CH- 02: The logic behind a myth.

 A miracle is nothing but a slight power-up from a god giving an extra boost to an individual. This fosters the individual to depend on the entity to solve mortal problems.

 Only a select few question the premise and strive to reach a stage of miracles on their own merit. The rest blame and name the fanatics with preposterous titles, all while knowing they could never reach or dare dream of such an anomaly.

 For an ant, an excavator digging a huge hole with minimal effort is abnormal. Now, if a human helps the ant dig a hole at its chosen time and place, this becomes a miracle.

 Time and effort are often confused with miracles. While a miracle snaps fantasy to reality, no one questions it out of fear or laziness. Ric always leaned on the latter; people were always too lazy to work and create their own miracles. They'd rather pray and sacrifice precious time, begging a superior being to solve their mortal problems.

 Once you stop and question the logic behind the miracle, it becomes clear as Mana.

 If desire is a sin, every miracle bears a sin. The gods never move unless profit can be reaped from their efforts.

 How do you think they rose to a supreme status?

 A business can never run on loss, and the higher echelon comprises the top-tier businessman.

 Miracles were one of the first myths that helped the Demon King rise to power. In his old life, Ric searched for the logic behind the myth of miracles and debunked the myth to rise to power.

 One such myth protected Mary from a world filled with hate.

 Every assassination attempt, the seven kingdoms plotted against her, the dangers of traveling away from protecting walls, and the misfortunes of the wheel of time never could extinguish her flame of light or hope.

 People spoke of a guarding angel protecting her. Some say that she was born with spectacular luck. These stories grew over time, getting stronger with every near-death encounter Mary shrugged off.

 Stories become myths, but before this story became a myth, everyone feared the mystical shield that now took a human form to protect Mary.

 Another tale of Mary defying death spread like wildfire across the continent of Saint.

 A tale of a nun walking through the Fae mist latched onto the story, which would soon become a myth. Such stories might seem pointless before a myth is formed but said stories struck fear into inhabitants of Saint, both alive and dead, for a powerless woman cheated death for the hundredth time.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Deep within the western caves, demons struck down their ranks.

 One wanted Mary dead, and the other feared her shield to make a move.

 The Fea retreated farther into the forest, not wanting a shield to break open their defenses.

 Further up the eastern mountains, high above the skies, the dragons marked a treasure worthy of their vault.

 The unfortunate plotted a coup, hoping to break free and shelter under the invincible shield, while the humans vowed to snuff out another life hapless enough to block their path.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 "Once, twice, and now a hundred times." A groggy voice resonated within the chambers of the world summit.

 "The usage of artifacts is prohibited within these halls, King Author. Maybe I should impale a sword of remembrance, to help you remember a simple rule!" Said King Niro, pulling out a needle from within his fingertips.

 Niro or King Robert De Niro, ruler of Saint Irk, is a slender man with robes that make him look baggy. Rumors say he has a thousand blades hidden in those robes and yet no one has ever seen one. He threatens and greets adults and children alike; with a tiny blade drawn from his fingertips.

 No one has ever lived after he revealed the seventh blade, but almost everyone's soul on Saint has seen his first blade.

 The tiny blade catches the sources of light which kept the room from being swallowed by darkness. A silver sheen balances above the incredibly sharp blade.

 Swords unsheathe in the background, bouncing the dim light around the room. Features hidden within the shadows reveal themselves as the light bounces from one sword to another, riding the room of its shadows.

 "Eh!" A charcoal black man screeched in pain. "I hate light. How many times do I have to tell you?" He yells and shrinks back into his seat, almost disappearing into the shadows once again.

 King Umbric Hexthorn, the ruler of Saint Shadowveil, was part of a shady research gone wrong. Now, he sticks to the shadows, hiding his true identity. The cheap artifact he always used as a disguise never helped his cause, though.

 He is by far the most noticeable person in a crowd and under the sun. With his skin tone, no one can find him in the shadows. The charcoal-black skin swallows up his face even at noon.

 His powers are unknown. Most say he does not have power or artifact to speak of, and being shorter than a dwarf and commanding others with a child's voice always made him stick out like a thumb.

 The massive room held a large round table with fractals embedded on its surface.

 Five kings accompanied by their queens, one supreme queen who always travels alone, and the ruler of Saint Cathel, Sir Thomas Toe, sat around the round table, facing each other.

 Behind every party stood a flag representing their kingdom, and behind those flags stood three elite guards, ready to cleave off heads.

 Some say the shadowy figures behind King Umbric are the reason every assassination attempt and coup against him and his kingdom has failed.

