Chapter 46:
The Soul Needs Refinement
The storm had passed, but the aftermath lingered. The land bore scars of the heavens' fury—trees stripped of their leaves, the ground scorched where divine lightning had struck. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, and the very space around Errin still crackled with residual energy.
Yet, amidst the destruction, he stood reborn.
His body had withstood the trial. His bloodline had awakened, reshaping him from the inside out. But even as his physical form adapted to its newfound strength, something deeper within him trembled.
His soul.
It was not enough to refine the body if the soul remained untempered. Power without wisdom was destruction; strength without control was ruin. The heavens had acknowledged him, but now they demanded more.
A new trial was beginning—one not of flesh, but of spirit.
Errin felt a strange pull within himself, as though something unseen had grasped his very essence and was dragging him inward. His vision blurred, the world around him dissolving into darkness. Then, in the silence of the void, a whisper echoed:
"The soul must be refined, or it will shatter beneath the weight of power."
Suddenly, he was no longer standing on solid ground. He was falling.
Through endless blackness, through memories that were not his own, through echoes of past lives and forgotten truths. Faces blurred past him—ancestors, enemies, strangers who felt familiar yet unknowable. He saw their triumphs, their failures, the burdens they carried, and the choices that defined them.
Was he meant to follow in their footsteps?
No.
He had vowed to make his own path.
Errin's descent slowed, and then—he landed.
Before him stretched an infinite expanse of mirrored water, perfectly still, reflecting not just his body but his soul. He saw himself as he was, but also as he could be—a thousand versions of himself, scattered across possibility. The weak, the strong, the wise, the foolish.
And at the center of them all stood a figure cloaked in shadows.
It had his form, his stance, but its eyes were hollow, empty.
It stepped forward.
"Who are you?" Errin asked.
The shadow smirked. "I am you. The part of you that has yet to break. The part that still clings to weakness."
Errin tensed. "Then I will break you myself."
The figure lunged.
Their battle was not of fists but of will. Every strike sent ripples through the mirrored water, distorting reflections of futures that might never be. The shadow fought with relentless precision, mirroring Errin's every move, countering his every strike.
But it was not strength that would win this fight.
It was understanding.
Errin closed his eyes. He let go—not of power, but of fear.
When his eyes reopened, the shadow hesitated.
And in that moment, he stepped forward—not to strike, but to embrace.
The shadow shuddered, then dissolved into light, merging with him. A warmth spread through his soul, a final piece clicking into place. The mirrors around him rippled, their images shifting—no longer a fragmented, uncertain future, but a path he would forge himself.
The trial had ended. His soul had been refined.
And when Errin finally opened his eyes, standing once more in the mortal world, he knew—
He was ready for that final act .....