Chapter 47: Forging the Soul into an Entity of Divinity
Errin had surpassed the limits of mortality, his body now an indestructible vessel. But strength alone was not enough. His soul, still bound by the unseen laws of the cosmos, remained vulnerable. To transcend further, to rise beyond mere resilience, he had to forge his very essence into something divine.
He retreated into the depths of his mind, where the echoes of his ancestors whispered guidance. They had gifted him fragments of their will, slivers of their souls, but now he had to shape them into something greater—an entity of divinity, an unshakable force beyond flesh and bone.
The process was agonizing. He was not merely refining himself; he was dismantling and reconstructing his very existence. Every past wound, every trial endured, every moment of weakness became fuel for the metamorphosis. The weight of karma, the burdens of history, the essence of all he had been—he melted them down in the crucible of his will, tempering them into something pure.
Within the vast realm of his inner consciousness, Errin saw his reflection take form—no longer a mere shadow of his former self but something eerie, unsettling, and utterly transcendent. His original features remained, yet they were altered, smoothed over, made almost too perfect. His skin became flawless, like porcelain, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural light, their depth unfathomable. His hair, once wild and thick, now draped in silken strands, shifting between hues of celestial silver and ethereal gold. He was himself—but different, a doll-like replica sculpted by divine hands.
The transformation unsettled him. Was he still Errin? Or had he become something else entirely? His lips parted, and his voice echoed—not merely in the chamber of his thoughts, but across the spiritual plane, resonating in the cosmos itself. The universe listened, the great powers stirring, as if recognizing his new state of being.
But with his rebirth came a trial. The void around him trembled, and forces unseen lashed out. Spirits of the past, remnants of karmic debt, and phantoms of forgotten oaths sought to test the integrity of his reforged soul. They clawed at him, whispering doubts, planting illusions of suffering, trying to strip him of his newfound divinity.
Errin did not flinch. He walked forward, his doll-like form untouched by their torments. His body no longer bled, nor did it waver. His soul, now sculpted in the perfect balance of all elements, no longer bore the imperfections of human weakness. He had become a celestial enigma—an entity neither mortal nor fully divine, yet standing on the precipice of godhood.
When he emerged from his trance, the battlefield was silent. His enemies, once so confident in their spiritual weapons, now hesitated. They could sense the change. Errin was no longer just an invincible warrior; he was something more. A being whose soul had been reforged in divinity itself.
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