Ash sat motionless at the heart of the Greater Chamber, cradled inside a cushion of living cloud that felt like the universe itself had decided to keep one promise.
Cherry petals hung suspended around him, refusing to fall, while the ceiling of liquid starlight rose and fell in the same slow rhythm as every soul he had ever shielded.
Ten months passed here, while out there the world kept spinning.
Eyes shut, he dug deep into himself, recalling the only S-rank he'd ever met—Vaeloria.
The memory was sharp, almost painfully so. Rising beyond A-rank meant forging a path so definite it shaped who you were, what you refused to become, and every future you'd dare to seize.
A vow.
He gazed into the mirror of his soul and spoke the truth he knew to be his own.
"I've lived two lifetimes," he said, his voice low and steady, each word ringing in the silence like iron striking iron. "I've been written off, spat on, looked down upon time and again, yet I never complained. I just rose."
