Darkness faded slowly.
Not peacefully—
but painfully.
Azriah's consciousness returned in fragments.
Cold.
Pain.
Pressure.
Every nerve in his body felt shattered.
His muscles screamed.
His chest burned.
And even breathing felt like dragging broken glass through his lungs.
"…Tch."
His eyes opened slowly.
Above him—
Tyber's silver skies stretched endlessly.
Snow drifted gently across his battered form.
For several moments—
he simply lay there.
Trying to process.
Trying to move.
Trying not to black out again.
'…I'm alive.'
'Barely.'
Sham's voice came instantly.
Sharp.
Irritated.
And unmistakably tense.
'You absolute lunatic.'
Azriah winced as he slowly pushed himself upward.
Pain immediately surged through him.
'What happened?'
Silence.
Then—
'Your blessings are sealed.'
Azriah froze.
'…What?'
Sham's tone darkened.
'Usurper's Hand, Negation… even your Ice blessing.'
A pause.
Then—
'All suppressed.'
Azriah's eyes narrowed sharply.
He immediately reached inward—
toward his mana.
Toward his blessings.
And—
nothing.
No response.
No resonance.
No divine flow.
Only silence.
'…Damn it.'
'Damn it?'
Sham nearly snapped.
'That's your reaction?!'
Azriah's breathing steadied.
'Temporary setback.'
Sham sounded utterly baffled.
'You nearly lost your body to something incomprehensible!'
A pause.
Then—
'Retreat.'
Azriah slowly rose to his feet.
His body trembled violently.
But he stood.
'No.'
Silence.
Then—
'…No?'
Azriah looked upward.
Toward the higher slopes.
Toward the fracture.
'The codex is still ahead.'
Sham sounded genuinely offended.
'You can barely stand.'
Azriah took a step forward.
His battered body protested immediately.
Then another.
'Doesn't matter.'
'It absolutely matters!'
Azriah ignored him.
'If I turn back now…'
A pause.
Then—
'I may lose this chance entirely.'
The mountain winds howled.
His body staggered.
But he continued.
Step.
By step.
By agonizing step.
Sham fell silent.
Watching.
Judging.
And perhaps—
understanding.
Minutes passed.
Or perhaps hours.
Time blurred beneath exhaustion.
Azriah's injuries worsened.
His breathing became unstable.
Blood stained the snow beneath his boots.
And eventually—
his body gave out.
He stumbled.
Fell to one knee.
Then another.
Vision blurred.
Consciousness flickering.
'…Idiot.'
But this time—
Sham's voice sounded different.
Not mocking.
Not irritated.
Resolved.
Suddenly—
a pulse erupted within Azriah's mindscape.
Divine.
Foreign.
Ancient.
Before him—
for the first time—
Sham manifested physically.
A young man stood within his fading consciousness.
Long white hair flowed like silver flame.
Sharp features.
Golden eyes.
A youthful adult form radiating celestial intensity.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
Otherworldly.
Azriah blinked weakly.
'…So that's what you look like.'
Sham folded his arms.
'Focus.'
Despite the severity—
Azriah almost smirked.
'You look annoyingly dramatic.'
'And you look half-dead.'
A pause.
Then—
Sham's tone softened slightly.
'I can't fully unseal your blessings.'
Azriah's expression darkened.
'Then what.'
Sham extended his hand.
'I'll give you mine.'
Silence.
Azriah blinked.
'Your blessing?'
Sham nodded.
'Changeling.'
A pause.
Then—
'Originally mine as a Watcher.'
Azriah frowned slightly.
'Watcher…'
Sham's expression sharpened.
'A species older than most divine systems.'
Another pause.
'Adaptation. Mimicry. Transformation. Survival.'
He placed his hand against Azriah's chest.
'Your Negation will likely devour it…'
A pause.
Then—
'But that may actually help.'
Divine energy surged violently.
Pain exploded once more.
Azriah's body convulsed.
His consciousness fractured.
And then—
darkness.
When Azriah awoke—
the world felt… different.
His body still hurt.
But less.
His strength—
greater.
His senses—
sharper.
He slowly examined himself.
Subtle changes.
His physique had shifted slightly.
Sharper musculature.
Better structural balance.
An unnatural fluidity beneath his movements.
'…What did you do?'
Sham's voice returned.
Calmer now.
'I granted you Changeling.'
A pause.
Then—
'Or tried to.'
Azriah frowned.
'Tried?'
'Your Negation devoured it immediately.'
Silence.
Then—
'But instead of destroying it…'
Another pause.
'It assimilated it.'
Azriah froze slightly.
'Meaning.'
Sham sounded mildly impressed.
'Your species adapted.'
A pause.
Then—
'You now possess partial Watcher traits.'
Azriah remained silent.
So Sham continued.
'Primary abilities include:'
A pause.
Then—
'Shapeshifting.'
Another pause.
'Adaptive evolution.'
Another.
'Mimicry.'
And finally—
'Superhuman physical capability.'
Azriah's gaze sharpened.
'And what can I currently use?'
Sham folded his arms.
'Shapeshifting and physical enhancement.'
A pause.
Then—
'The rest will likely unlock over time.'
Azriah flexed his hand slowly.
Strength surged beneath the motion.
Different from mana.
More primal.
Biological.
Predatory.
'Congratulations.'
Sham sighed dramatically.
'You're somehow even more unnatural now.'
Azriah almost smiled.
'Useful.'
'Concerning.'
After stabilizing—
Azriah retrieved estate-issued potions from his supply pouch.
Advanced healing elixirs.
Pain suppressants.
Mana restoratives.
He consumed them carefully.
His battered body gradually regained enough function to continue.
And so—
he climbed again.
This time—
weaker in blessings.
But stronger in body.
Monsters lurked throughout Tyber's ascent.
Snow Wowl.
Frostfang Beasts.
Glacial carrion birds.
Ancient predators.
But Azriah did not engage unnecessarily.
Injured and strategically focused—
he avoided them.
Using terrain.
Observation.
And newfound adaptive precision.
Hours passed.
The storm intensified.
The cold worsened.
But eventually—
through layers of ice-covered stone and shattered cliffs—
he found it.
A cavern.
Massive.
Ancient.
Its entrance half-buried beneath snow and glacial overgrowth.
Yet from within—
mana pulsed unnaturally.
Distorted.
Heavy.
Ancient.
A fracture.
Azriah stood before it silently.
Breathing steadily despite exhaustion.
His body battered.
His blessings sealed.
His path irreversible.
Sham's voice lowered.
For once—
serious.
'This is it.'
Azriah stared into the darkness ahead.
'Yes.'
A pause.
Then—
'No turning back.'
Sham was silent.
Then—
'You were never going to anyway.'
And beneath the frozen wrath of Tyber—
before an ancient fracture older than kingdoms—
Azriah Antioch stepped forward.
Toward blindness.
Toward prophecy.
Toward the codex.
And toward the next evolution—
of something even fate itself had begun to fear.