Deviant: No Longer Human

The gods inside that cursed place had long been reduced to hollow statues, their souls lost to oblivion.

Eveline hesitated, lips parting, as if she wanted to challenge him, but no words came.

His sheer confidence was suffocating, his certainty unshakable.

'Let him suffer,' she thought bitterly. If he wanted to ignore her warnings, so be it.

Wang Xiao's gaze slid toward Anran, who caught his look and tilted her head in confusion.

Then, in a flash of realization, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Without warning, she grabbed a nearby vase, her wicked grin widening as a plan formed in her mind.

With an evil chuckle, Anran hurled the vase directly at Wenxi, who was shifting uncomfortably on Wang Xiao's lap, still unaware of the danger.

"What—?"

Wenxi felt a sudden change in the air and instinctively turned, but it was already too late.

Her wide eyes caught sight of her mother, Anran, launching the vase at her with an evil smile.

Wenxi was filled with disbelief!

What in the world was her mother doing?

Was she seriously trying to kill her own daughter?

Mary and Eveline were equally shocked, frozen in place, trying to process the sudden shift.

Even Yue, always ready to react, was caught off guard, unable to move in time.

Swoosh!

Just as the vase was about to make impact, only a meter from crashing into Wenxi, it shattered in the air with an icy burst.

Crash!

A thick, icy mist filled the room as Wenxi's eyes flared with a sharp, glacial blue light.

The temperature dropped rapidly, the air growing thick with cold, biting the skin.

Where the vase had once been, a magnificent sword of pure ice now hovered.

The sword was ethereal, like a shard of a frozen star, shimmering with a faint glow.

Its blade, sharp and crystalline, was forged from impossibly smooth, translucent ice.

The edges glinted with a faint blue hue, deadly in its cold beauty.

Frost curled around the hilt, delicate but unyielding, and cold mist poured from the sword as if it were alive, breathing frost into the air around it.

The room was silent, frozen in awe at the sight of the blade.

Wenxi's voice filled with hostility broke the silence. "Mom? Are you serious...? Do you actually want to hurt him?"

She glared at Anran, her ice-blue eyes glowing with anger.

Anran, standing there with a smug grin, looked entirely too pleased with herself, as though she had just pulled off the perfect prank.

The others exchanged glances, each silently pitying Wenxi for falling into such an obvious trap.

But as for Wang Xiao?

He merely smirked and gave Anran a discreet thumbs-up for her performance!

Anran's eyes twinkled with satisfaction.

Mission accomplished.

"So, 'this' is what you've been working on with that gloomy goddess," Wang Xiao muttered with a spark of interest as he rose from the couch.

Wenxi, who had been standing nearby with a slight pout, glaring at Anran, suddenly sensed something was wrong.

Whoosh!

Before she could even react, Wang Xiao moved with a speed that left the air trembling, his hand effortlessly seizing the hilt of the icy sword.

Wenxi's eyes widened in disbelief as her connection to the sword was severed.

It no longer responded to her will, slipping out of her control like a disobedient pet.

"What…?" Wenxi's soft voice trembled, her crimson lips parting slightly in surprise.

How could the sword not obey her?

Swish! Swish!

Wang Xiao, his movements fluid like a passing breeze, waved the sword with effortless grace, the cold blade slicing through the air with a sharp hum.

"Interesting," he muttered, clearly intrigued, his tone casual.

Wenxi, her cheeks flushed, circled around him in a flurry of soft robes, trying to snatch the sword back.

Her slender hands reached for the blade, but Wang Xiao danced away each time, evading her effortlessly.

"Dad, give it back to me!" Wenxi's voice, laced with frustration, was sweet, almost melodic.

"Dad, please!" Her large eyes glistened as she tried again, her lips trembling with the faintest hint of a pout.

"Daddy!" She called out, her voice softening into an almost childish plea, yet Wang Xiao remained unmoved, evading her with a faint, amused smile.

He twirled the sword, inspecting it closely. "This is different from Athene's 'sea of swords,' isn't it?" he asked thoughtfully, ignoring Wenxi's attempts. "You no longer need the aura she left in your sea of consciousness?"

Wenxi's chest rose and fell, her breaths coming quicker, her silk light blue dress flowing as she darted around him, her every move graceful despite her frustration.

Her delicate features, framed by loose strands of snow-white hair, were tinged with the faintest hue of red from her exertion.

The sword she had created was nothing like the ones left behind by Athene.

Wang Xiao admired its craftsmanship—a blade of pure ice, gleaming under the light like a crystal forged in the heart of winter.

The edges shimmered with an ethereal blue, as though infused with the very essence of a frozen storm.

Frost curled from the hilt, and the cold mist it emitted seemed almost alive, swirling gently as if breathing the chill of its creator's soul.

Athene's swords had always been raw and unrefined, merely manifestations of brute force.

But this sword?

It had form, it had elegance.

It was firm, yet fluid, capable of elemental power Athene's creations lacked.

Wenxi had grown, far more than he had realized.

Wenxi, her face now flushed with both frustration and effort, circled him one last time, her lips quivering.

"Dad… I only have one… please don't break it…" Her voice had softened, turning almost pleading.

Her eyes shimmered like pools of moonlight, filled with quiet desperation as she looked up at him.

The adorable expression—the slight tremble in her voice—was impossible to ignore.

Wenxi, normally composed and sharp, was now like a delicate flower caught in the cold wind.

Her slender and tall frame, usually filled with the grace of a swan, now seemed fragile, as if a single touch could make her crumble.

She gazed at her father with wide, tear-filled eyes, her lips parted in a breathless, silent plea for mercy.

Wang Xiao's gaze softened for just a moment, though he quickly masked it. "Can't you just create more?" he asked, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone, his curiosity piqued.

Wenxi shook her head, her hair falling over her shoulders like a cloud, "It's not that easy, Dad… It takes months just to create a few basic ones. An array like this would take years!"

Watching her, Wang Xiao found it amusing, yet endearing.

This girl, hiding her abilities, thinking she could keep such talent from him.

What did she expect?

He was her father, and in this world, nothing escaped his sight.

"Umm… Dad, can you give it back to her?" Yue's voice interrupted the moment, stepping forward, her eyes soft with concern.

She could see her sister was on the verge of tears, the frustration and helplessness welling up inside her.

The once-tough exterior of Wenxi was crumbling, revealing the rare softer side beneath.

The room fell silent, everyone except Anran casting sympathetic glances toward Wenxi.

She had always been strong, always in control, yet now, in front of Wang Xiao, she looked like a fragile normal child on the edge of breaking.

No one had ever seen her like this—so normal.

Anran, however, was grinning like a mischievous fox, clearly enjoying the scene.

"Dad… please…" Wenxi's voice was barely above a whisper now, her eyes misting over, glistening like dewdrops in the early morning light.

She looked up at Wang Xiao with the expression of someone who had given up everything but hope.

If he broke this sword, her years of effort would be ruined.

The delicate threads of her heart seemed tied to that blade, and if it shattered… so would she.