[Location: Morningstar Manor, New York]

Meanwhile, it's been two hours since I completed the Job Change Quest.

After taking a quick bath, and stuffing my mouth for an hour to quench my 'post-war' hunger. I was sitting with Zeraphira, watching some batshit cartoon about a baby wearing diapers.

'Quite shitty, you know both literally and figuratively.'

So, I turned my attention to my Status Window, while bathing, I heard almost countless 'Tti-ring's'.

• Name: Dominic Nocturne von Morningstar

• Race: Demon (Incomplete Primordial Fragment) / ???

• Level: 47—> 102

• Job: Demiurgic Archon

• Rank: F—> C

• Title: [Dances With Wolves], [The Forsaken Lucifer(Locked)], [He Who Shouldn't Be Awake(Locked)], [God-Eater], [The One Who Creates in Defiance].]

• HP: 17/2560—> 5610/5610

• MP: 0/1260—> 0/4310

[Stats]

• Strength: 340—> 645 (+50)

• Agility: 236—> 541

• Stamina: 256—> 561 (+50)

• Intelligence: 126—> 431

• Sense: 196—> 501

—Available Stats Points: 110)

Reduction in physical damage: 60%

HOORRYYY SHIT!!!

Level 102?!

Tti-ring!

[Host had killed the Avatar of Ares, and the Champion of Ares had accumulated EXP due to the 'Job Change Quest' being activate after reaching Level 40.]

Even the System sounds smug about it.

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "So basically… I stole all that exp from a literal god's champion?"

Tti-ring!

[Correction: You earned it. The Champion's EXP was redirected as per quest clause: 'The Demiurge reaps what is slain in His Domain.']

"…Semantics," I muttered. Still, that much EXP was absurd. A single leap from 47 to 102—hell, that's the kind of jump reserved for final bosses, not mid-arc progressions.

Zeraphira leaned over from the couch, her head resting against my shoulder, eyes half-lidded. "Darling looks shocked~ Did something happen?"

"Just… an update," I said casually, dismissing the window. "I think I finally burned some calories from watching this baby doing crazy shits."

She giggled softly. "Hmph~ as if you have anything else to do."

I flicked her forehead. "Ow~"

"Behave," I said, suppressing a grin.

But inside, my thoughts churned.

'Job: Demiurgic Archon.'

'Rank: C.'

That wasn't just power progression. That was evolution. The kind that can change everything.

The 'Demiurge'… Creator of Forms. Architect of reality. It wasn't just a title—it was a role. And the moment I accepted it, something inside me had clicked, like a lock undone. I could feel it faintly still—some lingering echo of that realm, where my soul had walked through the white void, forging its new authority.

Even now, faint light traced along my veins, like molten silver under my skin. My SPIRAL energy—stronger, more stable, and far denser than before.

'But still… 0 MP?' I frowned.

Sigh~

I guess even getting 'Demiurgic Archon' doesn't fix my problem of not having my demonic hearts.

Anyway, let's see—

[Unique Authority — "Genesis Core."]

[Authority Description: The right to create from nothing. The lesser echo of the Demiurge's power, bound by will, concept, and imagination. Limitless potential, infinite danger.]

[Warning: Mortal vessel integrity is insufficient. Synchronisation cap — 0.01%.]

[Job-specific skills]

— Active skills:

• [Genesis Manifestation] — Constructs temporary reality fragments using pure Aetheric Concept. Power, form, and scale are limited only by imagination and vessel integrity.

• [Creation Reversal] — Rewrites the last five seconds of a manifested construct's existence. Cost: exponentially increases with each reversal.

• [Aether Domain] — Temporarily imposes the user's conceptual laws on a localised area. Duration scales with SPIRAL control and soul stability.

— Passive skills:

• [Conceptual Instinct] — Subconscious adaptation to metaphysical structures. Grants intuition toward reality manipulation and defensive creation.

• [Lucifer's Insight] — The eyes of rebellion. Perceive flaws, seams, and corruption in any existing structure—physical, magical, or spiritual.

[Additional System Notice: Synchronisation below 1%. Usage of Demiurgic Skills carries the risk of soul burnout, existential collapse, or dimensional implosion. Proceed with extreme caution.]

I leaned back, staring at the floating interface that refused to disappear even after several dismiss attempts.

Soul burnout, existential collapse, dimensional implosion.

So basically—play god and explode.

"Great," I muttered, tossing a chip into my mouth. Zeraphira, curled against my arm like a lazy cat, raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?"

