He recalled the nights after the Loa abandoned him, the days when altars cooled and totems shattered.
He had once been full of faith, only to be met with silence; he had once questioned loudly, only to receive no answer.
Until he stepped into Ital'ruk's shrine, and knelt down.
From then on, he regained the tranquility that allowed him to sleep peacefully.
The warmth of the flames, the gaze of the Emberglow Dragon's eyes—he found a place of belonging that would no longer betray him.
Ultimately, it was his final prayer during the desperate charge in Gray Tooth Valley, as he fought, fell, and his chest was pierced—
"My Lord, grant me victory!"
At this moment, these memories, these emotions, like firewood, were frantically thrown by him into the emblem on his chest.
Whoosh!
The divine emblem's light surged dramatically! No longer a faint candlelight, but a nascent, fiery, golden-red flame!
The flame, fueled by his will and with his faith in the Emberglow Dragon as its core, spread violently.
The approaching ice crystals shrieked silently before the flame, instantly vaporizing and dissipating.
But this was only the beginning.
The ice crystals seemed endless, gushing from all corners of the void, transforming into denser ice shards and spikes, forming a soul-freezing cold wave that impacted the flame barrier, which represented his will, in waves, each stronger than the last.
Each impact was accompanied by a sharp interrogation:
Is your faith mixed with fear of death?
Is your devotion merely for seeking shelter?
Will you waver when the deity is silent?
Are you willing to completely burn yourself for His will?
The troll's soul trembled violently in the void.
A lifetime of experiences flashed before his eyes—the priest's hypocrisy, the Loa's betrayal, the despair on the battlefield…
But in the end, all scenes froze before Ital'ruk's simple shrine, at the moment he first saw the Dragon Father's statue.
"No!" his soul roared, "My faith began in despair, but it ends in… recognition! His power, His path, His… essence! I recognize it! I choose it!"
The word "recognition" was like a spark igniting the ultimate fuse!
Boom—!
The divine emblem on his chest completely exploded!
No, not an explosion, but a transformation!
The golden-red flame was no longer confined to the emblem; it instantly enveloped his entire soul!
The ice crystals and cold wave, upon touching this flame of pure faith, melted and retreated frantically like snow meeting lava.
An intense burning sensation replaced the biting cold.
But this burning was not destruction; it was reshaping.
He felt his "past" melting, stretching, and reconstructing in the flames.
The flames burned every inch of his soul's boundary, stripping away his former form inch by inch.
In a perception beyond hearing, he "heard" bones stretching and reorganizing, his entire body being reshaped by an older, higher-dimensional will.
His former flesh and blood melted into their primal form in the divine flame, then merged with a completely unfamiliar yet incredibly fitting power—a life form that transcended trolls, more akin to a dragon.
Muscle fibers intertwined more tightly, as tough as cast iron wrapped in steel;
Fine scales grew on his skin's surface, appearing as deep as Obsidian from afar, yet shimmering with golden-red interweaving patterns up close, like battle armor forged in fire.
His limbs became stronger, his hands and feet already transformed into sharp dragon claws.
His heart beat slower, deeper, each thump like a war drum booming, echoing within his reshaped body.
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