Chapter 2 – The First Breath of Infinity.
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The light was soft, as if someone had dissolved the dawn in warm water. Azraelion opened his eyes—that topaz blue shining calmly, the scarlet red sparkling like a still silent promise. Even so, behind the color, there was only… confusion. A boy who already knew too much about fantasy worlds, but still knew nothing about his own destiny.
The air smelled of dry leaves and old rain. He raised his hand slowly, as if afraid to break his own shadow… and the energy responded. A thread of light danced above his fingers, changing shape as his imagination trembled.
"So… it wasn't a dream," he murmured, and his voice came out low, hoarse, as if testing his own timbre.
The energy swirled, snaking in timid spirals. Nothing noisy. Nothing destructive. It was as if the entire cosmos were warming around him, curious to see what he would do next.
The God Hand, dormant but pulsating, reacted to every emotion. When he tried to push away the anxiety, the energy vibrated in gentle waves, almost like a cosmic purr. When he remembered his idiotic death—it still hurt—the light lost its color for a few seconds, waning, receding.
"And I really died tripping over this…?" He closed his eyes, his face contorted between shame and an almost hysterical laugh. "What a disaster."
The world didn't mock him. No celestial voice laughed. Silence responded like a thick blanket that judges no one.
He walked a few steps, feeling the soft ground beneath his feet. The landscape was a circular clearing, surrounded by ancient trees that seemed to have witnessed the birth of entire civilizations. Leaves floated slowly, as if respecting his presence.
He sat at the foot of a gnarled tree and took a deep breath. The inherited knowledge—Solomon's wisdom, the clairvoyance that seemed to whisper mysteries from every direction, the royal charisma that pulsed in his chest like a still fire—it was all there, but at a low volume, like powers in an old radio that still needed tuning.
It was strange. It was vast. It was beautiful.
And it was his.
He closed his eyes again, concentrating. The tree of evolution appeared in his mind, ethereal like a hand-painted hologram. Infinite branches stretched out in all directions, each branch pulsing with possible destinies. Most still opaque, sleeping. Others weak, like timid embers. And there in the center, the core: his sacred symbol, a nine-pointed star made of liquid light.
"So… is this what I am now?" He touched the symbol mentally, and a warm sensation ran through his body. "Azraelion Vheros." Heir to… all of this.
There were no easy answers. Nor did there need to be.
He remained there, seated, breathing slowly, adjusting to the gentle weight of infinity. Energy circulated through his muscles with the tranquility of a river finally finding its bed. Perception gradually expanded: the sound of an insect flapping its wings twenty meters away, the flow of mana in the ground, the tranquil intention of the trees, the stillness of the wind before changing direction.
No monster leaped from the shadows.
No prophecy fell from the sky.
It was just a boy… reborn as a demigod… learning to exist without accidentally breaking the world.
And that, in itself, was a powerful beginning.
The afternoon slowly descended, and Azraelion remained there, absorbing every detail, adapting as one savors a rare flavor, savoring it until understanding its nuances. He knew that adventures would come, that battles lurked beyond the horizon. He knew his destiny was one that would make poets tear their hair out trying to describe it.
But at that moment?
It was just the calm before the cosmos called him by name.
And he allowed himself to relish that calm.
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