"Plot twist," I said smoothly, scrolling past the warning. "Apparently, the baby's not actually a baby."

She hummed, unconvinced, but snuggled closer anyway. "Darling's lying voice is cute."

"...Noted."

Zeraphira's warmth pressed against me as the faint glow of the TV flickered across her pale skin. The absurd cartoon babbled in the background—some squeaky-voiced infant chasing floating bottles of milk like it was a divine quest. I muted it. Silence felt heavier, calmer. The kind of calm that came before a storm, I couldn't quite see yet.

"Darling's eyes look strange," Zeraphira murmured, tracing my cheek with her fingertip. "They're… glowing."

"Reflection from the screen," I lied.

But even I didn't believe it. The faint silver light under my skin pulsed rhythmically—like a second heartbeat, slow and deliberate. Every time it throbbed, I could feel something vast and ancient hum inside my chest. A resonance that wasn't demonic, wasn't divine—it was other.

The System window still hovered silently before my eyes, casting pale light across the room.

[Genesis Core — Synchronisation 0.01%]

[Warning: Mortal vessel integrity at critical threshold.]

I couldn't stop staring at those words. "The right to create from nothing," it said. I was no longer a simple vessel of sin, or a prince born of fallen divinity. I was holding a fragment of the Demiurge's will—the origin of all forms. Creation itself.

And that scared the hell out of me.

I flexed my fingers. The faint shimmer responded—threads of light bending and swirling in miniature spirals around my hand. It wasn't mana. It wasn't even Aether. It was… concept. The raw blueprint of existence, condensed into awareness. If I focused, I could feel the idea of flame, the notion of metal, the impulse of form itself—like every law of the world was whispering, We can be rewritten.

I stopped. My pulse quickened. "Yeah, no. That's how maniacs end up nuking the planet by sneezing."

Tti-ring!

[Warning acknowledged. Stabilising the host's mental equilibrium.]

"...Thanks, I guess?" I muttered under my breath.

Zeraphira tilted her head. "You're talking to yourself again."

"I call it self-motivation," I said, giving her a half-smile. "Keeps me sane."

She studied me for a long moment, eyes shimmering with a faint crimson glow. "You've changed, Darling." Her voice was soft, reverent even. "There's… something deeper about your presence. Like… you're not just you."

My stomach twisted slightly. If only she knew how literal that was. But I wasn't about to start explaining that the soul she was cuddling belonged to an outsider wearing the corpse of the true Morningstar. Some secrets were never meant to be spoken—not even to someone like her.

"Guess I just got better sleep," I said lightly, patting her head. She smiled faintly, satisfied enough with that answer.

...

After a while, she drifted off on the couch, her breathing soft and even. I slipped away carefully, stepping into the hallway. The manor was silent—only the low hum of arcane wards in the walls kept the air thrumming faintly. Moonlight seeped through stained glass windows, painting the floor in crimson and blue hues.

I stood before a door, Grayfia said, before only I and she could enter 'her' room.

'What are you doing, standing like a zombie outside someone's bedroom? Enter already, it's not she will wake up, at all...'

I thought to myself, earlier, when looking at 'Genesis Core', what if it could help her wake up?

I know Demon Sleep is said to be incurable, but I can't help but want to at least try.

"Alright, here goes nothing."

After taking a deep breath, I placed my palm against the cold, obsidian door. A faint pulse of silver light rippled across its surface—Grayfia's personal seal reacting to my touch.

The barrier shuddered once, then accepted me.

A low hum filled the air as the runes dimmed, and the door slowly parted.

Cold air brushed against my face—colder than the manor's wards could explain. Inside, the room was untouched since the night she sealed me—immaculate, silent, and saturated with the scent of frost and moonlight.

And there, in the centre of it all, she slept.

Lilith Morningstar—my mother.

The Primordial Sin herself.

Even after all this time, she looked the same as the half-forgotten memories that haunted the sealed void — regal, terrifying, beautiful. Her skin was pale like carved marble, her hair spilt around her like molten midnight, her lips faintly curved as if she'd been about to say something and just... stopped. And she was so still that the only proof she was alive at all was the faint rise and fall of her chest.

Though this is my second time seeing her but it still feels like standing before a living myth.

My throat went dry. Every inch of this room carried the weight of ancient power — the kind that made my skin prickle and my instincts scream in reverence. The faint frost crawling along the walls was laced with her essence; every crystal shimmered with fragments of her will. Even asleep, she radiated dominion.

