COZMART: Corner Shop of Visiting Gods

Inside the illusion, Eathan had just reached for the ghostly reflection of himself, the one mouthing apologies, when reality cracked inward like a pane of dropped glass.

A clear sound of a slap ripped through the dreamscape.

[HP] has decreased by 11%! (29% → 18%)

He reeled. The version of himself in the reflection burst apart into glittering sand, the urn shards dissolving into a thousand pieces. All that divine sadness vanished with a scream swallowed by light.

And somewhere, beneath it all, the [SYSTEM] snapped back into existence.

Passive Skill [Auspicious Aura (Lv. 2)] has been triggered!

4444 Karma Threshold Triggered – Auto-Defense: Spatial Anchor Field Stabilization. Effective now.

Gold spiralled through like a pulse of molten circuitry. Time around him slowed. Nodes that were beginning to destabilize hesitated; their tendrils flickered, then stopped altogether.

And in that moment of temporal clarity, Eathan blinked awake. His first thought was:

Ow.

His second was:

Why is the sky sideways?

He groaned, wobbling like a drunk pigeon as he pulled himself upright. The temple roof above him was cracked; anchor seals pulsed in warning colours. In the distance—the Crimson Howler—no, the Taowu—was already leaping back into the fray, draining auxiliary anchor lines faster than they could reroute.

Right above him, threading the sky like a streak of divine graffiti, was a blue-gold blur that he now made out as Quine Long.

The Azure Dragon twisted mid-air, one hand directing storm-winds. He caught a collapsing leyline with an offhand whip of storm energy between two fingers, redirecting it into the sea like a casual afterthought.

Eathan gawked.

"I—I thought you were watching COZMART!" he croaked, lifting a shaky finger.

Quine Long landed with disdainful grace. He brushed the air off his shoulder and gave him a dry glance. "Seems like there's more garbage needing cleanup than that ugly corner shop of yours."

Chewie, now back in her human form and slightly less murderous, narrowed her eyes. "Why'd you help?"

The dragon spared her no glance, idly redirecting an incoming wave of rift debris with a flick of his wrist. "It was in the way of my view."

Eathan, finally regaining his balance—and some of his pride—narrowed his eyes at the figure who had just physically rebooted his soul.

"Wait, did you seriously just slap me?"

Quine Long's expression didn't change.

"You were in the way too."

"…"

Somewhere above them, the Taowu shrieked again—wings of chaos unfolding in full, smog billowing like a funeral pyre. Smog thickened into choking darkness as demonic qi tore through skyscrapers, fracturing glass into glittering rain.

The Azure Dragon sighed. "Excuse me."

He ascended once more, azure tailcoat rippling as he rocketed upwards. Taowu lunged first—massive claws slicing the air. Quine Long twisted aside, his long fingers catching a single grotesque nail jutting from the beast's paw.

In one swift, ruthless action, he yanked it free. Black ash sprayed outward in a noxious plume, and the Taowu recoiled, roaring in pain.

"Mind your manicure," Quine drawled softly.

The Taowu's retaliation was immediate, monstrous jaws snapping toward the Azure Dragon, but the latter glided through the attacks, weaving threads of storm-light into barriers that cracked the sky itself. His strikes were precise, cruelly beautiful—every movement exacting punishment without waste.

Their exchanges cracked the sky—blue lightning and crimson malice clashing in sparks of godly power.

As the combat raged overhead, Chewie approached Eathan. She tilted her head, expression curiously unfazed despite carnage unfolding above them.

"That isn't a normal rift monster," Eathan muttered weakly, eyes tracking Quine Long as he redirected a building-sized shard of debris into the beast's snarling maw. The Taowu deflected it sideways, roaring flames of hatred.

Chewie snorted. "Obviously."

"What exactly is it, then?"

It was a question more to himself, but to his surprise, the eleven-year-old had an answer.

"A bad rerun," Chewie said, watching the dragon's aerial footwork as he danced circles around Taowu's increasingly desperate swipes. "It's Taowu. Or at least, a cheap knockoff."

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"Knockoff?"

"Avatar, technically," she said. "A short-lived revival—think of it like spiritual resuscitation. The original Taowu was a Demon Realm heavyweight—one of the Four Perils. Powerful enough to stand toe-to-toe with Qiongqi."

"Qiongqi's peer…" Eathan's blood turned cold. "Then how exactly are you so sure this isn't the real deal?"

Chewie glanced at him, one eyebrow arching.

"Because I watched the White Tiger kill the real deal a few thousand years back. Thoroughly."

Eathan blinked twice. Surely he misheard.

"You watched what?"

"Messy business," Chewie said, dismissing the revelation like office gossip. "Involved heavenly tribunals, court intrigue, divine grudges—the whole ensemble. Qiongqi's never forgiven him for it, actually. Taowu was a personal favourite of his."

Eathan's head spun, partly concussion, mostly historical whiplash. Overhead, Quine Long executed a dizzying spin, hair swirling in a mesmerizing 720-degree arc before driving Taowu face-first into Jing'an's courtyard, forming a crater in the stone plaza.

"You're saying Mister White—Taeril White—singlehandedly took down something strong enough to rival a current Council commander?"

Chewie popped another tanghulu into her mouth, crunching away. "One reason the Council might have actually preferred Mister White's fifteen-year absence. Politically complicated."

"Then who summoned this ripoff?" Eathan grimaced, mind racing. "Is this Qiongqi's revenge?"

Chewie raised an eyebrow. "Reviving even the Taowu's avatar isn't a one-off prank. And Qiongqi? Strong dude, but head empty. Definitely not clever enough to pull off something of this scale."

