(Meanwhile within the Eternal Garden, Veyr’s POV)

After holding a brief conversation with Veyr, Kaelith retreated to solitude once again, leaving him free to roam the Eternal Garden as he pleased, without placing any restrictions on what he could or could not do.

For Veyr, it was a strange kind of freedom, one that felt less like mercy and more like an experiment, as if the Great God was curious to see what a mortal would do when placed in paradise with no visible leash around his neck.

The Eternal Garden stretched endlessly around him, a landscape too divine to belong to mortal imagination.

Towering trees shimmered with translucent leaves that refracted light into ribbons of color, while crystal rivers flowed between fields of silver grass that swayed in a breeze that seemed to hum faintly with mana. The air carried the fragrance of blooming fruits and the faint sweetness of creation itself, as though the place had never known decay.

Veyr wandered for a while, his bare feet brushing through the dew-soaked grass, his senses overwhelmed by beauty.

The fruits here hung low and heavy on the tree branches, glowing with the soft light of divinity, and when he reached up to pluck one, it came away in his hand with an almost willing ease.

*Crunch*

As he bit into it, the skin warmed against his lips, and his eyes widened instantly as the taste burst across his tongue, sweet, rich, and overflowing with vitality.

It was unlike anything he had ever eaten before, a fruit that didn’t just fill the stomach but seemed to feed the soul.

He laughed softly under his breath, a sound that startled even him, for it had been so long since he had felt any semblance of joy.

Perhaps Kaelith was mocking him in his own twisted way, offering him the taste of heaven before sending him back to die in hell.

Still, mockery or not, Veyr allowed himself to enjoy it. He ate until his hunger faded, then lay back on the grass and closed his eyes, letting the breeze brush against his face as a rare sense of peace began to settle over him.

It was fleeting.

Because peace, as always, never lasted long for him.

As soon, a faint shiver crawled down his spine—his Sixth Sense flaring without warning, as his muscles tensed instinctively and made him roll to the side, his eyes scanning the edge of the divine grove where the light dimmed just slightly.

He could feel it now. A presence. Calm, steady, and overwhelmingly powerful, like the quiet before a collapsing star.

"Impressive," a voice said behind him, smooth and melodic, yet heavy with condescension. "Mortals at your level shouldn’t be able to sense me."

Veyr turned sharply, only to see Raymond standing a few feet away framed by the pale golden light filtering through the canopy.

His posture was relaxed, his expression faintly amused, as he approached Veyr casually.

"The infamous Dragon of the Cult," Raymond said, smiling faintly as he extended a hand toward him. "It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Veyr looked at the offered hand, then at the man’s face, his own expression unreadable. After a long silence, he raised his gaze just slightly, his eyes meeting Raymond’s without an ounce of fear.

He did not move, his intention clear, as he refused to shake Raymond’s hand, no matter what.

"Ah, so that’s how you want to play..."

Raymond said as his smile widened, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"You Cult Dragons and your vain pride..."

He muttered as he retracted his hand, the killing intent around his body suddenly flaring as Veyr barely had time to react before the weight of Raymond’s aura descended upon him.

*THWAT*

The pressure hit like a collapsing mountain. His knees buckled instantly, his lungs refusing to draw air as the gravity of that divine power crushed him into the ground.

His body trembled under the strain as his vision blurred, the dirt beneath him cracking from the sheer force pinning him down.

Raymond walked forward slowly, crouching beside him. "Don’t mistake my courtesy for weakness, mortal," he said softly, the smile never leaving his lips. "I don’t even need to lift a finger to crush a vermin like you."

Veyr’s vision darkened as the pressure tightened around his neck, his face turning pale, then faintly blue. He clawed at the ground, his fingers digging into the soil as he refused to collapse completely, yet it proved to be futile.

Against Raymond’s absolute power, he could do nothing, as it was only when Raymond lifted the pressure that he could breathe again, his consciousness slowly returning.

*Gasp*

*Cough*

Veyr fell forward, his palms pressing against the grass as he coughed violently, the taste of blood rising in his throat.

Raymond straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder, his tone suddenly light again as if nothing had happened.

"Come," he said, gesturing toward the narrow trail ahead. "Take a walk with your cousin."

Veyr said nothing, though his glare lingered long enough to make his contempt clear. Still, he followed, more out of curiosity than obedience.

The two walked in silence at first, through the winding paths of the Garden where glowing petals drifted through the air and tiny creatures watched them from afar.

Until finally, Raymond broke the silence.

"Tell me, cousin," he began, his tone conversational but his eyes sharp, "did they teach you the Cult’s secret techniques?"

Veyr glanced at him, unimpressed. "What if they did? What is it to you?"

Raymond chuckled, flicking his fingers idly as a nearby flower uprooted itself and floated gently into his hand.

*Sniff*

He brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply, as though savoring its scent.

"It just happens that I wish to learn those techniques from you," he said lightly, his tone carrying the deceptive calm of someone used to getting what they wanted. "If you’d be so kind as to teach them to me, I’ll be very... grateful."

He offered, as Veyr snorted softly.

"Why don’t you ask your father? It’s not like I know anything that he doesn’t."

He replied, as the playful edge vanished from Raymond’s face in an instant.

It seemed like Veyr had struck a chord by this reply, as Raymond clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening, as his voice dropped several degrees colder.

"My father," he said quietly, "will not teach me those moves. Nor will he pass down the core knowledge that my grandfather entrusted to him—knowledge of god-slaying formations and time dilation techniques.

He fears me, you see. Paranoia runs deep in this family. After killing his own father, he’s too cautious to ever trust his son with the same power."

Veyr blinked at him, half amused, half bewildered, as he looked around the radiant expanse of the Eternal Garden.

"You do realize you’re saying all this inside his home, right? Aren’t you afraid he’s listening?"

Raymond smiled faintly and shook his head. "Although I’m not as strong as him, I’m still a Demi-God. I can’t create a domain the size of this one, but I can carve a small pocket of silence he cannot peer into. Right now, we are walking inside it. So speak freely. He won’t hear a word."

Veyr raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You people are insane," he muttered under his breath. "Family issues at godly scale. How refreshing."

Raymond ignored the remark, turning his gaze forward again, his tone growing darker. "I’ll get straight to the point then."

He stopped walking, his shadow falling long across the luminous grass as he looked at Veyr with eyes stripped of all pretence.

"Teach me all fifteen forbidden techniques of the Cult within the next sixty days," he said, his voice calm but firm, "and I’ll return the favor by teaching you how to escape the Eternal Garden undetected."

Veyr froze.

For a moment, he thought he had misheard. Then, as the meaning settled, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Escape?" he repeated quietly.

Raymond nodded once. "You heard me."

Veyr stared at him, stunned, the silence between them broken only by the gentle whisper of divine wind brushing through the silver grass.

He couldn’t tell whether the Demi-God before him was bluffing, desperate, or simply mad.

But as a desperate man with no other path left, he found himself unable to dismiss the offer outright.