The shard of light had dissolved into his shadow.
Arman's chest still throbbed with the lingering pulse of the Vein. Every heartbeat echoed as if the world itself had changed rhythm. The streets were quiet—eerily quiet—but he could sense the energy. The air was thick with it, like static before a storm.
He flexed his fingers. Nothing.
Then a twitch. The shadow under his feet shifted. A faint ripple of violet light ran along it.
"What… what is happening to me?" he whispered.
A distant sound—low, mournful, almost like wind—made him turn. Across the street, a figure emerged from the shadows. Not human. Not quite Echo. Something in between.
It moved unnaturally, limbs stretching and bending at impossible angles. Its head tilted like a marionette's. A pulse of dark energy emanated from it, and Arman felt a pull, as if the creature were tethered to him.
"You're not afraid," a voice whispered in his mind.
Arman staggered backward. "Who—?"
The voice didn't answer. It flowed through him, cold but guiding. A memory, or maybe a thought, burrowed into his consciousness: "Touch it. Absorb it."
The creature lunged. Instinctively, Arman raised his hand.
The shadow beneath him surged. Streams of violet light shot up like tendrils, wrapping around the creature mid-air.
It screamed—not a sound from this world, but a vibration that shook the very air. Arman felt the pulse of its energy enter him. It burned, cold and hot at once, and then… calm.
"First full absorption complete," the voice echoed again.
Arman's knees buckled. He sank to the ground, gasping. The shadows around him shimmered, alive now, responding to his slightest movement. The city had not changed—but he had.
He lifted a trembling hand, and a shard of darkness sprang forward, hovering in the air like liquid. It pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
"So this is… power," he murmured.
A siren wailed somewhere far off, snapping him back to reality.
People were running now, screaming. But the Vein above had grown darker, thicker. Shadows writhed across the clouds like ink in water.
Arman felt it before he saw it—a second Abyssal Vein forming. And this one was active. Hungry.
He rose to his feet, shadow tendrils stretching instinctively. For the first time, he felt control. Not complete control—but enough.
"Lira!" he shouted. His sister was nowhere in sight. Panic rose in his chest. But the voice inside him whispered: "Focus. Stabilize. Absorb."
The ground trembled again. From the twisting Vein above, more Echoes poured down—smaller, faster, but far more aggressive. They screamed, lunged, and collided with the streets.
Arman raised his hand. Shadows sprouted like black lightning, whipping toward them. He caught one mid-leap, its energy flowing into him, leaving behind nothing but a dissipating ripple.
His mind raced. Every strike, every absorption, made him stronger, but the energy… it was different from Divers' power. Cold. Ancient. Like a predator waiting inside him.
And it was hungry.
A sudden scream tore through the air. He turned. A small group of civilians had been cornered by an Echo—but it hesitated, sensing something different about him.
Arman didn't think. He moved. Shadows slithered from his feet, wrapping around the creature. It collapsed instantly, leaving the civilians unharmed.
For the first time, they looked at him not with fear… but awe.
Arman's shadow pulsed, reacting to the Vein above. A strange connection had formed—he could feel it calling, guiding him.
He swallowed hard, knowing what this meant.
This was no longer about survival.
This was a calling.
The Veins were not just unstable—they were awakening.
And now, so was he.
From the darkness inside, the voice whispered one last truth:
"You are not a Diver. You arithing around him like living armor.
"Then I'll show them," he said, voice steady for the first time.
"I'll show the world what I am."
And somewhere, in the twisting sky above, the Abyssal Vein pulsed in response.