Yuria POV
I did not fall.
I was pulled inward.
The warmth of Lord North's hand vanished, replaced by a pressure behind my eyes so immense that thought itself hesitated like the world pausing to decide whether I was permitted to witness what came next.
Before panic could form, something cold and familiar surfaced.
Not divine.
Not external.
Internal.
A presence I had learned to fear.
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SYSTEM
User: Yuria
Status: Stable
Mental Resistance: Insufficient
Condition Met:
• Physical contact with target
• Target undergoing ASCENSION PREPARATION
Target: North Frozenlight
Divinity State: PARTIALLY UNSEALED
Authority Coherence: UNSTABLE
Skill Available: Prophecy
Weekly Usage: 1 / 1
Warning:
• Prophecy reveals conditional futures
• Authority-class entities may interfere
• Memory preservation incomplete
Activate Prophecy?
───────────────────
I didn't answer.
The system did.
───────────────────
Prophecy — ACTIVATING
Authority Synchronization: FAILED
Foreign Authority Detected
Designation:
RECOGNITION
Secondary Authority:
UNRECOGNITION — ACTIVE
Proceeding with Risk Override…
───────────────────
The world inverted.
Not shattered.
Reclassified.
I stood in a hall that existed because it had been acknowledged.
And that was the problem.
This was an ascension hall.
Mid-ritual.
Mid-instability.
The ceiling fractured with divine stress, not cracking but forgetting where it should be. Pillars bent inward as if uncertain whether they were still needed.
Angels filled the chamber.
Thousands of them.
They hovered in concentric formations, wings unfurled, voices layered into hymns of preservation meant to anchor Lord North's divinity while it restructured itself.
At the center stood North.
Not enthroned.
Not crowned.
Standing.
Perfectly upright.
Frost spiraled violently around him, responding not to emotion, but to conflicting commands issued from within his own authority.
His ascension had begun.
And something was interfering.
Green light threaded through the frost thin, invasive, patient.
Recognition.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
"Oh, this is my favorite phase," a cheerful voice echoed. "Right where gods decide what matters."
A entity walked through the air as if it were an open door.
Plain clothes.
Brown hair.
A smile that felt like a summary written before the story ended.
"Relax," Recognition said lightly. "I'm not here to interfere."
Green symbols unfolded behind him.
Not chains.
Not seals.
Concepts.
"I'm just… adjusting relevance."
The angels' chanting intensified.
North's breath hitched.
The ascension surged violently.
Reality pushed back.
Several angels screamed as frost erupted outward, shredding their wings.
They fell.
Dead.
Recognition winced theatrically.
"Oh dear," he said. "See? Too many variables."
He raised one finger.
And the world obeyed.
The Authority of Unrecognition activated.
It did not suppress power.
It did not negate divinity.
It removed meaning.
Suddenly—
The angels were no longer allies.
They were no longer anchors.
They were no longer people.
They became noise.
Unrecognized variables interfering with a primary process.
North staggered.
His authority responded automatically.
Stabilize the system.
Reduce interference.
Recognition leaned close, voice gentle.
"You don't need to hate them," he whispered.
"You don't need to fear them."
"You just need to stop acknowledging them."
North's eyes sharpened.
"They're destabilizing the ritual," he said calmly.
Recognition smiled.
"Yes."
The chains of unrecognition tightened around North's authority not restricting it, but clarifying it.
Action became obvious.
Necessary.
Logical.
An angel reached out, desperation breaking formation.
The moment she touched North.
Ice formed.
Perfect.
Instant.
She shattered into fragments of frozen light.
Silence rippled outward.
Recognition clapped once.
"Excellent prioritization."
The angels panicked.
They advanced.
Not attacking.
Trying to save him.
Their presence increased instability.
North moved.
Each strike was precise.
Each kill reduced noise.
Bodies fell like discarded equations.
Hundreds.
Then thousands.
North did not scream.
Did not rage.
He calculated.
Recognition watched with delight.
"You see?" he said happily. "I didn't command you. I didn't control you."
He gestured at the corpses.
"I just helped you decide who mattered."
The chains pulsed.
With every pulse, something subtle vanished.
Hesitation.
Doubt.
The instinct to question necessity.
