Pain.
Unimaginable.
Relentless.
Azriah's body collapsed against frozen stone as Codex Arboris continued fusing with his existence.
Every nerve screamed.
His skull felt as though molten iron had been poured directly into his mind.
Imaginary Tree was integrating.
The Codex was rewriting him.
And permanent blindness—
was rapidly approaching.
"Gh—!"
He forced himself upright.
Shaking.
Sweating.
Barely stable.
But moving.
'AZRIAH, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!'
Sham's voice thundered in panic.
Azriah's breathing was ragged.
'Moving.'
'You are actively dying!'
Azriah staggered toward the fracture's exit.
'Then I'll do it somewhere safer.'
And so—
despite agony that should have rendered him immobile—
Azriah ran.
Through snow.
Through pain.
Through fading vision.
For nearly an hour—
he pushed himself beyond reason.
Until at last—
he reached the waiting carriage.
The driver froze in horror.
"My lord?!"
Azriah forced himself inside.
"Safe location."
A pause.
Then—
"Nearest inn."
The terrified driver obeyed instantly.
And as the carriage sped away from Tyber—
Azriah's vision continued darkening.
By his calculations—
Imaginary Tree would fully consume his natural sight within a day.
Meaning—
he had limited time.
Limited opportunity.
And one chance—
to ensure blindness did not become helplessness.
Hours later—
inside a secluded inn chamber—
Azriah immediately opened his luggage.
Ancient supplies.
Prepared in advance.
Because of course—
he had planned for this.
Sham's voice sounded deeply suspicious.
'…Why do you have so many questionable materials?'
Azriah ignored him.
He carefully retrieved—
High-grade healing potions. Ruinic stone powder. Inscription tools. His notebook.
Within it—
pages upon pages of hand-written rune sequences.
Detailed.
Precise.
Forbidden.
Sham immediately noticed.
Then—
horror.
'…No.'
Azriah calmly flipped to a marked section.
'Yes.'
'Absolutely not.'
Azriah's voice remained steady.
'Ruinic Vision.'
Silence.
Then—
'You cannot be serious.'
Azriah began preparing the stone tablet.
'Entirely.'
Sham sounded genuinely alarmed.
'That process was used by the Luneth tribes!'
A pause.
Then—
'They blinded their priests intentionally!'
Azriah nodded slightly.
'Correct.'
Sham nearly exploded.
'ONLY HIGH PRIESTESSES SURVIVED THE FULL RITUAL!'
Azriah calmly ground the runic powder.
'Their methods were incomplete.'
'You are planning to RIP OUT YOUR OWN EYES.'
Azriah paused.
Then—
'Technically, yes.'
Sham manifested physically.
Immediately.
Long white hair disheveled in outrage.
Golden eyes wide with disbelief.
"You are insane."
Azriah barely looked at him.
"Prepared."
"That is not preparation!"
Sham pointed furiously.
"If something goes wrong, your optic nerves rupture, your neural pathways overload, and your brain fries from divine backlash!"
Azriah continued writing runes.
"Normally."
Sham froze slightly.
"…Normally?"
Azriah finally looked up.
"The Codex."
A pause.
Then—
"Codex Arboris is currently assimilating through my brain's residual mana pathways."
Another pause.
"It acts as a stabilizer."
Sham's anger slowly shifted—
into reluctant horror.
"…You're using Codex assimilation to bypass ruinic backlash."
Azriah nodded.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then—
Sham dragged a hand down his face.
"…I hate that this might actually work."
The preparations began.
Azriah inscribed complex runes onto prepared tablets.
Ancient symbols.
Ocular reconstruction formulas.
Mana-divinity interceptive structures.
Medical precision mixed with magical heresy.
As a former medical student—
Azriah understood anatomy.
Nerves.
Optic pathways.
Sensory integration.
That knowledge—
combined with magical systems—
gave him a chance.
A horrifying chance.
He placed a cloth between his teeth.
A handkerchief.
To suppress screams.
Then—
without hesitation—
he began.
The first eye.
Pain exploded beyond comprehension.
His muffled scream shook the room.
Blood poured.
Hands trembled.
But he did not stop.
Then—
the second.
Sham visibly paled.
Even he looked disturbed.
"…You are truly monstrous."
Azriah couldn't answer.
Only scream.
Both eyes—
placed carefully onto the runic stone.
Sham immediately took over chanting.
Ancient Watcher tongue merged with Luneth incantations.
His divine voice stabilized the ritual.
Runes ignited.
Stone glowed violently.
Azriah's severed eyes dissolved.
Turning to ash.
Then—
dust.
The powder rose.
Floating.
And settled directly into his empty eye sockets.
Agony.
Then—
silence.
Mana surged.
Divinity flowed.
Reality bent.
And slowly—
Azriah began to see again.
Not with sight.
Not truly.
But through mana.
Shapes formed from energy.
People became flowing structures of internal force.
Walls shimmered with residual magical traces.
Life itself radiated patterns.
And divinity—
appeared as something even greater.
Azriah's breathing slowly stabilized.
Blood still stained his face.
Fresh biological ocular structures were already beginning to regenerate.
Incomplete.
Developing.
Changing.
He exhaled weakly.
"…It worked."
Sham stared.
Utterly baffled.
"…You actually succeeded."
Azriah's voice was hoarse.
"These new eyes…"
A pause.
Then—
"Traditional eyes intercept photons and convert them into neurological information."
Sham blinked.
"…I understood some of those words."
Azriah continued.
"These…"
Another pause.
"…Can intercept mana."
Then—
"Divinity."
Silence.
Sham slowly processed that.
"…So eventually…"
Azriah nodded weakly.
"I'll perceive not only physical existence…"
A pause.
Then—
"…but divine structures."
Sham stared.
Then groaned.
"Wonderful."
A pause.
"Somehow you made yourself even more terrifying."
For now—
the reconstruction remained incomplete.
Full stabilization would take months.
Until then—
he would adapt.
And then—
Sham asked the most important question.
"…What exactly are you going to tell Asta?"
Azriah froze.
Sham folded his arms.
"She sent you for field training."
A pause.
Then—
"You're returning partially blind, covered in blood, with self-modified divine eyeballs."
Silence.
Azriah began sweating immediately.
"…That is problematic."
Sham deadpanned.
"That is catastrophic."
Azriah looked at him.
"…Help me."
Sham immediately turned away.
"Absolutely not."
"Sham."
"No."
"Please."
"You mutilated yourself voluntarily."
A pause.
Then—
"You explain it."
Azriah's expression finally cracked.
For perhaps the first time—
genuine fear surfaced.
Not of gods.
Not of fractures.
Not of blindness.
But of—
Asta Antioch.
"…I may actually die."
Sham smirked wickedly.
"Now that…"
A pause.
"…is finally a consequence I understand."
And beneath the dim candlelight of a secluded northern inn—
Azriah Antioch sat bloodied, half-blind, and newly transformed.
His future vision had begun.
His humanity had shifted.
And his greatest immediate threat—
was explaining any of this—
to his terrifying mother.