Dimensional Descent

“What is the meaning of this?” Minerva sat on her throne. Her face didn’t have the same peaceful cadence it usually had. Instead, it had pulled back into a mask of tempered indifference and coldness.

Every time Aina battled, she would find herself becoming more and more annoyed. The obvious death that should have happened wasn’t happening at all. In fact, Aina had started off as the center of attention, and was only becoming more so.

Not a single person she had faced seemed capable of lasting more than a single exchange against her. The only exception was the Luck of the Draw Ability Index user, who probably should have become the center of attention himself. And yet, even in this case, it was quite clear to everyone that she hadn’t truly been on the edge of life and death.

They thought that she was just interested in a good battle, but even after running into more opponents with quirky abilities that even seemed to counter her directly, it didn’t seem to matter.

Those that led with strength were ruthlessly crushed, and even those that seemed to have greater skill or finesse were ruthlessly crushed much the same. There simply didn’t seem to be a method of stopping her because they couldn’t even find what her bottom line was.

It didn’t make any sense. For the humans to produce one Leonel, it was already exaggerated enough. Why was there now a second Aina? And what were the odds that they were also a couple?

If it wasn’t for the sake of her face and maintaining her dignified aura, let alone asking this question, she would have long since erupted.

Octavia and Seraphina stood down below, their eyes glued to the ground. However, there was something off about them immediately. Whether it was Octavia or Seraphina… both only had a single wing.

Before the two could answer, the doors to the Dream Pavilion were suddenly opened and a man strolled in with bold strides. He flashed Minerva a grin and even gave both Octavia and Seraphina crisp slaps on the ass. He didn’t seem to care for their reactions at all.

Minerva’s gaze sharpened and her barely controlled rage almost bubbled over.

“Elrik, this isn’t the place for the likes of you,” Minerva said in a low tone.

“Is that a way to speak to your husband?”

“Did I ever agree to such a thing?” Minerva practically bared her teeth, gripping her throne’s armrests so hard that they cracked. Her wings flared out to her back, forming a wind so strong that Octavia and Seraphina were both sent flying back.

Elrik, however, seemed unfazed.

“The role of a woman is in her man’s bed,” Elrik said. “I’ve let you stroll around here, playing goddess for long enough. Now, news of my woman being looked down upon and ignored by other men is spreading. How do you think that makes me look?

“The only reason I’m still ALLOWING you to call me husband instead of just master is because of the Race’s matters. If it was up to me, you would no longer be worthy of being my wife.”

The smiling Elrik suddenly became akin to a savage beast. His face was just as astoundingly handsome, and yet he exuded a darkness that chilled the air.

BANG! Minerva stood to her feet with such speed that the throne shattered to pieces.

“It seems you’ve forgotten the kind of power I wield in the Dream Pavilion.”

Elrik suddenly sneered. “Please do. You can’t stay holed up in here for a lifetime. Anything you dare to do now, I will repay you a hundredfold later. My wife will be obedient.”

The devilish grin made Minerva tremble with rage, but Elrik only turned around and walked away, leaving his back completely exposed for an attack that would never come.

“The only thing we should be focused on is raising the Owlan race to Godhood. Forget the Minerva Race, forget this bullshit Dream Pavilion, and most importantly, forget your little dreams.

“Your job is to pop out babies. Nothing more, nothing less. You’ve trained enough to have a body capable of bearing my seed, and that’s the end of it.”

With those words, Elrik vanished.

Minerva’s chest heaved, her radiant eyes turning a deeper and deeper shade of red.

She slowly calmed herself after a long while. If only she could have gotten her hands on that treasure of the Minerva Race.

They all thought that she was insane. Trying to evoke the name of a fallen God Race when her entire lineage wanted to distance themselves as much as possible from them made her that way.

The fall of the Minerva Race wasn’t something to be proud of, and which of them didn’t know that their enemies wouldn’t allow them to easily rise again?

Elrik spoke of returning to Godhood, but he was doing nothing more than blowing hot air. None of them, no one of the Owlan Race really wanted that.

They were all cowards, all weak, self-important men who thought themselves greater than they were, but they lost out in courage to a “mere” woman like herself.

She clenched her fists.

Her gaze glanced over toward yet another Aina battle, her eyes transfixed on that finger sleeve. She practically craved it. She needed it.

Slowly, she calmed down and looked toward Octavia and Seraphina.

“Your Wings. Heal them.” She said coldly.

The two women, still scrambling to their feet, looked up with excitement and then bowed several times. With just one wing, they felt so incomplete.

“The exact coordinates of the human world, have you found it?”

“It’s difficult, Mistress. The Dream Pavilion protects it from the usual forms of detection and there’s been a recent surge of activity consistent with the fusion of Bubble Worlds that have muddied the waters further.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Minerva said coldly.

The two looked down.

“N-not yet.”

“Then forget it. We will have to use another method.”

Her eyes glinted with a sharp light.