"Ugh…"
A weak sound escaped Shivaya's beak as consciousness slowly returned.
The first thing she saw was the setting sun.
Golden-red light spilled across the horizon, washing the flower field in a soft, melancholy glow. The pond reflected the dying sky like a sheet of molten amber. Long shadows stretched over the petals.
For a moment, Shivaya simply stared at the sky.
Her mind felt heavy, as if someone had stuffed her head full of wet feathers and then politely shaken it for good measure.
'Had I… been asleep all day?'
The thought drifted through her mind slowly.
Then she felt warmth.
A steady warmth pressed against her side, solid and familiar in a way that made her chest tighten before she could even understand why.
Shivaya blinked.
Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head.
Richard was still there.
He lay beside her, his body slumped in sleep. His once proud crimson feathers were darkened by dried blood, stiff in places where the crimson had soaked in and hardened. Though his injuries had already closed, traces of battle still clung stubbornly to him. Torn plumage, scratches in places where flesh had already mended. Faint tremors of strain visible in the slow rise and fall of his chest.
He looked terrible.
And she…
She was still leaning against him.
For a brief moment, Shivaya simply stared.
She should have recoiled.
She should have snapped away like usual, heart boiling with the same fury and humiliation that had once consumed her whenever this stupid rooster got too close.
She should have been angry.
She should have wanted to peck him.
Kick him.
Make him suffer.
Make him pay back every single humiliation, every absurdity, every maddening moment he had dragged into her life.
But she did none of those things.
She just looked at him.
And instead of anger, what rose inside her was confusion.
A deep, messy, uncomfortable confusion that made her heart twist more painfully than rage ever could.
"…"
Her gaze lowered slightly.
She should hate him.
She should still want revenge for all the things he had done to her.
And yet…
And yet the memories in her head no longer allowed her to hold onto that hatred so easily.
Because the truth was there now.
Impossible to deny any longer.
In the memories of this life, the ones she had spent so long dismissing, burying, and treating as if they belonged to someone else…
She had indeed accepted him.
Not because she had been tricked.
Nor because of some simple bodily instinct.
At some point, in the quiet softness of this flower field life she had once looked down upon, she had allowed him into her heart with her own will.
The realization was absurd.
Ridiculous even.
If the elders of the Phoenix Clan could see her now, they would probably cough divine blood from pure shock.
Shivaya Nyxara Ceruleith, Phoenix Empress, ruler of the Ten Heavens, daughter of the Phoenix Clan, once a being whose presence could make ancient beasts lower their heads, was lying beside a rooster and feeling emotionally complicated.
A rooster.
Not a dragon emperor or an ancient star monarch.
Not even a particularly handsome phoenix prince with good manners and a tolerable bloodline.
He's just a rooster.
A stupid, overconfident, worm-offering, feather-puffing rooster who thought being kicked meant affection.
Truly, fate had a sense of humor vile enough to be executed.
And yet…
As she looked at Richard's battered body, something inside her squeezed painfully.
Before she fully realized what she was doing, Shivaya leaned closer and gently combed through his feathers with her beak.
Her movement was slow.
Careful.
Almost tender.
She paused, waiting for resistance like usual.
But no resistance came.
There was no furious scream ringing through her mind.
Nor was there a sense of her body betraying her while her "true self" raged helplessly inside.
This time, her body and mind moved together.
That realization shook her more than she wanted to admit.
Her beak remained nestled in his feathers for a moment longer than necessary.
He's still alive.
Still breathing.
The thought brought relief so strong it almost made her dizzy.
Shivaya pulled back slightly, her blue pupils trembling.
Thinking back now… perhaps she had only been lying to herself all along.
She had tried so hard to divide her existence into two separate beings.
The Phoenix Empress, Shivaya Nyxara Ceruleith, ruler of the Ten Heavens, daughter of the Phoenix Clan, that was the "real" her.
As for this life in the flower field as a common creature?
She had dismissed it as false.
A mistake.
A brief, disgusting nightmare that would eventually end once she regained her power and taught this stupid rooster a lesson so thorough that even his descendants would feel phantom pain.
At least, that was what she had told herself.
She had buried the memories of this life beneath layers of pride, fury, and vengeance. She refused to look at them properly. Refused to acknowledge the quiet days under the sun. The warmth of the hill. The ridiculous worms. The pond. The flower field. The rooster who kept bringing her food and then happily crowed as she ate.
