"So, you're really a god?"
"Of course, and I'm one of the most successful gods at that."
"Then why are you here?"
"On my way home, I got caught in the aftermath of a battle between a new god in your world, which caused a spacetime turbulence that forced me to crash."
"You mean that… what's her name? The Supreme Mage?"
"You're talking about the Ancient One. No, while the Ancient One is thousands of years old, she's still fundamentally a mortal. But she's a mortal who can rival higher gods."
"Wow, for real?"
"Right now, Earth, in a certain sense, is the Supreme Mage's private domain. What do you think—is it real?"
"You're joking, right?"
"I'd like to say I'm joking, but unfortunately, it's not a joke."
Inside the Mexican restaurant, at a window-side booth in the corner, Lake gave a soft smile to Mikaela sitting across from him. He dipped his finger in water and drew the shape of the World Tree on the table. "In your universe, Earth is just what you call it. In the cosmos, Earth's name is Terra. Long ago, it had another name—Midgard. Yes, the same Midgard from your Norse mythology. Back then, Earth was actually under the rule of Odin, the God-King."
Mikaela blinked. "Then how did it…?"
Lake shrugged. "Simple. The Supreme Mage fought Odin, and in the end, Midgard broke away from the World Tree and became the Supreme Mage's private territory."
Mikaela frowned deeply. "But I've never heard of this Supreme Mage."
Lake smiled. "How should I put it? The Supreme Mage has a gem that lets her see endless futures. Maybe that's why she chooses to stay out of sight."
Mikaela shook her head. "You just said she's a mortal but can rival gods. What does that mean? How can a mortal match a god?"
Lake laughed. "Do you think becoming a god is a simple thing?"
Mikaela didn't speak, but her expression seemed to say, Isn't it? You promised me a divine position.
Lake lowered his head with a smile. "You need to understand that what makes a god a god isn't just a title change. It's the elevation of the quality of life. The first requirement to become a god is that you need a domain of power you can control on your own."
Mikaela's curiosity sparked. "So what's your domain?"
Lake smiled. "Me? My domain is the stars. As long as the stars don't fade, my divine power flows endlessly. Even if all the stars went out, it wouldn't matter. Give me some time, and I'd create new stars to adorn the dark cosmos once again."
To this day, Lake still felt fortunate—and proud of himself—for biting straight into the tail of the Star-Forger Dragon King back then.
Otherwise…
How could he have achieved what he has now?
Even more so.
When the Time Warden and the Future Guardian prayed to the Star-Forger Dragon King, begging him to rid Valoran of Lake, that scourge, the Dragon King couldn't bring himself to act against Lake.
One sentence.
In a way, Lake, who had drunk the dragon's blood, carried the same bloodline as the Star-Forger Dragon King. Perhaps because of that, the moment the Dragon King laid eyes on him, he slipped away into the chaos with a whoosh.
The expression on the Star-Forger Dragon King's face…
How to describe it?
The moment he saw Lake, it felt to Lake like a father seeing his illegitimate child, then fleeing in shame for having been absent all those years.
It was at that moment that Lake received the blessing and domain of the stars. Clearly, it was compensation from an absentee father to his illegitimate son.
Perhaps only the stars knew that, while the Star-Forger Dragon King was terrifying, his memory seemed to reset periodically. At the very least, when he saw Lake, he didn't recall that Lake was the dragon-slaying hero who had boldly drunk his blood all those years ago.
It was a beautiful misunderstanding.
At the same time, Lake was even more grateful that the Star-Forger Dragon King resembled an Eastern dragon. If it had been a Western dragon? Ha, forget compensation—dream on. With their ugly appearances and tales of chaotic romances, a Western dragon would've probably swallowed Lake alive on the spot.
Inside the restaurant.
One was willing to listen, the other eager to talk. But neither the listener nor the speaker noticed a small black figure perfectly blended with the shadows in the alley across from the restaurant, revealing only a pair of sneaky eyes and big white teeth.
Tap, tap, tap!
The small black figure turned to watch a few companions climb over the wall behind him, then whistled and made a hand gesture.
"What's up, Ken?" Benjamin, wearing a hoodie that hid his dark face, walked up beside the small black figure and followed his pointing finger toward the Mexican restaurant across the street.
The small black figure said, "Big fat sheep."
Benjamin's gaze settled on Lake, sitting near the window—handsome, dashing, and seemingly refined. More precisely, it landed on Lake's wrinkle-free suit. "How fat?"
The small black figure gestured with his hand, flipping it back and forth. "At least twenty grand."
Big-faced Benjamin didn't respond, but the two skinny black figures behind him swallowed hard at those words.
Indeed, a big fat sheep.
It was 2007. Sure, 9/11 had happened, but Franklin's status remained unshaken. These days, for the average person, let alone ten thousand dollars, even pulling five thousand out of a typical household's savings on the spot would be a challenge.
After all…
America ran on hedonism. What's hedonism? Simple—using tomorrow's money to pay for today's pleasures.
Benjamin frowned slightly. "No, we can't do it."
The small black figure, Ken, and the two behind him were instantly puzzled. "Why not?"
Benjamin pulled off his hood, his eyes flickering. "How many white guys walk around with twenty grand in Franklins? A white guy who can pull out twenty grand can just as easily double it to put a bounty on us. Robbing a bank would be less risky than robbing this kind of white guy. We can't do it."
Ken frowned. "Benjamin, the girl sitting across from that white guy is Mikaela. I know her family. Her dad's in jail for stealing cars, and she's got a record too."
Benjamin turned. "What are you getting at?"
Ken's thick lips split into a grin. "Benjamin, we're not robbing the white guy—we're robbing Mikaela. I saw it clear as day. She took a stack of Franklins from that white guy."
Benjamin couldn't help but look back toward the Mexican restaurant.
Over there.
Lake, handsome and wealthy.
Mikaela, beautiful but from a poor family.
In that moment.
Benjamin seemed to grasp what Ken's words implied.