Central Avatar Research Director Vivian - (1)

When I created lifeforms and accelerated time to let them evolve naturally, I unconsciously wished for humans to emerge. Homo sapiens sapiens—the species I belonged to before becoming an Outer God. They're the most familiar, after all. It's only natural to hope for the birth of life that's close to my heart.

Carbon-based beings with two arms, two legs, two eyes, and ears. Creatures that breathe, absorb energy from food, and develop remarkable intelligence as mortals.

But... when I lowered my viewpoint as much as possible to observe them, something felt off. Unlike the humans in my memory, their chests pulsed with two heartbeats instead of one. And they even wielded Cosmic Power, albeit faintly.

They looked human on the outside, but I'd essentially created alien humanoid mimics.

Their physical prowess was impressive too. The humans I remembered couldn't punch holes in trees with their bare fists.

"Zhaal ra'kurum."

"Fraktu zhaan-nor!!!"

Kwajijik—

Probably due to far superior bodily durability, or perhaps faintly manipulating the Cosmic Power floating in the atmosphere to augment their strength.

And that planet itself was no ordinary place. It teemed with bizarre creatures, of course—including carnivorous plants that devoured animals the size of monkeys, and pseudo-dinosaurs resembling Tyrannosaurus.

It seemed the influence of Cosmic Power extended beyond just the humanoid mimics.

Animals that breathed fire from their mouths or shot wind blades from their claws. The mimics fought back by infusing stones with Cosmic Power and hurling them, or charging in with reinforced bodies.

If this were a reenactment of dinosaurs versus cavemen, it'd feel something like this. No, actually—it's closer to the monsters of a fantasy world.

After all, they're the only humanoid race surviving in a true inhuman hellscape. It's only natural they'd surpass the humans I remember.

A closer look revealed organs inside their bodies for storing Cosmic Power.

"Vaahn-draa ti'shelun."

"Shuur vuka neman zhi?"

As expected, I couldn't understand their language. My AI information entity had auto-translation for the avatars over there, but these mortals spoke their own independently evolved tongue—not Korean or English.

They might even mimic the information entity created by that self-proclaimed "本녀" Outer God. If they moved with a sense different from manipulating time or space, maybe they could imitate it.

But for now, they still seemed stuck in a primitive era, so I'll watch a bit longer. Civilizations get interesting once leaders emerge.

If there's a top contributor to life creation, it's Vivian. Her inspiration pleased me quite a bit, so praising my apostle is only right. To reward her clever idea, I peered beyond the dimensional wall.

She's a scholar. If she craves knowledge of other dimensions, I can give her plenty.

Hm... no. The authority I granted her was the status window. Maybe I should tinker with that a little.

The authority has its own ego anyway, so it'll handle things well enough.

ㅡㅡㅡ

Beyond the dimensional wall.

Recovered from the temporary authority overload, Vivian had been discharged from the hospital. After wrapping up on Gaiana Planet and returning to Ratan, she'd met Beatrix and Yuna.

"Vivian unnie, are you okay now?"

"Yes, I'm fine. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yuna Avatar."

"No way. We're all avatars of the same constellation now, and you're older than us—why are you speaking so formally like Beatrix?"

"...It's a habit. This feels more comfortable."

"Everyone's speech is weird except mine..."

"In a one-eyed village, the two-eyed are the abnormal ones-wa yo!"

"...What?"

Now back on the planet housing the Central Avatar Research Institute, she sipped coffee while reviewing documents. A spacious desk in a modestly sized office. She looked utterly intellectual as she perused papers over her small cup.

"...Slurp."

But is that really the coffee I know?

"Gasp! Cough! Cough!"

The moment the constellation message popped up, Vivian's pupils dilated, and she choked.

She's an avatar contracted with a constellation—shouldn't she be used ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to these messages by now?

"...This is made by grinding fruits from a plant with mental stabilization effects. I enjoy it often because of the pleasant aroma."

"Ah, I'm fine now. Thank you, Constellation..."

She bowed her head to the empty air in gratitude. On the surface, it was just a typical avatar-constellation exchange.

But I sensed something different. A subtle tremor in her voice. A hint of fear leaking through.

