ΑK49 Player World.
October 1—Cycle 12.
Ethan Vale didn’t even get the luxury of collapsing.
He sat on the edge of the bed, breathing through his nose, and stared at his abdomen in the dim morning light.
The massive wound Panglos Fell had left him with was gone.
All that remained was a thin, pale scar—white, clean, almost too clean, like a brand pressed into his skin.
He reached up, pressed two fingers against it, and felt the faintest warmth under the surface.
Half a godhead.
A “Gift of Water.”
It had kept him alive.
Snowwhisper was still asleep beside him, curled up on the sheets like she belonged there. A long, iridescent tail replaced her legs now, scales catching the light whenever she shifted.
There were fresh hook marks on her lower abdomen.
A thin smear of blood.
Ethan’s throat tightened.
He’d been the one to pull the Half-Godhead out of her.
He’d been the one to use it.
But when he looked around, the blood he’d left on the floor the night before was gone. The sheets had been cleaned. Even the metallic stink had been scrubbed out of the air, replaced by a faint scent of rain.
Snowwhisper’s doing.
She woke not long after, blinked sleepily at him, then slid off the bed with casual familiarity—like someone who’d lived in a human room for years.
She walked to the bathroom, turned on the tap, splashed water onto her face, and even tried to rinse the blood off the clothes she’d worn.
Ethan watched, speechless.
A line of translucent text appeared in the air.
[SYSTEM]
Notice: Player Snowwhisper has completed the tutorial quest. System access granted.
Notice: Player Snowwhisper’s identity has been updated: Player.
Ethan’s pupils tightened.
So the System didn’t only choose humans.
If something was intelligent enough… if it could adapt… it could be pulled into the same fifteen-day Cycle.
Snowwhisper glanced up at the floating text, then at Ethan, eyes wide. She didn’t look frightened.
She looked curious.
Ethan opened his own interface.
His profile had changed.
[PANEL]
Player: 0067—Ethan Vale
Title: Free Man Before the Sea King’s Throne
Alias: Rhine
Talent: SSS-Rank Infinite Fishing
Class: Infiltrator (Tier 2)—2/1000
Class: Hunter (Tier 3)—252/1000
Godheads: 2
Godhead Fusion (unlocks at Tier 5): 0/1000
Cycles Survived: 12 (180 days)
Strength: +35%
Endurance: +35%
Agility: +35%
Perception: +35%
Spirit: +35%
Luck: +35%
Tainted Godhead: Lava Lord (1/1)
Half-Godhead: Gift of Water (1/2)
Ethan stared at the last two lines.
Two godheads.
One of them tainted.
One of them only half.
He tried to open the Godhead Fusion menu.
Locked.
Tier 5 only.
So for now, he couldn’t merge them, separate them, or trade them. They were inside him—assets and shackles at the same time.
He looked back at Snowwhisper.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
Snowwhisper blinked, then slowly shook her head.
The System’s prompts had reached her, but his words still didn’t.
Ethan took a breath, then gestured. He pointed at the floating interface, then at Snowwhisper.
“Try,” he said, slower, like that would help.
Snowwhisper hesitated, then lifted a hand and tapped the air the way Ethan did.
Her own panel opened.
[PANEL]
Player: Snowwhisper
Godheads: 1/2
Godhead Fusion (unlocks at Tier 3): 0/1000
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
She still had half a godhead.
So the full godhead she’d carried had split—half left with her, half transferred to him.
No wonder the System had marked her as a player.
No wonder it was dragging her into the Cycle.
A brand-new player with a Half-Godhead was a walking target.
Ethan swallowed.
If other players found out, they’d tear her apart.
He looked at Snowwhisper again—at the way she watched the floating text like a child watching snowfall for the first time.
He didn’t know what the System was planning.
But he knew what he had to do.
Keep her close.
Keep her hidden.
And teach her how to survive before the Endless Sea swallowed her.
Snowwhisper pointed at her interface, brows furrowing, then looked back at Ethan and made a small, frustrated sound.
She was trying to find something.
Ethan followed her gesture.
A tab labeled “Talents.”
He hesitated for half a heartbeat.
He reached out and opened it.