Chapter 134: Embarrassing History
As the cat's cry echoed, the white void shattered and dissolved. In the blink of an eye, the world transformed into a beautiful garden bathed in warm sunlight.
The sky was clear and boundless, without a single cloud. Flowerbeds stretched endlessly in every direction, as if the entire world had been woven from blossoms alone. Red, purple, blue, green—countless colors mingled together. When the breeze stirred, the vast sea of flowers rippled gently, waves of color rising and falling.
Fragrance filled the air.
Roses, thistles, daffodils, lilies, tulips…
Charles could identify more than a dozen distinct scents, and there were many more he could not name. Though the aromas mingled, they never became muddled—each remained strangely distinct, as if responding to the flow of his thoughts.
As he turned to take in his surroundings, a notification appeared before his eyes.
[Flower Fey — Celestial Species, Bloodline Inheritance Medium]
[It is not a living being, but a projection of power]
…
Along with the Eye of Reality's message, a tiny fairy—no larger than a thumb—appeared.
She had been sleeping inside the tightly clustered heart of a rose beside Charles's hand. As his gaze passed over it, the rose's petals slowly unfurled. With the stretching of its stem and leaves, the little creature within stirred and sleepily opened her eyes.
The fairy's red dress, woven from petals and slender stems, was exquisitely delicate. Upon waking, she drifted free of the rose, her dragonfly-like wings shimmering and shifting in color as she fluttered curiously around Charles.
Then she stopped before him.
To his astonishment, she began to grow.
Half a meter.
One meter.
One and a half…
At last, the flower fairy reached Charles's height and came to rest. Her large, pale-red eyes—bright and moist—blinked as she studied him intently.
Then, without warning, she blurred and vanished.
"Invisibility?" Charles raised an eyebrow.
But what followed overturned that assumption entirely.
All around him, the flowers suddenly turned their blossoms toward him in unison. Petals unfurled wide, and from their hearts poured countless green fireflies, spilling forth in a dazzling stream.
Though the sun shone brightly overhead, these fireflies glowed with unmistakable brilliance. They gathered in swarms, circling Charles several times before diving toward him and clustering together.
Gradually, they merged—
Reforming into the beautiful flower fairy he had just seen.
As she took shape, the soft green glow surrounding her faded. She stood close—very close—meeting his gaze in silence.
In the sunlight, every detail of her exquisite face was visible, down to the fine, soft fuzz upon her skin. Even the gentle breath leaving her moist lips carried a fragrance so pure it calmed the spirit.
After a long moment, she lifted her hands, cupped Charles's face, and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.
Then she dissolved once more—
breaking apart into countless fireflies,
and vanished into the air.
When the gentle warmth touched his forehead, Charles clearly felt a cool current cascade from the crown of his head, instantly spreading throughout his entire body. With that single kiss, it was as if strength and courage had filled every corner of his being.
He stood there in a daze for a moment.
Then he clicked his tongue.
"The ability is interesting," he muttered, "but I'm not interested in changing my sex—and seducing people is even less appealing."
As his words fell, a soft, regretful sigh seemed to rise from the flowers in all directions. The scene before him shifted once more.
…
Unlike the previous two transformations, the third was not grand at all.
On the contrary—it was starkly simple.
So simple that there was almost nothing.
Only a prayer hall.
An open-air prayer hall.
There was no ceiling overhead. When Charles looked up, he saw a gloomy sky where dark clouds drifted slowly past. Beneath the cold, pale light, rows of long benches were evenly arranged across most of the space.
At the far end stood a colossal angel statue.
Charles appeared at the entrance of the prayer hall. After scanning his surroundings, he stepped forward toward the statue.
The angel rested both hands on the hilt of a massive greatsword, its posture solemn and imposing. Beneath its feet lay a ferocious horned demon carved in stone. Three pairs of wings spread wide behind it, blocking most of the space beyond and obscuring whatever lay behind.
It was enormous—like a towering building.
Standing before it, Charles barely reached the statue's calf, let alone the column-like sword it wielded.
[Statue of a Judgment Angel — Celestial Artifact, Bloodline Inheritance Medium]
[It is not a true statue, but a projection of power]
…
Unlike the previous two trials, nothing happened when Charles approached the statue.
