Daniel stared at his personal interface for a long, speechless moment.

He understood exactly what the new [Liberation Technique] implied—and how, in a very real sense, it shattered several of his long-held assumptions.

With this power in hand, no matter which branch of space-time he entered, he would never again come into conflict with another "himself."

He could return to any previous era even if a past Daniel already existed there, and the two would not be mutually exclusive, nor would the laws of time attempt to force a paradox.

As soon as he grasped the technique's contours, Daniel also noticed something else: his Star Upgrade Quest had been marked complete.

For once, he felt a rare flash of relief.

Good thing I pre-placed the Land of Origin inside my mental world, he thought.

If not, there wouldn't have been a Star Upgrade Hall available here—how would I have finished the quest then?

And yet, precisely at that moment, a fresh question surfaced in his mind:

Who established the very first Star Upgrade Hall in this world?

During the temporal journeys he had just made, he had seen no trace or clue relating to its origin.

It felt as if, in primordial times, no Awakening Ceremony and no Star Upgrade Hall were needed at all—civilization functioned without them, as though guided by older, deeper rules.

Within his mental world, Daniel walked once more into Winterhold Castle.

He knew every corridor and courtyard of this place; more than a few of his major undertakings had been conceived here.

He stepped into the Star Upgrade Hall, placed his hand upon the stone stele, and let a ripple of intent pass through his palm.

At once, waves of light poured down like rain.

Across the entire sky of the Origin Continent, a corona of seven-colored radiance unfurled.

Everyone living upon those lands felt their moods lift for no discernible reason.

Even two people who had been quarreling a breath earlier suddenly found each other… rather agreeable.

A prompt blossomed before Daniel's eyes:

[Congratulations on completing the Star Upgrade Quest.]

[Reward granted: God Rank Skill, Rank #7 — Clock of Fate]

[Clock of Fate]

Effect: After activation, you can perceive the three most dominant routes of destiny for a given being. You may also alter that being's fate.

Note: The user cannot view or rewrite their own destiny.

Daniel blinked, taken aback.

He had not expected that [Clock of Fate] would also be a required material for synthesizing another, even higher divine capability.

In the compendium, that unknown God Rank Skill had its name hidden (???), its rank hidden (???).

And yet even without details, anyone could infer the truth: if a skill ranked seventh—the Clock of Fate—served merely as a component, then whatever hid behind those question marks must be monstrously powerful.

As for that concealed technique, Daniel knew absolutely nothing.

Now wasn't the time to overthink it. He had more immediate priorities. Chief among them: raise his level as far as it would go.

Large stores of Exp Drops had already accumulated in the human race's central warehouse.

Months of continuous development had yielded vast wealth, and the people themselves had been farming the underground labyrinth so diligently that most human Awakeners had already reached their level caps.

The result?

Fewer requests to trade contribution points for Exp, and thus an ever-growing surplus of resources gathering dust.

Daniel extended his mind power almost absently.

In response, streams of Exp Drops lifted from distant vaults, turned into light, and rushed toward him.

They flowed into his body in a quiet, eager tide.

Within mere minutes, his level had reached 500.

If not for the Star Upgrade Quest restrictions, leveling would always have been this easy for him. Then again, those same constraints were a double-edged sword.

They had certainly tied his hands in several ways—but they had also granted him immense rewards.

Without the God Rank Skills he had earned from the quest milestones, his current combat power would not be anywhere near what it was.

With the Star Upgrade Quest now complete, his next step should have been obvious: begin the Advancement Rite to become Fake God-class.

However, when he opened the ritual interface, his expression grew severe. There was… an extra option appended to the page.

[Optional Advancement Rite]

Description: Your Star Upgrade Quest can be merged with your Advancement Rite.

After fusion, the rewards will be substantially enriched.

Friendly Reminder: The default difficulty will be set to EX. Please consider carefully.

Daniel paused, surprised.

Merging the Star Upgrade Quest with the Advancement Rite?

He had never heard of such a thing.

Then again… perhaps his path was, and always had been, unlike anyone else's.

If the merged route promised even greater rewards, then perhaps it was—despite the risk—worth it.

He exhaled slowly and steeled his mind.