 The guards were the elite amongst the elite and all they required was a simple gesture to attack.

 Order was hard to maintain with such powerhouses gathered under one roof. That is why they never held such a meeting, even if it meant the eradication of a kingdom.

 But a single individual forced them to commence their first-ever world summit, after Apocalypse, and now he has been lost to history.

 During the legendary war, the walls of the summit were erected and hidden from the world. A temporary truce followed even after the war, exchanging resources and forming alliances to develop their kingdoms. This only lasted until one day all of them plotted and executed the same plan; trying to kill the other rulers and rule over 'Saint' by themselves.

 One kingdom lost its ruler during this madness. A ruler beloved by them all, and the people of Saint. King Elysian Revenant. Since then, the summit was hidden, the room locked, and the key thrown away until a calamity threatened them all.

 "I told you shitheads since the first miracle that we should kill that witch, but this bitch right here." Author glares at Queen Elizabeth, ruler of Saint Luez. "Protected her."

 King Author is a heavy figure, both status and appearance-wise. He never came close to Sir Thomas' frame, but together with his wife, Queen Symetra, they can cover half of Thomas.

 They can give him a good competition on their own, if there weren't so many artifacts on their person, forcing them to be in good shape.

 Well… good enough shape!

 Elizabeth was the only one with a perfect shape, and she could rival every model in Saint. There wasn't a being who wouldn't ogle her every curve, trying to undress her with their eyes. The kings and gods alike will write away their kingdom for one night with her.

 She isn't a stranger to that, in fact, with a loose frail top, tempting others to rip it aside to gaze upon the perfect bosom, a slender curve reaching the perfect proportion, a hip that grabs attention no matter the distance, thighs which you won't mind being smothered to death with, and feet which everyone wants to be under, she stood on top of perfection.

 Elizabeth faulted her every curve and grabbed every creature's attention alike. Unlike others, she did not require a hundred artifacts to protect her. The one she stole from 'Medusa' was enough.

 The more you look, the larger amount of vital energy is sucked out of your body. She can use this energy to boost her overall power or heal beyond the capacity of any healer.

 A simple chant 'sacrifice' can also suck in every reserve of vitality, turning her opponents to stone. This unprecedented phenomenon is still considered the top spell in Saint. The spell demands a willing soul to sacrifice themselves, but who can deny Elizabeth once their lust meets her sweet, tempting voice?

 Elizabeth flips her long golden hair aside with a delicate turn. It bounces around like a loose spring.

 "Were you talking to me?" She asks in a gentle voice, adjusting her top.

 She didn't even trouble herself by turning, not wanting to face any of the degenerates.

 Why even bother? She already knew where all their eyes lurked around.

 "Which one of you is ready to sacri–"

 Before she utters the word, the fractals on the table divide the room into seven parts.

 None of them moved, yet they found themselves inside the same room with distorted figures in place of their colleagues. They heard each other but weren't permitted to move an inch.

 "I am begging to hate this table." Siad Niro.

 "Thanks to it, you all are still alive." Elizabeth frowned.

 "Did you activate the table?" Author whispers to his wife.

 "No! I was gawking at the same thing you were gawking at."

 "Someone switch it off." Umbric curled up into a small black ball. Amidst a prism of dazzling light, he looked like a tiny black hole.

 "Do you know nothing?"

 "We cannot deactivate the spell until we separate and reach our capitals." One of the queens speaks up.

 "Bring in some inscribers to fix this damn table." Said Symetra, trying to reach out and grab Elizabeth.

 The position of her hands made her intentions clear.

 Elizabeth gets up in disgust as a warm feeling reaches her chest. She storms out, leaving the conversation and stepping onto a platform with intricate fractals that teleport her back to her kingdom.

 "You have an inscriber capable enough to work on a dragon's treasure?"

 "Ah! It's gone." Symetra frowns.

 "What is?" Author nudges her with his elbow, indicating that it's his turn now.

 "Elizabeth is gone!"

 The entire room groans, suddenly losing all interest in the summit.

 A guard behind Author clears her throat as he remembers the mission and snaps back to the previous topic.

 "Enough delegating." Author roars, refocusing the attention back onto him. "Are you all just going to sit and wait until your people join that nun? Do you even realize what kind of army that will become?"

 He couldn't gauge their expressions to determine the mood of the summit, so he played his trump card that brought them all together. "Leave the nun unchecked and she will become the sole ruler of Saint."

 Gasps and murmurs fill the room as the flags untie under a common enemy, a defenseless nun who struggled to understand the concept of magic, a mortal who faced tyrants with nothing else but luck, and some false rumors that made her seem immortal.

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