Chapter 181: The Price of Choosing a Human

Yet Erza did not leave their eyes.

She watched all of them, every god, every divine being seated at that heavenly table, as if she was prepared to end them alone.

Her gaze moved from the God of War to the Goddess of Life, from the God of Strategy to the Goddess of Contract, from the Goddess of Beauty to the God of Soul. She measured them. Judged them. Found them wanting.

The pressure was suffocating.

The Tower of Gods, built with gold and ancient techniques that predated the memory of the world itself, began to tremble. Cracks spiderwebbed across its divine walls.

Dust rained from its impossible heights. The structure that had stood for eons, that had witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations, that had never once wavered under any force, was shaking.

Not a single dragon dared to lift their eyes to the gods. The proud warriors who had come with their armies and their champions and their desperate hopes of ascension lay pressed against the broken ground, their faces hidden, their bodies trembling. The queens, those ancient beings who had ruled for millennia, knelt like servants before their masters, their crowns forgotten, their dignity shattered.

Erza did not bow.

Her silver hair whipped around her face, torn by winds that did not exist. Her white wings strained against the pressure, feathers tearing from their moorings, drifting to the ground like snow. Her body trembled, she could not stop it, could not hide it, could not pretend that the weight of six gods was not crushing her from all sides.

But her face remained cold.

Emotionless.

Unreadable.

There was no fear in her violet eyes. No anger. No desperation. Just an expression that was harder to believe than any of those, annoyance. Frustration. The look of someone who was being inconvenienced by something that should have been beneath her attention.

The gods watched her.

They had seen mortals face divinity before. They had seen bravery, foolishness, desperation, faith. They had seen beings weep and beg and rage against the inevitable.

They had never seen someone look annoyed.

The God of War laughed.

The sound rolled across the shattered field, deep and genuine, the laughter of a being who had not been genuinely amused in millennia. It was not mocking. It was not cruel. It was the laughter of someone who had finally seen something worth seeing.

The other gods joined him.

One by one, their divine voices rose, the Goddess of Life’s gentle chuckle, the God of Strategy’s sharp bark, the Goddess of Beauty’s melodic trill. They laughed at the absurdity of it, at the impossibility, at the tiny dragon who refused to break.

The pressure vanished.

Not slowly, not gradually. All at once, as if it had never existed. The dragons on the ground gasped, sucking in air that had been denied them. The queens lifted their heads, their eyes red, their faces wet with tears they had not known they were shedding.

The Tower of Gods stopped trembling.

Heaven had never seen anything like this.

The gods had believed that dragons were weakening, that their time was passing, that the title of divine creature had become nothing but an empty honorific.

But when they saw Erza standing alone against their combined power, when they saw her refuse to bow, when they saw the cold fire burning behind her violet eyes, they finally understood.

This was why dragons had once been considered divine beings. This was why mortals whispered their names with fear and reverence. This was what the world had been missing.

The God of War leaned forward on his throne, his sword still across his knees, his eyes still fixed on the small dragon below. His voice, when he spoke, carried across the field like the tolling of a great bell.

"Behold the blood of Seraphina." His words were not mocking. They were reverent.

"For you stand on her true legacy. You have proven yourself worthy, Erza Vely Dragomir. I shall put a good word before the True God," The God of War said.

"You could become the Goddess of Wrath, or perhaps the Goddess of Pride."

The other gods nodded.

The Goddess of Life inclined her head. The God of Strategy offered a smile that was almost warm. The Goddess of Beauty’s features settled into an expression of respect. Even the God of Contract, hidden behind her veil of silver chains, seemed to approve.

Heaven agreed.

They had witnessed the power of Erza, not just her strength, but her will, her courage, her absolute refusal to submit. She could become a lesser god, they whispered among themselves. Perhaps even equal to them. Perhaps even sit beside them at the heavenly banquet.

Erza looked at the God of War.

Her voice, when she spoke, was cold. "I need time."

The God of War did not hesitate. His reply came instantly, as if he had been expecting the request, as if he had already decided the answer before the question was asked.