No way—the authority overload etched fear into her mind? She was fine before. Why this change? The status window, maybe?

First things first: praise her properly.

Yuna's Cosmic Power lay dormant in her robust body—unlike Beatrix's, used for crossing dimensional walls in lord-vassal contracts. Vivian's power was the status window. AI. Information domain. Objective numerical displays and growth. Self-improvement functions. A comprehensive authority packed with complex abilities.

So, this should do it.

"Yes? Ah, you're referring to the biological tissue I submitted. I'm grateful it was helpful... Huh?"

Mid-reply, she stared blankly into space—probably at her status window. And I could see what she was viewing.

"This is...?"

Unlike Yuna's Cosmic Power—which entered her body as the first avatar, lingered as potential, and gradually unlocked through training and mutations—this was different.

I'd reframed the task I gave her as a quest, then drawn out her power bit by bit as a reward. Just like the RPG games from my past life.

Vivian's trembling voice leaked out as she pored over the status messages.

"...Constellation, you are truly remarkable. An authority with its own judgment functions, leaving growth direction to the user's intent..."

Her half-dazed eyes muttered on, as if she'd forgotten I was watching.

"Most constellations grant their avatars pure power or abilities classified as emission or transformation types. Things ordinary people imagine—like stopping time, immense luck, or future prophecy—are impossible."

Tricky.

"This differs from the constellation's strength. You're not an absolute being tied to a single concept or fate. That's why planet spirits and below can be overcome by human might. Predictions suggest even galaxy spirits—absolute existences—could one day be surpassed in the distant future."

Really tricky.

"Information-domain authorities usually only affect intuition or vision. But you implemented a status window straight out of games. It's not just powerful—it's touching the realm of concepts..."

This wasn't the avatar relationship I'd envisioned. Different from Yuna or Beatrix.

Yuna, a normal person who saw constellation contracts as stars in the sky. Beatrix, an imperial princess even before contracting, brimming with confidence.

To Yuna, crawling on neighborhood hills or drifting in spaceship battles, both were beyond the heavens.

To Beatrix, overflowing with confidence that seemed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fill the world, it was a source bolstering her self-esteem.

"...You are too great a being, Constellation. Perhaps not a constellation at all, but a true god."

But Vivian knows too much. Enough to lead the largest research institute in the Super Galactic Empire Federation, humanity's galactic overlords. Her talent classified as an innate ability by the status window. Enough to reject contracts from countless constellations.

As they say, knowledge breeds sight. Even arrogant geniuses struggle with things beyond their common sense. Especially after feeling something from the authority overload.

Hence the overt fear? How to fix this.

A voice slipped from her lip-biting mouth. Reverence. Terror. Doubt. Suspicion. Curiosity. Courage. Fear.

"May this lowly worm dare ask why you take interest in our galaxy?"

Suddenly, the document titles she'd been reviewing caught my eye.

Anyone could tell Vivian was investigating me.

Why the interest? Because this sci-fi world blended with constellation elements looks fun. Plus, it slows my eroding humanity, and I have avatars I'm attached to.

But...

"...Gulp."

Look at those trembling eyes. She's definitely imagining some grave secret or unimaginable horror.

Would she believe me if I said it's just curiosity and amusement? I don't want my avatar gnawed by excessive suspicion.

Would she buy it if I said I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠traded with this dimension's galaxy spirits or something to destroy the universe? No. Don't assume.

First, correct the terminology...

"...But from the constellation's perspective, aren't mortals even more insignificant?"

Galaxies do feel like dust. But I don't see my avatars as worms.

"The authority you granted displays your name too. Though obscured in black text, barely visible."

The name the status window arbitrarily judged, not Whispering Star Cluster? I remember my past life's name, of course. But as a god, my true name in this life is...

"When I 'analyzed' the name with the status window authority, I saw an endless universe. But even that...!"

She shuddered slightly mid-sentence. What was she imagining? Did she glimpse part of me in that endless universe?

Her sound mind suggests she didn't examine it properly.

Vivian cleared her throat and spoke lowly.

"As your avatar carrying out your will, I ask: Are you truly a galaxy spirit?"