She had treated all of it as if it belonged to someone else.
And yet now…
Now the line between past and present had grown blurry.
The memories no longer stood neatly apart from one another. They bled together.
The emotions tangled and the sense of self she had guarded so fiercely began to crack.
And in that crack, a terrible question slipped through.
Who… was the real her?
Was her past life the only real one?
Was this life false because it was weaker?
Was the Phoenix Empress more real than the hen because she had once burned brighter?
Or rather…
What made a self real in the first place?
Memory?
Power?
Bloodline?
Pride?
Choice?
The questions came one after another.
So what was she now?
A reborn empress?
A common hen with memories of another life?
Two selves forced into one fragile body?
Or was she simply Shivaya?
The more she thought, the more conflicted she became.
Her beak tightened.
She was certain, by the memories of this current life, that she loved him.
That much she could no longer deny so easily.
But with the memories of her past life flooding in as well, the shape of that feeling became impossible to neatly name.
Because in her past life, she had never experienced anything like this.
Not once.
No matter how far she had searched or how many heavens she crossed.
No matter how many races, worlds, bloodlines, and ancient beings she encountered, there had never been anyone whose soul resonated with hers.
Souls were unique to each creature.
Most creatures were born with stable souls.
Their souls changed gradually through action, thought, memory, experience, and feeling. Slowly and naturally, like a river smoothing stone over countless years. And because their souls followed such steady growth, it made finding their other halves easier and most creatures eventually found someone whose soul could resonate with theirs.
It might sound impossible.
After all, the universe was vast beyond imagination. There are countless worlds, races were endless. Lives bloomed and vanished like sparks in the dark. For two beings whose souls truly answered one another to meet should have been a miracle among miracles.
And yet most creatures found that other half eventually.
Because the world, in order to preserve itself, would not simply allow the countless races dwelling upon it to die out so easily. So long as they lived long enough, most would one day encounter the being whose soul answered their own.
That was one of the hidden kindnesses of existence.
A law so natural that countless beings never even questioned it.
But there were always exceptions.
Among souls, there existed an extremely small number of abnormalities.
Beings born with volatile souls.
Unlike stable souls, which changed slowly through the accumulation of life, volatile souls shifted constantly. Their shape, their nature, their rhythm through existence, these things changed without warning. Sometimes those changes were not connected to memory or experience at all.
They wandered, fluctuated and transformed irregularly.
Like stars that had lost their orbit, brilliant yet unable to rest.
For a being with a volatile soul, finding another half was far more difficult…almost impossible even.
First, they needed to find another volatile soul.
Then, that volatile soul had to resonate with theirs.
Because two beings born under the same curse were not necessarily each other's destined halves.
Most would never find their other half in their entire lives.
Even if those lives stretched across eras or when they became powerful enough to roam the universe.
After all, volatile souls were not weak.
Quite the opposite.
Volatile souls often granted creatures abnormal gifts and terrifying Talents. Reaching a certain height was not difficult for most of them. Some possessed abilities so rare that might not appear again in the entire existence.
It sounded glorious.
A talent countless races could only look up to.
A blessing that could make geniuses gnash their teeth and old monsters sigh bitterly.
But if one asked those born with volatile souls and those with stable ones whether they would rather keep such brilliance or be born with an ordinary stable soul?
Most would choose the latter in a heartbeat.
Because a volatile soul was both a blessing and a curse.
The first weakness was Miracle Energy.
Those with volatile souls could not properly access Miracle Energy and the many powerful abilities connected to it unless they found their other half. Their own souls shifted too violently, unable to form the necessary harmony. Like a lock whose shape changed every time the key approached.
The second weakness was the abyss.
Because their souls were constantly unstable, they were often less resistant to corruption. The curse of the abyss found cracks in them more easily than in others.
Most powerhouses born with volatile souls eventually succumbed to madness.
Some died in battle, unable to access Miracle Energy, and were overwhelmed by more fortunate opponents whose souls had already found completion.
And some simply continued wandering the universe, crossing heaven after heaven forever, searching for the one being who might truly answer them.
That is why volatile souls have many names.
Scholars called them Volatile Souls.
Some called them the Soul of Calamity.
But among those names the most known was undoubtedly.
The Lonely Star.
A beautiful yet cursed name.
Shivaya had been one of those rare creatures born with a volatile soul.
