In a secluded corner of the City of Gods, far removed from the bustling golden avenues and the enormous structures, lay a garden that seemed to breathe with the heartbeat of the primitive world.

Here, the grass was not made of light, but of soft, emerald blades, and the air smelled of rain and ancient cedar.

Anaske, the Demigod of the Sword, and Thalorax, the Demigod of Protection, sat by a circular pond whose surface was as smooth as a polished mirror.

But the pond did not reflect the weeping willow trees or the violet sky of the celestial realm. Instead, it served as a window into the mortal world below, specifically, into the private realm of the Veridian Palace.

“Anaske, look at your successor… your pride and joy,” Thalorax said, a small, provocative grin playing on his draconic features.

“He is doing some truly gangster work down there. Abducting a Empress of a hundred thousand worlds using mind control, and then keeping her as a decorative prisoner just so he can strip her of her talent and fuse it into his own. Is this the justice of Veridia that we left there?”

Anaske remained as still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the reflection of the unconscious Esmira and the retreating, regal figure of his great-grandson, Anohara.

“Since we have made the collective vow to leave the affairs of the inner world to the mortals, there is no point in debating the nuances of their morality,” Anaske said, his voice as calm and sharp as a honed blade.

“The Era of Friction was designed by the God Emperor himself to be a crucible. If Anohara falls to his own greed, he will be judged at the gates of the City. If he transcends his limitations through these methods and ascends, he becomes an immortal. The path is his to walk.”

“So you will simply sit by and let him do as he pleases?” Thalorax countered, his slitted draconic eyes narrowing.

“What if the boy turns into a total psychopath? A man who thinks every being in the multiverse is just a resource to be harvested for his Perfect Vision? Is that the legacy you want for the Royal family of Cosmic Empire?”

Anaske finally turned his head, his gaze meeting Thalorax’s with a weight that made the surrounding air tremble.

“If he becomes a cancer that threatens the balance of this City or the harmony of the Creator’s will, I will personally behead him nine times and judge his soul to the deepest hell. But as for what he did today… I see no crime.”

“No crime?” Thalorax huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. “He stole a woman from her throne!”

“Esmira played a game of shadows against the Cosmic Empire,” Anaske reasoned, his voice firm with a great grandfather’s bias, yet grounded in cold logic.

“She attempted to rot his reputation and incite a civil war across twenty billion worlds. Anohara didn’t respond with a massacre; he responded with a surgical strike.”

“Of the eight talents he has fused with so far, six were purchased legally using merits from willing mortals. Two were taken from criminals as a form of capital punishment. And now, this Empress. He is holding his ground, Thalorax. In the world of mortals, strength is the only law that doesn’t bend.”

“But kidnapping and forced fusion…” Thalorax began to argue, but the rustle of a breeze stopped him.

Both demigods turned to see a figure standing behind them. It was Light, Anaske’s grandson and Anohara’s uncle.

He wore robes of shimmering white, and a faint, scholarly smile graced his lips.

As a Demigod of the city of Gods, Light was ranked third in sheer intellectual processing power, surpassed only by Isiah, the Demigod of Knowledge, and Thea herself.

“Grandpa Anaske, Grandpa Thalorax,” Light greeted them, sitting down gracefully beside the pond. “What is the topic of this heated theological discussion today? I could feel the friction from the library.”

Light’s eyes flickered toward the pond. In an instant, using his authority, he interfaced with the Divine Library.

Trillions of data points regarding Esmira, her lineage, her Jade Gaze talent, and the specific mechanics of her misinformation campaign flowed into his mind.

“Nothing much,” Anaske sighed. “Thalorax simply believes your nephew has abandoned his ethics in favor of his ambition.”

Light looked at the reflection of the distressed Empress and then at the stoic King. “Since we have officially abdicated our roles in mortal governance, I don’t believe it is our place to define their ethics,” Light said, his voice more tranquil than the pond water. “Everyone has their own role and position in the grand scheme of the God Emperor. Anohara is simply a result of the environment the Emperor created.”

