The room was silent, save for the faint hum of divine energy pulsing through the air.
Justine stood alone atop the Tower's golden balcony, her godly robe fluttering in the wind. Her eyes, once soft and filled with hope, were now sharp and unreadable. Below her, the battle had ended—Hajun Ardyn had returned, and not just returned… he had triumphed.
Her fingers clenched around the crystal orb in her hand. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
"He's… different," she muttered. "No. He's better."
The wind howled around her, but Justine didn't flinch. Her divine senses trembled—not with fear, but with an emotion far more dangerous: uncertainty.
Suddenly, a whisper slithered into her mind.
"He's coming for you."
Justine turned sharply. No one. Nothing. Yet the voice echoed like it had been spoken directly into her soul.
Below, in the mortal realm, Hajun sat within the ruins of the training grounds. Around him lay unconscious students, scattered like leaves in a storm. His eyes were half-lidded, but sharp as blades.
Then it came—a glowing parchment materialized before him.
A summons.
From the Tower itself.
From the Council of Gods.
His lips curled. "So they finally noticed."
Justine clutched her orb tighter. "Come then, master. Let's see how far you've truly fallen… or risen."
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