Jay's body lay powerless on the cold ground, his blood soaking through his battle armor and pooling into a striking patch of red. The shouts of Vilk and Ares echoed in his ears, but those voices seemed to drift further away, muffled as if separated by a thick veil of water, slowly fading into the depths of his consciousness.
"So... is this the end?" Jay's gaze dimmed as he looked up at the ruined ceiling, his thoughts beginning to drift away.
His body grew colder by the second, alternating between searing pain and numbing emptiness, filling him with an unprecedented sense of fatigue and despair.
"So this... is what death feels like."
In his mind, a hazy door gradually appeared. This door was towering and imposing, engraved with ancient runes that emanated an aura of mystery and coldness. Jay found himself standing before it, drawn by an invisible force. Each step he took felt as though it drained the last remnants of his strength.
From beyond the door came a deep, distant voice, as if calling out to him.
"Is this... fate?" Jay muttered under his breath, a faint smile of resignation tugging at his lips. "I've been fighting against it all this time, but in the end, I couldn't escape, could I?"
He lowered his head, staring at his own hands—hands stained with blood.
"What are my regrets..." He closed his eyes, images of unfulfilled dreams and broken promises flashing through his mind:
He had sworn to himself that he would uncover the truth of this world. Yet now, he hadn't even touched its edge.
He had promised Wilk that no matter how perilous the path, they would stand side by side until the end. Now, he was leaving Vilk to fight alone.
He had vowed to Ares that he would never let his sacrifice be in vain. But now, he was dragging Ares into death alongside him.
And his family, his friends—faces buried deep in his memories—he realized he would never see them again.
"I can't accept this..." Jay whispered, a faint flicker of anger igniting in his eyes. "There's still so much left undone, so many people I need to protect..."
The door began to crack open, a chilling voice seeping through, as though greeting an old acquaintance.
"Do you accept this? Do you resign yourself to leaving your regrets unfulfilled—your dreams, the people you long to see?"
"Can I really just give up? Give up everything, abandon all hope and responsibility?"
"No... I won't give up... My comrades are waiting for me to save them. I can't let those who believe in me fall into despair," Jay said softly, his vision blurred but his instincts compelling him to speak these words.
"Fate... Do you think you can decide whether I live or die? I won't die here... For my comrades, for myself, I refuse to fall!"
"I, Jay, have never believed in fate! If the heavens want me dead, then I'll defy them and rewrite my destiny!"
The light from the door seemed to tremble at his resolve.
The Second Gate
The door slowly creaked open, releasing a gentle, steady light that wasn't blinding but warm, as if answering Jay's unwavering resolve—a heart that burned brightly even in the face of despair.
From beyond the gate, a deep and commanding voice resonated, like an inquiry that probed into the very core of his soul:
"What is your purpose? In this chaotic spiritual realm, what kind of person do you seek to become?"
Though Jay's body was on the verge of collapse and his consciousness faltered, his heart remained as steadfast as a rock, unyielding in its determination. Drawing in a deep breath, visions of unfulfilled dreams and an unquenchable will filled his mind. Slowly, he spoke, his voice hoarse yet firm:
"I will dominate the Spirit Realm!"
His words echoed before the gate, carrying the weight of a solemn vow that blanketed the entire space.
"In this realm, whether they are humans, Spirit Wielders, or forces lurking in the shadows—fallen men or gods, the undead or true deities—all are vying for supremacy! I know there is much in this realm I have yet to touch, countless secrets still hidden. My strength is not enough; my understanding of this world remains shallow. But—"
Jay lifted his head. Though his vision was still blurred, his eyes burned with an unprecedented fire.
"If there is to be a victor in this chaotic age, it can only be me!"
His voice rose, his resolve surging like a tidal wave:
"There is but one king, and that king is me—Jay!"
The voice beyond the gate seemed to pause in contemplation, then let out a low chuckle, a sound of recognition and perhaps challenge.
"Impressive… No wonder Ares fought so fiercely to protect you," the voice said slowly. "To declare such a goal in this tumultuous world shows both madness and confidence. Yet, to be a true king, one must possess not only ambition and courage but also the capacity to bear the price and wield ultimate power. Are you prepared to face the consequences?"
Jay's answer came without hesitation:
"I am ready! No matter the cost, I will never back down!"
Jay raised his head to look at the massive door. The light emanating from it coalesced into ancient script, accompanied by a low, resonant hum. Slowly, the name etched itself into clarity:
[Hephaestus]
"Hephaestus?" Jay whispered, the name carrying a force that seemed to sear itself into his soul, brimming with majesty and heat.
A deep, resonant voice emerged from beyond the door, filled with divine authority and the echoes of ancient times:
"I am Hephaestus, one of the Twelve Olympian Gods, master of fire and forge! My flames have crafted the weapons of the gods and bestowed unparalleled power upon heroes. I wield the mightiest flames of the heavens and earth, shaping the fusion of soul and steel, forging the will and strength of the worthy!"
A vision of Hephaestus appeared in Jay's mind—a towering, robust deity radiating a crimson glow. In his massive hands was an immense forging hammer, and behind him loomed a divine forge crafted from molten lava. The molten streams coursed like blood, their fiery brilliance exuding an unending heat.
Hephaestus continued, his voice carrying both wisdom and power:
"The fire of my forge does not merely craft artifacts; it symbolizes resilience and rebirth. In the War of the Gods, I was cast out due to treachery and politics, but I rose again with my own hands. With fire, I reforged my divinity and reclaimed my place on Olympus. I know this truth well—true strength is not innate but forged through suffering and trials!"
His tone shifted, taking on a note of expectation:
"Jay, you possess an unyielding determination and the ambition to ascend as a king. Though you are far from your peak, your resolve has moved me. Bear my power and reforge the fate of this realm!"
As his words fell, Hephaestus' power transformed into a searing crimson light that surged into Jay's body. His spiritual energy roared like flames, his wounds healed swiftly, and his mind became sharper than ever. He felt his blood infused with a burning energy, as though his very being was tempered by molten fire.
At the same time, a sigil appeared on the back of his hand—a hammer entwined with flames, the unmistakable mark of Hephaestus.
Clenching his fists, Jay felt the immense power coursing through him. He murmured, "Hephaestus… your flames will be my weapon to dominate the Spirit Realm. I won't let you down!"
Hephaestus chuckled, his voice both approving and commanding:
"Good, Jay. Show me your resolve! Use my flames to burn away all obstacles and forge your throne!"
At that moment, within Jay's spiritual world, Hephaestus awakened as his second guardian spirit—a divine weapon soul that would become indispensable on his path to kingship.