Chapter 97: Chapter-97

System 427 thought about it. “A god?”

Heena tilted her head. “Sure. For the people who believe in gods, maybe. But put that aside. Think specifically about ’us’. We’re transmigrators. We travel between worlds, we deal with villains, murderers, fools, idiots, maniacs of every variety. In all of that—what kind of person actually makes ’us’ nervous? What kind of person actually poses a threat to people like you and me?”

The system scratched his ear with a paw. “I… don’t know. A really strong cultivation base? Someone who can see through our disguises?”

“Those are problems,” Heena agreed, “but not the ’most dangerous’ kind.” She paused, then said quietly, “The most dangerous people we encounter are the NPCs who defy fate. And of all ’those’, the most dangerous—the truly terrifying category—are the ones who can ’leave their world’.”

The system stared at her. “Leave their… what do you mean?”

Heena was quiet for a moment, looking down at her folded hands as if organizing her thoughts.

Then she picked up a brush from her desk and drew a small circle on a blank piece of paper.

“Think of this,” she said, “as a tiny space. The size of your palm.” She drew a much larger circle around it. “And think of this as the entire solar system.”

The system floated closer, studying the drawing.

“Inside this solar system,” Heena continued, “there are planets. Thousands of worlds—some like novels, some like stories, some like games, some just… existing in their own way. Each of them has a designated place. A fixed orbit, if you will. Their souls, their people, their ’being’—it’s all anchored to their world.”

She tapped the paper.

“Now. Even for transmigrators like us—we died in our original worlds, or we were on the verge of death, and because we had strong will and the right conditions, we were found by systems and given this work. We travel between worlds, yes. But even ’we’ move within rules. We’re assigned. We’re sent. We’re granted permission.”

She looked up at the system. “You follow me so far?”

System 427 nodded.

“Good. Now—” Heena set down the brush, “—tell me. If a person is living on Earth, can they go to the moon?”

“Yes,” the system said. “Humans can do that.”

“Can they go to Jupiter?”

“With… enough technology, theoretically yes.”

“Another planet? Another solar system?”

The system hesitated. “With… a lot of time, a lot of advancement… maybe. Eventually.”

“Can they,” Heena said slowly, “get out of the Milky Way entirely?”

Silence.

System 427’s brow furrowed—or the lion equivalent of it. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

He genuinely didn’t know how to answer.

“Exactly,” Heena said quietly. “Because there are limits. Not limits of technology or strength or intelligence—but ’inherent’ limits. Limits built into the very nature of what a soul is, where it belongs, how far it can reach before it simply… can’t.”

She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the gardens below, where the last of the evening light was painting everything gold.

“Every soul has a resonant place,” she said. “A designated space. This is not something anyone chose—it’s fundamental. You should know that a soul never truly dies. It’s recreated, reshaped, poured into different bodies across different lives. But one thing never changes: its ’place’. The space it belongs to.”

She watched a servant cross the garden path below, carrying a lamp.

“A dog can only run on earth,” she continued. “A fish can only exist in water. An ordinary human, even one who climbs mountains and crosses oceans, is still bound to their planet. And even someone extraordinary—an immortal, a heavenly emperor, a being of divine power—can only operate within their own solar system at most. Their reach is vast, yes. But it has a ceiling.”

She turned back to face the system.

“They can ’never’ get out of their Milky Way,” she said. “That is the fundamental limit of their existence. The boundary of what their soul can sustain.”

System 427 was very still, processing this.

“So when you ask me why I’m worried about Estov’s main lead,” Heena said, sitting back down at her desk, “this is why. Not because that person is divine. Not because they’re invincible. But because any soul that has somehow managed to move beyond its natural limit—to cross out of its designated space and enter ’other’ solar systems, other Milky Ways—is operating on a level that should be ’impossible’.”

She picked up her pen again.

“And the most terrifying things in this universe,” she said simply, “are the things that do what should be impossible.”

System 427 was quiet for a long moment.

“So Estov’s main lead,” he said slowly, “can travel between Milky Ways?”

“That’s what the rumors say,” Heena confirmed, without looking up from her document. “And rumors about things that ’should’ be impossible tend to have very uncomfortable amounts of truth in them.”

The system shuddered.

“Then… are we safe here?”

Heena’s pen kept moving, steady and unhurried. “As long as we don’t draw attention, yes. The palace is well-shielded. My aunt’s magic alone creates enough interference to mask unusual soul signatures.” She paused. “Which is precisely why I’m ’not’ running around poking at Estov’s situation with a stick and hoping nothing pokes back.”

System 427 slowly nodded, absorbing all of this. Then he said, very quietly, “Host… you know a lot about this. About souls. About limits. About how all of this works.”

Heena didn’t answer immediately.

She kept writing.

After a long moment she said, still without looking up, “You work in enough worlds, you start to see the patterns.”

The system looked at her profile—the calm focus, the steady hand, the carefully neutral expression—and thought that there was more to that answer than she was saying.

But he was wise enough not to push.

Outside the window, the evening settled into full dark. Somewhere in the palace, Prince Larus was standing on his balcony again, staring at something that wasn’t there.

And Heena wrote on, surrounded by documents and lamplight, carrying the weight of things she hadn’t said.

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.

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The next morning.

They say speak of the devil and it shall appear.

Yesterday, System 427 had asked about Estov. Today, he was standing right in the middle of the palace corridor like he’d materialized from pure inconvenience.

Heena, on her way to her morning meeting, stopped.

She looked him up and down slowly, hands tucked casually into the pockets of her black pants.

Estov looked… fine. Technically. No visible injuries, no broken limbs, nothing that would cause a passing servant to panic. His posture was straight, his clothes immaculate, his silver hair perfectly in place.

But Heena’s eyes were not passing servant eyes.

There was a red mark on his neck, peeking just above his high collar no matter how he angled it. His lips had a faint scratch at the corner—the kind you get when a mouth is encouraged to open wider than it was naturally designed to. And his posture—

Heena tilted her head.

That posture. Technically standing. Technically fine. But with the very specific careful stillness of a man who had learned in the last few hours that certain movements came with consequences.

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