Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Until one moment, with a sound that seemed to echo in the soul, it shattered in response, then dissipated in the air like vapor.

"Huh—finally got it open."

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Nike's spirits became increasingly agitated. He glanced at the unprotected young figure, a trace of frenzy flashing in his eyes.

"Wait, hold on, don't rush."

"What are we waiting for, you're not thinking of backing out now, are you?"

"Of course not," with a grave expression, Samer shook his head and then raised the pitchfork, "No matter who he is, we've certainly offended him..."

"So it doesn't matter whether he's dead or alive, let's kill him first and then see what we can reap from his body."

Without hesitation, under Nike's somewhat surprised but approving gaze, Samer thrust the pitchfork viciously towards the neck of the mysterious young man.

It's said that as long as a spellcaster can still think, they can wield magic or sacred power, easily killing hundreds of mortals... Samer didn't know how that was done, the only spellcaster he had ever encountered being a low-ranking priest at The Temple, who never displayed such formidable strength.

But what if, who knows what kind of background this young man has. Better to kill him first, at least Samer was clear about one thing, that a dead person could definitely not summon anything.

...

Like the deepest memory replaying, traversing faraway time and space amidst chaos and obscurity.

Laine still didn't know how he had come to this world, his understanding of it only beginning after awaking from a long slumber.

Now, he was experiencing a similar scene, only this time, he had created the opportunity for himself.

"Swish—"

His thoughts not yet clear, but the sound of a sharp object cutting through the air instantly made Laine aware of his situation.

Almost subconsciously, following the direction of the sound, he reached out to grab.

The pitchfork, smeared with mud, wasn't sharp enough to pierce Laine's palm, but he still circumvented the tip, grasping the junction between the tine and the handle with precision. Then, in the eyes of the astonished attacker, he first pulled back with force, then pushed forward.

Giggle—

Samer, holding the pitchfork, was startled by the suddenly mobilizing Laine, but before he could react, an unexpected force sent him tumbling forward, and the pitchfork slipped from his grasp almost simultaneously.

The next moment, he saw the long handle that slipped from his hands being turned into a weapon by another, striking back at him. However, having lost his balance, Samer couldn't respond in time and was hit directly in the throat.

Accompanied by a teeth-gritting crash, his throat bone was shattered on the spot, and he fell to the ground, gasping "heh heh". Everything happened in the blink of an eye, and it wasn't until it was over that Nike just beginning to react.

"No, wait, this is just an accident, I mean—spare me, I—"

Shhh—

Flipping the pitchfork in his hand, Laine precisely plunged it into the chest of the fleeing farmer, silencing his mumbled pleas.

Narrowing his eyes, Laine slowly surveyed his surroundings, ascertaining his current situation.

There was no sight of a familiar Primordial God or any other Deity upon opening his eyes, nor a large crowd of onlookers, such as the guards of a mortal nation... It seemed the outcome was satisfactory, at least there were no major deviations, otherwise he might have had to start over.

In fact, the moment Laine sensed the force enveloping him crashing into a special temporal bubble, he had prepared for failure. But this was an attempt, and he had no determination to succeed or perish in the endeavor.

Fortunately, everything went smoothly, saving him quite a lot of effort.
Continue your journey on empire

"Good, step one of the plan, check,"

Standing up from the ground and stretching lazily, Laine felt his spirit become much livelier for a moment.

As the sun fully rose from the horizon, the vast crater also became bright.

Gazing at Samer, who was clutching his throat, convulsing subconsciously, blood continuously flowing from the corner of his mouth, Laine felt no sympathy. Whatever the reason, since they dared to strike at him, they should have been prepared to face death.

"Hmm, to be 'human' again, I need to address three questions first."

"Who am I, where am I, and what am I going to do."

The first question was easy to solve, to put it in human terms, he needed to give himself a new name, as he couldn't possibly walk openly in the Mortal Realm using the name 'Laine'. So, it was only natural for him to pick an appropriate pseudonym.

Without much thought, Laine just changed the pronunciation slightly. From now on, he would be called 'Aiven'. As for his identity... that would just be someone from any kind of fallen family/school/organization, provided such things existed in this era.

As for the second question...

Rubbing his forehead, Laine was a bit troubled, too.

Because he had the misfortune of encountering that spatial bubble, both his arrival point and the time of his landing had changed dramatically. In his original plan, he intended to land near Silver Moon City and start his subsequent actions from there...

but now, even without stars to navigate by day, he knew he was definitely not in the southern part of the continent, but in a somewhat northern direction.

North of the main road, Laine couldn't say he had no memory at all, but also had no clear concept of this place, as before, it was a pristine continent, desolate and uninhabited. So, to solve this difficulty, he would have to sacrifice this troublesome fellow who had come looking for him.