Chương 6: Manifestation

There were other lesser entities—curious spirits, minor gods of obscure things like echoes, rainfall angles, or misplaced socks—who desperately wanted to meet the newcomer. But being the third to visit was, in divine social circles, a disgrace beyond recovery. So, for once, Joshua had a break. He made popcorn, caught up on a few shows, and took a nap with Luna curled like a cat on his chest, her gentle breaths glowing faintly in the dim room. Princess slept at his feet, snoring softly. Peace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - Meanwhile, Gaix was far from any kind of rest. He'd been summoned north—far north—into the frostbitten highlands where a plague had begun to spread through border villages. The letter was long but the main ponts were: "You have no mana drain. Triple pay guaranteed. Please. We're desperate." Upon arrival, the situation was chaos. Snow clung to the corners of tents. Fires burned low. Half the officers were either coughing up blood or unconscious.

Priests and druids moved like ghosts through the camp—hollow-eyed, shaking from mana depletion. Some had gone days without sleep, sustained only by will and herbal tinctures. Gaix stood at the entrance, hood drawn, cloak dusted with frost. Nobody stopped him. No one gave him orders nor even acknowledged his presence. So, he acted. He rolled up his sleeves, took a deep breath of the cold, disease-thickened air, and knelt briefly in the snow.

"Joshua Steel, I'm asking as your follower... please don't let me get sick. I've got work to do." With that, he rose and walked straight into the heart of the crisis. He used his lesser healing spell, poured hot broths into shaking hands, and lifted fevered children from cold stone to warm cots. He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. There was simply too much to do. At first, the others eyed him suspiciously… a warlock among the dying?

But as hours passed, and they saw him neither weaken nor tire, and heard no foul bargains on his lips, their skepticism turned to hope. A few even began muttering prayers to Joshua Steel, whatever god that was, just in case. By dusk, Gaix's hands were blistered and his cloak was stained, but his steps were steady. He took pride not in the gold he'd earn, but in the absence of doubt in his god. His healing spells didn't work miracles, but they did enough…

just enough to return color to cheeks, enough to steady hands, enough to give people a reason to hope again. He never stopped chanting quiet prayers to Joshua Steel. Not because the magic required it, and not because he was desperate. It just felt right. Better than silence, better than dread. The rhythm of the name gave his hands steadiness, his heart purpose. - - - - - - - - - - - - Meanwhile, Joshua watched everything unfold through the hazy filter of divine sight. He wanted to appear… really appear to Gaix.

But not here, not in this field of pain and dying breath. His presence might shake what little strength the healers and patients had left. So instead, he acted from his world. A short trip to the pharmacy. The most potent antibiotic he could legally buy. The system translated it the moment it touched the blessing slot.

"New blessing prepared. Begin transfer?"

"Yeah," Josh nodded, "he's earned it." Thanks to his Patron level, he could now influence the shape of a blessing, and he chose one deliberately. One that fit Gaix's heart, not just his needs. Purify…. A sixth-tier holy spell. Normally reserved for archpriests, paladins, or saints. It cleansed not just rot from the body, but plague from the air, filth from wounds, poison from water. Living beings. Inanimate objects. Anything. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Gaix stared at his hand when it came.

It was like sunlight coalescing in his palm, yet it didn't burn. It felt… kind. Warm.

"Purify." He whispered it aloud. The spell ignited gently, flowing from his hand into a collapsed girl's lungs. The mucus faded. The fever broke. It worked. No mana cost. No cooldown. Just will. It was like being handed a cheat code, but Gaix didn't dwell on the unfairness. He only whispered: "Thank you, my Patron." Then he got back to work, twice as fast. If he had to stop this plague alone, then so be it. Because he wasn't truly alone. He knew it… Joshua Steel was watching.

In just under a week, with triage running smoothly and Purify cast hundreds of times, even the last of the sick rose from their beds. The tents were cleaned. The death count was reduced to almost none. Magic had helped, yes. But it was Gaix's presence, his ceaseless effort, and his unwavering faith that earned him not just gold—but respect. And with every whispered thank-you from the cured, the name Joshua Steel passed from lips to ears, gaining weight. A god was forming. And people were beginning to believe.

"Your Favoured Warlock, Gaix Tahinor's actions blossomed into actual faith in you. 18552 Patron Points earned. Level 7 reached." The shimmering system window floated above Joshua's desk like a pop-up from the heavens themselves.

