In a room steeped in Sengoku-era ambiance, a beautiful blonde girl knelt on the floor, her gaze fixed with feverish devotion on the radiant figure before her.
"Susan, give me more faith, more love, more loyalty. I'll always be watching over you."
Tenra's manifested form brushed her forehead, voice low and hypnotic.
"Yes, Holy Lord…"
Susan's eyes burned with adoration. Light shimmered around her, so pure it seemed to sanctify the air itself.
Tenra felt the surge of faith power, lips curling in satisfaction. After relentless, near-hypnotic indoctrination, Susan had finally crossed the line—now a true fanatic.
If he told her to die, she'd do it without hesitation.
His avatar faded, consciousness snapping back to his own body.
Within his mental sea, the [Codex of Divinitas et Diabolus] loomed like a mountain, radiating ever-greater waves of sacred power. Where once it had been sparse, now thousands of golden threads pulsed and danced.
Thousands of believers.
To deepen their faith, Tenra routinely manifested, performing miracles and speaking directly to his followers. Susan was a favorite—his first native fanatic after Aisha and the others. She wouldn't be the last.
Faith power streamed endlessly through the Codex, pooling within Tenra. If he converted it to magic, he reckoned he now possessed the reserves of a low-class devil—just from a few thousand followers.
But what if he had tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? What if the whole world worshipped him? The sheer scale was dizzying.
Recruit followers, strengthen their faith—everything was unfolding smoothly.
Well, almost.
Why were nearly all his believers female?
The Codex let Tenra glimpse his followers' circumstances. Nearly every one was a girl—young, impressionable, and overwhelmingly smitten. Male believers were rare as unicorns.
After some thought, Tenra realized the likely reason: he'd filled the Codex with images of himself, transformed by various Sacred Gears. The effect on girls—especially teenagers—was magnetic.
They worshipped their "god" because he was hot.
It was ridiculous, but probably true.
The idea that his divine flock were all fangirls left Tenra speechless. Still, it made brainwashing and faith-boosting laughably easy. He couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.
BOOM! BOOM!
Sudden explosions shook his mental sea, whipping up a violent psychic storm.
Tenra rubbed his forehead, exasperated. With a thought, the scene shifted—two massive dragons locked in aerial combat.
Ddraig and Albion.
Ever since Tenra had seized Divine Dividing, both legendary Heavenly Dragons had taken up residence within him.
Naturally, these sworn rivals started fighting the moment they met.
Battling through hosts was entertaining, but nothing beat a direct brawl. The two dragon queens clashed endlessly in Tenra's mindscape. He'd hoped they'd tire themselves out, but they only got more fired up.
"Ddraig, Albion—enough!"
Tenra's will summoned two titanic swords, which shot down and slammed the dragons to the ground.
"Partner, we were just getting into it," Ddraig grumbled.
"Tenra Kamiyo, why stop us?" Albion complained.
"You're driving me crazy! Keep it down, both of you!"
If anyone else dared talk to the Heavenly Dragons like that, they'd be dead in seconds. But as their host, Tenra's commands actually made them pause.
"Well, if you insist, we'll take a break," Ddraig conceded. Albion nodded, equally resigned.
With endless time inside their host, a short pause meant nothing.
Tenra nodded, satisfied. Then an idea struck him.
"Ddraig, Albion—can you take human form?"
Their true bodies were enormous. Every conversation meant craning his neck, and it was getting old.
"That's fine, but I've never been human before," Ddraig replied. "Partner, help me design a form."
"Me too," Albion added.
Tenra's eyes lit up. "Leave it to me."
He quickly sketched out two female forms in his mind—tall, mature, and striking. Ddraig: long crimson hair, fiery and passionate. Albion: silvery-white hair, cool and aloof.
Both wore armor—red for Ddraig, silver for Albion—revealing flashes of flawless skin. One ice, one fire; both irresistible in their own way.
"Partner, my chest is way too big. Can't you tone it down?" Ddraig complained, lifting her absurdly oversized bust.
"Mine's too big here," Albion muttered, gesturing to her exaggeratedly curvy hips.
"Nope! From now on, you stay in these forms. That's an absolute order from your host!"
Tenra's eyes gleamed, voice firm.
They didn't get it, but with Tenra's tone brooking no argument, both dragons reluctantly accepted.
Watching their disgruntled faces, Tenra felt a little guilty. Still—the "Breast Emperor" and "Butt Empress" meme was too good to pass up.
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