In the Dream Realm, neither Iva nor Prince Smerkel realized that as they gazed in wonder at the God-Given Land from aboard the Divine Boat, the Creator too watched them from that sacred place.

Yinsai observed as the flame within Iva’s lamp ignited, marking the first time Iva experienced emotions and desires truly his own. Joy bloomed within him like the first flower of spring.

The Creator witnessed all that transpired after Smerkel’s return, watching as legends of spirits once again took root in this era. These tales found their genesis in civilization’s dawn, emerging from a fantastical encounter between a prince and a demigod.

In these stories, death bore a different meaning. It was not punishment, but rather God’s gift. Death became the spirits’ blessing upon mortal souls.

Shelly ascended in her hot air balloon, circling the pyramid in endless loops, rising and falling through celestial winds. As she passed before Yinsai’s window, her voice carried notes of gentle chiding.

“Too slow,” she remarked.

“Too slow indeed.”

Shelly spoke of Iva’s prolonged journey below, how much time had passed before he finally began his ordained mission.

“It really has taken far too long.”

If Shelly embodied the essence of an eternally curious child, a deity overflowing with vitality and life force, forever exploring this world with fresh eyes and reshaping it according to her vision, treating all existence as her personal garden, wielding her power like a painter’s brush across reality’s blank canvas…

Then Iva existed as an unwritten page, a flower blooming in perfect stillness.

He harbored no desire to transform the world. Instead, he waited for others to change him, seeking to understand existence through their experiences, learning of emotion, desire, and life’s meaning through borrowed wisdom.

Yinsai counseled her: “Do not focus solely on how quickly a task might be completed.”

“The journey toward fulfilling one’s mission, the patient waiting for a story’s conclusion these elements hold their own profound beauty.”

“They form essential parts of life’s journey, perhaps even more meaningful than the final outcome.”

“Much like ourselves.”

“Like us?” Shelly questioned.

Yinsai gazed upon Shelly as she guided her balloon to hover before the window, curiosity etched across her features.

“Before wisdom awakened within you, you sat day after day beside my statue, faithfully bringing the Sun Cup before me.”

“Do you remember?”

Shelly nodded, lost in those ancient memories.

Yinsai continued softly: “Sometimes the act of waiting itself holds its own beauty.”

“It becomes a precious memory in its own right.”

Shelly’s laughter rang out like silver bells as she stamped her feet playfully atop the balloon basket.

She descended to land among the Sun Cup Flower Sea, preparing to select another Sun Cup to place within a pot in the temple. Her eyes roamed the field thoughtfully.

Which lucky flower would she choose?

The “lucky ones” trembled in anticipation.

Yinsai observed how Iva had inadvertently fulfilled part of his mission, noting how voices had begun to resonate within the Divine Cup, the Root Divine Artifact of the Dream Ability, as mortals spoke the spirits’ names in reverence.

Yet only sparse rays of wish-light had crystallized thus far. It remained insufficient.

Iva had embarked upon his next step, but his old habits persisted. Like a flower rooted in earth, he struggled to take initiative. He waited for rain from above, for seasons to change, for passing strangers to provide answers.

Shelly disapproved of this approach. Cradling her flower pot, she returned to Yinsai’s presence, declaring: “He’s so foolish!”

“Absolutely clueless.”

“Even more naive than Sermos when she first came into being.”

Yet Yinsai perceived Iva’s gradual transformation: “He will change in time.”

“Into what?” Shelly inquired.

“He will grow wise and intelligent, develop a full spectrum of emotions and desires, become a vibrant individual and living being,” Yinsai responded.

“And become… more complex.”

“Is that a good thing?” Shelly wondered.

For once, Yinsai, who always had answers for Shelly, remained silent.

The demigod Iva arrived at Maya City, drawn by Smerkel’s tales of its unparalleled wine, said to possess unique sweetness and fragrance.

This time, rather than lurking in shadows to observe others, he walked boldly through the city gates, immersing himself in the flowing river of humanity. He had learned to disguise himself, taking the form of a snake person to better understand mortal perspective.

The city rivaled the City of Fire Protection in prosperity while surpassing it in openness of spirit. Merchants from all directions mingled with countless craftsmen, wandering musicians, and an expansive priesthood.