"I agree. Heaven will give you seventy years to make your decision, little dragon."

The divine dimension closed.

The heavenly table faded.

The gods vanished from sight, returning to whatever realm they called home. The sky cleared, becoming blue and ordinary and indifferent. The Tower of Gods stood silent, its cracks already healing, its walls already mending.

The other queens and soldiers lifted their heads.

They looked at Erza, really looked at her, and they saw something they had not seen before. They had heard the rumors, of course.

The whispers of a usurper who had taken the throne of Atlantis, who had killed the nobles of her own clan, who had clawed her way to power through blood and ice.

They had dismissed those rumors as exaggeration, as propaganda, as lies told by a queen trying to make herself seem stronger than she was.

They did not dismiss them anymore.

"That is how powerful she is," Isvarn said, his voice finally breaking the silence. His story was finished.

The memory of that day, of the tower and the gods and the tiny dragon who refused to kneel, lingered in the air between them like smoke.

Yuuta’s breath caught.

He had never known.

Erza had never told him.

She had never mentioned facing gods, never mentioned the offer of divinity, never mentioned that she had seventy years to decide whether to become a goddess.

He had known she was powerful, yes, he had seen her freeze a port, had felt the cold of her aura press against his skin. But he had not understood the scale. He had not understood that she had looked into the eyes of divine beings and refused to blink.

Isvarn laughed.

The sound was different this time, not mocking, not amused. Bitter. Heavy.

"When you declared yourself her husband, when you said you would prove yourself worthy, I laughed because the comparison is absurd. A human, a mortal, a creature who cannot even withstand my aura, standing beside a queen who made gods tremble."

His violet eyes fixed on Yuuta, cold and absolute.

"Do you understand now? Do you finally see?"

Yuuta’s throat tightened.

His hands trembled at his sides.

But he did not look away.

"What happened next?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Did she agree?"

Isvarn’s aura rose.

The pressure returned, not enough to crush, but enough to remind, enough to warn.

"She rejected it."

Yuuta’s breath stopped.

"She rejected it," Isvarn repeated, his voice dropping, becoming something darker. "Do you want to know why?"

The pressure intensified.

The air grew thick, difficult to breathe. Yuuta’s lungs burned, but he did not step back, did not lower his gaze, did not flee.

"Wh... Why?" he asked.

Isvarn’s voice was absolute, an accusation, a blade aimed at Yuuta’s heart.

"Because of you."

The words struck him like a physical blow.

He felt them in his chest, in his stomach, in the space between his ribs where his heart was suddenly struggling to beat.

"Because she was pregnant with your child," Isvarn continued, his voice cold, relentless.

"Because Elena was growing in her womb, and she could not ascend to divinity while carrying a mortal’s child. Because you." His aura flared, pressing down on Yuuta with the weight of centuries.

"You ruined her choice. Her crown. Her throne. Her chance to become a god."

He leaned forward, his violet eyes blazing.

"She chose you."

Yuuta felt the guilt settle into his bones.

It was not a new feeling, he had carried guilt for as long as he could remember, guilt for existing, guilt for surviving, guilt for the pain he caused everyone who loved him. But this was different.

This was heavier.

This was the weight of a goddess who had given up her divinity for him.

"She could have been a god," Isvarn said, his voice barely a whisper.

"And instead, she is here. On this cursed world. In this small apartment. Eating your food and sleeping on your couch and pretending that she does not regret it."

He leaned back slowly, his ancient eyes never leaving Yuuta’s face.

"You made her weak," Isvarn said quietly.

"A weak queen."

Yuuta’s expression faltered.

"...Weak?" he whispered.

"Yes. Weak queen."

"She was perfect," Isvarn said, his voice trembling slightly, a crack in the ancient armor, a fissure in the millennia of composure.

"My queen. The queen who faced gods and never bowed her head. She stood before the divine table, looked into the eyes of beings who could unmake reality, and she did not flinch. She did not kneel. She did not beg."

His hands, those ancient hands that had held swords and scepters and the weight of kingdoms, trembled.

