Back when he died in his world, in the hands of that mysterious woman, the very last thing he saw wasn't her face... Just the hilt of a knife—thrust deep into his chest.
That image refused to leave him.
The hilt… as dark as polished obsidian, and at its base… a gem. Not just any gem, but one that shimmered with the colours of the entire cosmos. Deep, bottomless black. Glimmers of starlight blue. The very shape of galaxies spinning in silence.
And now, in the present, as he stood frozen in front of the picture in the book, he saw it again—clearer this time.
The weapon.
The one that had pierced his heart.
Paraclythion.
A curved blade that seemed to breathe with celestial energy. Its steel shimmered in hues of deep sapphire and violet, as if every star in the night sky had been gathered and forged into this single piece of divine steel. Glowing blue lines ran along its edge—pulses, veins, breathing runes that moved subtly, alive in their own right.
