So… this is where Fate—that intolerable bitch's dad lives, huh?

Quite normal, I must say.

Or maybe I'm the abnormal one for thinking this is normal.

A realm of vast stillness stretched across every direction.

Green grass swayed with the wind like someone forgot to turn off the ambiance generator.

Above me, clouds didn't move, instead they stayed still as if watching my every move.

And all around…

Mirrors.

Dozens, hundreds maybe, just floating in the air like bubbles.

Some showed reflections.

Others showed some weird illusions I couldn't make sense of.

And a few…

Yeah, a few showed things I can only describe as nightmares painted with love from someone who wanted you dead.

Still, I continued looking through the mirrors because I was trying to find a particular thing.

Just then,

One mirror twitched.

And I saw him.

A boy with a spear.

Green hair and slit eyes.

His smile wasn't sharp, cruel or deranged.

It was casual.

And somehow, that made it so much worse.

Isn't that the bitch who was with that bastard—uh… what was his name again?

Right. Cedric.

Tch.

I remembered Cedric because he radiated that special brand of noble scum, the kind that hides arrogance behind politeness and calls it virtue.

But this one?

This green-haired creep?

He didn't even bother hiding it.

There was something off about him even back then.

And now, seeing him here, in this floating mirror inside the literal realm of cosmic judgment?

Yeah, no.

That wasn't a coincidence.

This wasn't some random soul-scrying side effect or a glimpse of a forgotten memory.

No.

I was seeing this because the Heavenly Principles wanted me to.

They weren't storytellers or gods with personalities,

They were sentient laws.

Cosmic constructs designed not to play favorites but to maintain balance.

To ensure the world didn't collapse because some asshole decided to mess with causality.

They didn't speak.

They didn't guide.

They revealed and showed just enough.

Just the right thread to pull.

In the novel this realm was called The True Heaven. And it had one particular effect, it showed the visitors one thing they must know.

So if they showed me him, in this place, at this moment—

It wasn't just a warning.

It was a message.

That green-haired bastard wasn't just a creep with a spear and a bad haircut.

Something about him was wrong.

Wrong enough to be flagged by the literal algorithm of existence as something I should know.

And that?

That was enough to put him on my list.

Because in this world as far as I know, there are no coincidences.

And if there are many coincidences around you… that means you are already screwed on cosmic scale.

"I greet the arbiter of the world."

A cold voice brought me back to reality.

The mirror where I saw the vision was gone without a trace.

Tch… stingy.

But the Heavenly Principles only allowed one vision per person.

I looked at Hel bowing towards the sky when there was no need to even do that.

I mean, Heavenly Principles didn't have feelings to be affected by something as trivial as greeting. They were mechanical and only cared about order.

Then again, who would try telling a goddess her greeting is pointless. I like breathing, thanks.

I turned to follow her gaze, because of course she could feel something before I could, and then I saw them.

High above, suspended in the center of that unnervingly still sky, was the boss I never asked to meet.

The Heavenly Principles.

A single, colossal crimson eye stared down without blinking.

Behind it were a halo of radiant feathery wings.

And that was just how it seemed to me.

Because the Heavenly Principles didn't have a "true form."

They were laws given shape.

A concept too big to understand.

So they wore a mask small enough for a mortal brain not to melt on contact.

They took on the shape you expected.

Or maybe… the shape you feared.

And this was how I imagined them.

So this was how they appeared to me.

Now, mind you, I'm not some weirdo who fantasizes about giant cosmic eyeballs instead of, say, a curvy angel with divine-level beauty and questionable moral alignment.

But this was how the novel described them.

And that image had been etched into my mind deep enough that I couldn't imagine them any other way.

"O Great Overseer of the world, we wish to carry a Seraphic Decree."

Hel spoke, her voice reverent.

She wasn't just speaking to something above us.

She was addressing the code behind the world itself.

And unlike me, who could barely comprehend what I was looking at…

She saw more.

Maybe even understood more.

But still, even she bowed.

Because no matter how divine you are… when you stand before the foundation of reality?

You shut up and follow protocol.

And the moment Hel's words faded into the air,

[Please State Your Reward]

A system window flashed in front of me.

