Capricorn

At that moment—Klein moved.

He lowered his head and looked down.

He looked at Ophelia, who had regained her life force, now stronger than ever. He looked at her arm, which had become clear and transparent, with the azure ocean flowing within it.

Inside those vacant, data-filled eyes, something finally returned.

Something human.

He looked at her arm—for a long time.

Then, he let out a soft sigh.

It was very soft.

So soft that it seemed to vanish the moment the wind blew.

But that single sigh seemed to drain all the divinity from his body.

The indifferent, non-human absolute rationality receded like a tide, and the exhaustion and determination of a human returned to his face. Focus returned to his eyes—no longer flickering data points, but a person.

It was her.

Klein raised his hand and released the alchemical array that had carried all of his will.

Boom—!!!

The three-dimensional light net covering the entire sea lost its central control and suddenly disintegrated!

The eleven pillars of light activated by the imperial fleet, the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce, Diancie, and Lohr also dimmed and vanished. The blue light went out one by one like snuffed candles, leaving only ember-like glimmers on the sea for a few breaths before fading into total darkness.

Immediately after, Klein activated the Sage’s Heart once more.

This time, it was a return.

He released all the majestic water elements contained within that crystal, enough to crush the entire world.

The world—it was as if a rewind button had been pressed.

Endless seawater emerged out of thin air.

From the sky, from the air, from the void—it refilled the massive, drained depression with an unstoppable force, like a waterfall, a torrent, a collapsing heaven!

On the seabed, the massive ships that had been stranded and damaged after losing buoyancy were lifted once again by the rushing tide.

The soldiers on the ships let out cries of relief after their brush with death.

Some knelt on the decks, while others frantically kissed the gunwales—they leaned over the railings, staring blankly as the sea level rose at a speed visible to the naked eye, ten feet, a hundred feet, a thousand feet... until it finally returned to its original position.

It was as if the terrifying scene of the ocean disappearing into thin air—a scene that could have destroyed heaven and earth—had been nothing more than a collective hallucination.

The wind began to blow again.

The waves slapped against the hulls, making that familiar splashing sound.

Seagulls flew back from somewhere, landing on the masts and tilting their heads to observe the pale-faced humans.

Everything had returned.

...

As the last trace of the water elements returned to the sea, the blue light on Klein’s body completely faded.

That majestic aura of being one with heaven and earth vanished without a trace.

As if it had never existed.

He was just an ordinary, pale, and exhausted young mage.

Klein staggered.

His knees buckled, and he nearly tumbled off the dragon’s back. The dizziness from his mental energy exhaustion surged like a real tide, more turbulent than any of the sea tides he had just commanded. His vision blurred, and his ears rang like thunder.

The silver dragon let out a low cry of sorrow—mixed with a gentle respect—and steadily caught him with the tip of its wing.

Klein knelt on the dragon’s back, gasping for breath for a good while.

Then, he slowly raised his head.

His gaze swept past the chaotic fleet below, past the calm sea surface—

And finally landed on Ophelia.

Their eyes met.

Ophelia watched him.

Emotions swirled in her golden pupils, so complex she couldn’t even sort through them herself.

There was the relief of surviving—he was alive, she was alive, they were all still here.

There was the lingering fear from his reckless actions—what if he hadn’t held on? What if that balance had collapsed? He would have died. He would have died more miserably than she would have.

There was the gratitude of being completely saved—the curse that had tormented her for years, the nightmare that had soaked her back with cold sweat on countless nights, had been erased by him like a pencil mark.

And there was also a hint of... bewilderment regarding the changes in herself.

She was no longer entirely herself.

She belonged to him now.

On a soulful level.

But she looked at the man kneeling on the dragon’s back, so pale he looked ready to collapse, his lips white from blood loss, his hands still trembling slightly.

She opened her mouth.

She wanted to say, “You’re crazy.”

She wanted to say, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She wanted to say, “Don’t you ever do that again.”

She wanted to say many things.

But in the end—

Nothing came out.

