The wind did not return after that night.
It lingered at the edges of the sect like something uncertain—like the world itself had grown cautious.
After the worshipper left his chamber, Eryndor did not move for a long time.
He stood in silence.Not thinking.Not reacting.
Just… listening.
The quiet inside him had changed.
Before, it had been a void.
Now—
It felt occupied.
Outside, the rumors that began in Chapter XV were no longer whispers.
They had weight.
Disciples no longer avoided him subtly. They stepped aside openly. Some lowered their eyes in fear. Others stared too long, as if trying to see the monster they believed was hiding beneath his skin.
And perhaps…
They were not wrong.
At dawn, the elders called for assembly.
That alone was enough to send tension rippling across the sect.
When Eryndor entered the central courtyard, the space parted around him like water retreating from something sinking.
Mei Lin was already there.
Her gaze found him immediately.
Concern.
Not fear.
That difference mattered more than she knew.
High above, the Sect Master stood with hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.
"Last night," he began, voice steady but tight beneath the surface, "the stars dimmed."
A murmur spread.
"The observatory confirms an anomaly centered directly above our territory."
Silence fell again.
Everyone knew what that meant.
The Sect Master's eyes lowered slowly.
They landed on Eryndor.
"We cannot ignore coincidence."
Eryndor did not flinch.
"Are you accusing me?" he asked calmly.
"I am asking," the Sect Master replied, "what exactly have you brought into this world?"
The question struck harder than any blade.
Because Eryndor did not have an answer.
The sky darkened slightly though it was still morning.
Not clouds.
Something else.
A faint distortion—barely visible.
But present.
Mei Lin felt it first.
Her hand tightened around her sword.
"They're watching," she whispered.
Eryndor's pulse slowed.
"Yes."
He felt it too.
Not the sky.
Not the elders.
Something far beyond both.
Then it happened.
A disciple collapsed.
Without warning.
Without attack.
His cultivation core shattered like glass.
Screams erupted.
Chaos rippled outward.
Another fell.
Then another.
Elders rushed forward, hands glowing with stabilizing energy—but their techniques faltered.
Spiritual energy in the air had become unstable.
Corrupted.
As if something invisible was drinking from it.
The Sect Master's voice thundered:
"Form defensive arrays!"
But it was too late.
The pressure descended.
Not crushing.
Not violent.
But absolute.
Every cultivator present dropped to one knee—except one.
Eryndor remained standing.
And that—
That was the moment fear became certainty.
He felt it pouring into him.
Not by choice.
Not by desire.
But by nature.
The Starred Energy inside his veins awakened fully for the first time.
It did not surge.
It absorbed.
The unstable spiritual currents twisting through the sect grounds bent toward him instinctively.
Like rivers finding a deeper ocean.
Mei Lin looked at him in horror.
"Stop it!" she shouted.
"I'm not—"
But he couldn't finish.
Because he understood.
It wasn't something he was doing.
It was something he was.
The sky above fractured faintly again.
A thin, spiderweb crack spreading across blue daylight.
Gasps echoed.
Someone whispered, "It's him…"
And this time—
No one disagreed.
Eryndor clenched his fists.
He tried to push it back.
Tried to reject it.
But the power responded with something terrifying.
Contentment.
It was feeding.
Through him.
Not on flesh.
Not on blood.
But on imbalance.
On fear.
On instability.
On faith.
The more they feared him—
The stronger it grew.
"Seal him!" one elder shouted.
That single command shattered whatever fragile trust remained.
Multiple elders moved at once.
Ancient talismans ignited.
Golden chains of formation energy shot toward Eryndor from every direction.
Mei Lin's eyes widened.
"No—!"
The chains struck him.
Wrapped around his arms.
His chest.
His throat.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then—
The chains began to blacken.
Not from force.
Not from struggle.
From starvation.
The energy within them drained visibly, flickering, thinning, fading.
Elders staggered backward as their own cultivation weakened.
"He's devouring it!" someone screamed.
Eryndor's eyes changed.
Not glowing.
Not burning.
But empty.
Vast.
And unbearably calm.
"I told you," he said softly.
"I'm not controlling this."
The last chain snapped.
The pressure intensified.
Several disciples fainted.
The ground beneath him cracked.
And in that instant—
The sky opened fully.
Not wide.
But enough.
Enough for something to peer through.
A shape without shape.
An eye without form.
Watching.
Waiting.
Recognizing.
Eryndor looked up.
And this time—
He did not look afraid.
