Journey to Planar World

The death—or rather, the forced return—of Whiro to Heaven was a shocking event among the gods.

Like an invisible shockwave, the sensation of a god’s demise was felt simultaneously by every deity in the Lower World.

A slot in the Lower World had opened, and such an event was always monumental.

With the highest population of gods, the Labyrinth City of Orario erupted in commotion.

In late-night taverns, lavish Familia headquarters, or casual gatherings in shaded spots, the gods were stunned by the death of one of their kind.

The topic quickly became the hottest subject of discussion, far more captivating than their usual dramas, accompanying the long night.

Of course, their mindset differed from that of mortals. Instead of grieving or being angry, most were excited.

”Whoa! Someone got sent back! Last time it was Hestia who descended. I’m curious which god will take this empty slot. Hopefully someone more entertaining.”

”They must’ve been really careless to die in this world, or maybe it was intentional? Bored of playing in the Lower World? Either way, they’re incredibly unlucky.”

”Haha… Finally, someone bit the dust. I wonder which foolish god couldn’t take care of themselves.”

”It’s been ages since a god died. This must be a good sign, right? I’m sick of this stagnation.”

”Poor thing. Maybe they got too caught up playing in the Lower World and died? How foolish.”

That was the perspective of the onlookers. As long as the event didn’t directly involve them, a fellow god’s death was merely a spectacle, a shift in the cast of the never-boring stage of the Lower World.

”…”

However, not all gods greeted the news with indifference.

At Empyrean Citadel.

Astraea woke abruptly from her sleep. Her chest pounded uncontrollably. Her usually calm expression was now filled with deep worry.

”The timing is too coincidental… Charlie… I hope you didn’t make a reckless decision.” she whispered softly, her hands clenching the blanket.

Her thoughts immediately turned to Charlie, whom she knew was on a mission to eradicate the Whiro Familia in the Kaois Desert. Astraea feared that the death of one of her kind she had just sensed was connected to him.

”He’s a smart person. Charlie wouldn’t do something foolish on a whim.”

If Charlie had truly killed—or forced the return of—a god, the consequences would be dire. His soul would be marked with an indelible curse, a brand screaming ”GOD SLAYER” to every god who saw it. It would make him a common enemy of the entire world.

Without exception, every god would order their Familia to hunt him down, no matter the cost. It would be an endless pursuit.

And at that moment, Astraea knew she would be powerless to defend him. Her Familia had disbanded. Her influence had waned. She was just a lone goddess with no strength to oppose the collective will of the gods.

Walking slowly to the window, Astraea hoped the night air would calm her. But the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds, casting her room into deeper darkness.

”I hope I’m just overthinking.”

But the unease in her heart, like the dark clouds covering the moon, lingered.

For Astraea, this night felt endlessly long and tense.

She gazed into the darkness outside, hoping Charlie was safe, but more than that, hoping the young man hadn’t made an irreversible mistake.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

In the silent expanse of the Kaois Desert, only the creak of wooden cartwheels and the footsteps of the animals pulling them could be heard.

Charlie sat at the front of the first cart, holding the reins, his eyes fixed straight ahead, illuminated by starlight and a crescent moon.

The cold night air felt refreshing, cleansing any lingering metallic scent of blood.

”Mhm~”

A faint sound from behind made Charlie turn.

One of the captive girls had woken. Her face was still pale and confused, her eyes blinking as they adjusted to the darkness.

”You’re awake? You must be thirsty. Drink this.”

Calmly, Charlie extended his hand. A clear plastic bottle of mineral water appeared as if from thin air—taken from his Space-Time Cache—and he handed it to the girl.

”T-Thank you…” The girl replied reflexively, her trembling hands accepting the bottle.

Her mind was still foggy. Just hours ago, she had been locked in a cage, treated like an animal. Now, she sat in a moving cart under the vast night sky.

”…”

Not understanding women’s thoughts—like most men—Charlie assumed she hesitated to drink out of concern that others wouldn’t get enough.

”Don’t hesitate to drink until your thirst is gone. There’s plenty of water.”

”O-Oh…” The girl nodded faintly.

Her eyes fixed on the bottle.

(It’s so beautiful…)

She noticed the clear, lightweight plastic, so different from the glass bottles she was used to. Finally, she opened the cap and drank.

The water was so refreshing, quenching the thirst that had long gnawed at her throat. She drank until half the bottle was gone.

(How long has it been since I drank this freely?)

With her thirst sated, her mind began to clear. She looked around.

Nine other girls were still fast asleep in the same cart, their naked bodies covered only by tattered cloths Charlie had found. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel the usual desert night chill.

A strange warmth enveloped them, likely from a subtle protective barrier Charlie had set up. She also saw four other carts tied together, each carrying more captives.

But a creeping anxiety stirred in her heart.

(From one cruel master to another?)

Cautiously, she mustered her courage.

”E-Excuse me… What do you plan to do with us?” Her voice trembled with suppressed fear.

Charlie wasn’t offended by her question. He understood her fear.

”Take you to the nearest city and let you return to your homes.” He answered lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

”Really?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. ”So… you saved us?”

”Yeah. You could say that.” Charlie confirmed.

”…”

A wave of immense relief washed over her, shattering the defensive walls she had built.

Tears streamed down her cheeks—not tears of sorrow or despair, but of freedom, gratitude, and release from trauma.

”Thank you… Thank you so much…” She repeated through her sobs. ”Even so… I’m sorry. I… I have nothing to repay your kindness.”

”I didn’t help you expecting a reward.” Charlie replied gently.

For him, the girl’s sincere thanks were more than enough.

Feeling awkward dealing with a crying woman, Charlie tried to change the subject.

”By the way, what’s your name?”

”Hic… Karen… Karen Morris. What’s your name, hero?”

”Don’t call me a hero. I don’t deserve it. My name’s Charlie Avalon. Just call me Charlie.”

What is a hero?

A hero is someone who must never lose, because their defeat would mean the end of the world.

The world’s hope.

If a hero dies, the world falls into despair.

Even if an entire nation must be sacrificed, as long as the world endures, there’s still hope for change!

Clearly, Charlie couldn’t bear the heavy weight of the title ”hero.” That’s why he always denied it whenever someone called him one.