Khael's POV
After that incident, silence lingered like smoke over the battlefield. The air itself felt heavy, thick with awe and disbelief. I didn't know what to say. None of us did.
Then… they appeared.
Elder Ryozen. His body was a map of scars, each one etched by battles long past. His Shinrei aura flickered like embers at the end of a fire—dim, yet steady, stubborn against the dark. He cracked one eye open, the weight of centuries glinting in his gaze.
Beside him stood Wanderer-Seer Oryan. His robes bore faded constellations, starlight patterns worn down with age, but still carrying that quiet mystery. His staff topped with shards of crystal shimmered faintly, like fragments of night sky.
And both of them… both of them knelt.