Recognition leaned closer.
"This is why unrecognition is such a useful authority," he whispered.
"No guilt. No corruption. No madness."
"Just clean decisions."
Emerald light surged.
Stone answered.
Reality locked.
The Goddess of Solidity descended.
Her presence reasserted weight.
Meaning returned.
The Authority of Unrecognition fractured.
North froze.
His eyes focused.
He looked around.
At the dead angels.
At the frozen silence.
At his hands.
Recognition stepped back, sighing.
"Oh well," he said lightly. "Trial run's over."
He looked at me.
"You'll remember enough," he added. "That's the fun part."
The vision collapsed.
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Prophecy — TERMINATED
Mental Load: CRITICAL
Emotional Residue: SEVERE
Notice:
• Authority of Unrecognition detected
• Future probability increased
───────────
I screamed
And woke.
_______________
North POV
Nothing had happened.
The library remained exactly as it had been before. Books rested in their familiar disorder, the long table stood firm and unmarked, and a cup of coffee still released thin trails of steam, untouched by prophecy or divine interference. Sunlight slipped through the tall windows and settled quietly across the floor.
The world had moved on.
I sensed that immediately.
Which meant the danger had passed without resistance.
Too easily.
Yuria swayed beside the table, her breath uneven, her balance failing. I caught her wrist before she could fall. The moment our skin touched, I felt nothing no vision, no pressure, no divine echo.
Only a pulse.
Human.
I released her as soon as she steadied herself.
"Sit," I said.
She obeyed, lowering herself into the chair. I remained standing, my posture calm, my presence controlled.
Outwardly, there was no sign that anything had gone wrong.
Inwardly, my hands felt heavier than they should have.
Not trembling.
Remembering.
I waited.
Yuria took several slow breaths before speaking. When she finally did, her voice was measured, as if each word carried weight she was afraid to drop.
She told me everything.
The ruined hall that existed beyond time. Broken pillars and fallen angels scattered across the floor. The way I stood at the center of it all, untouched and alone. Recognition's smile pleasant, amused, deliberate. Green chains that tightened when I acted and loosened when I restrained myself.
I did not interrupt.
When she described the angels attacking from every direction, my expression did not change.
When she spoke of their deaths, my breathing remained steady.
And when she explained how Recognition altered my thinking, something inside me settled into place.
Not anger.
Understanding.
"So I didn't lose control," I said evenly.
Yuria shook her head. "No. He didn't force you. He used authority. Temporarily."
I nodded once.
The Authority of Unrecognition.
It did not command obedience. It erased meaning. Allies became indistinguishable from enemies. Lives became obstacles. Angels were no longer people only threats that needed to be removed.
Necessary.
That explained the sensation in my hands.
The afterimage.
The echo of decisions made without hesitation, without doubt.
"If it had been real," I said, "I would not have stopped."
Yuria did not argue.
"That's why it works," she replied softly.
Lithara's influence lingered even here. Solidity had answered the prophecy the moment it formed. Sienna and Sol had sealed the space before the future could take root. Raka would have been forced outward, stationed at the perimeter to reinforce stability. Ceder sent deep below, guarding the foundational layers of reality itself.
They had been removed deliberately.
If they had remained
I would have killed them.
Not from rage.
From logic.
From necessity.
I accepted that truth without emotion.
"They were protected," I said.
"Yes," Yuria answered. "From you."
A soft movement caught my attention. A maid passed the doorway Lume. She slowed when she noticed us, eyes widening for just a moment before she hurried on, pretending nothing was wrong.
Human.
Fragile.
Alive.
An anchor, whether she realized it or not.
I released a slow breath.
"Recognition has already acted," I said. "Which means the future you saw isn't fixed."
Yuria looked up at me. "Then what does it depend on?"
"Isolation," I replied. "Silence. On me choosing distance instead of connection."
I turned toward the window. The moon hung steady above the kingdom. The sky was unbroken. No alarms sounded. No cracks split the heavens.
The world still stood.
"For now," I continued, my voice calm and certain, "I do not stand alone. Not during ascension. Not after."
Yuria studied my face, searching for fear.
She did not find it.
Only resolve.
Recognition was watching.
But he had not won.
Not yet.