The purple lightning, like the whip of an enraged deity, lashed down upon Ares. In the abyss of darkness where consciousness dissolved, he seemed to hear a faint voice, a sigh from the depths of the cosmos, or perhaps a cry from the deepest longing of his soul – "Miracle… born… from despair…"
When Ares regained consciousness, the first sensation was an indescribable pain. It was not merely physical tearing, but more like his soul being scorched by fire, then frozen by ice, every inch of flesh, every cell in his body, seemingly undergoing a purgatorial rebirth.
He opened his eyes with difficulty, and what met his gaze was still the gloomy sky, dark clouds pressing down, thunder rumbling in the distance, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and sulfur. The square was long deserted, only the remnants of the festival scattered by the wind, and the charred, lightning-split marks on the ground, proving that everything that had just transpired was not an illusion.
And he himself, like a discarded rag doll, lay wretchedly at the edge of the altar. The knightly light armor was charred and broken, the exposed skin covered in strange purple patterns, as if branded with some mysterious mark.
He struggled to rise, but found his body as heavy as if filled with lead. Each breath drew a tearing pain. Even more astonishing was the surge of an unprecedented power within him, wild and elusive, like a beast lurking in the abyss, ready to break free and devour him completely at any moment.
Was this "Miracle"? Was this the power born from despair?
Ares tremblingly raised his right hand. In the dim light of the overcast sky, he saw a complex and distorted purple rune emerge on the back of his hand. The rune seemed alive, wriggling slightly, emitting a dim, ethereal glow. He attempted to channel the power within, and the rune, as if sensing his will, suddenly flared to life, a strange energy instantly flooding his entire body.
The next moment, something unbelievable happened. His once charred and broken light armor began to writhe slowly. The fractured fragments, as if possessing life, attracted each other, reassembling and piecing back together. The charred color faded, replaced by an ancient and profound metallic luster. The originally damaged patterns also became more intricate and mysterious, as if undergoing a bizarre evolution.
Not only that, but he felt the pain in his body rapidly receding. The skin seared by lightning healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, and the power within his body surged like a raging river,surging and turbulent, brimming with explosive energy.
This power… was fundamentally different from God-given attributes. The power of God-given attributes was gentle and controllable, like tools, easily wielded by humans. But this power of "Miracle" was filled with wildness and the unknown, like a runaway wild horse, unruly and difficult to tame, even carrying a disturbing hint of… aggression.
Ares endured the discomfort in his body and slowly stood up. The broken light armor had completed its reshaping, re-adhering to his body, as if never damaged, even lighter and stronger than before. He tried to swing the standard longsword in his hand. The blade was still rough, but held in his grasp, he felt an unprecedented sense of power, as if this ordinary iron sword, too, had become extraordinary because of the power of "Miracle".
He lowered his head to look at his hands, feeling the surging power within. His heart was filled with complex emotions. Surprise, doubt, fear, anticipation – various emotions intertwined, raging like a storm in his mind.
He had been just a swordsman deemed "useless," an ant struggling to survive in the lower rungs of society, yet because of a single question directed at the divine oracle, he had suffered "divine punishment," and in that "divine punishment," he had obtained this "Miracle" – power? Or perhaps… a curse?
He was unsure what this "Miracle" attribute truly meant, nor did he know where this power would lead him. But he vaguely sensed that his fate had undergone earth-shattering changes because of the emergence of this "Miracle". He was no longer the "useless one" to be slaughtered at will.
He raised his head, gazing at the gloomy sky, a complex light flickering in his eyes. His doubts about the gods had not vanished because of the "divine punishment", but had become even deeper, even more resolute. He questioned the gods' justice, questioned their mercy, and even more so, questioned the rationality of this attribute-based order.
And now, he possessed the power of "Miracle." Perhaps this power was the… opportunity to break this order?
Ares took a deep breath, suppressing the various thoughts in his mind. He knew that now was not the time for contemplation. He needed to first understand this "Miracle" attribute, to master this power, before he could explore deeper truths, before he could pursue the path he truly wanted to pursue.
He strode away, leaving the deserted square behind, heading towards the distance. Behind him lay the charred earth split by lightning, and that still gloomy sky, as if foretelling that this world was about to usher in an even more violent… storm.