Ophelia retracted her transparent arm and flew to his side.

The silver dragon tilted its body in understanding, letting her land in front of Klein.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

They were inches apart.

Klein opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to explain something.

But before he could speak—

Ophelia reached out and pressed her fingers against his lips.

“Don’t talk,” she said.

And then—

She embraced him.

Powerfully.

Tightly.

As if she wanted to pull him into her very bones.

Klein stiffened for a moment, then slowly, very slowly, he raised his arms and returned the embrace.

His hands were still shaking.

But the hug was tight.

“...Don’t ever do that again.”

After a long time, Ophelia’s muffled voice came from the crook of his neck.

Klein didn’t answer.

He only rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes.

The sea breeze blew through their hair.

Carrying them, the silver dragon slowly descended.

The ocean was calm.

As if nothing had happened.

...

...

Meanwhile, on the deck of the imperial flagship, the Arbiter, Augustus Julius stood by the railing, his face calm.

The sea breeze carried the salty scent of survival, slapping coldly against his face. Behind him were the irrepressible gasps of the crew, the sound of chaotic footsteps, and the shouts of officers trying to restore order.

But Augustus heard none of it.

Inside, he was far from as calm as his expression suggested.

The sea was back.

That vast existence that had been erased into nothingness had rushed back in the same irrational manner. But that momentary terror of the exposed seabed, of a world with a piece gouged out, was like an unhealable brand burned deep into his mind.

He had originally thought Klein was merely a somewhat special alchemist. Perhaps he was related to that mysterious Sage, perhaps he possessed some lost knowledge, but he was still within the realm of a “human.”

Furthermore, he was terrifyingly young. No matter how talented he was, how strong could he really be?

Now, it seemed he had underestimated everything.

His perception, his perspective, the understanding of power he had spent a lifetime building—it had all been utterly crushed at its foundation.

That was creation. That was a miracle.

That was the authority of a god—to command reality with a word, to erase a part of the world and then paint it back in.

Fortunately.

Fortunately, they hadn't done anything out of line.

Fortunately, during the previous probing and maneuvering, the Empire had always maintained a delicate balance and had not completely turned him into an enemy.

The tight line of Augustus’s jaw relaxed slightly.

He thought for a moment, then turned. His voice carried no ripple of emotion, yet it was clearly heard across the entire command deck.

“Pass on my orders.”

The adjutant flinched and immediately stood at attention. “Yes, Your Majesty!”

“First, order all fleets to assemble, tally the losses, and assist friendly vessels. With the highest priority, ensure the safety of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce ships. All salvaged remains of the evil god are to be handed over to Mr. Klein for disposal.”

This was not just an order; it was a gesture. It was a clear display of goodwill and... awe toward the young man who had just demonstrated divine power.

“Second,” Augustus paused, his gaze turning toward the continent, “immediately use the highest encryption to notify the Church forces still on their way. The target has been eliminated, and the threat is resolved. Tell them to... stand by. No, tell them to return directly. They are no longer needed here.”

The adjutant was stunned, but he didn't ask questions and immediately left to carry out the order.

Augustus turned back around and looked up at the sky where Klein and Ophelia had disappeared, leaving only a few rifts torn through the clouds.

He suddenly felt a wave of melancholy.

What was he worried about?

Was he worried about an uncontrollable power, capable of subverting the world, appearing within his imperial territory? Was he worried that the hegemony he had spent his life pursuing was as fragile as a sandcastle before such might?

...

It didn't matter.

At least for now, it didn't matter.

...

...

The high-altitude wind was as sharp as a blade.

The silver dragon flew steadily, each beat of its wings creating a massive current of air.

Klein leaned in Ophelia’s arms, giving most of his weight to her. His eyes were closed, and his face was as pale as a piece of water-soaked paper; even his lips had lost their color.

The price of briefly becoming a “god” was now manifesting as the most ferocious aftereffects, ravaging every corner of his body and spirit. Every heartbeat felt like a heavy hammer striking his temples.

