Soul God Dominates the Mortal World-Chapter 61: ’I’ll Do It’

Ivana’s fingers froze mid-reach. Her eyes widened slightly. That voice... she recognized it instantly.

Mira. The goddess beside Deus.

She bowed her head internally and responded through thought. "Yes, Senior... but I don’t know what I could possibly give him. What could compare to four mythical beast souls?"

A soft, amused hum echoed across her consciousness.

[Don’t worry about that.] Mira’s tone was almost teasing. [I’m the goddess of Earth—and Deus only recently returned to this world to strengthen it. There’s a chance it may soon be invaded... but in the meantime, mortal life has begun to interest him.]

Ivana frowned. "Mortal life?"

[Yes. And what’s even more interesting to him... is mortal pleasure.]

The words echoed.

Pleasure?

Ivana blinked, momentarily confused. Her lips parted, her breath caught. Then—realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

A flush bloomed across her pale cheeks.

Her plush lips quivered slightly. "Could it be..."

Her heart began to pound in her chest—so loud, she feared others might hear it. Her thoughts spiraled. Her? A mortal? With him?

The very god she had worshipped? The god who had saved Earth?

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling unconsciously.

A god who could summon entire constellations with a thought... and here she was, a trembling mortal thinking—

She shut her eyes, breathing in slowly.

And then—

’I’ll do it.’

Her voice was soft. Resolute.

Her heart trembled with nervousness... but also with something else.

Anticipation.

Mira did not speak again. She didn’t have to.

Ivana took off the apron slowly, fixed her expression, and returned to the preparations with a calm that belied the storm in her chest.

Ivana steadied her breath and picked up the frostlotus.

She didn’t falter again.

With deft hands, she peeled, sliced, and began blending ingredients with a fluency only someone who had done this often in secret could possess. Despite her imperial title, Ivana didn’t simply order the dishes—she moved among her cooks like one of them.

The kitchen became a harmony of motion and scent.

Flames flickered beneath simmering pots. Fragrant steam filled the air, laced with sweetspice and frost herbs. The glacial boar sizzled over a sapphire ember grill, its aroma rich and mouthwatering. Crystal lotus broth simmered gently in a wide pot, flecks of silverroot oil shimmering on the surface.

Ivana’s hands moved quickly, measuring, stirring, plating with elegant precision. She corrected her sous-chef’s posture when filleting the nightfish. She personally whisked the snowcream for dessert, folding in crushed moonberries until the texture turned silky lavender.

All while the echo of Mira’s words remained in her mind like a drumbeat.

Mortal pleasure. She hadn’t misinterpreted it.

But she tried not to think too hard. Not yet.

An hour later, the final dish was placed onto a wide tray of enchanted silver. Everything glistened under the gentle soul-lights of the dining hall—like a feast carved from frost and moonlight.

Ivana dismissed the servants with a soft gesture.

She’d serve them herself.

---

The dining room wasn’t extravagant. A rectangular table of pale blue stone stretched between two ice-crystal chandeliers. Large, floor-length windows revealed a clear view of the falling snow beyond.

Deus sat with the casual ease of someone who had never belonged to any one place—and yet made any space feel insignificant simply by occupying it.

Mira, seated beside him, had an amused look in her eyes. As if she knew something interesting was going to happen —and was enjoying every moment of watching it unfold.

Ivana entered gracefully, holding a silver tray with three small glasses and a bottle of chilled wine so old it predated even her empire’s founding.

"Something to warm the soul," she said softly.

Deus nodded, the fragrance of the food was good. Course after course was laid before them.

The frostlotus stew shimmered faintly, its surface glinting with a sheen of oil. The glazed boar was rich and tender, slow-roasted and marinated in a brew of whisperspice and bluefire salt. Snowberry syrup trickled over the meat’s edges, pooling like molten crystal. There was fresh bread, soft and warm, dusted with glacier herbs—and a wine so light it tasted like snowmelt kissed with starlight.

Deus took a bite of the boar. He paused, then another. Then a spoonful of the stew.

He didn’t say anything.

But his eyes lingered on the food a moment longer. His movements slowed just slightly. freewebnøvel.com

While this can’t compare to what I’ve eaten before... it’s quite good.

He reached for another piece.

Across from him, Ivana’s eyes flicked toward his plate—and then away, hiding the faint lift at the corner of her lips.

Mira glanced between the two and stifled a smile, swirling her wine without drinking.

The meal carried on in a comfortable silence.

Ivana served each dish personally—hands steady, movements composed, yet a subtle tension clung to her shoulders. As if she was waiting for something.

Mira raised her glass. "You weren’t exaggerating when you said you had the best cooks in the empire."

Ivana smiled faintly. "I’m glad it pleases you, Senior."

Mira leaned back, resting her cheek against her knuckles, watching with glimmering eyes. "You’re not bad yourself."

Ivana offered no reply—only poured the next glass with quiet grace. The plates were cleared, the wine poured a final time. Silence lingered like mist.

Ivana stood, her expression unreadable, and took a quiet breath before turning toward Deus.

"I’ve been thinking really hard... about how to repay you," she said softly, voice just above a whisper.

Deus looked up, his expression calm as always—serene, unreadable. But his gaze didn’t leave hers.

She stepped closer.

"While this won’t compare to what you’ve given me..." Her cheeks warmed slightly, but she didn’t falter. "I’d be glad to show you all I know... about the pleasures mortals like me experience."

A pause. Then—Deus smiled.

Not mockingly. Not with arrogance or superiority.

But something quieter.

Warmer.

The kind of smile that carried a thousand years behind it, and yet made a moment feel still.

"I see," he said gently, his voice low, carrying the weight of something vast—yet lightly spoken. "Then I shall accept... your offering."

Ivana’s lips parted. Her heart thudded in her chest.