'Lilith Morningstar,' I thought, staring at her motionless form. 'The Primordial Sin. The first mother of demons… and the one who fell asleep protecting a son who technically isn't even me anymore.'

I swallowed hard. The irony hurt more than I expected.

Slowly, I walked closer, boots making no sound on the frozen marble. I stopped just beside her bedside, staring down at her hand — delicate, pale, perfectly still. It looked like carved glass, yet the faint heat that brushed my fingertips when I reached out told me she was still alive. Somewhere deep beneath that silence, a storm of power still burned, waiting.

'What would the real Dominic have said if he stood here?'

No answer. Just the soft hum of ancient wards and the faint rhythm of her slow breathing.

I knelt beside her, my palm hovering an inch above her heart. The light beneath my skin pulsed again, that same silvery rhythm from earlier. My "Genesis Core" reacted on instinct — a faint halo of light spilling between my fingers.

Tti-ring!

[Notice: Core resonance detected.]

[Would you like to initiate a "Conceptual Restoration Attempt"?]

[Warning: Mortal vessel synchronisation below 0.01%. Chance of existential backlash — 99.8%.]

"Of course," I muttered under my breath. "There's always a ninety-nine percent chance of me dying."

Still, I didn't move my hand away.

My eyes flicked back to her face — the faint smile frozen on her lips. She looked peaceful. Too peaceful. Like time had stopped just for her.

"...If this kills me," I whispered quietly, "at least I'll die trying to give you back what your son lost."

I closed my eyes.

The Genesis Core flared.

A pulse rippled outward, distorting the room's frost-laden air. Runes carved into the ceiling lit up one by one, reacting violently to the alien energy bleeding from my palm. Reality groaned — like two incompatible codes trying to overwrite each other.

[Genesis Manifestation: Activated.]

[Concept Selected — Restoration.]

[Constructing template: "Awakening of the Slumbering Sin."]

The System's voice was mechanical, detached — but the power that surged through me was anything but. It felt like drowning and burning at the same time. Every atom of my body screamed in rejection, my veins glowing bright white as the Genesis Core's resonance deepened.

Silver light flowed from my hand into her chest — not energy, not mana, but concept. The idea of movement, the law of awakening.

Lilith's breath hitched faintly.

My eyes widened. "It's—working?"

The System didn't answer. The glow intensified, spilling across her form, tracing the ancient seals carved into her body. Her aura stirred, heavy and suffocating, pressing against the edges of the room.

Then—

Tti-ring!

[Warning: Conceptual Overlap Detected.]

[Primordial Authority Identified — "Sin Genesis."]

[Hierarchy conflict initiated.]

"Oh, crap."

The entire room shuddered. Her aura exploded outward, slamming into mine. My body lifted off the ground, bones creaking under the pressure. The frost crawled across my arm, freezing flesh and light alike. My vision went white, the System screaming error codes in rapid succession.

Tti-ring! Tti-ring! Tti-ring!

[Warning: Demiurgic Core integrity compromised.]

[Emergency containment recommended.]

[Do you wish to cease manifestation?]

"Not yet!" I yelled through gritted teeth. "Just—just a little more—"

The silver light clashed with her black radiance, spirals of creation and sin intertwining like battling serpents. The floor fractured, runes imploded, and space itself twisted around the bed.

And then, suddenly—everything stopped.

The two lights—mine and hers—merged for a fraction of a heartbeat. The room went utterly still.

Then—

thump.

A sound. Faint, but unmistakable.

Her heartbeat.

I froze. The frost receded slightly around her chest, a faint pulse rippling through the air. The very atmosphere shifted—darker, heavier, yet warmer somehow.

Then, as quickly as it came, the glow from her body faded again, returning to that tranquil stillness.

The System's tone chimed softly.

[Partial resonance achieved.]

[Primordial Sin's consciousness remains dormant. Soul integrity restored by 0.3%.]

[Warning: Host's vessel degradation at 7%. Immediate rest required.]

I collapsed forward, gasping for air. My arm smoked faintly, covered in lines of glowing frost that burned and froze at the same time.

"Fuck… that hurt…"

But my gaze snapped back to her chest. It was still. Yet faintly—very faintly—the rise and fall of her breathing had strengthened.

I smiled weakly. "Guess that counts as… progress."

My vision blurred as exhaustion slammed into me like a sledgehammer. The Genesis Core dimmed, the silver light under my skin receding.

Tti-ring.

[Host approaching unconscious threshold. Forcing stasis for recovery.]

"Don't you—dare—"

Darkness took me before I finished.

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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