Ophelia held him tightly, using her own body to shield him from the freezing high-altitude wind. She could clearly feel his physical weakness, even the slight, uncontrollable trembling.

Her heart clenched.

He needed to rest. He needed to lie down immediately and fall into a deep sleep for days, maybe even weeks, to recover.

Yet, the silver dragon was not flying toward their manor.

“Klein,” she couldn’t help but speak, her voice carrying a plea she hadn't even noticed, “let’s go home first, alright? The rest of the matters...”

“No.”

Klein’s voice was very soft, heavy with exhaustion, yet brook no argument.

He opened his eyes. The eyes that had just lost their divinity now held only a pure, alchemist-like focus.

“There is still one... ‘thing’ that needs to be dealt with,” he panted, continuing, “just now, as the evil god finally dissipated, a part of its consciousness fragments found a new host. I must go now, while it hasn't adapted to the new body and while it is still very weak.”

Ophelia was startled. “A new host?”

Klein didn't answer. He only lightly patted the silver dragon’s neck. The dragon understood and let out a low growl, picking up speed as it flew toward an inconspicuous black speck on the distant horizon.

It was a lonely island.

It was also the base where they had previously stationed themselves.

The silver dragon landed silently on the island’s beach.

Aphros was sitting on a reef, hugging her knees and looking blankly at the restored sea. She seemed confused and fearful about what had just happened. Hearing the noise, she looked back in pleasant surprise.

“Mr. Klein! Miss Ophelia!”

Like a startled fawn, she came stumbling toward them, her face full of the joy of survival.

“You’re okay! That’s great! Just now... the sea, it...”

However, she didn't get to finish her sentence.

With Ophelia’s support, Klein stood up straight. He raised a hand, signaling for her to stop.

His gaze bypassed Aphros’s innocent face and looked behind her—or rather, at a deeper existence within her body.

Aphros was a bit bewildered by his gaze, and her smile froze.

“Mr. Klein?”

Klein ignored her confusion and merely twitched the corner of his mouth into an extremely tired, light smile.

His voice was raspy, yet it carried a strange piercing quality, as if he weren't speaking to Aphros but questioning an existence in another dimension.

“You’ve been hiding for so long. Won’t you all come out and say hello?”

The moment the words fell, the air behind Aphros twisted eerily.

A semi-transparent silhouette made of pure shadow emerged from behind her. The upper half of the silhouette was a hideous goat head, while the lower half was a massive, writhing fish tail covered in scales.

“Ah—!”

Aphros let out a terrified scream. She had no idea what was happening to her; she only felt a bone-chilling cold coming from behind her. She spun around but saw nothing. When she turned back, she saw the horrifying monster overlapping with her reflected in the shocked eyes of Klein and Ophelia!

She fell back onto the sand, her whole body shaking.

“Don’t be nervous, Aphros,” Klein’s voice came, carrying a calming power. “It cannot harm you for the time being.”

Back at the start of their journey, Klein had placed a spell on Aphros.

It was modeled after the magic the Sage used to seal the sirens. If Aphros were attacked... or if Aphros herself made a move, they would be sealed by Klein, just like the sirens once were.

He signaled for Ophelia not to act, while he took half a step forward, his gaze locked onto the goat-headed, fish-tailed phantom.

This thing before him was completely different from the previous chaotic, massive aggregate of the evil god. Although it originated from the evil god, it had discarded most of its redundant parts after being forced out by Klein’s Anti-Chaos spell at the final moment, becoming a more condensed, stable, and... intelligent existence.

It was no longer pure chaos; rather, a prototype of order had been born from within the chaos.

The phantom did not attack. It only floated quietly behind Aphros. Those eerie horizontal slit pupils belonging to a goat were staring unblinkingly at Klein, filled with an air of scrutiny and assessment.

It was judging how much power was left in the man who had nearly erased it completely just moments ago.

“What should I call you?” Klein asked calmly.

The phantom was silent for a moment.

“Just call me... Capricorn.”