Elius stood atop the floating shard of earth, his robes whispering in the air, shadowed by the lightless void between rising platforms. The two cubes hovered in his hand like precious relics, their light spinning in a silent rhythm. They didn't shine like artificial tools anymore. They pulsed like living things—breathing, aware, old.
"These cubes are now refined," Elius said calmly, turning his head toward Keith who was still standing below him, panting, shaking with tension. "They just look different now… because their master is no longer you."
The glow from the cubes bathed Elius's face in pale amber light. He stared into them, and for the first time since the battle began, his expression softened—not with mockery, not with contempt, but with real wonder. A quiet breath left his lips, carried by the wind like reverence.