“Kidnapping is unethical regardless of the role!” Thalorax barked, his draconic blood making him stubborn. “Even the God Emperor, in all his power, was against the enslavement of others. He taught us that every soul has a right to its own path.”

Light tilted his head. “That is true, Grandpa Thalorax. You are the Demigod of Protection; your nature compels you to feel the wrongness of this act because you wish to shield all beings. Grandpa Anaske is the Demigod of the Sword; his nature is fierce, allowing for necessary evils in the pursuit of power. But if we are to speak of the God Emperor’s fairness….”

Light paused, his eyes turning thoughtful. “If the Creator truly had a problem with Anohara’s methods, he would not have granted him the secret assistance of Demigod Mire and Yggdrasil.”

“The fusion of talents is a breach of the standard mortal progression. The other Gods and their subjects don’t know about Mire’s fusion ability. So, aren’t we seeing a biased training method? A subtle, unethical favoritism conducted by the God Emperor himself?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The implication shook Anaske and Thalorax to their very souls. Could the Creator, the pinnacle of all existence, be playing favorites?

“But… isn’t that inherently unfair?” Thalorax asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oh? Are you saying that I am unfair, Thalorax?”

The three demigods jumped, nearly falling into the pond as they spun around. Standing behind them was the Overseer, the soul-clone of Sunny.

Though it was a clone, it carried the absolute presence and the soul-essence of the God Emperor.

“Creator!” they gasped in unison, bowing their heads in a rush of reverence and panic.

“I didn’t mean it in a disrespectful way, Creator,” Thalorax said, summoning a mountain of courage to speak his heart.

“I just… I find it unsettling. Why is Anohara permitted to use Mire’s fusion ability when every other mortal must struggle to evolve their talent? Why is Esmira being sacrificed for his Perfect Vision?”

The Overseer walked to the edge of the pond, his violet-gold eyes reflecting the entire multiverse.

“You are not wrong to feel the friction, Thalorax,” Sunny said, his voice vibrating with a wisdom that transcended mortal morality.

“But I have looked through the hearts of every mortal in this world. Anohara’s faith is the strongest; it is a pure, unwavering pillar that holds Veridia together. His heart is clear. He does not kill for pleasure, nor does he hoard power for the sake of tyranny. He seeks a goal: the stability of the entire world through absolute sight.”

Sunny looked at the reflection of Esmira. “On the other hand, Esmira needed a lesson. Her heart was becoming a nest of vipers. Her path was leading toward a chaos that would have eventually required my direct intervention to prune. By being captured by Anohara, she has a chance to change her ways, even if the lesson is harsh.”

“And the fusion?” Light asked. “Why keep it a secret from the others?”

“Because,” the Overseer explained, “if I introduced the Fusion Law to the entire world, the Inner World would turn into a slaughterhouse overnight. Every mortal would become a predator, kidnapping their neighbors and fusing with their talents forcefully to gain an edge. The harmony they have achieved after years of struggle would vanish in a heartbeat.”

The Overseer turned back to the demigods. “Anohara is the only one I have permitted because I know his limits. He is focused only on his eyes. He could have used Mire’s talent to fuse with a hundred laws of fire or space, becoming a master of destruction. But he didn’t. He has the discipline to stay his hand. To gain permission to use the Fusion of Mire, one must have a heart that is clear of petty greed.”

Thalorax let out a long breath, his draconic shoulders relaxing. He finally understood. It wasn’t bias; it was a security measure. The Emperor wasn’t playing favorites; he was selecting a steward for the world he created by himself.

“I understand, Creator,” Thalorax nodded, his faith restored.

“Good,” Sunny nodded. A small, human-like smile touched his lips. “Don’t worry too much about the boy turning into a psycho or a mad killer. His heart is the purest among his generation. He isn’t abducting a woman to be a gangster, Thalorax. He is merely taking the piece he needs to finish a masterpiece.”

The Overseer vanished into a swirl of violet particles, leaving the three demigods alone by the pond once more.

Anaske looked at Thalorax and nudged him with his elbow. “See? I told you he was a good boy.”

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