"No, it's still possible," I murmured, determination surging through me.
Lucifer's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "How?" he asked, his expression a mix of skepticism and hope.
I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling the rhythm of my mana flow, the pulse of my very being. I'd felt it for so long—the Wall, standing impassable between Ascendant-rank and Immortal-rank. A barrier that seemed eternal.
But not now.
The thought of Rachel's empty eyes, her shattered light, burned in my mind. The weight of the impossible pressed down on me, but I refused to crumble beneath it.
Blood pooled in my mouth as I forced my mana to surge. The strain of it was excruciating, like trying to force an ocean through a pinhole. But I didn't care. I couldn't care.
'Too weak?' the thought crossed my mind as I stared at the Wall.
'Do I look like I give a fuck?' My lips curled into a snarl. The world around me dimmed, fading into the background as I stepped into the metaphysical plane.
The Wall wasn't just a barrier; it was a question, a test of will, a demand for proof of worth. And for the first time, I had an answer.
I felt the gifts coursing through me, their weight both a burden and a source of unfathomable strength. Luna's will—Lucent Harmony. My Soul Resonance—a gift forged when I was dragged into this world, an echo of my past and present. And then, something deeper. Something I had only glimpsed before.
The third Gift.
"You've surpassed my expectations," a voice said, rich and calm. Art's voice.
I turned to see him, standing as though he had always been there, gazing at the infinite sky. His expression was one of quiet approval, but his eyes held a weight I couldn't fully grasp.
"Art," I said, stepping forward. "This is why you chose me, isn't it? You wanted three Gifts. You wanted this."
He turned his head slightly, his smile faint. "A being with three Gifts. A paradox. A singularity. Something that shouldn't exist. But you do."
"And now I understand," I whispered.
In that moment, the third Gift ignited within me. It was the truth of what I was, the culmination of Art's will, my soul's strength, and the impossible fusion of both.
Mythweaver.
The name reverberated through me, carrying with it an overwhelming clarity. It was a Gift that bent reality, reshaped the narrative of objects and beings, weaving new stories into existence. It wasn't just power—it was creation.
The Wall in front of me cracked, the light bleeding through its fractures. I pushed harder, every fiber of my being screaming in defiance. And then it shattered.
The metamorphosis hit me like a tidal wave. My body burned with an intensity that threatened to break me apart. My bones cracked and reforged, my muscles stretched and rebuilt. Every cell screamed as it was rewritten, elevated, and redefined.
Astral energy surged through me, no longer a separate force but a natural extension of my existence. My senses expanded, taking in the pulse of the world around me, the hum of the universe itself. I wasn't just stronger—I was different. Reforged.
When I returned to the physical plane, the first thing I saw was Lucifer's wide eyes and the slackened jaws of my friends.
"You..." Lucifer breathed. "You broke through."
I nodded, exhaling as the last embers of pain faded. "Low Immortal-rank," I said softly, testing the words. They felt foreign, yet right.
Seraphina's Embrace pulsed at my side, its glow brighter, as if responding to the change in me. My thoughts flickered briefly to Rachel, and the memory of her sightless gaze hardened my resolve.
"I understand now," I said, my voice steady. "This isn't just power. This is a promise."
My friends stared, the unspoken question hanging in the air. I tightened my grip on my sword, the light of the metamorphosis still glowing faintly around me.
"Let's finish this," I said, my voice like steel.
And with Mythweaver thrumming in my soul, I knew that I would not only fight for those I loved—I would rewrite their stories. And Rachel's sightless world? That was just the beginning.
Rachel lay before me, her usually vibrant sapphire eyes now empty sockets, a void where her light had once been. The sight struck deeper than any blade. The curse had done its work, and no healing spell, no amount of mana, could undo the damage.
She was unconscious, her breathing shallow. The faint glow of the room's mana lights reflected off her pale skin, making her look fragile, almost ethereal. But Rachel was anything but fragile. She had endured so much, and now it was my turn to ensure she would endure no more.
My gaze shifted to Seraphim's Embrace, the Ancient artifact at my side. Its gentle, pulsing glow seemed to sense my intent, as if it, too, mourned for Rachel's loss. This artifact had been my shield, my companion through countless battles. It had saved my life more times than I could count. And now, it would save hers.
But not as it was.
I held the artifact in my hands, its radiant surface warm against my palms. Its power was immense, forged in an age long past. Yet, I felt the threads of its story, its essence, stretching back through time. Mythweaver stirred within me, its presence humming like a thousand voices whispering at once.
"I'm sorry," I murmured to the artifact, knowing this would be our farewell. "But you were always meant for more than this."
Closing my eyes, I let my mana flow into Seraphim's Embrace, intertwining it with the threads of its temporal history. Mythweaver flared to life, its power coiling through my veins. The Gift allowed me to reach into the artifact's past, to find the fragments of its story I needed and twist them into something new.
I delved into its essence, tracing its origin to the myth of the Seraphima—the celestial beings said to wield divine power and unparalleled beauty. The artifact had been crafted in their image, imbued with their grace and strength. But it was still just that—an image, a representation.
Not anymore.
With Mythweaver, I rewrote the artifact's narrative. I wove a story where it wasn't just an object but a fragment of the Seraphima themselves, a piece of their very being. I elevated its essence, transforming it from a shield into something more. Something living.
The glow of the artifact intensified, its light spilling out in waves as its form began to shift. It trembled in my hands, as if resisting the change, but I held firm. My mana poured into it, bolstered by the strength of my Gift, bending its nature to my will.
Finally, the artifact dissolved into a cascade of shimmering light. Two small orbs, gleaming with a divine, otherworldly radiance, floated in its place. They pulsed faintly, like the heartbeat of something alive.
Seraphima's eyes.
I held them gently, feeling their warmth, their vitality. These weren't just replacements for Rachel's lost sight. They were far more. They carried the essence of the Seraphima, a gift of divine origin, forged anew through Mythweaver.
Turning to Rachel, I hesitated. Her stillness was unnerving, but I pushed the thought aside. I had to move quickly.
Kneeling beside her, I channeled my mana into the eyes, aligning their energy with Rachel's body. The process required precision—too much force, and her body might reject them; too little, and they wouldn't take.
Sweat dripped down my brow as I guided the orbs into place. They hovered briefly before settling into her empty sockets. A soft hum resonated through the room as the eyes began to merge with her, the divine energy of the Seraphima bonding seamlessly with her own light mana.
The room fell silent.
And then, her eyes opened.
The once-empty sockets now held orbs of radiant blue, shimmering with flecks of gold and silver, as though the very stars had been captured within them. They blinked slowly, adjusting to the light, before focusing on me.
Rachel's lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. "Arthur...?"
Tears blurred my vision as I reached out, cupping her face gently. "I'm here," I said, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry it took so long."
Her new eyes glistened, tears spilling down her cheeks as her hands reached up to touch her face, her fingers trembling as they brushed against her new sight. "I... I can see."
"It's a gift," I said, trying to steady my voice. "They're yours now. Forever."
Rachel looked at me, her gaze holding more emotion than words ever could. Gratitude. Relief. Love.
But beneath it all, there was something else—determination. A spark that told me she would never let anyone take her light again.
"They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice steadying. "Thank you."