That was why, even after searching across the heavens, she had never found her other half.
That was also why, despite her talent, despite her lineage, despite her pride, she had never once felt what "love" feels like.
Shivaya lowered her head slightly.
She could not yet sense her own soul in this weak state.
And that uncertainty gnawed at her.
What if… she was mistaken?
What if, as an ordinary common creature, she had simply been unable to resist and followed the instincts of this current body?
What if all of this, this ache, this warmth, this terrible softness in her chest, was nothing more than an illusion created by flesh?
"…"
Her thoughts stopped.
Because she knew she was making an excuse.
A creation of life was never merely a bond of flesh.
It was a bond of body and soul.
If body and soul did not align, if the connection was false, then the birth of a new life, a new soul, would be impossible.
This rule applied to almost all creatures.
With the sole exception of one.
That was why the common creatures whos instinct was to reproduce would instinctively search for their other halves. And because of their more simple souls, finding a resonance was not that difficult.
But she should have a volatile soul, how could she possibly fall in love so easily?
Besides, could Richard even have a volatile soul like her? If he did then how come she had never heard of him from the records of history? There is no way a volatile soul would fall just because of a newly born otherworlders.
Her heart began to pound faster.
Shivaya's breath became slightly uneven.
She was unsure, unsure if all she felt was real.
That was why…
She wanted certainty.
She did not want logic.
Not half-remembered laws from her past life, reasoning built from ancient knowledge or deductions made while her heart was trembling like a newly hatched chick in winter.
She wanted to sense her soul herself.
To feel it, see it.
To know whether their souls were truly connected.
Only then…
Only then would she allow herself to fully accept the feelings in her heart.
That was the only way she could break the final resistance between her past life and her present one.
And after all that was over…
Then could she look at this stupid rooster and decide what he truly was to her.
Her gaze drifted back toward Richard's face.
Even in sleep, he was frowning.
As if some part of him still refused to relax.
His breathing was steady, but heavy. Exhaustion clung to him deeply. Even after being healed, the burden of battle had not vanished completely. Healing flesh did not erase pain from memory.
For once, Richard did not look like the ridiculous overlord of the flower field.
He looked tired.
Painfully tired.
Shivaya stared at him in silence.
This stupid, annoying rooster.
Idiot.
Always puffing his chest and acting strong.
Always pretending he understood more than he did.
Her eyes softened for just a heartbeat.
Then, slowly, she pulled herself away from his warmth and stood.
The evening air felt colder the moment she did.
That annoyed her.
Obviously it was only because her current chicken body had poor resistance to temperature changes.
Yes.
That was definitely it.
Absolutely not because she missed leaning against him.
Shivaya shook her feathers lightly, forcing that useless thought away.
She looked at Richard one last time.
His feathers were a mess.
His body was still stained with dried blood, the crimson darkening his plumage in stiff, ugly patches.
Shivaya's beak opened slightly.
For a moment, no sound came out.
Then, in a voice so soft it almost vanished beneath the evening wind, she whispered,
"Be more careful from now on."
She did not know what had injured him so badly.
According to the detailed records of history, the otherworlders should not yet pose a real threat to him. Not at this stage. Not while they were still newly descended and fumbling around like blind hatchlings.
Besides, the wounds on his body did not look like the work of blades or spells.
They looked like claw marks.
Which meant it had likely been another creature.
The thought made her chest tighten slightly.
She was worried.
Annoyingly, embarrassingly worried.
But the current her could not stack another Imperial Edict on him. She had already pushed this fragile body far beyond its limits once. If she forced another edict now, she might explode on the spot.
So, for now, she could only trust him.
Trust this stupid rooster to stay alive while she was away.
Naturally, no answer came to her concern.
Richard continued sleeping.
The pond continued reflecting the sunset.
The flowers continued swaying in the breeze.
And Shivaya continued standing there like a dignified fallen empress who had definitely not just whispered something embarrassingly gentle to a rooster.
After a few breaths, her gaze turned inward.
Her status panel unfolded before her eyes.
Soft light gathered in front of her, forming familiar translucent lines.
Name: Shivaya
Title: Boss Rooster's Most Beloved Hen / Error of the World
Race: Chicken
Tier: Late Stage Common Creature
Body: E-
Mind: D+ (Limited by tiny chicken body)
Soul: D-
Path: None
Talent: The Authority of Imperial Edict
Equipment: None
Bloodline: None
Her eyes lingered on the title for a moment.
