Suddenly—a burst of light erupted from within Arion's body,
shooting into the night sky like a spear piercing the heavens.
The light was not merely bright—it shimmered in colors beyond description,
burning like a rainbow set ablaze.
For a fleeting moment, its beauty almost made one forget—that it was born of agony.
The radiance poured from Arion's body,
washing away all shadows in its path.
The Abyssal beasts still charging toward him had no time to scream-they simply disintegrated into dust,
erased by a force that defied comprehension.
As the light slowly faded,
Arion opened his eyes.
The body that had once been torn apart—was now whole.
Not a drop of blood remained.
No wounds, no shredded cloth.
He stood tall,
as though the cruelty of moments before had never touched him.
"What… is this?"
he whispered, stunned.
His gaze dropped to his right hand.
There, a symbol was etched into his skin—a sun with eight pointed rays, glowing faintly but radiating undeniable authority.
A Blessing.
But before he could begin to understand,
everything stopped.
Time—froze.
The wind ceased.
Dust hung motionless in the air.
Davian, who had been running toward him,
was suspended in place, just a few steps away.
Then,
a black fog rolled in from the voiddense, cold, suffocating.
From within it, a pair of glowing red eyes emerged—sharp, piercing, unblinking.
A crow's beak, cloaked in shadow, faintly visible—as if the darkness itself wore the shape of a bird.
It spoke.
Its voice was raspy, deep,
and felt as though it echoed directly within Arion's mind.
"We shall meet soon... Prince."
Then, just as swiftly as it came,
the fog vanished.
Time resumed.
The wind blew once more.
The dust began to fall.
Davian moved again, unaware of the moment stolen by the void.
There was no trace of the entity's presence.
Only one thing remained—a single raven's feather,
drifting through the air
before vanishing into the distance.
And now...
the Blessing had chosen him.