"Above heaven, below heaven...I alone am worthy of honor."
As the words traveled from his consciousness and into spoken words, he felt a burning sensation glide across both of his sclera, intensifying on his irises. It should've been painful, enough to send him into a convulsive state--yet, it only felt like pressure being applied to his orbs of sight.
"Is this pain the price for speaking such arrogant words?", he thought to himself, but the question answered itself as the words flowed directly into his mind.
"No...This is the reward for claiming those words for myself. A consequence of being the strongest--the lone honored one in this world full of impurities."
What he needed most came to him--not raw power or heightened senses, but the will to go through with that he refused. The one who would open their eyes would not be the boy who feared becoming a murderer, but a self forged of the desire to live.