"But ever since she met you." His voice broke on the words, the pain of realization bleeding through.

"Ever since you entered her life, she bowed her head. To me. To her grandfather. The queen who would not bow to gods bowed her head to spare you. To protect you. To beg for your life."

The words hung in the air like shattered glass.

Yuuta stood frozen, his hands limp at his sides, his face pale, his red eyes fixed on the ancient dragon who was slowly, painfully, revealing the cost of his existence.

"Why did you come into her life?" Isvarn’s voice was cold now, the tremor gone, replaced by something harder. Something accusatory.

"She never bowed to anyone. Not to gods. Not to other queens. Not to fate itself. But to save you, to keep you alive, to protect you from my wrath, she bowed her head like a servant begging for mercy."

Yuuta did not answer.

He could not.

His throat was closed, his tongue heavy, his words buried beneath the weight of what he had just learned.

His eyes were wet.

Tears formed at the edges of his red irises, not falling, not yet, but gathering, waiting, threatening to spill.

A heavy emotion wrapped around his chest, squeezing, suffocating. Regret. Shame. The terrible, crushing awareness that his existence had cost something precious.

"You are the weakness Erza has." Isvarn’s voice was flat now, stripped of emotion, stating facts as if they were laws of physics.

Yuuta’s hands tightened slightly. "No... I can."

"You can do nothing," Isvarn cut him off before he could finish.

"What do you have to offer her? What do you bring to her life that makes her sacrifice worth it?" He paused, his violet eyes boring into Yuuta’s.

"Nothing. You are nothing but a man with a fragile body that has no use. No power. No army. No kingdom. No divine bloodline. Nothing."

The words struck like physical blows.

Yuuta felt each one land, in his chest, his stomach, his throat. He wanted to argue. He wanted to defend himself.

He wanted to list the things he could do, the meals he could cook, the way he could make Erza smile when she forgot to be cold.

But he said nothing.

Because Isvarn was right.

"So when you say you will prove yourself worthy," Isvarn continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper,

"when you declare that you will stand beside her, remember what she has already sacrificed. Remember what she has already given up. And ask yourself." He paused, letting the silence stretch, letting the weight of his words settle.

"If you can ever be worthy of that."

Yuuta had no response.

There was nothing to say.

No argument to make.

No defense to offer.

The truth was absolute, undeniable, carved into the walls of his soul with a blade he had not known existed until this moment.

Isvarn watched him.

The ancient dragon’s expression was unreadable, not triumphant, not satisfied, not even cruel. He was simply stating facts. Delivering a truth that Yuuta had needed to hear, whether he wanted to or not.

"Now you understand," Isvarn said, his voice softer now, almost gentle, which made it worse,

"why I said her enemies will become your enemies. I was not talking about demons, human. I was not talking about the creatures that hide in the shadows of this pathetic world." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

"I was talking about gods... about the other Dragon Nations that want to destroy her because she refused their offer. About the divine beings who marked her as an enemy the moment she chose a mortal over divinity," Isvarn said, looking at Yuuta.

His expression twisted slightly, as if even he could not fully contain what he was saying anymore.

"And all of this..." his voice darkened, "is because of you."

Yuuta’s eyes widened slightly.

"Because of you, she has to fight the whole world. Every being wants her dead... and she still carries that burden alone."

Isvarn stepped closer, his gaze sharp and cutting.

"And yet you stand here, unaware of it."

His voice lowered.

"When you Sexual assault her... you dragged her into this."

Yuuta’s face darkened. He felt something tighten in his chest, his breath shaking as he tried to hold back tears he didn’t understand.

He couldn’t comprehend it. He couldn’t understand why everything was suddenly becoming this heavy... this cruel.

The silence that followed was absolute.

It filled the room, pressing against the walls, pressing against Yuuta’s chest, pressing against his lungs until breathing became a conscious effort.

The refrigerator hummed.

Ordinary sounds, ordinary world, ordinary life, none of it touched the weight of what Isvarn had just revealed.

Reality once again showed Yuuta why humans never achieved the heights they dreamed of. The brutal truth. The cold arithmetic of power.