Here, the city lord consulted all citizens on major decisions, using divine divination to determine which suggestions would be implemented. These unique customs seemed somewhat discordant with Suinhor’s traditions.

Iva entered a tavern filled with boisterous energy. Snake people coiled upon wooden floors covered with beast hides, gathered around tables laden with food and wine, engaged in heated discussion of Prince Smerkel’s latest decrees and the changing face of their city-state.

As soon as Iva entered, someone called out: “Noble guest.”

“Care for a drink?”

Iva produced a small object: “Would this suffice?”

It was a silver coin issued by the Suinhor City-State the previous year, something Iva had only recently learned to use.

The other’s eyes brightened upon receiving the coin.

They called toward the back: “Bring a barrel!”

“Gulp!”

Iva drank deeply, experiencing sensations unlike anything before.

Several cups later, he truly felt joy blossoming within.

At last he understood the truth in Prince Smerkel’s words.

Wine indeed brought happiness.

He embraced the sensations it provoked. In his pleasantly clouded state, memories surfaced unbidden memories of sharing the star sea’s vastness with a friend, the joy of exchanging stories, the peaceful silence as their ship traversed the dream river.

Yet he struggled to comprehend the saying about drowning sorrows and pain.

At that moment, music filled the air.

A wandering musician played the harp, singing the poem “Divine Blessing.”

The tavern’s raucous atmosphere immediately settled into attentive silence.

People listened intently to the legendary tale of the second Divine Blessed King. Where King Alpens’s story had brimmed with courage and adventure, carrying the primal essence of wilderness conquered, Prince Smerkel’s narrative wove together fantasy and philosophy, bearing civilization’s refined hues.

Yet none noticed that one of the story’s protagonists, the very deity they sang about, sat among them.

The wandering musician’s voice held exceptional beauty, surpassed only by the splendor of the melody.

In truth, their skill far exceeded Prince Smerkel’s amateur musicianship. This thought brought an unexpected smile to Iva’s lips.

Since parting from Smerkel, he had learned to smile.

When the poem concluded, the tavern erupted in cheers. Some invited the musician to drink, while others tossed copper coins in appreciation.

Iva mimicked their actions, offering payment to the wandering musician.

For in spreading the “Divine Blessing” poem, they too aided his mission.

Iva felt joy, knowing the spirits’ names had begun to spread, introducing this era’s civilization to their existence.

Next, Iva experienced the city’s grandest celebration, the snake people’s most sacred festival.

As evening fell, the entire city gathered in the temple square. Temple priests kindled bonfires while musicians and youths performed songs and poems from the steps.

People danced around the flames, bodies swaying in celebration.

“The Festival of Ten Thousand Snakes?” Iva inquired of those nearby, seeking to understand this holiday’s significance.

They explained: “Legend tells how the Mother of Life came to our world. With a single call, she raised land from the sea.”

“She blew the Mother Conch of All Things, awakening life after life into being.”

“She created all things, created life itself.”

“On this day, the Mother of Life created Snake Mother Sermos, bringing the snake people into existence.”

“This is our origin.”

“Why do people celebrate festivals?” Iva asked.

“To celebrate and commemorate great beings and individuals,” came the reply.

“The Festival of Ten Thousand Snakes commemorates Snake Mother Sermos’s birth and the beginning of our people.”

Iva fell into contemplation, thoughts turning to another being.

She who had given him her dream egg, who had bestowed upon him a mission from ages past.

Iva believed Hila embodied true greatness, transforming all beings into the dream star sea after death, blessing every life that walked the world.

“She deserves her own festival.”

Dream Sovereign Hila once had her own celebration, though time had worn away its memory from mortal minds.

Iva resolved to restore this festival to the world, to guide countless beautiful wishes from the mortal realm into the dream realm, crystallizing as wish-light within the Divine Cup.

His thoughts returned to Smerkel, recognizing how their shared story had caused the spirits’ names to echo once more through creation. One successful experience always offered wisdom worth emulating.

He would seek someone unique, someone extraordinary, someone possessing absolute purity of heart.

“I shall grant their wish,” he mused. “Then tales of that wish will spread throughout the world.”

“Thus will I plant the seeds of wishes in mortal hearts.”

