Time stood still in the infinite, leaden expanses of the Void.
Whether it had been days or weeks since they left Kaelith's cursed forest, no one could tell. The sky was, as always, shrouded in dark clouds, pressing down on their souls like a heavy shroud. The artificial warmth of the Elysium pills Swen had prepared still circulated in their veins; their bodies did not dissolve in the acid of the Void, but their spirits... their spirits grew more translucent with every step.
The last vestiges of that old, forced cheer had vanished. The annoying yet life-affirming clinking of Swen's alchemy tubes had fallen silent; she had abandoned her experiments. Koharu's incessant, curious questions were buried in a profound silence. Aurelia simply marched on like a statue of war, her golden eyes cutting the darkness in two.
When they sheltered among the jagged crags that night, the fire burned weaker than ever. Shinju sat a distance away from the camp, his back against a freezing rock. His eyes were closed, but this was no rest.
Underneath closed lids, his Dragon Eye flickered restlessly. The silver sphere in his right eye resonated with the fabric of the Void, creating a thin, eerie mist around him. After a while, a ragged, broken voice escaped Shinju's throat:
"...mother..."
This voice did not belong to the Void's strongest warrior, but to the small child lost in the darkness two hundred years ago. Aurelia, sitting atop a rock and keeping watch, turned her head at the sound. Swen and Koharu, huddled in their blankets, were startled awake. Shinju's face contorted in agony; cold beads of sweat glistened in the flickering campfire light. His fingers clawed at the earth as if gripping the edge of a precipice.
"...don't leave me... mother, don't go..."
His breathing grew shallow, his chest heaving. His voice became clearer, more haunting: "It's been two hundred years... It's as if I've been in a terrible dream for two hundred years, mother... A dark, pitch-black dream... A nightmare where you weren't there, where everything smelled of blood and ash... Please, don't leave me. Don't go..."
Shinju's uncontrolled, surging energy caused the surrounding stones to crack. Yin and Yang began to collide within his mind like a cataclysmic earthquake. Swen bolted up in a panic.
"We have to wake him! His energy is unstable; his mind won't withstand this pressure, he'll destroy himself!"
As Swen took a step, Aurelia lunged forward like an arrow to block her path.
"Stop," Aurelia said. Her voice was low, yet it commanded more authority than all the storms of the Void.
"Don't you see? He's suffering!" Swen snapped. "That dream will finish him!"
Aurelia did not take her golden eyes off Shinju's trembling body. "Let him be," she said, her voice rippling with a deep melancholy. "Do not disturb him... Let him spend a little more time with his mother, even if only in a dream. That dream may be painful, but the reality he will wake to is far colder."
Recalling her own thousand-year loneliness, Aurelia lowered her gaze to the ground. "This man is holding someone's hand for the first time in two centuries, Swen. Let it be a shadow. Do not begrudge him these few minutes of illusion."
Shinju's mumbling gradually subsided. His lips sealed for the last time on the word "Mother." His body relaxed, the energy surge stilled, and the heavy silence of the Void returned to the camp. No one slept that night.
When the first light of morning—as much light as the Void allowed—seeped through the leaden mists, a deathly silence hung over the camp. Shinju was already on his feet. The sobbing, pain-wracked child of the night was gone; in his place stood only a statue carved from ice.
He threw his cloak over his shoulders. His movements were so fluid and effortless it seemed as though gravity itself obeyed him.
Koharu approached him with a light ration Swen had prepared. She wanted to soften the mood, to disperse that heavy air.
"Shinju... you should eat something. Swen added a little sweetener; at least it doesn't taste like moss," Koharu said, offering a forced, cheerful smile.
Shinju did not stop. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon toward the dome. He didn't even glance at the food she offered.
"No need," he said. His voice was so low, yet so resonant. "I do not feel hunger."
Swen caught up from behind, reaching out to clap a hand on Shinju's shoulder with her usual brashness. "Come on, man, aren't you acting a bit too stiff for someone who was crying for his mommy all night? Loosen up before we reach Mich—"
Shinju stopped abruptly. Swen's hand froze mid-air, inches from his shoulder. Shinju slowly turned his head; the silver sphere in his right eye glowed with a light so cold it could freeze her very soul.
Shinju didn't say a single word. He just looked at her.
Swen pulled her hand back as if she had reached for a red-hot iron. Her throat tightened. Any courage she had to joke evaporated in seconds. "Alright... Understood. Silence mode. My favorite," she muttered, stepping back nervously.
Aurelia watched them from the rear. Her golden eyes were locked onto Shinju's back. As a dragon, she knew power and nobility better than anyone, but what she saw now was more than just physical strength. The air around Shinju was warping. It was a massive aura—hardened by regret, forged in pain, and sealed by the silence of the Void. She could clearly see that the man who had slept the night before and the man standing before her now had changed.
"March," Shinju said. It wasn't a command; it was like a law of nature.
There was a massive obstacle in their path—a pile of rocks blocking the way. Normally, they would have had to go around it.
Shinju did not hesitate. As his rhythmic steps continued, he flicked his right hand to the side, almost as if caressing the air. No shout, no sign of focus...
SNAP.
The massive boulders split in two as if an invisible blade had passed through them, tumbling to either side. Not even dust rose; the Yin energy had disassembled the matter so perfectly that the molecules simply accepted their new positions.
Shinju walked straight through the center of the path he had cleared. He did not look back. He did not wait for thanks. His presence alone seemed to cast a shadow even over the darkness of the Void.
Aurelia brushed her hand against the smooth, split surfaces. Her eyes were wide with wonder. "He is no longer just controlling power," she whispered to herself. "He has become the Void itself."
Koharu could barely swallow as she watched Shinju from behind. Shinju was no longer the "guardian of the unloved princess." He was an absolute will standing against fate. Koharu's heart beat faster—not from fear, but from an awe-filled admiration for an impossible power.
Swen leaned toward Aurelia and whispered, "Hey, don't you think he's being... a bit too cool? I mean, he just slapped the air and split a mountain, then acted like he was just swatting a fly."
Aurelia watched the way Shinju's cloak billowed with dignity in the windless Void.
"Shut up, Swen," Aurelia said, her voice trembling with a newfound respect for Shinju. "And just watch. You are witnessing the birth of a god."