"New Skill Unlocked: 'Perfect Peer' – You may now observe the world where you are worshipped with unabated clarity at any time." Josh leaned back and grinned wide.

"Sweet!" he shouted, pumping his fist. Behind him, Luna, now taller than Princess and nearly human-sized, perked her head up from the couch. She'd gotten comfortable with mortal pleasures: soft furniture, warm blankets, and anime binges. Thankfully, her sweetness hadn't faded with her growth. No tantrums, no rebellion—just snuggles, quiet questions, and popcorn. Please let that phase never come, Josh thought, sneaking a look at her.

Meanwhile, a steady trickle of Patron Points began flowing in, not just from Gaix anymore. Word of his name had spread. Some spoke it casually, in passing. Others, with reverence. A few priests muttered it with trembling lips, unsure whether to fear or worship this new, unknown god. - - - - - - - - - - - - - In the northern camp, Gaix Tahinor packed up his gear. The plague camp was behind him, the dead now fewer than anyone dared hope. He had done his part, more than his part, and now all he wanted was a bed.

Not a cot. Not a tent. A real bed. With pillows and sheets. He aimed his horse down the dirt path toward the next village, hoping to reach the tavern before midnight. Bastion following beside him like a valiant knight in wolf form. But the stars came too quickly. The light died behind the hills. With no better choice, he camped under a lone oak by the roadside. He stirred a small fire, leaned back, and exhaled.

"Man... that felt good." His head tilted skyward, watching the stars wink into view. His mind buzzed—not with spells, but with the echo of smiles, the grateful tears, the "thank you, sir" from children and elders alike. He'd never been thanked this much in his whole life. And for once, he felt like he deserved it. That was when a voice drifted behind him. Smooth. Warm. With a gravity that bent the air around it.

"You look happy." He smiled, at first.

"I am—" He froze mid-sentence. That was not the sound of Bastion, if anything, the wolf was prostrating on the floor and his horse looked a moment away from a heart attack. He turned slowly. And gasped. There, curled around his modest campfire, was a massive silver-scaled dragon, body coiled like a protective wall. Its head hovered just above him—sleek, majestic, yet somehow familiar. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

And then Gaix saw the eyes. Too human. Too intelligent. A calm ocean of thought behind them.

"Who… who are you?" he asked, breath catching in his throat. The dragon's mouth curled… not into a snarl, but a smile. - - - - - - - - - - - - Josh saw Gaix resting beside the campfire and decided that it was time. He pressed the manifestation button in his divine menu, expecting a harmless illusion or perhaps a floating image like a dream made real. Instead, reality lurched. The air around him compressed. Sight bent. Sound vanished. And then, he was there.

No desk, no couch, no anime posters, just the towering bulk of silver-plated scales, razor-lined spines, and a crown of jagged horns casting shadows on the branches from light of the firepit. His breath came out in a warm plume, scented faintly of ozone. His body felt immense. He could sense new muscle groups in his chest and neck, the layered weight of folded wings, the flexing pressure of claws sinking softly into the earth.

"Holy crap... I'm a dragon," he thought, resisting the urge to squeal in delight.

"A very shiny, terrifyingly majestic dragon." But no time to fangirl, he had to look divine.

"You look happy." Josh casually layed down as quietly as he could, his silver form gleaming under the starlight. He placed one clawed hand over his massive chest with theatrical flair. At the reaction of Gaix he smiled.

"You can't recognize your own patron? I'm hurt," he said in a low, mock-wounded tone. Gaix's eyes bulged.

"MY LORD!" he cried, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead into the grass. Josh chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound.

"Okay, maybe not that dramatic," he said warmly.

"Arise, Gaix. You did well with my blessing." The warlock looked up slowly, awe still written all over his face.

"Your words mean the world to me, Lord Steel. And your name… truly suits your form." Josh nodded solemnly, trying not to preen.

"It's rare I reveal this form," he said with practiced gravitas, voice resonant.

"But you've earned it." Just then, a new voice chirped from behind him.

"Is this the guy?" Josh's earflaps stood straight in alarm.

"Luna?!" He twisted his long neck around, spotting the pearlescent young dragon perched daintily on his foreleg, tail flicking in excitement.