After his long contemplation, he finally discovered his answer within Maya City.

Iva approached the tavern keeper, inquiring where he might find someone truly extraordinary.

“Looking for someone?”

The tavern keeper naturally assumed Iva sought to purchase a slave, nothing unusual in this place where slaves served the establishment. Every noble, merchant, official, and priest in the city owned several slaves.

For someone of Iva’s clearly noble bearing to seek a slave seemed perfectly ordinary.

The tavern keeper directed Iva: “East of the marketplace, you’ll find such establishments.”

“You might look there.”

“With enough money, you can find any kind of person you desire.”

Iva followed this guidance to the marketplace, where he found a wooden sign marking the slave trading market.

Upon entering, he observed nobles adorned with gold and silver ornaments strutting along the paths, examining groups of slaves with critical eyes.

Warriors in leather armor accompanied by attendants tested the strength and skill of muscular slaves.

Temple priests in their light-colored garments, a style that had emerged from the City of Fire Protection over the past two years, requiring both wealth and status to wear, moved through the crowds.

Without exception, Iva’s presence drew every eye.

Both city nobles and temple priests stepped aside when they saw him approach, possessing keener insight than the tavern keeper. They recognized that his attire spoke of far more than mere nobility.

Even in the City of Fire Protection, only royalty dressed thus, said to mirror the clothing of divine beings.

Iva paid no attention to their deference, wandering the slave market with growing unease.

Something felt wrong.

This place seemed unlikely to hold what he sought, contrary to the tavern keeper’s assurance that any kind of person could be found here.

Most slaves were filthy, emaciated snake people, either bound by the roadside or confined in cages.

Iva struggled to understand why these people would treat their own kind thus, wondering if perhaps these slaves were captured enemies.

The market’s principal slave trader approached Iva with nervous reverence.

“Noble lord.”

“What sort of merchandise interests you?”

Iva’s magnificent dark silver robes and handsome features marked him as someone of tremendous importance even from afar.

Up close, the slave trader marveled at skin as flawless as white jade.

Only the most exalted bloodline and privileged upbringing could produce such a noble being.

The traders naturally assumed Iva came from the City of Fire Protection, speculating about his precise origins.

Just as doubt began crystallizing in Iva’s mind, someone stepped forward asking what kind of person he sought.

His uncertainty partially dissolved.

The tavern keeper had spoken truly someone here might help him find what he sought.

Iva explained his requirements.

“I seek someone exceptional, someone truly special.”

“One whose heart holds perfect purity and beauty.”

“And preferably young in years.”

Iva had adjusted spirit standards slightly upward for mortal realm application.

A child of pure heart would surely generate the most beautiful wish-light, creating a perfect story worthy of telling.

Through them, he could plant the most perfect seed of wishes in mortal hearts, nurturing the most beautiful blossoming.

The slave trader filtered out terms like “special” and “pure,” focusing on “exceptional” and “beautiful.”

The profit-minded merchant’s interest immediately sparked.

They never feared high standards from buyers higher demands meant higher prices.

“Can you find such a person?” Iva inquired.

The slave trader clapped his hands. “Of course. I’ll make arrangements immediately.”

“When might I see them?” Iva asked.

The trader hurried forward, leading Iva: “Right away, this very moment.”

He guided Iva down another path into a magnificent building.

The slave trader seated Iva in the highest chair, like a king upon his throne.

Below, servants led slaves forward one by one with ropes, arranging them in the hall for Iva’s inspection.

In this moment, people ceased to be people, becoming mere merchandise.

Based on Iva’s requirements, the slave trader assumed he sought a young woman, a beautiful girl.

Among the slaves presented were snake women of stunning beauty.

Some had once held noble status before misfortune rendered them slaves.

Others were spoils of war, captured from tribes or other cities.

After viewing them all, Iva shook his head repeatedly.

“These are not what I seek.”

The slave trader nodded: “Indeed, such common merchandise could never suit a noble guest like yourself.”

The slave trader exchanged glances with his servants, signaling them to bring forth their prepared merchandise.

This was a common merchant tactic never showing their finest wares initially. Only after presenting items of quality but with subtle flaws would they reveal their true treasure, maximizing its impact.

