Chapter 146: Ch 146 : The birth of a King

“I should be returning to the divine realm now,” Sunny’s projected voice said, the cosmic energy that formed his image beginning to shimmer, preparing to dissolve. But before he could vanish, a hesitant voice called out, filled with a desperate, fragile hope.

“God Cosmos… could I ask for another favor?” Medusa stood before him, her earlier confidence replaced by the vulnerability of a supplicant.

Sunny’s projection stabilized. He chuckled internally; Thea’s analysis had already predicted this very request. “Go on,” he said, his tone patient. “I do not know when we will meet again. It is better to listen to your favors while I can.”

Medusa’s face, a mask of resolve, lit up. She turned and ran back towards the deep darkness of her cave. She returned moments later, her immense strength straining as she carried a colossal, three-headed serpent made of cold, lifeless stone.

The statue was a monument to a brutal battle. One head was completely severed at the neck. The remaining two were scarred and broken, each with only a single, terrified eye remaining, the other socket a gaping scar.

“God Cosmos, this is my friend, Hessia,” Medusa whispered, her voice cracking as she gently caressed the stone scales. Tears streamed down her face, and the living snakes in her hair seemed to weep with her, their hissing turning into soft, sorrowful sounds.

“She was with me since my birth,” Medusa explained, her story a torrent of grief held back for three hundred thousand years. “due to our matching strength she was immune to my curse, so she was the only one who could stay by my side. She was my only friend. But on that fateful day, when I was on the verge of my own breakthrough to the demigod realm, we were attacked by an S-Grade beast. Hessia… she protected me. She gave up her own chance to ascend, holding the beast back while my power surged.”

She hugged the cold stone, the memory as fresh as if it were yesterday. “But my breakthrough… my talent… it became too strong. While she was protecting me, my uncontrollable aura washed over her. She turned to stone, just as you see her now.” Her voice broke.

“Can you… please, can you save her?” she pleaded, her hesitation born from the three hundred thousand years of hopelessness she had endured. She didn’t even know if a soul still resided within the stone.

“Why should I?”

Sunny’s voice was as cold and distant as a faraway star. The words hit Medusa like a physical blow, shattering the fragile hope in her heart. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, a demigod reduced to a heartbroken child.

“You should be responsible for the things you do,” Sunny continued, his tone absolute. “Even if they were not in your control.” He let the hard lesson sink in, a test of her resolve.

Then, his voice shifted, the cold authority melting away, replaced by a power that seemed to command the heavens themselves.

“But what is the point of living if you cannot change your past mistakes?” he declared, his voice no longer a question, but a divine decree. “From this moment on, let the talent of the Gorgon race be rewritten! Let them have the power to revert the petrification they cause!”

This time, the universe didn’t shake. It sang. A soft, harmonious chord resonated through reality as a single, cruel rule was gently erased from the cosmic rulebook, and a new one, one of mercy, was written in its place.

The act cost Sunny a staggering five hundred billion faith points. ’Divine Command is far too costly,’ he thought with an internal sigh.

He looked at Medusa, who was glowing with a new, ethereal light. “Correct your mistakes,” he said. “I must get going. I have a few billion worlds to take care of.” And with a magical whoosh, his projection vanished, leaving behind a demigod with a new gift and a mortal king in absolute awe.

Medusa turned to the statue of Hessia, her hands trembling. She focused her will, her new, altered talent flowing from her.

The stone began to crack, not with the sound of breaking, but with the gentle whisper of life returning.

Flesh and blood began to reform from the inside out, a miracle of divine mercy. A deep, ancient hiss echoed from within the stone, the first sound Hessia had made in three hundred thousand years.

“I have a healing pill here,” Ragnok said, stepping forward and offering a shimmering, SS-Grade pill. “Perhaps it can even grow back her head.”

Medusa accepted the gift without hesitation. She gently placed the pill in Hessia’s slowly reforming mouth. A wave of powerful vitality surged through the serpent’s body, her scales regaining their luster, her muscles coiling with newfound strength.

She hissed in joy, a sound of pure, unadulterated life. But her missing head and eyes did not return.

“I think… after so long, her body accepted its wounded state as its new, perfect form,” Medusa reasoned, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Yes, three hundred thousand years is a long time,” Ragnok agreed with a solemn nod.

Medusa looked from her recovering friend to the half-orc king who had made all of this possible.

She thought for a moment, and then, a demigod, a queen of her own ancient race, bowed deeply before a mortal. “My King,” she declared, her voice ringing with absolute conviction, “I and my entire race will be under your care from now on.”

“No, no, Medusa, you are a demigod!” Ragnok protested, taking a step back. “I am just a mortal. How can you serve under me? You should create your own kingdom.”

“It is my choice to make,” Medusa chuckled, a newfound lightness in her voice. “Did you not hear what God Cosmos said? He instructed me to join a kingdom, and I choose yours.”

“If it is the wish of the God, then… you can join,” Ragnok finally conceded, his mind reeling. And in that moment, as he accepted the fealty of a being far more powerful than himself, something inside him snapped.

His Comprehension talent ignited. He finally understood.

A king was not the strongest person in the kingdom. A king was a vessel, a focal point for the collective strength and loyalty of his people. By accepting the pledge of a demigod, his own mortal vessel had reached its breaking point. It was time to ascend.

Light exploded from Ragnok’s form. The air crackled with raw power. His physical body, the half-orc shell that had carried him through a life of slavery and struggle, began to crack like sun-baked earth.

The cracks widened, revealing not blood, but pure, golden energy. Then, his mortal form shattered, dissolving into a maelstrom of light and power, a supernova of potential.

From the heart of the storm, a new form began to emerge, larger, stronger, and radiating an unmistakable divine aura.

His mortal lifespan was burning away, replaced by the aura of immortality. He was not just breaking through; he was being reborn.

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