"Don't worry, Dad. I just wanted to see too." Luna climbed higher onto his arm, her smaller frame still impressive now that he saw her from this new scale. She now looked exactly her age in dragon terms—elegant, expressive, and far too curious. Gaix, ever polite, bowed again.

"Miss Luna. An honor to meet you. I am Gaix Tahinor, your father's devoted warlock." Luna padded over, circling him slowly like a cat evaluating a new piece of furniture.

"You look nicer up close," she said approvingly. Gaix's horse looked like it was about to faint from stress… ears twitching, muscles taut. Two dragons? Absolutely not. But just as the beast began to panic, Luna turned her head and sang a soft, haunting tune. The air shimmered with calming energy. Within seconds, the horse relaxed, its body easing into stillness. Luna trotted back to Josh and curled against his side, proud of herself.

The three spent a short while in quiet conversation Josh basking in Gaix's gratitude, Gaix marveling at Luna's maturity, and Luna soaking in the praise. Eventually, Josh gave a warm goodbye and invoked the return command, pulling himself and Luna back to his living room. They reappeared with a soft whoosh of displaced air. The couch was right where they'd left it. Josh looked down at her with a raised brow.

"Next time, ask before plane-hopping." Luna lowered her head with an apologetic flick of her ears.

"Yes, Father..." she muttered, eyes down like a child caught stealing cookies. Josh sighed, but ruffled her head gently. She was too sweet to stay mad at. - - - - - - - - - - - - - The silver mist curled and shimmered in the moonlight, then faded with a soft, metallic hum, leaving only the flickering campfire and a stunned warlock in its wake. Gaix stood motionless for a heartbeat.

"I knew it!" he hissed with triumph, practically vibrating with emotion.

"He was a dragon god all along!" He dropped to sit on the grass, boots splayed awkwardly, and fumbled through his travel pack with desperate fingers until he pulled out a weatherworn leather-bound journal. Flipping past scribbled pages of divine theories, spell effects, and awkward attempts at poetry, he landed on a fresh page and began writing with furious speed. His quill scratched wildly.

"Direct manifestation confirmed. My patron, Lord Joshua Steel, has taken the form of a majestic metallic dragon—silver of scale, adorned with a crown of jagged horns, and with eyes of frightening intelligence. Not illusion. Not projection. A true god in flesh." He paused, nibbling the end of his quill like a man drunk on awe.

"No known draconic subspecies in the eastern, northern, or imperial bestiaries match his physiology. This confirms: he is unique." Gaix underlined the word unique three times. Then he turned the page and wrote in slightly smaller, more reverent script:"He was not alone. With him was a young dragon, female. Name: Luna. Pearlescent scales, elegant features, eyes wide and deep with expression and thought. Unknown breed. No spikes. Smooth spine. Tail flow like silver fire. Possibly divine offspring or ward?"

He hesitated, then quickly added:"Despite her youth, she possessed an aura of peace. Her magic calmed even my steed—who, understandably, was on the verge of death-by-terror. Her voice… sang. A draconic lullaby? Or higher magic? She addressed Lord Steel as 'Father.' This opens questions I dare not yet ask." Gaix exhaled and leaned back, heart still hammering with the memory of that massive silver form towering above him. His hands were ink-stained, his knees damp from the dew—but his spirit soared.

"He spoke to me," he wrote, softer now, more like a confession.

"Not as a tyrant. Not as a judge. But with warmth. Pride. He praised my work. This—this is why I follow him." The campfire crackled softly, sending a gentle wave of heat over him. The grass around the fire glowed faintly silver, as if touched by divine residue. Gaix looked up at the stars, smiling like a fool.

"I wasn't mad," he murmured aloud.

"I was right all along." Then he whispered a prayer, not to beg, not to ask, but just to say thank you. And with that, he finally pulled his cloak tighter around himself, laid his head near the fire, and fell into the deepest, most content sleep of his life. - - - - - - - - - - - - The next half-year passed in relative peace for Josh. His god-level inched forward, slowly but surely, still distant from the elusive level eight.

The world had quieted, no surprise visitations from cosmic horrors or overenthusiastic archfae, and the patron point trickle became a steady stream. But the true change wasn't in Josh. It was in Luna. She had long outgrown the house. If not for her draconic magic, she would have crushed it just by turning in her sleep. Thankfully, her innate shapeshifting finally kicked in, an ability all Silksong Dragons apparently developed as a means to blend in.

