Three Divine Wishes: Yes, I'm OP!

Far from Dream Land and the Orin Star System, the Smiling God hovered in the skies above his true dominion—the Smiling Court Pantheon—hands clasped behind him, a chill glint fixed in brown eyes that had learned patience over countless ages.

He had held that same stance, in that exact place, for nearly an entire year, biding his time for the one moment, the single sign, he had always known would eventually arrive.

Below him, the black-and-blue expanse of the Smiling Court Star System stretched for light-years, nine world-orbs hanging above the palace like a crown that did not need to pretend it was jewelry.

’My Empress,’ he mused inwardly, ’what’s taking that damn girl so long?’

He couldn’t fathom why Milan was dragging her feet on putting his plan into motion.

As mentioned before, the target had always been Kalpa—control over that world meant eventual dominion over Orin.

But everyone knew by now that such a goal was impossible, which was part of the reason, along with the intrigue and the Empress’s own orders, that the plan had shifted.

Still, it had been more than a year since he’d heard from Milan, and the silence was troubling. Yet he waited, patient but restless.

He wasn’t the only one anticipating her signal.

The lower skies of the empire teemed with a presence that defied the very idea of an army.

Billions upon billions of Smiling Court members occupied the air—some standing effortlessly on nothing at all, others seated cross-legged with weapons resting casually across their knees, and still more arranged in endless legions that stretched so far into the black-and-blue horizon they vanished from sight.

They all had brown hair and eyes in every imaginable shade, clad in black-and-blue armor and robes that spoke of both tradition and purpose.

Blades, spears, banners, and strange artifacts hung ready at their sides, each one humming softly as if aware of the tension in the air.

It wasn’t about their stance or the way they stood—it was the quiet certainty of readiness that bound them together.

Even the air seemed tense, like a battle poised to erupt at the slightest word, with charm and courtesy held just behind expressions trained to smile only when the moment truly called for it.

And then, just like that, the signal they had been anticipating for over a year finally came through.

HUMMMMM!!!!!

At that very instant, some fifty thousand kilometers ahead of the Smiling God, a colossal portal slowly began to take shape, shimmering into existence as if tearing open the very fabric of space itself.

"Finally..." he muttered, a faint smile tugging at his lips before vanishing almost instantly as a look of calculation quickly replaced the fleeting moment of relief.

"Everyone, the time has come." His voice flowed effortlessly through the lower skies, carrying to billions of expectant throats as though the very air had been conditioned to bear his words.

"Prepare to kill... and dismantle all who do not belong to the Smiling Court."

"For the Smiling Court!"

As the members of his Pantheon raised their voices in a unified war cry, the portal fully took shape.

HUMMMMMMM!!!!!!

The skies tore open with a pressure so sudden that ears popped and lungs forgot their next breath—then the portal opened on a scale that made ordinary rifts look like cracks in glass, edged in bruised black and white.

As soon as the portal fully materialized, Milan was already tumbling out of it.

And right behind her, rolling forward in a sweeping, undeniable surge, came the Winter itself.

It happened in an instant... and it wasn’t something like a simple change in seasons.

No, an endless blizzard burst through the portal, sweeping across ten million kilometers in every direction, transforming the once clear air of the Smiling Court into a roaring, blinding wall of white.

Snow came in sheets thick enough to erase distance. Ice did not merely plate armor mid-breath; it froze the idea of warmth until every trop present felt their own blood hesitate.

Within that ten-million-kilometer stretch, the black-and-blue empire began to freeze—palace roofs sealing under sudden glaciers, world-orbs fading as frost crept over them.

In mere moments, whole districts shifted from vibrant color to stark white, as if Winter had swept in between one cry and the next.

"What... just happened?!"""Enter the portal!"

"I can’t see shit!"

"Find the source of this damn illusion!"

The billions of soldiers sprang into action at once.

Yet, before they could even pinpoint the cause of this sudden shift, he emerged, and as he stepped out of the portal, countless warriors rushed past without a second glance.

Melvin emerged on Milan’s heels, still bearing Amber’s appearance, his arm already morphed into a shining, razor-edged blade.

The icy sharpness in his gaze was so devoid of warmth it was as if those eyes had never belonged to a human being.

"DIE!!!" he roared.

HUMMMMMM!!!!!

In that moment, he burst forward with a speed that made the blizzard seem slow.

SHKKKKK!!!!!

Milan’s eyes had just started to widen when the blade found its mark, giving her no chance to speak.

The swing was swift and precise, severing her head in one smooth motion.

A bright arc of blood leaped from the neck, hanging suspended in the air for a heartbeat before it could scatter.

Instantly, her head, body, and blood all locked into ice as they fell through the endless white, three separate sculptures dropping toward an empire that had not yet understood what had come through its own door.

To Melvin, Amber was just another member of the Loria, and the instant he saw her, his instinctive hatred flared.

Before anyone could, or even thought to, intervene, he had already chased after Milan—and in the process, taken the lives of the two ancestors who had accompanied Harlan.

Melvin had crossed paths with Amber before, but that was back before he knew what the Loria had done, and since then, he had no clue she was part of the Pantheon.

Not that he even tried to find out.

Now he hung suspended in the sky, the blood of his latest kill still cooling along his arm, and the army didn’t give him a second to breathe.

Billions were already surging toward him, with more flooding through the portal behind him—brown-haired, brown-eyed, clad in black and blue, wearing the kind of smile their Court had trained them to wear when the killing began.

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