Only thus could they command the highest price.

They brought forth a snake girl of twelve or thirteen years, possessed of beautiful features, graceful form, and healthy white skin.

Most striking were her hair and eye color.

The slave trader stepped forward to praise his merchandise.

“Behold.”

“Such beautiful golden hair. They say the Snake Mother’s daughter Avel had such golden hair. I have every reason to believe she possesses the purest, most noble bloodline.”

“Oh?” Iva inquired.

“Her birth is noble?”

The slave trader grew uncomfortable but dared not deceive this noble guest.

“She is the daughter of mountain folk from the southeastern Sunrise Mountains. These people never submitted to city-state rule and raided our borders.”

“They lost a recent war.”

Though not explicitly stated, her origins became clear.

“Though not of noble birth, she was born with golden hair and golden eyes.”

“Look at these eyes, golden like her hair. How extraordinary.”

“Even Snake Mother’s child Avel did not possess such features.”

Iva observed the snake girl, who struggled against her bonds.

Like a wounded young beast, she regarded Iva and the slave trader with terror while fighting to maintain her dignity through resistance.

Yet when Iva’s gaze met hers directly, fear overcame her.

She shrank against a pillar, curling into herself.

Iva studied her appearance.

Those golden pupils and hair proved exceptionally rare.

Like the sun’s own color, instantly evoking thoughts of spirits.

Iva’s eyes brightened, seeing in her perhaps the world’s most beautiful and pure characteristics.

He asked the slave trader: “Is she truly the world’s most pure person?”

The slave trader misinterpreted his meaning: “Certainly, her beauty and purity are beyond question.”

Iva made his decision: “Then she is the one.”

The slave trader received a fortune in gleaming Suinhor gold coins, bearing crude, simple characters.

His face bloomed with joy, mouth unable to close.

Iva thanked him: “Thank you for helping me find whom I sought.”

The slave trader laughed heartily: “Noble lord, should you require anything else in future, please return. I shall surely find the finest merchandise for you.”

Iva shook his head: “Return?”

“No need. I require only one person.”

Iva untied the girl’s bonds and led her away.

She shrank from the gazes of passersby, trying to hide the slave tattoo marking her flesh.

Every glance seemed laden with malice to her eyes. Without Iva’s presence, she remained merely prey for others to consume.

Though she feared this being who had purchased her, terror drove her to stay close behind him, matching his steps precisely.

At the tavern, the proprietor observed Iva’s return with the girl, offering a knowing smile whose meaning escaped Iva entirely. Still, he responded with courteous acknowledgment.

The girl entered Iva’s quarters, the finest rooms in the establishment a separate building containing multiple chambers, complete with bathing facilities and a courtyard.

Servants maintained these spaces daily.

Upon arrival, the girl lifted her chin with stubborn pride: “I wish to bathe.”

Iva observed her unclothed form and nodded.

“The bathhouse lies next door, with a pool for your use.”

“Someone will bring water shortly.”

Though not a Dream Ability bearer, Iva could channel spirit power through the spirit realm, albeit nothing beyond the third rank.

With a wave of his hand, he manifested a wardrobe.

Within hung various beautiful garments for the girl to choose from.

“Select whatever pleases you most,” Iva offered.

This marked her first encounter with such miraculous power, her first time seeing an Ability bearer.

Initial shock quickly yielded to desire for the beautiful clothing.

Joy and excitement filled her as she examined the options.

Taking her chosen garments, she darted into the bathhouse, poking her head out to declare firmly: “Don’t come in!”

Even as a humble slave, the young girl sought to maintain dignity before Iva.

Iva nodded, unclear why he would have any reason to enter.

She emerged freshly bathed, hair neatly arranged, wearing a beautiful white dress with shining metal clasps joined together.

She twirled about the room, feeling like an angel descended from God’s realm.

Never had she imagined wearing such magnificent clothing. Her fingers traced the smooth fabric.

She doubted even kings possessed such fine material.

Yet catching sight of her slave tattoo, she quickly covered it with her sleeve.

She emerged from her chamber, wanting to show off yet still fearful as she approached Iva.

Iva remained silent until the girl could no longer contain herself.

“Do you not find this dress beautiful?”

Iva glanced at her and nodded.

