Training had become a blur—compression drills that made their bones hum, meditation sessions inside fields of crushing conceptual pressure, essence control rituals that left their nerves sizzling. Days bled into each other until even the timeless calm of Gaia Paradise felt oppressive.
Dante wiped the sweat from his brow—or what counted as sweat, a faint silver luminescence—and exhaled.
"If Vorun tells me to 'relax my essence' one more time," he muttered, "I'm going to start relaxing myself into the nearest star."
Anarissa groaned beside him. "Lysera keeps telling me to 'breathe through the radiance.' I swear, if I breathe any more radiance I'll ignite the training platform again."
"And Varael," Dante said, "thinks the answer to every imbalance is 'one more controlled clash.'"
"We could tell them we need a mental break," Anarissa offered.
"Do gods even get those?" Dante wondered.
"If not," she said dryly, "we're making it a tradition."
They weren't alone. Marion sauntered up with his hands behind his head, while Torwen drifted in a slow swirl of blue mist.
Torwen sighed dramatically. "If this break includes more meditation, I'm dissolving into a puddle."
"No meditation," Anarissa said firmly. "We're exploring. Relaxing. Being normal—if we can manage it."
Dante stretched until his joints popped like cracking stars. "Let's move before someone senses we're not suffering productively."
They set off with no plan, crossing a glowing bridge over a river of liquid lumina. Firefly-like motes drifted lazily through the air. For once, Gaia Paradise didn't demand perfection or discipline—it felt quietly alive, sparkling, soft.
Their wandering took them first into the Everspring Gardens. Crystalline trees glimmered above them, blossoms pulsing gently with their mood. Dante brushed a branch, and an explosion of glowing petals burst like celebratory fireworks around him.
He blinked through the shower. "I didn't even do anything."
Anarissa laughed. "You walked too close. The flowers like dramatic entrances."
Marion chuckled. "Better than blowing up another training island."
"That was one time," Dante protested.
"You vaporized the coastline," Torwen reminded him.
They wandered for almost an hour, letting the Garden's quiet magic soothe the tension from their shoulders. Anarissa played with lightbirds that perched in her glowing hair. Dante dipped his hand into a lumina pond that hummed an ancient melody in response. Marion wrestled a vine that wrestled back. Torwen hovered near a mistfall that whispered old stories about forgotten dawns.
Eventually hunger crept in, leading them naturally toward the Veilwalk Market. Streets shifted subtly under their feet, rearranging like dream corridors. Lanterns whispered greetings. Vendors beckoned in strange and half-familiar tongues.
A fox-headed merchant waved enthusiastically. "Bottled emotions! Freshly distilled! Safe for consumption unless you're allergic to joy!"
Torwen stared reverently at a jar labeled mild euphoria. Marion slapped his hand away.
"You're dramatic enough."
Anarissa paused at a jewelry stall. A golden circlet hummed brighter as she neared it.
"This feels… grounding."
"It stabilizes solar essence," the vendor said. "Perfect for those who shine too brightly."
Dante snickered. "So it's basically safety equipment."
She nudged him with her elbow but kept the circlet.
A moon-shaped crystal pendant called silently to Dante. Silver-violet light pulsed gently from within.
The vendor simply nodded. "For gods whose essence runs ahead of their control."
Dante picked it up, feeling tension melt from his chest.
After nearly buying a cursed spoon—Marion's poor decision—he steered them away before it started insulting passersby.
Their next stop was the Celestial Arcade. Torwen dragged Dante into a cosmic puzzle arena where collapsed mini-realities had to be rearranged into workable universes. Marion joined the chaos. Anarissa tried a rhythm challenge made of dancing light pillars—and shattered its scoring limit. Alarms blared. The machine declared, "Perfection not allowed," and shut itself down.
Dante laughed so hard he nearly lost control of his aura.
When they finally stepped out, a rosy twilight painted the sky. They found a terrace overlooking the Dawnrise Expanse. Divine warriors sparred below, wings of light and flame streaking the air.
Anarissa leaned back. "Remember Earth gyms?"
Dante groaned. "Sweat. Loud shoes. That guy who always ate tuna in the corner."
Marion made a face. "Disgusting."
Torwen nodded solemnly. "Mortals endure strange trials."
After trading embarrassing stories—Dante attempting to psionically read a toaster, Anarissa fusing a hairbrush to a desk in a solar flare—they ended up exactly where their wandering hearts had been aiming:
The Shimmering Chalice.
The bar glowed with purple and gold light, enchanted plates and chalices drifting through the air. Music thrummed faintly beneath their feet, gentle and warm.
They settled into a booth.
Dante picked a mild drink that smelled like moonlit rain.
Anarissa chose a sweet, molten-sunlight cocktail.
Torwen's glass changed colors every few seconds.
Marion's hissed like an annoyed serpent.
They toasted.
"To surviving training," Dante said.
"To not collapsing during meditation," Anarissa added.
"To ignoring responsibility for one day," Marion said.
"To pretending alcohol affects us," Torwen said.
They drank.
For a while, everything was perfect—easy laughter, gentle music, conversations that drifted between mortal memories and divine bafflement.
Then something crashed.
"Say it again," someone shouted from across the room, "you overinflated starlight balloon!"
"I said your constellation looks like a crooked chicken!"
A glowing bottle flew across the room, exploding into shimmering dust.
Torwen sighed. "Ah. Drunk constellation gods. Always arguing about symmetry."
A table overturned. One god erupted in swirling nebula flames. Another hiccuped and released a burst of star-runes.
Anarissa straightened. "Should we step in?"
Marion yanked her back into her seat. "Do you enjoy ceilings? Because we'll lose one."
A tiny star popped out of a god's mouth with a soft peep and floated upward. The bartender caught it calmly with a jar.
Dante blinked. "…This is normal?"
"Very," Torwen said.
The chaos escalated. Someone summoned a cosmic jellyfish that drifted sadly around, stinging random furniture into glitter. A harp began playing itself in escalating panic. Another god transformed his drink into a miniature galaxy and cackled.
Dante leaned back with a sigh. "This break is exactly what we needed."
Anarissa clinked her glass against his. "Absolutely."
Another crash sounded—louder. Sharper. The kind that didn't match the playful, chaotic drunken fun.
Voices shifted from amused to tense hush.
Someone at a distant table snorted loudly.
"Look at them. The miracle twins. Floating around like they're special."
Another sneered. "Council favorites. Bet they couldn't handle real divinity if it bit them."
A chair scraped the floor. A few heads turned.
Dante set down his glass, aura thinning to a cold razor behind his eyes.
Anarissa's solar glow dimmed, controlled but ready.
Marion's posture changed—casual but aware.
Torwen's mist curled protectively.
The Shimmering Chalice fell into a brittle, silent pressure.
The night was no longer simple fun.
Something real had shifted.