That left him slightly confused.
But he relaxed soon enough.
Because a moment later, a faint grinding sound echoed from the stone greatsword.
Focusing his gaze, he saw lines of text slowly being carved into the gray blade at eye level.
…
"Charles Cranston.
At age seven, he accidentally shattered an antique vase from the Dark Era and framed his younger brother, Allen Cranston, causing Allen to be confined for three days by their father."
…
"At age nine, he placed iron nails on the chair frequently used by his tutor, Redmeni, resulting in severe tetanus and near death."
…
"At age thirteen, he slipped laxatives into his father Turner Cranston's red wine and, after being discovered, framed a household servant—who was sentenced by the royal court to five years in prison."
…
"At age fifteen, he assaulted a royal child and was exiled by his father to the border city of Pita in the Kingdom of Dulin. Shortly thereafter, he came under close observation by the Church for attempting to practice dark magic."
…
Stone dust flaked continuously from the blade as the accusations appeared one after another. After the mention of dark magic, the list finally came to an end.
Charles broke into a cold sweat.
Setting aside the original owner's embarrassing past, that last entry unsettled him the most.
The Church's original judgment had been contact with dark magic—not attempted use. Yet what appeared here was practically a conviction.
"Good thing no one else can see this," he muttered.
Then another thought struck him.
Given the situation now… even if someone did know, would they really dare do anything to him?
The Judgment Angel revealed no further abilities beyond exposing sins—but Charles was certain this inheritance went far deeper than that.
He was curious, certainly—but only curious.
Choosing it had never crossed his mind.
Not because of any warning from a certain lecherous old man, but for a much simpler reason—
Angels have no gender.
"What was that term again?"
"Futanari? No… that's not it…"
He shook his head.
The world around him collapsed once more.
…
After that, he encountered one inheritance after another.
The Scroll-Bearer.
A Seraph.
A Sunlight Spirit.
A Star-Singing Astral Being.
A Binding Angel.
A Chrono-Light Dragon…
Each inheritance displayed abilities stranger than the last. Yet most of them seemed only loosely connected to the Church—if at all.
Or rather, only angels and clearly divine beings truly matched Charles's idea of "celestial species."
The rest leaned toward nature, folklore, or benevolent mythic creatures.
There were even vengeful spirits—entities practically akin to undead.
It made no sense at all.
Because advancement paths could conflict, Charles knew he had to choose carefully. From the bandaged man's collection, he had learned that as long as one avoided overlapping directions, conflicts were usually minimal.
"Direction" had two meanings:
The body—and the spirit.
In simpler terms: warrior versus mage.
As long as he didn't choose overlapping paths, even necromancy and holy power could coexist without obvious conflict. Many necromancers had researched this extensively—survival was difficult, and the Church's reach was vast. Charles was hardly the only one to have successfully infiltrated it.
The conditions were broad enough.
What mattered now was choosing carefully.
Once chosen, the path could never be changed.
He did encounter several inheritances that suited him well—but in the end, he rejected them all.
He kept feeling that something better awaited him.
Not greed—instinct.
As though a quiet voice whispered again and again:
There is something better.
You haven't reached it yet.
So he kept shaking his head.
Kept refusing.
World after world flickered past his eyes like drifting reflections. Countless strange beings demonstrated their powers, one after another—but all in vain.
At last, Charles arrived in a stone chamber.
A narrow stone chamber lit only by two quietly burning torches.
The space was cramped. The gray-black walls were cracked and decayed. The dim yellow torchlight barely pushed back the darkness, leaving the chamber eerily silent.
Aside from a pile of dust-covered objects stacked in one corner, there was nothing of note.
Charles walked over and looked down.
Rings.
Bracelets.
Daggers.
Longswords.
Hammers…
Every type of ornament or weapon he could imagine lay there.
Under the weak light, faint metallic luster glimmered through the dust. Their designs were old and worn, like discarded antiques long forgotten by time.
He crouched and picked up a rusted, primitive-looking pair of scissors.
As soon as he examined them, the Eye of Reality activated.
[The Black Scissors of the Gardener God — Celestial Special Inheritance Artifact]
[It is not the true Black Scissors, but a projection]
[You must possess a special talent to awaken it]