A chill curled down Eathan's spine. He rubbed his forehead, mind already churning with darker implications. This was intentional, calculated sabotage, which meant it was probable that someone even higher in the divine hierarchy had orchestrated it.

Eathan winced. His cheek still throbbed, and his mind was barely holding itself together with duct tape and [Auspicious Aura]. But he knew, deep in the pit of his soul, that the situation was only going to get worse from here.

"Fantastic." He groaned. "Another hidden enemy?"

"Another?" Chewie snickered. "Catch up, Eathan. We've always had more enemies than vending machines have snacks."

Above, the Azure Dragon finally paused, arms folded before his chest. The Taowu clawed upright, massive head shaking with newfound fury. The beast emitted a grinding, unholy noise.

"Persistent, aren't you?"

The Taowu lunged again, molten qi lashing at its opponent. Quine shifted sideways, drawing an arc of jade lightning around himself, redirecting the avatar beast's momentum skyward. The Taowu tumbled skyward, claws tearing through the storm-charged winds.

Eathan stared grimly upward. "Does he ever look like he's actually trying?"

"Only when nobody's looking," Chewie said. "Otherwise, he's an insufferable show-off."

Eathan frowned, suspicion gnawing at him. The Azure Dragon wasn't destroying the rift, wasn't going for the kill. He deflected, redirected—yet avoided ending it decisively. Something felt off.

"He's not actually going to finish this, is he?"

"Of course not." The eleven-year-old glanced upward, expression like a parent observing a tantrum-throwing toddler.

"But—why? Is he stalling?"

"Nah. Not stalling. Dragon's just posing," she said. "If he permanently ends a rift of this caliber beyond his territorial jurisdiction, he'll drown in enough Jade Court paperwork to sink a continent. Then the Platinum Paladins will come knocking, demanding soul audits, divine citations, karmic re-calibration—"

"So it's just… avoidance."

"Worse. He's flaunting."

Eathan blinked twice.

"Dragons don't do charity." Chewie sighed, ignoring his dumbfounded look. "He's not helping us. He's putting on a show for someone specific."

"...Who?"

At that, the eleven-year-old shrugged, amusement flickering in her eyes as Quine Long elegantly battered the Taowu into another skyscraper.

"Who knows?"

Before Eathan could press further, footsteps echoed behind them—casual, unhurried, oddly calm given the collapsing skyline.

Hyperalert, Eathan swerved around instantly. Two figures approached, strolling as if attending an evening promenade rather than a battlefield inching toward realm collapse.

He blinked.

One was a tanned blond with a man bun, sporting a layered windbreaker and gold-threaded sweatpants. The other was a woman wrapped in deep vermillion silks, embroidered fans tucked under each arm. Her smile was split between radiant and vaguely clandestine.

"Wait—how are you, no, what are you guys doing here?" Eathan squinted at them, confused. "It's not safe—most civilians are unconscious, and—"

"Lighting setup confirmed," the blond interrupted. With a snap, a tripod and light ring unfolded from what had definitely been a mid-sized backpack. "Going live in three, two—"

The woman's fan unfurled like a blooming flame lotus, laughter lilting as she tilted her head. "How curious," she mused. "You must be the vessel."

Eathan froze. His HUD began glitching again, his instincts clawing at his spine.

She looked at him—truly looked—and when her crimson eyes locked onto his, it was like someone plucked a string in his soul.

"What's your name, darling?"

"…Eathan Lin," he said automatically—too automatically.

The moment the syllables left his lips, alarm bells rang in his head. His lungs caught.

That wasn't right.

Why did he answer?

"You hypnotised me?!" he choked, stumbling backward.

"Oops." The woman giggled behind her fan, though her amusement sharpened. "Only a little suggestion."

But before she could close the distance, Eathan felt a sharp tug on the collar of his jacket—Quine Long, somehow manifesting behind him. The man released a sigh as he yanked him out of the way like a misbehaving house cat.

"This one's mine, Foxfire," he said.

Lady Foxfire pouted, eyes narrowing in mock offense. "No need to be possessive, Long. I was simply curious."

"Your curiosity kills timelines."

It clicked. Too many things clicked.

Eathan stared at the fox-masked woman and then at the mortal-looking streamer who was now panning his holopad across the skyline.

"…Foxfire?" he croaked. "As in Lady Foxfire? Commander of Area 008?"

She winked.

Then Eathan turned to the other one, who was now announcing into his livestream mic, "Area 001's got Grade-A visuals tonight. Smash that SpiritBell and follow for high-res apocalypse footage!"

Chewie stomped over, twirling a blade. "That's Great Peng," she said, deadpan. "Commander of Area 007."

Eathan felt his soul leave his body briefly, his hands going slack.

Three. Three of the Ten Council Commanders were now gathered here.

"Is this—Is this even allowed?" He sputtered. "Aren't there jurisdiction protocols or—?"

Foxfire giggled, eyes curling. "Silly thing. Of course we're here. The Council Hearing starts in two days. We were en route. Simply happened to stumble into this… delightful little show."

Beside him, the Azure Dragon exhaled like he regretted the entirety of this lifetime. "You followed my teleportation signature halfway across the continent."

"And it paid off." Peng grinned. "Look!"

He pointed his holopad toward the shattered temple stairs, where smoke swirled and the wind hissed as if holding its breath. "There it is," he whispered. "Highlight of the stream, incoming."

Eathan followed the device's camera focus.

"Ah." Beside him, Chewie dusted herself off and released a light sigh. "Boss finally clocked in."

There, standing calmly on the edge of the chaos, coat fluttering, coffee in hand and eyes glazed with dispassionate resolve—

—was the man from his past.

The one who had once crouched down in front of a small, brittle child and reached for his hand.

Taeril White.