted her head, studying him as though he were a puzzle carved by the cosmos itself. "Your scent, your marrow, your very essence… it reeks of law, of ambrosia, of something far beyond mortal flesh.

Sol swatted her hand away. "Interesting or not, let's talk later. I have a headache, and I'm currently standing in a void with a chibi goddess who tried to kill me."

He looked around the realm. He could feel the connection to the artifact… Orphos. He could feel the exit. And he could feel that he controlled the door.

He looked down at the pint-sized Goddess.

"If you had asked nicely," Sol said,his voice dropping to a low, predatory rumble and a slow, evil smile spreading across his face, "I might have let you go. I might have become the benevolent hero, who saved a goddess."

He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her petite form. A slow, evil smile spread across his face… the kind of smile a wolf gives a trapped lamb.

"But now..."

Isylia backed up until her legs hit the step of the dais. She looked up at him,her solar eyes wide with a mix of indignation and genuine fear,

"W-what?" she stammered, clutching her celestial peplos, her arrogance crumbling into panic. "What do you want?"

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A/N: Guys, just like this chapter we have reached a white-hot moment in the contest. Our 1st position is about to get lost, as there is only a difference of 100 collections between us now.

And Today is Final day, and they being on Weekly Feature can easily get more than 100 in just few hours. So, I shamelessly and earnestly request for a castle, as it is the only way to get collections and not lose our 1st position.

I already have the next chapter written and I'll upload it immediately, otherwise you gotta wait till tomorrow to release.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.