Arsere stared at her newly updated status window, letting the glowing symbols drift before her eyes like fireflies. Everything about it felt surreal—the expanded titles, the new energies, even her newly assigned rank.
Primordial God.
She whispered the words silently, still unsure whether the system was joking.
Before she had time to fully digest it, two shadows leaned in from behind her.
Xian squinted at the status window, then exploded like always.
"YOU'RE A PRIMORDIAL GOD?!"
Arsere blinked. "Oh… it seems like it."
Virex paled as he read the list. "Do you… do you even understand what that means?"
"Not really," Arsere replied honestly.
Xian crossed his arms dramatically. "Of course you don't. Let Master Xian explain the cosmic hierarchy!"
Arsere sighed. "Please don't call yourself that."
"Ahem." Xian ignored her. "Have you ever opened the system chat?"
"…Chat?" Arsere tilted her head. "I keep forgetting it exists."
"Unbelievable," Virex muttered.
Xian continued, pacing like a strict teacher. "The chat is where we send feedback to the system. On the first day, everyone complained about the ranking system, so the system rewrote it overnight."
He snapped his fingers, summoning a holographic chart in the air.
Godly Ranking System (Updated)
Primordial God — Top 1,000
Multiversal God — Top 10,000
Universal God — Top 100,000
World God — Top 1,000,000
Realm God — Top 10,000,000
God — Top 100,000,000
Deity — Everyone else
Xian pointed at the top tier dramatically. "And you—somehow—landed in the strongest category on day two!"
Arsere blinked again. "…So you two are just deities?"
"YES!" Xian yelled.
"Utterly pathetic," Arsere muttered under her breath.
Virex groaned. "She insulted us again."
"Not intentionally," Arsere said, though her expression said otherwise. "Anyway… can you tell me more about the system?"
"I'll explain this time," Virex said, pushing Xian aside like an annoying chair. "Remember the message saying we can't meet our families until ranking up? Because of feedback, the system has changed the chat multiple times."
He continued, voice calmer than Xian's theatrical tone.
"It's basically like social media now. If you know someone's ID—their Earth name—you can message them. No barrier. No wait times."
Arsere froze.
"Earth names…?"
"Yes," Virex confirmed. "Your old name is your ID."
Her heartbeat doubled.
"Then… you two can go," she said quietly.
Xian shrugged. "Fine, fine."
The moment they left the room, Arsere closed the door behind her with trembling fingers. Her breath caught in her chest as she opened the system chat for the very first time.
The icon blinked brightly—almost painfully.
56 unread messages.
All from the only people she desperately wanted to see again.
Her family.
For a moment, Arsere didn't move. The room seemed to shrink around her, the air thinning. Then she tapped the first message, and the sound of her own breath broke.
Tears streamed down before she realized she was crying—heavy, shaking, unstoppable. Not the dignified tears of a goddess, but the raw, messy sobbing of a girl who died too soon and woke up alone in a boundless void.
Her family had reached out.
They were alive.
They remembered her.
Arsere clutched her hands to her chest, shoulders trembling.
In the vast world of Crevalis, the Eternal Sea was overflowing with new life—creatures evolving, adapting, inching toward intelligence.
And for the first time since her arrival in the void, Arsere felt something warm fill the endless emptiness inside her.
She wasn't alone anymore.