The weak did not rise. The strong did not fall. And those who tried to bridge the gap between worlds were crushed beneath the weight of their own ambitions.

Isvarn walked toward the balcony.

His footsteps were heavy on the wooden floor, each one a small declaration, a final word. He paused at the glass door, his back to Yuuta, his ancient frame silhouetted against the fading light.

"I am glad you have enough brain to think about this," he said, not turning around.

"I hope you understand my worry now. I hope you understand why I must do what I am going to do." He paused, his hand resting on the door handle.

"Accept whatever future is planned for you. Do not fight it and Do not try to resist. It will be easier for everyone that way."

The words echoed endlessly inside Yuuta’s mind long after Isvarn finished speaking. They did not feel like advice.

They felt absolute, like a future that had already been decided for him before he even realized he was standing on a battlefield.

Future?

What future was Isvarn talking about?

A future before Erza?

A future where this apartment returned to being cold and empty? No annoyed voice criticizing his cooking from the kitchen.

No White and silver-haired woman sitting silently near the window while pretending not to care about him.

No Elena running through the living room laughing and calling him papa.

Was that what Isvarn wanted him to accept? To simply let them go because he was weak?

Yuuta lowered his head slowly as his chest tightened painfully.

He wanted to argue.

Wanted to deny everything the old dragon said.

Wanted to prove that he could protect them somehow. But the cruelest part was that he had nothing to prove it with.

No power. No aura. No strength. Nothing.

For the first time in a long while, Yuuta truly felt helpless.

He was almost ready to give up, almost ready to believe that fate had already defeated him and that losing Erza was something unavoidable.

But somewhere deep inside his heart, something still refused to kneel. Was it hope? Or stupidity?.

He didn’t know.

Then suddenly, a strange voice echoed inside his mind.

Not around him. Not from outside.

It felt deeper than that, almost as if his own soul had spoken directly to him from somewhere buried far beneath his thoughts.

"Future?" the voice whispered calmly. "Who dares decree thy fate?"

Yuuta froze.

"Walk the path thy heart desires."

And then the voice vanished completely, leaving only silence behind.

Yuuta’s breathing became uneven.

The words lingered inside him strangely, warming something cold within his chest. Slowly, another memory surfaced in his mind, a quote he once read long ago when the world mocked his dreams and ambitions.

If the heavens refuse... then I will carve that path with my own hands.

Near the balcony, Isvarn stepped toward the door, already finished with this conversation. He could feel Erza approaching the building below, climbing the stairs one floor at a time.

The old dragon clicked his tongue softly in annoyance.

Erza would undoubtedly be furious if she discovered he had shattered the illusion surrounding her fragile little human.

But before he could leave.

Yuuta spoke.

His voice trembled badly, yet the words still came out.

"I will not give up on my wife..."

Isvarn paused briefly.

For a moment, only silence filled the apartment.

Then the old dragon sighed quietly without even turning around to face him. He was already tired of this human speaking about impossible things with those weak mortal eyes filled with determination.

To Isvarn, Yuuta’s resolve meant nothing. A powerless human claiming he would stand beside the Dragon Queen sounded no different than an insect declaring war against the heavens themselves.

Without another word, Isvarn disappeared into the evening darkness beyond the balcony.

The door closed softly behind him.

Silence swallowed the apartment afterward.

Yuuta remained standing in the center of the living room surrounded by the remnants of ordinary life. Elena’s toys were scattered carelessly across the floor. Half-cut vegetables still rested on the kitchen counter. Family photographs remained attached to the refrigerator, small memories frozen in time.

Everything around him was proof of the peaceful life they built together.

And yet the crushing weight inside his chest refused to disappear.

Tears slowly rolled down his face.

He did not wipe them away this time.

He simply stood there alone as the evening light gradually faded from the apartment, wondering if Isvarn had been right all along.

Wondering if love alone was enough to stand beside someone like Erza. Wondering if he would ever become worthy of her world.

But no matter how hard he searched for an answer...

He found nothing except silence.

To be continued....