None of his major tasks had ever been "simple," and this one would be no different.

After a brief deliberation, Daniel chose the Optional Advancement Rite.

Yet even after his selection, no quest details materialized.

No objectives, no timers—only the silent, waiting interface.

He'd seen this behavior once before: the kind of trial that arrives when it is ready, not when the user calls for it.

He left a clone behind in the hall to wait for the release, while his true body returned to the outer world.

The moment he stepped out, a rush of fresh perception overtook him.

He realized, with a start, that his God Rank Skill Compendium had fully unlocked—everything except the very first-ranked entry.

Simultaneously, his domain swelled outward, expanding far beyond its previous bounds.

The subtle pressure of his aura rattled the edges of reality, then quieted as he brought it back under control.

And then, deeper still—at the root of his soul—he sensed a suppressed presence.

If he had to guess, that would be the god of the Backworld.

For now, Daniel chose not to move against that being.

He lacked the capacity to finish such a fight, and at present the Backworld god was pinned under his divine seat's suppression, unable to exert meaningful influence.

There was no need to provoke a confrontation before he was ready.

He turned his attention back to the God Rank Skill Compendium.

At this point, everything within it was unlocked except the topmost skill.

The entry at Rank #1 still listed its conditions as locked; to proceed, he would first have to reach true godhood—only then would a second condition reveal itself.

???

Seeing that placeholder, Daniel could only let out a helpless breath.

That… doesn't quite match what I was told at the beginning, he mused.

But even so, what could he do? The top skill would naturally be special. It was only reasonable that it would demand extraordinary prerequisites.

He pushed away the irritation with a wry smile and scrolled instead to the second-ranked God Rank Skill, letting his gaze settle on the runes as they brightened before him.

In the quiet that followed, the implications of his recent breakthroughs took shape like constellations aligning across the night sky.

The Liberation Technique meant paradox immunity for himself—no more self-conflict, no more timeline auto-corrections snapping back to erase duplicates. In practical terms, this lifted an enormous strategic ceiling.

He could deploy parallel selves within a single epoch to accomplish multi-vector operations: one Daniel coordinating diplomacy, another in the field hunting divine materials, another diving ancient ruins, a fourth guiding humanity's broader development.

Under the old rules, such a swarm of selves would have triggered time-law backlash; now, those shackles were gone.

And the Clock of Fate—Rank #7—was not just a toy for fortune-telling.

Seeing a being's three dominant fate routes and the power to edit them?

If he chose to wield it ruthlessly, he could redirect the destinies of kings, armies, even budding gods, pruning paths that led to calamity, or—if necessary—shepherding a dangerous rival into a harmless branch of possibility.

But the note carved into the skill's core limitations mattered: the user cannot read or revise his own fate.

A fair price, perhaps, for balance—though it also meant he would never peer behind the veil that hung over Daniel himself.

Back in Winterhold's vaulted halls, the clone he had left to wait stood motionless before the stele.

No quest prompt yet—only the hushed hum of mechanisms older than kingdoms.

When the Optional Advancement Rite finally arrived, it would almost certainly fold the Star Upgrade scaffolding into some EX-grade ordeal.

He had little doubt the challenge would test not only his power but also his judgment—especially now that he could field multiple selves without penalty.

The temptation to brute-force such a trial would be immense; he resolved not to let that freedom dull his caution.

He let his mind settle, sweeping outward across his expanded domain.

The Origin Continent felt smaller beneath his senses; the world's veins of ley-energy shivered in sympathetic response to his presence, like strings on a harp.

Far above, in the high places of the firmament, something faint and watchful shifted—perhaps the Backworld god squirming under the weight of suppression, perhaps merely the echo of the ancient pantheon taking notice.

Either way, the road ahead was clear enough: Claim the Fake God threshold through the merged rite, gather what remained of the elusive Rope-class artifacts and time fragments, stabilize his alliance networks, and—when the hour struck—pry open the door that led to true godhood.

For now, he exhaled, lifted his eyes, and—setting aside the unreachable Rank #1—let the glow of the second-ranked God Rank Skill fill his vision.

Whatever mystery waited there, it would be the next stepping stone on the path to the peak of the demigod tier—and beyond.

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