Silvy's palms pressed against the glowing altar, her breath shallow and uneven.
The divine energy still coursed through her veins, yet it did not feel like mana or even life force—it was something foreign, infinite and heavy.
Her heart drummed faintly, but her chest felt hollow, detached.
She looked down at her hand—or what remained of it. Her missing arm ended in clean light rather than flesh, a symbol of divinity, not humanity.
A shiver ran through her as she realized she couldn't even feel pain anymore.
"I… don't feel like me. I don't feel human."
She whispered, her voice trembling.
Her emotions, once so vibrant, so fiery, were now dull embers. Even the adrenaline that had carried her through battle was gone.
Her irritation, her triumph, her fear—all muted. She almost laughed, bitterly.
'Was this what being a god was like? Empty? Detached?'
She slumped against the altar, closing her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she thought—perhaps it was easier to give up.