Ah, yes.

The Heavenly Principles' one and only love language.

The system.

It was said that, in bygone days it used to be a scroll instead of holographic screens,

… but as civilization evolved so did the ways of communication for Heavenly Principles.

And nowadays it's this holographic screen.

I had the urge—just a tiny, deliciously self-destructive urge—to mess with the wishes. Maybe throw in something cooler or flashy.

Like maybe… Ownership of Helheim.

But no.

That would mean Hel would have to re-confirm the terms and I wasn't about to test her patience.

So, like a good little dead man, I muttered in the wishes exactly as we discussed.

The words were written on the screen as I spoke.

1. Complete resurrection, with my body healed to its peak condition without any tampering, drawbacks or fine print.

2. The Ruler of Helheim shall not attempt to kill me, directly or indirectly, so long as I keep everything about the Chalice secret.

3. I shall be granted the Goddess Hel's authority over death for five minutes after my resurrection—untainted, unweakened and free of side effects.

4. The first being I kill—the one who killed me before—shall suffer eternal, unrelenting agony by the will of Goddess Hel within her realm of Helheim until even the concept of mercy forgets their name.

Clean, precise and legally bulletproof.

This was the kind of contract a demon would look at and say, "Damn, that's airtight."

I didn't want to take the risk of tampering by not stating it properly.

That "within her realm" part in the fourth wish was deliberate. I didn't want that red-scaled bastard slipping off to some other underworld because of a technicality.

Now that I had locked it into my reward, the Heavenly Principles would make sure he went exactly where he was meant to go.

To Helheim.

To her.

To suffer.

Because once it's written into a Seraphic Decree… even gods can't squirm out of it.

After I submitted my wishes… a new system window appeared before me.

[Please State Your Penalty]

Now, I had to put what I was betting for this reward.

"I, Rael Von Ashborn, shall share all the details I know about Chalice Of Death to Ruler Of Helheim, Goddess Hel, irrespective of any restrictions or constraints."

A clean and suicidal promise.

If I won, the penalty would never be triggered.

And if I lost, the Heavenly Principles would force me to speak.

Which was exactly what she wanted.

What she thought I wanted.

What she didn't know… was that I had already picked the one question that would make sure she lost.

Because that was the beauty of it.

A third screen appeared before me at the last.

The most important one of them.

[Please State The Wager]

I raised my head, looked directly into the still sky, and spoke with quiet clarity:

"I, Rael Von Ashborn, shall ask Goddess Hel three questions. If she answers all of them correctly, she wins. But if she fails even once…"

I let the pause breathe.

"…then I shall be the victor."

Hel had accepted the wager in our discussion before.

Not because she couldn't have asked for a better deal, like winning if she got even one question right.

But because she wasn't allowed.

That was the thing about Seraphic Decrees.

They had rules—divine rules—etched into the bones of the world.

And one of those rules was that, a Decree couldn't be completely one-sided.

Not even for a goddess.

Balance had to exist, even if it was paper-thin.

That was why the wager about three questions was simple and yet… so effective.

Now, earlier… I had made a separate deal with Hel.

A soul oath, promising I would only ask questions she already knew. But that deal wasn't part of the Seraphic Decree.

It was a side contract.

So it didn't affect the terms here. It would activate and obliterate me if I broke them but Heavenly Principles won't care about them.

They only cared what was written into it.

And that was exactly how I had set the trap.

After I submitted the wager, the world went still.

Hel had been the one to request the Seraphic Decree.

That was the reason why I, a humble and handsome little mortal, was asked to state my reward, penalty… and my wager.

All that was left now was for the goddess to agree.

And once she does, the decree will begin.

I turned toward Hel who was staring at the air blankly.

Probably reviewing the reward and wager I submitted, scanning through every line for any trick hidden between words.

I waited.

After a few seconds, her voice echoed within the silent realm.

"I accept."

As soon as she said those words, the world around us stirred before becoming still again.

A red thread emerged out of my chest, swaying slightly in the air before stretching towards Hel, who stood some distance away.

The Soul Thread.

The thread merged into her body seamlessly as a system window appeared.

[The Seraphic Decree Begins]

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