Infinite System Inheritor Return From The Abyss - Chapter 484

484: Chapter 482: If I could 484: Chapter 482: If I could Dayanara clenched her fists tightly as she stared at the unmoving mother and the crying child.

Her heart felt heavy, her throat tight.

She could not take it anymore.

She fell to her knees, tears falling freely down her face as she looked up at the empty sky above the forest canopy.

“I’m begging you… My Goddess,” she cried out with all her voice.

“Please, save her.

I will do anything, just save her.

Take my life if you must, but don’t let this boy lose his mother.” Her voice broke as she continued, trembling.

“Don’t make him live like I did.

No family.

No home.

No one to call his own.” The air around her grew still.

Then- Ding!

A sharp, loud sound echoed through the forest, freezing everything in place.

The water stopped moving, the wind went silent, and even Mist’s sobs halted midair.

The world turned eerily still.

Dayanara’s eyes widened.

Her instincts kicked in and she stood up, pulling her twin sticks into her hands, ready for a fight.

“What’s happening?” she whispered under her breath, scanning her surroundings.

Then, a calm yet powerful voice echoed through the still air.

“I’m impressed, Dayanara,” the voice said softly, filled with warmth yet commanding enough to make her body freeze.

“I chose the right mortal.” Dayanara blinked, her grip on her weapons loosening.

“Goddess…?” she whispered.

From above, soft laughter rippled through the air.

Another feminine voice spoke, teasing, “Ohhh, so this is the one she’s been watching for months?

She looks strong but too emotional, don’t you think?” “Shh, don’t ruin the mood,” another voice said, playful and amused.

“This is the dramatic part!” “Dramatic?

She’s literally crying in mud, Lyrena.” “Still counts!” the voice giggled.

Dayanara’s eyes darted around, confused.

“W-Who’s talking?” she muttered.

Then her goddess’s voice returned, more serious now but kind.

“Ignore them, Dayanara…

they just talk too much.” “Hey!” one of the voices protested.

“You always get the good mortals.

I want one too!” “Then go find your own,” another goddess replied dryly.

“Stop trying to steal hers.” A sigh came from above, gentle and divine.

“Forgive them,” her goddess said softly.

“They are bored.

But you… Dayanara, your heart shines bright, even in despair.

I cannot bring the dead back… but I can give you a path.” Dayanara lowered her weapons slowly, her voice shaking.

“A path?” “Yes,” her goddess said, her tone echoing like wind across the heavens.

“A choice that will test the truth of your heart.” Dayanara looked back at Mist, frozen mid-tear, still clutching his mother’s hand.

She clenched her fists again, her eyes steady despite the trembling in her chest.

“I’ll do it,” she said without hesitation.

“Whatever it takes.” From above, soft laughter and whispers spread again among the goddesses.

“She didn’t even ask what it is,” one said.

“I like her spirit,” another added.

“She’s reckless,” a third commented.

“She’s mine,” her goddess’s voice cut through them, gentle but firm.

Got it – here’s that full continuation written in basic English, keeping your setup and tone: — Dayanara blinked as the soft laughter of the goddesses faded around her.

Her goddess spoke again, her voice calm and clear.

“That is enough.

You have proven your heart, Dayanara.

The test is over.” Dayanara slowly stood up, her body still tense from the fight.

She looked around, confused.

The forest was silent now.

The water was still.

Then she noticed something.

Mist and his mother were gone.

Her eyes widened.

“Where did they go?!” she shouted, spinning around.

The goddess chuckled softly.

“Do not be afraid, mortal.

Watch carefully.” She blew gently, and the air around Dayanara twisted.

The trees faded into mist, replaced by the sound of cars and the smell of smoke.

When Dayanara opened her eyes again, she was standing on the side of a quiet road.

It was night, and rain poured down endlessly, soaking the world in gray.

Her clothes clung to her, heavy from the rain.

She looked around, confused, until the goddess spoke again.

“There they are,” the goddess said softly.

Dayanara’s eyes widened in horror as she saw the mother climb over the bridge railing.

The rain poured harder, cold drops mixing with the tears streaming down Dayanara’s face.

She ran toward the woman, shouting, “Wait!

Don’t do it!

Please stop!” But when she reached her, her hands went right through the woman’s body like smoke.

Dayanara froze, looking at her transparent fingers.

“I’m a soul…?” she whispered.

“No… please, no…” She turned toward the sky, crying out, “My Goddess!

Please stop this!

Let me save her!” Before she could say more, a small voice broke through the rain.

“Mommy!

No!” Dayanara turned.

It was Mist.

The little boy was on the other side of the bridge, soaked from the rain, crying so hard his small shoulders shook.

“Mist…” Dayanara murmured, watching helplessly.

The mother turned at her son’s voice.

Her eyes widened in shock and pain.

“No, son!

Why did you follow me?!” she shouted, stepping back, her feet slipping slightly on the wet metal.

“Stay right there!” she cried again, voice trembling.

Mist shook his head and took a step forward, crying.

“Mommy, don’t cry!

It’s okay!

Daddy can go!

You still have me!” His words cracked as he wiped his tears with tiny hands.

“I can work too!

I can do jobs, Mommy!

Please don’t go!” The mother’s knees buckled.

Her face twisted between heartbreak and guilt as she gripped the railing tighter.

“No, my baby… you don’t understand…” The mother stood near the edge of the bridge, shivering as cars rushed by, their headlights flashing through the darkness.

She waited, tears mixing with the rain, her lips trembling as she whispered her son’s name.

Mist, too small to understand the danger, stood at the opposite side of the road.

“Mommy!” he called again, crying.

“Please don’t leave me!

I can help!

I can work too!” The mother’s chest ached hearing his words.

She wanted to go to him, to hold him one last time, but the traffic between them roared fast, endless, and dangerous.

Dayanara, still in her soul form, shouted desperately, “Don’t cross!

Stay there, Mist!” Then, for a brief moment, the road was empty.

The mother glanced, thinking she could cross to hold her son again.

But Mist seeing no cars ran first.

“MIST!

NO!” the mother screamed.

Dayanara’s eyes widened.

She ran forward with all her strength, trying to reach the boy.

“Stop!

Please stop!” she shouted.

She threw herself toward him, trying to pull him back but her arms passed through him like air.

A loud honk cut through the rain.

Headlights blinded everything.

The mother didn’t think.

She dashed forward, pushing her son with all her strength.

The car skidded, the sound of screeching tires echoing.

A cry broke out, then silence.

Dayanara froze, watching in horror.

Mist’s small body rolled near the sidewalk, blood mixing with the rain.

His mother lay beside him, unmoving, her hand still stretched toward her son.

“No… no, no, please…” Dayanara fell to her knees, trembling.

“Why… why does it end like this again?” Her voice broke as she looked at their still forms.

“Even now, I still can’t do anything…” Thunder rumbled.

Then a soft glow appeared beside her.

The goddess stood there, her golden eyes calm yet filled with quiet sorrow.

“This,” the goddess said gently, “is what happened a few days ago.” Dayanara turned to her, shaking.

“You mean… they’re already…” “Yes,” the goddess whispered.

“They both died that night.

This is their memory.” Dayanara’s tears fell freely.

She looked at the mother and Mist, both lying peacefully in the rain.

“But why show me this…?” she whispered.

The goddess looked down at her.

“Because you begged to save them,” she said softly.

“And I wanted you to understand-you cannot change what is already written.

Even I could not alter this fate.” Rain continued to fall quietly, washing the road with sorrow.

Dayanara clenched her fists, her heart aching with helplessness.

“Even so…” she murmured, voice breaking, “if I could, I’d still save them.”