A Rather Explosive Introduction

A few days ago, when my constellation grade was adjusted to supreme-grade.

There were those who rushed to the Pantheon faster than anyone else.

After all, there was a saying that the easiest time to sign a contract with a constellation was when that constellation was first born.

Once a constellation contracted with a Swordmaster, an S-rank adventurer, or an Archmage, their standards would skyrocket, making them far more fastidious when choosing future incarnations.

This sort of knowledge was common sense among the people of that other world.

Not only that, but constellations were said to harbor a special attachment to their very first incarnation.

And this wasn't just some baseless rumor; I had actually seen several similar posts while browsing the constellation community over the past few days.

...Anyway, like this, there were many constellations who showed an almost pathological level of attachment to their first incarnations.

So, naturally, everyone was desperate to become the first incarnation of a supreme-grade constellation.

And that wasn't all. A high-grade constellation usually contracted with hundreds to thousands of incarnations.

They would form their own faction and even have entire religious orders dedicated to them.

And what if you managed to become one of the earliest incarnations of such a constellation?

You would receive senior treatment from those countless other incarnations and command the absolute respect of the believers.

That was why, the moment a new supreme-grade constellation was born, people rushed to the Pantheon to offer their prayers.

Well, I must have received hundreds of prayers like these.

Some were even...

In the middle of his prayer, the man's eyes had rolled back as he drew a dagger from his breast pocket and pressed it to his own throat.

"Whoa, what is that guy doing?!"

"Stop him! Drag him out, quickly!"

"Let me go, you bastards! If I don't secure a contract this time, there is no hope left for me!"

He was a man who had caused a massive scene in the public prayer room before being dragged away by the priests of the Pantheon.

Yes, there had been an incident like that.

I was briefly taken aback by the sheer, suffocating desperation of a gloomy middle-aged man threatening to end his life if I didn't sign a contract with him. But...

Once I realized it was a common occurrence, I ignored all prayers of that nature.

In the beginning, I paid close attention to the prayers coming from the Pantheon, but gradually, I began to ignore them and instead used my sensory sharing to search for an incarnation myself.

Most of the people praying to me at the Pantheon lacked any real talent or ability.

Those with genuine talent or outstanding potential either already had contracts with other constellations, or even if they didn't, they wouldn't bother visiting the Pantheon.

This was because many believed that begging a constellation in such a manner only cheapened their own value.

I did briefly consider contracting with the person who offered to build me a temple, but as it turned out, that "eastern region" claim was a complete lie. It was just a tiny merchant group barely scraping by by selling goods within their own small fiefdom.

As I was searching for someone decent, and keeping an eye out for any candidates I could poach from the constellations who had stolen my previous incarnations...

A strange woman showed up at the Pantheon.

My constellation name was the Seeker of Supreme Knowledge.

A constellation's name reflected their achievements, their disposition, and the powers they possessed.

In a world on the brink of destruction by monsters, combat-oriented constellations were naturally the most popular.

Back when I was a lowest-grade constellation, this non-combat name was the very reason I was looked down upon.

Even now, as a supreme-grade constellation, I was far more popular among mages and scholars than swordsmen or adventurers.

However, the very name that had caused me to be despised when I was lowest-grade had now, upon my ascension to supreme-grade, led people to mistakenly believe that I possessed some sort of forbidden, high-level ancient knowledge.

Though, in truth, I don't have anything of the sort...

In any case, I had only heard her prayer by pure chance. Since I received several similar prayers every single day, I didn't pay it much mind.

But contrary to my expectation that she would only show up once and give up...

The next day, she took up a spot in a corner of the public prayer room and began spamming prayers like a relentless stream of junk mail.

I figured she would give up if I left her alone for a few days, but she visited the Pantheon every single day, occupying that same corner of the public prayer room to send me messages.

Does she even have the money for this...?

Even though the public prayer rooms were cheaper than the private ones, it still must have cost a pretty penny.

Out of sheer curiosity, I looked into her background and discovered she was a poor, pitiful graduate student at the Imperial Academy.

While academy students were highly sought-after candidates for constellations, she wasn't a student at the prestigious Royal Academy in the capital, but rather a provincial academy located in the countryside.

On top of that, she was a commoner, belonged to the alchemy department rather than the knight or magic departments, and had absolutely zero research achievements to her name.

But most importantly of all, she possessed absolutely no mana.

At this point, there was absolutely no reason for a supreme-grade constellation to contract with her.

So, I ignored her. Sure enough, after a few days, she stopped coming to the Pantheon, likely because she had run out of money.

I thought that was the end of it, but two days later...

Wearing an eyepatch over one eye and a research coat that looked like it hadn't been washed in a week, she returned to the Pantheon. This time, she rented a private prayer room and sent me a message.

That was the prayer I received.

Looking at the sheer madness gleaming in her eyes...

"Ahaha, what a jokester."

It was a joke, right?

The next day.

Under the pretext of searching for an incarnation, I was peering into the other world through my screen.

Specifically, I was focusing on the area around the Pantheon.

I can't help but feel a bit uneasy about yesterday's prayer.

But of course, it had to be a joke.

Logically speaking, what kind of lunatic would actually terrorize the Pantheon?

The moment anyone did such a thing, they would become the public enemy of every single constellation in existence.

As I scanned the surroundings of the Pantheon, a certain woman caught my eye.

The familiar eyepatch, the familiar research coat.

And in her hands, she held a massive, golden cylinder about the size of her own torso, with something plugged into the end of it.

"Haha, what is that? It looks exactly like an RPG."

You know, those rockets that terrorists always carry around.

I simply laughed.

After all, in a fantasy world of swords and magic, there was no way the holy wand of RPGs could actually exist.

But just as that thought crossed my mind...

She took a perfect firing stance, and something launched from the massive cylinder.

Whoosh— BOOM!

The Pantheon exploded.