"Your light will be our weapon for victory, my dear."
That was the first thing the late Grand Sage told me when I arrived at the Lord's Temple—the last sanctuary of the Divine Ray.
"An oracle foretold it," he'd said, eyes shimmering with hope. "You will save the world, darling."
For fifteen years, I trained.
Fifteen years of blood, sweat, and bone-breaking discipline.
Fifteen years of learning to summon the Divine Bow.
Fifteen years of praying for a day when we'd be given enough time to rest, to sleep… to say our fucking goodbyes before he struck again.
I teleported into the scorched battlefield, my feet hitting the ground beside my seniors. Ash still hung in the air. Magic trembled in the wind.
"Did you get him?" Senior Brother asked, panting, eyes wide with desperation.
"I… I think so," I breathed, my chest tight, fingers twitching with lingering power.
"Careful!" the First Sovereign warned, narrowing his eyes toward the horizon. "The dragon still flies. He's not dead."
"But—"
I never finished the sentence.
Because the sky split.
Not from a spell.
Not from a scream.
But from him.
A wave of darkness crashed down upon us—thick, suffocating. It bent the air, warped the ground, twisted the very light around us. Each breath was a war. Each heartbeat, a rebellion.
Then… he appeared.
Not from shadows.
From nothing.
As if the world had been waiting for him.
He stood tall—composed, untouched by the Divine Arrow lodged deep within his chest. Its light flickered, then died in his hand like a snuffed candle.
His eyes… Gods.
They were fathomless—pits of time and ruin, swirling with an ancient madness no mortal could bear. Just looking at them felt like gazing into the final breath of the universe.
His Generals appeared at his side, ready. But he raised a single hand.
Stay back.
He didn't need them.
And then he smiled.
Dark. Cruel. Knowing.
The kind of smile that undressed you—not your body, but your soul.
My magic stuttered.
My limbs wouldn't move.
I was frozen, not by chains, but by something worse—fear.
Raw. Primal. Desperate.
He crushed the Divine Arrow between his fingers, powdered light scattering like ash to the wind.
And he stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.