The little girl with long black hair and stark red eyes stepped fully into the grand chamber, her bare feet making almost no sound on the polished obsidian floor.
The lollipop in her hand swirled lazily between her fingers as she looked around at the gathered Ancestors and powerful beings with an innocent, almost playful smile.
The room fell into a stunned, uneasy silence.
They had called for the Lord of Gifts — the legendary being rumored to grant any desire, no matter how impossible.
Across countless realities, or the fragnts that survived, there were endless stories about how the Lord of Gifts appeared.
So spoke of a kindly old man, while others described far stranger visions, like a radiant beam of pure light.
But none of them had expected... this.
A child.
A young girl who looked no older than ten or eleven, with pale skin and eyes that seed far too old for her face.
One of the Ancestors, an elderly man with a long white beard, stepped forward cautiously, his voice hesitant but respectful.
"Lord of Gifts...? Is that truly you?" He questioned before continuing,
"We... we were expecting soone... more..."
He trailed off, not wanting to offend.
Another woman, her sharp eyes frad by the intricate patterns of her ornate robes, spoke with deliberate caution.
"Are you the one who can truly grant any wish?" she asked, her tone steady but laced with curiosity.
"The tales tell of a being with unimaginable power. Forgive us, but... you appear as only a child. How can, we be sure?"
Minx tilted her head cutely, her red eyes sparkling with amusent as she popped the lollipop back into her mouth for a mont before pulling it out with a soft pop.
’Since when did appearance matter so much?’ She thought as she dismissed their questions with a casual wave of her small hand.
"What’s on your minds today?" she asked, her voice light and innocent, as if she were simply asking what they wanted for lunch.
"Regardless of what was expected.... You called for , so you must want sothing. I’m listening..."
Hearing these words, the Ancestors exchanged uneasy glances.
Their caution remained — this girl looked far too young, too harmless, to be the infamous Lord of Gifts who could bend reality to grant any desire.
As the strongest Reality, they were fully aware of the recent events.
With Realities vanishing one after another, there was no way they wouldn’t try to find a way to overco it.
Despite any doubt or caution, they knew one thing: if this was truly the Lord, then this was an opportunity that could not be wasted.
Finally, one of them—a tall, battle-scarred man who appeared to be their leader—stepped forward, his voice weighted with desperation.
"We seek a way to defend against the encroaching doom threatening our Reality," he said in a low yet respectful tone.
"The Ineffable Pantheon... the Devourer of Realities... they are coming. We need sothing—anything—that can help us survive their onslaught."
Ever since the Pantheon appeared on their radar, they had scoured tilines, sifted through history, and searched for anything that might offer hope.
But, as always, they found nothing.
Only endless darkness.
The chamber fell into tense silence as all eyes turned back to the little girl.
Minx’s red eyes glead with quiet interest, her small smile never fading.
Inside, she mused with a trace of dry amusent.
’How optimistic.’
The truth was, she had known about Ash—and had likely observed him longer than anyone else.
Which ant she also understood just how deeply broken he was... and she herself had no clue how to truly face him or his companions.
Well, not in any way she intended to reveal, anyway.
All of this only confird that this Reality was dood, regardless of what she chose to offer. Still, as the Lord of Gifts, she was bound to give sothing.
And as the Treasury of Existence, she was nothing if not exceptional at such things.
Without truly needing to ask; she simply already knew what they wanted, as if it was second nature.
It was just who she was — the Lord of Gifts, the one who could make any desire a reality, no matter how far-fetched it seed.
And every gift she bestowed wasn’t just a montary blessing, but sothing that continued to unfold, surprising its recipient in ways they never could have imagined.
Snap!
Outwardly, she snapped her fingers with a casual flick.
From her literal flesh and essence, a replica of a spear materialized — Gungnir, the legendary spear once created by Odin to kill an Unus, but only a pale imitation, far from the original.
This is what made Minx so unusual....
It was that she wasn’t just the Treasury of this Existence, but of any existence—past, present, or possible.
This gave her faint access to items born in entirely separate realities.
The object in her hand shimred with ancient, dangerous mana—not divinity—its tip glowing with a cold, sharp light that seed to cut through the very idea of defense.
She gave a slight shrug, extending it toward the gathered Ancestors with the easy nonchalance of a child offering a toy.
"Use it wisely," she said, her voice light and innocent, like she was offering so shiny pebble she’d stumbled upon.
"This is a weapon that exists sowhere out there. It might give you a little more ti."
The leader of the Ancestors stepped forward with a cautious air, taking the spear in both hands as though it were a holy artifact.
Around him, the others stood frozen in silence, their expressions caught between a delicate spark of hope and the stubborn shadow of doubt.
Without waiting for praise or thanks, Minx turned and skipped away just as she had arrived—a little girl with long black hair, lollipop in hand, vanishing through the grand doors with a soft, playful giggle.
Yet as she left, her smile stretched into sothing sharper, almost mischievous, her vivid red eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction.
She needed no praise, for the day would co when they would all repay her.
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