A Fine Candidate

In just a few words, Kant had already grasped the gist of the Elven Ancestor God’s intentions.
To put it simply, behind the major races of the Seraris Continent stood a god, the core of their existence.
The distribution and influence of a race directly reflected the god’s power.

Conflicts between races and individuals were inevitable.
Even the peace-loving elves weren’t entirely without enemies on the Seraris Continent.
Whether for self-defense or so-called outward expansion, the power bestowed by gods was a crucial element.

However, the native souls of the Seraris Continent couldn’t handle large amounts of divine power.
The pure divinity within it indiscriminately eroded an individual’s consciousness and existence.
This was easy to understand—a case of low-dimensional beings unable to withstand higher-dimensional forces.
Yet, the existence of Descenders was the greatest anomaly.

Descenders, or transmigrators, had souls uniquely capable of maximally accepting divine power.
The gods of the Seraris Continent, having discovered this, took action accordingly.

“So, you want to recruit me as a pawn for the elves?”

Kant pondered for a moment before speaking.

From the Elven Ancestor God’s words, it seemed other races’ gods had already begun recruiting Descenders to bolster their forces.
Since Descenders could handle divine blessings to the fullest, transmigrators were akin to nuclear weapons from Earth.

Each Descender recruited by a god was a nuclear weapon—a powerful deterrent even if unused.
Even the peace-loving elves had to plan for danger in times of safety.
So, Kant wasn’t surprised by the Elven Ancestor God’s actions.

In response to Kant’s question, the divine, majestic figure spoke slowly.

“Not as a pawn, but a transaction.
This is a mutual exchange of benefits, not one-sided exploitation.”

Her tone, though divine, was fair and convincing.

But… was there something off about her choice?

Kant didn’t want to seem disrespectful before a god, but he glanced at his empty right arm, then at the vast divine figure before him.
The meaning in his eyes was clear.

If you’re picking a human nuke, couldn’t you at least choose one with better specs?
Why pick a cripple like me?

Though it sounded self-deprecating or inferior, Kant saw this as his greatest strength: recognizing his situation and worth.
Those who couldn’t see themselves clearly were doomed to a muddled end.

Perhaps sensing the meaning in Kant’s gaze, the Elven Ancestor God’s expression remained largely unchanged.

“Descenders are exceedingly rare, and gods cannot directly interfere in the material world.
You are the first Descender I’ve truly encountered.”

Alright, that made sense.
With so few options, there was no room to be picky.
Hearing this, Kant actually felt relieved.
If Descenders were rare, he held significant value in the Elven Ancestor God’s eyes.
With bargaining chips in hand, the nonchalant look in Kant’s eyes turned serious.

A god’s power was beyond his comprehension, but since the Elven Ancestor God had summoned his soul here, there must be a chance for revival.
He’d thought a lot before dying and had come to terms with much, but who’d pass up the chance to live again?
That was a golden opportunity straight out of a wish-fulfillment novel.
Sure, being a Dragon Proud Sky* might seem brainless, but it’d feel damn good.

*Dragon Proud Sky: A playful reference to a stereotypical overpowered protagonist in Chinese web novels, often used humorously to denote an absurdly lucky or dominant character.

But the moment he thought of “living again,” Kant’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as his voice grew solemn.

“Your proposed transaction does seem feasible.
But since you’ve framed it as a deal, as one party, may I make some requests?”

“Speak freely…”

Honestly, Kant had to be grateful he’d encountered the Elven Ancestor God.
If he’d been nabbed by, say, a vampire god, he wouldn’t be having this calm chat.
Given the vampires’ dark, cunning nature, he’d likely be nothing more than a walking blood bag for life.

A god’s demeanor truly shaped a race’s image.

“As you can see, my true identity is a Deficient One.
I was born without a right arm, which has always hindered me.
Since you want to make a deal, relying on my Descender status to counter threats from other races’ Descenders, can you do something about my Deficient condition?”

Kant timed his request perfectly, like a business negotiation nearing agreement.
Both sides are satisfied, and one party raises a reasonable request aligned with mutual interests—such a request is hard to refuse.

Only by shedding his Deficient status could he fully unleash his potential as a Descender.

“Naturally.
If you agree to this partnership, I will grant you a chance at rebirth.
You will be born as an elf among the elven race.
At the same time, I will mend your soul and grant you corresponding abilities.”

“The condition is that, as an elf, you must obey the current Elven Empress’s arrangements and always prioritize the elves’ interests.”

Kant nodded in agreement.
The big boss had met his demands and offered generous benefits—being ungrateful now would be unreasonable.

Though he couldn’t be reborn as a human, after nearly forty years of living as one and witnessing the coldness of human society, Kant was somewhat tired of it.
Switching races didn’t seem so bad.
Plus, elves lived longer than humans.
With more time to enjoy his new life, working as an elf would be far from terrible.
With his “human nuke” status among the elves, his treatment shouldn’t be too shabby.
Living a cushy, idle life with the elves’ wealth would be a breeze.

Perhaps because he’d already faced life and death, Kant’s thoughts grew clearer.

He didn’t imagine the day he’d complete his task.
As a mere piece in a divine chess game, a small fry like him couldn’t see the full picture.
Living well for now was already the best outcome.

Kant knew contentment and when to rein in his greed.

“So, we have a deal?”

Kant tilted his head, asking tentatively.

The vast figure before him remained expressionless, neither nodding nor shaking her head.
She slowly raised her right hand, and countless crystalline motes, like fireflies, surged toward his soul.

As his soul was enveloped by the silver light, the empty, rootless feeling was instantly filled with warmth.
His consciousness was lulled by an overwhelming comfort, a wave of drowsiness creeping in.

Until the final moment, he faintly heard that divine, gentle voice.

“A calm and steady disposition—not bad at all.
A fine candidate for a princess.”