Error of the World.
Just looking at it made her beak twitch.
Then her gaze moved lower.
There, tucked among them, was the one thing that could make her stronger quickly enough.
[Primordial Land Ticket]
A gift from the Mother of All Beasts.
The moment her eyes settled on it, the memory of that ancient presence surfaced in her mind. Vast, heavy, warm. Terrifying in a way that was not cruel, like an old mother.
Though she did not know how The Mother of All Beasts had managed to use the Authority of Time, she did not dwell into it.
She had given her this chance and Shivaya absolutely has to use it.
The primordial land was the land where primordial life energy gathered.
It was the birthplace of countless races.
For the current Shivaya, it was both an opportunity and necessity.
If she wanted to sense her soul, to understand whether this feeling was real, she needed strength.
And if she ever wanted to beat him up later for all the emotional confusion he had caused her…
She definitely needed strength.
And the greatest opportunity right now, is this.
Her decision was settled.
Shivaya stared at the words for a moment, then willed the ticket to activate.
At once, her panel flashed.
[Using: Primordial Land Ticket]
[Remaining Time: 4320:00:00]
The number appeared cleanly.
Four thousand three hundred and twenty hours.
Six months.
That was more than enough time for her to evolve.
Then the panel suddenly shuddered.
Shivaya froze.
The translucent light distorted.
The words twisted as if something unseen had reached into the status panel and grabbed the text by the throat.
Scarlet lines burst across her vision.
[Error]
[The Lady of Returning Sand is modifying the Primordial Land Ticket]
[Remaining Time: 4320:00:00 → 733:33:33]
[Calculating causality…]
[The Lady of Returning Sand's Authority has gone down slightly]
"Huh?"
Shivaya's eyes widened.
The red messages reflected in her pupils as her mind struggled to catch up.
The Lady of Returning Sand?
Why would that woman-
Before she could finish the thought, the world twisted.
Space and time folded around her.
The pond stretched into silver threads, each ripple becoming a long, shining line that bent upward into the air. Flowers curved in impossible directions, their petals splitting into afterimages of gold and red. The sunset fractured into countless burning shards, each shard reflecting a different angle of the same dying sky.
The wind stopped.
The hill held its breath.
For one impossible instant, Shivaya saw the flower field from countless directions at once.
Above.
Below.
Beside.
Behind.
As if the world had become a broken mirror and she stood in every reflection.
Then something vast brushed against her.
Quiet.
Ancient.
Dry.
Like an endless desert where every grain of sand remembered a forgotten era.
For a single heartbeat, Shivaya felt as though someone was looking at her from the far end of time.
Not with malice.
But it was not with kindness either.
It was like a weary gaze of someone adjusting a thread that had gone slightly off course.
Then a faint sigh seemed to echo.
Or perhaps it was only the sound of sand shifting.
Shivaya's pupils contracted.
'Lady of Returning Sand…'
The name had barely formed in her mind when the pull strengthened.
Her body became light.
The hill vanished beneath her feet.
The pond dissolved into a silver ring.
Richard's sleeping figure blurred at the edge of her vision.
Then the spacetime snapped shut.
The flower field disappeared.
And in the next instant, Shivaya vanished.
…
The hilltop fell silent.
The pond slowly returned to normal, its silver threads collapsing back into gentle ripples. The flowers straightened, petals trembling as if they had just witnessed something far above their pay grade. The evening wind resumed, cautiously at first, like a servant checking whether the angry noble had left the room.
Richard slept on.
For a few breaths, nothing changed.
Then his brow twitched as if sensing something.
His feathers ruffled slightly.
One crimson eye opened.
"…Hm?"
He blinked, still half-drowned in exhaustion.
The first thing he noticed was that his side felt cold.
The second thing he noticed was that the familiar warmth beside him was gone.
Richard lifted his head.
His eyes swept across the pond.
Richard stared.
Then slowly, very slowly, his feathers began to puff.
"…"
A bad feeling crept into his chest.
He rose to his feet, ignoring the stiffness in his body. Dried blood cracked along his feathers as he moved. His legs trembled once, but he forced them steady.
Richard's eyes narrowed.
He turned around once.
Twice.
Then a third time, as if the hen might magically appear behind him if he rotated with enough sincerity.
She did not.
His chest tightened.
"Where did she go?"