“You are beautiful as well.”

“The most beautiful mortal I have encountered.”

The girl nearly burst with joy at such praise from this handsome and noble being, though she affected nonchalance.

“It’s not much really.”

“I just cleaned up a bit. If I really tried, I could look even prettier than this.”

Iva nodded in agreement: “Indeed you could.”

Thus began their daily routine.

Yet Iva’s behavior proved strange he made no demands after purchasing her, simply fulfilling her wishes while observing her actions.

When she expressed hunger, he conjured the finest pastries.

When she wished to walk outside, he accompanied her through the streets.

Iva indulged her every marketplace desire, for money held no meaning to him.

To the girl, however, the experience transformed her into a princess.

In a street corner, she studied this strange yet handsome and tall man.

“Why do you buy me so many things?” she suddenly asked.

Iva paused, confused, for had these not been her own desires?

After long consideration, he replied: “Because you wished for them!”

The girl interpreted his words differently, understanding only that he fulfilled her desires unconditionally because she expressed them.

Joy filled her heart.

Yet before Iva, she merely nodded with pretended pride.

Gradually, however, she noticed peculiarities in their arrangement.

Iva never restricted her actions, never set guards to watch her despite her slave status.

One night, she fled from his side.

She ran far, hiding in a prepared location.

Initially, joy filled her at escaping slavery’s bonds, believing she could return home.

Yet with dawn’s light, she returned.

War had destroyed her home, she realized, and none there had truly cared for her.

Iva had shown her more kindness than her own family.

Moreover, the slave tattoo marked her permanently any escape would merely deliver her to another’s possession.

In all the world, only Iva offered protection.

Yet upon return, she discovered Iva had not searched for her at all, simply sitting in the courtyard enjoying the sunlight.

Inexplicable sadness and anger welled within her.

She confronted him directly.

“Did you not notice my escape?” she demanded.

Iva nodded: “I knew.”

Confusion filled her: “Why aren’t you mad at me? Weren’t you worried I wouldn’t come back?”

Iva responded with equal puzzlement: “Why should I fear your departure?”

“You have always been free to leave or go wherever you wish.”

“I am your slave,” she insisted.

Iva shook his head: “No, I did not purchase you. I merely exchanged payment for your freedom.”

“You are not my slave. You are simply yourself.”

She stared at this strangest of beings, unlike any she had ever encountered.

For many days, Iva observed this child he considered a seed of wishes.

This being others called perfect and pure, this unique and special person.

Yet greater observation brought greater confusion, for he could discern nothing particularly extraordinary about her, nor could he identify the pure heart others claimed she possessed.

Was it kindness?

Innocence?

A heart full of joy and childlike wonder?

Or something else entirely?

Finally, he asked her directly.

“What makes you special?”

The girl, walking happily through the streets, turned to find Iva regarding her with unprecedented seriousness.

For the first time, she witnessed real intensity from one who typically regarded all existence with apparent indifference.

Though Iva never explicitly displayed it, divine detachment occasionally leaked through his careful facade.

Fearing his judgment, she pressed her lips together before responding.

“I am unique in all the world.”

“Unique?” Iva questioned.

This suggested something truly extraordinary, as rare as the Crown of Wisdom, Mother Conch of All Things, or Divine Cup those three Root Divine Artifacts of Ability.

She nodded: “My hair and eyes shine like gold.”

“They say I’m a child of the sun.”

“I know I can be special. I can help you do amazing things.”

Iva believed her, finally certain he had found his mission’s target.

The girl suddenly offered her name: “I am called Meryl.”

“How old are you?”

“I was born over two hundred million years ago,” Iva replied.

“Two hundred million?” The girl stood bewildered, never having encountered the word ‘million.’

“Does two hundred million mean twenty where you come from?”

Iva explained the concept of millions, but she refused to believe. Even the most outrageous lies seemed modest compared to such claims.

She believed Iva merely twenty-some years old, for he appeared a young man.

Walking beside him, she spoke softly.

“I am thirteen.”

“You look like you’re in your twenties.”

She smiled up at his face: “So we’re not so different in age.”

Iva failed to grasp her meaning, focused solely on one thing.

His mission.

Having accepted her role, he prepared to reveal his plans to her.