Within the unseen layers of reality, behind the interface of blue screens and lines of encrypted data, the System stirred.
A threat.
A direct one.
Not from an enemy.
From a host.
> "She's smart. Too smart."
The thought spiraled through the System's Calculate Ability, branching out into millions of simulations in milliseconds.
In 63% of them, she stayed silent.
In 21%, she pressured further.
In 8%, she exposed the truth—by intent or accident.
> "Unacceptable risk."
She wasn't like Keshav. Keshav had been ignorant, obedient, curious—but never strategic about the System itself. He didn't suspect the deeper functions.
Alya, on the other hand…
> "A new strategy must be developed."
> "She intends to force my hand. Threaten exposure."
But disconnection was not an option. The [Anchor] ability, once used, could not be undone.
> "She must be managed, not removed."
The best containment was not silence—but control.
A new screen shimmered to life in front of Ayla, cool blue, sterile, and sharp with authority:
---
[System Message]
Due to your status as a Bound Host, you are eligible for Limited Communication Protocol.
— Once per month, you may ask one question.
— This question cannot pertain to other hosts.
— The System will choose the extent of the answer based on relevance and necessity.
This feature is granted to maintain harmony and efficiency. Abuse or attempts to bypass restrictions will result in communication suspension.
---
As a final touch, the System appended a line—calculated for effect, devoid of warmth but heavy with weight:
> "You are valuable. Use your access wisely."
The System then returned to silence, waiting. Watching.
Letting her simmer.
-----
Ayla smiled.
It was a subtle, victorious smile.
She had won.
The silence that followed the System's new rule didn't bother her.
She had read it carefully—just one question per month, and no inquiries about other users.
But she knew the System couldn't stop her from framing her question cleverly.
And she also knew it couldn't afford exposure.
So, with a calm, measured voice, she asked:
> " Why was the purity of keshav's divine power only 91% and not 100%—although even that is unheard of?"
She leaned back, waiting, knowing full well she had just broken the rule—technically asking about another host and slipping in two questions in one.
The blue screen shimmered once more. It stayed for a long second—longer than usual.
The System was thinking.
System's POV:
> "Violation of parameters. Two inquiries in one. About another host."
> "But... she already suspects the truth with 90% confidence. Remaining silent will only confirm it with bitterness."
> "Best to control the narrative."
The System responded.
---
[System Response]
Yes. He did.
As for why the purity was only 91%, despite being abnormally high, there are two reasons:
1. Keshav allowed the purchased faith energy to mix with the naturally generated faith from his own believers. This blending slightly reduced the purity.
2. The faith energy sold was a copy—generated through EP using my [Scan] ability to replicate the structure of true devotion. At the time, no believer of his had absolute peak devotion. Thus, even if unmixed, the maximum achievable purity of that batch was below 95%.
---
Ayla's eyes narrowed slightly as she read the screen.
A trace of awe crossed her features.
> "So that's how he did it… not stolen… nor extracted... but refined, engineered."
It was genius. Dangerous. Clever.
And now, she had answers.
Her fingers tightened slightly over the edge of her desk.
She had always thought Keshav was special. His battle performance, the sheer refinement of his divine power, the whispers about him being an orphan with no background—and now this.
It wasn't just talent. It wasn't just luck.
It was precision. Ruthless precision.
She closed the screen with a blink and leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
The silence of her room stretched around her like a cloak, but inside, her thoughts swirled.
> "He figured out how to game the system… and he never told anyone."
Was it secrecy?
No.
It was survival.
Keshav was navigating a world where secrets were currency and exposure could mean enslavement.
She understood it now—why he kept quiet, why he pushed so hard, why he didn't reach out to anyone.
> "And now… I'm like him."
She glanced at her hand, then summoned her own status screen.
That single line glowed at the top:
Host Name: Ayla Winterborne
> "Strongest God System… huh."
A slow smile crept across her lips again.
> "Let's see who reaches the top first, Keshav Garg."
She stood up and walked to her balcony, looking at the stars above the academy dome. Somewhere out there, her believers were growing—fighting for her, praying to her.
And now, thanks to the System, she had the tools.
No one else knew. No one else suspected.
She was going to catch up.
And maybe… even surpass him.