Riona was flying toward Capital City Grant. The Greenwood Crown lay far behind her, but distance did not mean much to an angel. She moved through the sky at tremendous speed, steady and controlled. If nothing interrupted her, she would reach the capital by evening.

  She wasn’t rushing. Her wings moved naturally while her body remained relaxed, almost like a bird gliding along a fixed path. In her hand was what looked like an ordinary sheet of paper. It was not ordinary at all. It was a fragment of the Akashic Record — a personal Soul Script.

  The Akashic Record was not created by Thymera or any other god. It was part of the Will of the Universe itself. No one knew whether the Will possessed consciousness or not. It simply existed, maintaining balance and continuity. There was no creator god above it. The divines were not rulers of it either. They were closer to administrators. They managed what already existed.

  The Akashic Record was one of the systems through which the Will maintained order. From it came individual Soul Scripts. Every living being had one — mortals, monsters, even divines. No one was exempt.

  A Soul Script contained the history of a soul, its accumulated karma, its blessings and curses, and even an estimated death date. The owner of the script could never read it. Only higher authorities could access it.

  For mortals, the Soul Script’s primary role was judgment. When a soul left the living world and entered the cycle of rebirth, the script determined the outcome. If the soul carried excessive evil karma, it would suffer in hell according to its weight before being reborn into a lower existence. If it carried good karma, it would be granted time in paradise created by the Will of the Universe. After that, it could choose the nature of its next life — though even that choice was limited by how much good karma it had earned.

  Normally, Soul Scripts were stable. Small errors sometimes appeared. A few unreadable sections. A missing number here or there. Riona had seen that before.

  But what she was looking at now was different.

  Helena’s Soul Script was shifting in real time.

  Words appeared, vanished, and turned into question marks. Numbers flickered and changed without pattern. Riona narrowed her eyes as she watched the text distort again.

  “Really now?” she muttered. “What a pain.”

  Earlier, Helena’s name had been clearly written as Helena Winterwell. Now it read Helena ???. Her age was unreadable. Her estimated death date was entirely missing, replaced with symbols. Coordinates that should indicate her current location were blank.

  Then there was something else.

  A title section.

  Riona slowed slightly in the air, staring at it. Among billions of mortal Soul Scripts, not one would normally contain a title. Titles were not assigned lightly. They were granted only when the Will of the Universe acknowledged something extraordinary — whether for good or for destruction.

  And Helena’s script had one.

  Riona’s expression shifted from mild annoyance to genuine confusion.

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  Riona hoped the title section was just another error in the Soul Script. If any other god discovered that a mortal possessed a title granted by the Will of the Universe, it would cause chaos. Titles were not decorative. They meant the soul had performed something so significant that the Will itself acknowledged it. That was rare even among divines.

  For mortals, it was almost unheard of.

  Gods carried authority titles tied to their domains. Thymera held the title Goddess of Bravery and Cowardice (Unique Rank). That was her authority. Even if she saved the world ten times, she would not receive another title. Divines operated under different rules.

  Riona herself held the title Great Archangel (Epic Rank), granted because she was the strongest angel under Thymera and captain of the First Legion. That was it.

  But a mortal with a title meant potential. Enormous potential.

  Riona considered the possibilities. She had seen Soul Scripts glitch before. Question marks could appear if reality itself was unstable, such as when dimensional fissures disrupted the world’s structure. Those errors were usually corrected through divine analysis.

  But Thymera had already written that analysis had failed in Helena’s case.

  Which left only one method.

  The owner of the Soul Script had to touch it directly. The script would resynchronize with the soul and correct itself.

  Riona looked down and realized she had already reached Capital City Grant while thinking. She adjusted her direction toward Helena’s registered residence. Her current coordinates were unreadable, but her original home location remained intact in the record.

  Below her, people were staring. Some were already kneeling. That did not concern her.

  She descended into the garden of Helena’s estate.

  There were many people inside the grounds, perhaps a hundred or more. Some knelt immediately in devotion. Some looked terrified. A few whispered prayers. Riona was known as the Judge. Even rumors were enough to frighten people.

  But a tall maid and a butler stood slightly ahead of the others. They were not trembling. They were cautious.

  Riona could see the mana patterns clearly. The butler was quietly preparing a spell, likely a barrier. The maid was channeling mana into her body in a steady flow. Physical Enchantment. Not basic either. The density of mana in her muscles was impressive.

  Riona instinctively raised a thin barrier around herself. Not out of fear, but calculation.

  She studied the maid more carefully. For a human, her control was exceptional. If Thymera permitted it, Riona thought she would not mind taking this one as a disciple as well. Two candidates in one day would be efficient.

  The thought almost brought a faint smile to her otherwise calm face.

  Riona spoke in a firm, even tone. “Does this estate belong to the human named Helena?”

  The maid and the butler exchanged a glance and nodded. The maid stepped forward carefully. She bowed her head slightly.

  “I am Elowen. Lady Helena is my master.”

  “Archangel Riona,” Riona replied. She offered only her name. Their positions required no further introduction.

  “Call your master,” Riona said. “I require her presence.”

  Elowen kept her posture straight. “I apologize, but my master is not at home. May I ask your purpose here?”

  “It is a divine matter,” Riona answered. “I cannot disclose it. I need her here. Immediately. Her Majesty’s order cannot be delayed.”

  Elowen’s mind worked quickly. Divine matter. Her Majesty’s order. The Judge herself standing in their garden. Was Helena being summoned for judgment? Punishment? Had she done something that warranted an archangel’s direct involvement?

  Elowen did not know. But she did know one thing. She did not want to abandon her master without understanding what was happening. That did not mean she intended to fight Riona.

  Riona’s voice hardened slightly. “Are you having difficulty understanding? Call your master. Wherever she is.”

  Elowen exhaled slowly and met Riona’s gaze directly. “As I already said, I do not know where she is. So I cannot call her here. You will have to wait.”

  She paused only briefly.

  “You may wait inside the guest room as a guest of Lady Helena. Or you may find accommodation elsewhere in the city. That is what I can offer.”

  There was no hostility in her tone. Only firmness.

  Inside, Riona felt a trace of surprise. The maid was speaking to her without fear, without aggression — just steady resolve. There was fire in her. Riona liked that.

  Outwardly, her expression remained composed.

  “And if I choose neither?” Riona asked.

  Elowen’s eyes sharpened slightly.

  “Then you will have to decide what you intend to do next.”