Her human form was polished now, perfected after weeks of practice: she looked like a tall, graceful sixteen-year-old girl with flowing, snow-white hair, a soft, fair complexion, and striking violet eyes that shimmered faintly with iridescence when the light hit just right. She wore a black T-shirt proudly printed with Naruto's grinning face and the Uzumaki swirl. Her shorts matched the sunny spring weather, and her white sneakers bounced with youthful energy.

"Dad, can I go to town now?" she leaned over Josh, her voice filled with that familiar blend of insistence and excitement.

"You promised, remember?" Josh sighed and looked up from his laptop.

"Fine," he relented, placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her in for a quick kiss on the nose.

"But I want you back before seven." Luna lit up like sunrise.

"Thank you!" she chirped, already halfway to the door. She looked convincingly human—except for her otherworldly eyes and snow-white hair. But those, as Josh had prepared her, could be easily chalked up to colored contacts and hair dye. In this modern age, no one batted an eye at eccentric fashion. Especially not in Glasgow. She had a tidy stack of cash tucked in her purse—generous allowance courtesy of her overprotective father—and today was her first real solo shopping trip. Her step was light. The air crisp.

And even the sun, in a rare display of Scottish generosity, peeked out through a lazy drift of clouds. Today is mine, she thought with a grin. As she walked into a small corner shop nestled between a florist and a record store, a bell jingled overhead.

"Morning," she greeted warmly.

"Morning, love," the shopkeeper replied with a kind smile—an older woman in a knit cardigan behind the till.

"Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll find it, thank you," Luna returned with a polite nod, before strolling down the narrow aisle, eyes wide at the sheer variety of snacks, trinkets, and everyday wonders. Even mundane objects like phone charms and novelty pens had a kind of magic to her—this was the human world's hoard, and today, she was free to claim her share.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - Luna exited the corner store with a paper bag in hand, filled with a cold bottle of cola, a bag of smoky bacon crisps, and a handful of impulse sweets she couldn't resist. The carbonation fizzed against her tongue as she sipped, eyes sparkling with delight. So many flavors. So little stomach space. Ever since she left her newborn time, she was able to use the sun and the night stars to fuel her magic and started to enjoy the more phisical foods and drink. Maybe a bit too much.

She wandered through the cobbled lanes into the central shopping district, marveling at how busy the human world could get—people, sounds, music spilling from open cafes. Even the pigeons seemed to be on some chaotic schedule. At a boutique on Buchanan Street, she found a rack of graphic tees and instantly gravitated to one with a howling wolf under a moon, and another with a faded Legend of Zelda print. She tried them on in the changing room, smiling wide in the mirror.

Her white hair caught the light and shimmered faintly, but it didn't matter. She looked human enough. With her new shirts bagged, she made her way to the local cinema. The theater lights were dim, the seats plush, and the movie—an animated fantasy—had her eyes glued to the screen from the first second. She didn't even notice she'd eaten the entire bag of crisps before the second act. When the credits rolled, she clapped quietly along with the kids in the front row.

Next stop was a gaming shop two streets over, packed with boxed figurines, collector editions, and demo consoles. She nearly lost herself in a corner with Dragon Quest plushies before realizing time was ticking. Slinging her shopping bags over her shoulder, Luna stepped back into the golden afternoon light. She was just turning the corner when a blur of motion collided with her.

"Oof—!" Luna barely took half a step back. A young man, no older than twenty, had bumped into her hard, grabbed her purse, and yanked. And didn't get far. The purse didn't move. Not even an inch. His tug was met with a low, bone-deep pop as something in his shoulder gave way under the effort.

"OW! Bloody hell… what the…?!" the thief gasped, stumbling back, cradling his now-useless right arm as it hung at an unnatural angle. Luna held the strap of her purse, blinking in surprise.

"Are you seriously trying to rob me? In broad daylight?" The would-be thief looked up at her, wide-eyed and pale, and something in her sharp gaze, ancient, inhuman, made him turn and bolt down the street, whimpering, his arm flopping uselessly at his side.

"... Idiot," she muttered, brushing her hair back and straightening her bag. With a shake of her head and a sigh, Luna turned on her heel and walked calmly down the street, sipping her cola once more. As far as she was concerned, the day was still perfect.