Mei Lin stepped in front of him.
Her blade drawn.
Not at him.
At the sky.
"If you want him," she said coldly, "you come through me."
The declaration cut through the chaos like steel.
Eryndor blinked.
For a fraction of a second—
The emptiness inside him trembled.
Something human resurfaced.
"Why?" he asked her quietly.
Her answer was simple.
"Because you haven't chosen it."
The sky pulsed.
The unseen presence reacted.
Not angrily.
But curiously.
As if observing an unexpected variable.
Then—
A voice rolled across the heavens.
Not inside his head this time.
Not hidden.
Everyone heard it.
"The throne cannot remain empty."
Hundreds collapsed instantly.
Blood spilled from noses and ears.
Elders screamed in pain.
Mei Lin dropped to one knee—but refused to bow.
Eryndor remained standing.
Because the voice did not crush him.
It welcomed him.
The realization hit him with brutal clarity.
This was never about corruption.
Never about invasion.
The Starved God was not trying to possess him.
It was preparing him.
Shaping him.
Strengthening him.
Until he could sit where it once sat.
His chest tightened.
Not from power.
From something worse.
Understanding.
He had not survived the ruins by chance.
He had not been marked randomly.
He had been selected.
Because he had something the god lacked.
Endurance.
A hollow already carved by suffering.
A heart that understood hunger.
The presence in the sky leaned closer.
The fracture widened slightly.
The air turned thin.
Mei Lin looked back at him.
And for the first time—
There was fear in her eyes.
Not of him.
But for him.
"Eryndor," she whispered, "don't listen."
He didn't answer.
Because the truth was—
He wasn't resisting anymore.
Not fully.
The hunger inside him surged.
Not outward.
Inward.
It reached toward the sky like a mirror reaching its reflection.
And the heavens trembled.
But then—
Something unexpected happened.
Pain.
Sharp.
Human.
Mei Lin grabbed his hand.
Hard.
Her grip grounding.
Real.
"You're still here," she said fiercely. "Don't disappear."
The contact burned.
Not physically.
Existentially.
The Starred Energy recoiled from her touch.
Not in harm.
In disruption.
Because she was not afraid.
And fear was its fuel.
Eryndor gasped.
Clarity rushed back.
The presence above faltered.
Just slightly.
Enough.
He made a choice.
Not grand.
Not dramatic.
But decisive.
He stepped backward.
Away from the fracture.
Away from the call.
The sky shuddered violently.
The voice deepened.
"You cannot deny eternity."
Eryndor's reply was quiet.
"Watch me."
And for the first time—
The hunger felt something unfamiliar.
Resistance.
The fracture began to close.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
The eye beyond narrowed.
Not defeated.
Not gone.
But waiting.
The sky sealed.
Light returned.
The pressure vanished.
Bodies lay scattered across the courtyard.
Silence followed.
Thick.
Heavy.
Uncertain.
Eryndor collapsed to his knees.
Exhaustion flooded him.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
Mei Lin knelt beside him.
Her grip never loosening.
Around them—
No one spoke.
Because everyone had seen it.
Everyone had heard it.
And no one could deny the truth anymore.
He was not merely abnormal.
He was connected.
To something beyond comprehension.
The Sect Master stepped forward slowly.
Not with anger.
Not with accusation.
But with fear carefully hidden beneath authority.
"This cannot continue," he said.
Eryndor met his gaze.
"I know."
But inside—
The hunger had not faded.
It had grown.
Not stronger.
More patient.
It no longer needed to force him.
Because it understood something now.
He could resist.
Yes.
But resistance required choice.
And choice required strength.
And strength—
Would only come through growth.
As the injured were carried away and the courtyard emptied, whispers began again.
But they were no longer confused.
They were defined.
"He spoke to the heavens."
"The heavens answered."
"The throne called him."
And the most dangerous whisper of all—
"He refused."
Far beyond the mortal realm—
Beyond stars and void—
Something ancient shifted upon a broken seat.
Not angered.
Not pleased.
Simply aware.
The vessel had not accepted.
But he had not severed the bond either.
And hunger—
Hunger could wait.
That night, Eryndor stood alone once more.
Mei Lin approached quietly.
"You pushed it back," she said.
"For now."
She studied him carefully.
"You're not the villain they think you are."
Eryndor's expression darkened.
"Not yet."
The honesty in that answer chilled the air more than any cosmic force.
High above, unseen and patient—
The heavens continued to watch.
Because whether he resisted or surrendered—
The throne was no longer empty