"Good."
Orson inclined his head and walked the air, no longer bound by flesh. Beneath his feet a crimson ribbon unfurled like silk, streaming upward toward the floating island.
Starsea Stride was a short description with endless uses. He could stroll the void, and ignore most divine wards. Only barriers borne of Divinity higher than his own could deny passage. By that measure the Fire God had once stood where he now stood, a mid-tier deity.
"Sunforge adventurers, Eternal Clan, march with me. We hunt the Abyss," Orson said.
Across the slopes, Sunforge's standouts lit with fervor. To follow a god into war was a privilege last tasted by their ancestors a thousand years before. They poured onto the crimson stair, elated to share a battlefield with a true god.
"Move. Break the cage. Claim the stars," Darulunina cried, eyes alight.
