CHAPTER 11: THE GIFT OF THE STONE

Propelled by unseen forces, John and the radiant Divine Stone plummeted through the void—silent, boundless, and cold. Space twisted around them, bending reality into spirals of light and shadow. Then, just as abruptly as their journey had begun, it ended.

A burst of blinding white engulfed them.

John shielded his eyes as the brilliance stripped away all definition. He was weightless again, adrift in a sea of light. Then, from the fading glare, a silhouette emerged—familiar, yet always changing. The same enigmatic figure who had haunted every turn of his surreal journey.

But this time, the man held something.

A shard.

A jagged fragment pulsing with the same golden hue as the Divine Stone.

John's heart pounded. "Did it actually… kill the old man?" he murmured. His voice wavered as he turned toward the stone. "But it's failed before, hasn't it? Every time… it's been you who…"

He let the sentence hang.

The stone, still glowing in his hand, responded—its voice deeper, almost reverent now.

"I confess… I underestimated its will." The words were slower, heavier. Then the stone slipped from John's grasp and floated toward the man.

"Look at me," it demanded, its tone sharp with purpose. "You possess something that is rightfully mine."

The man stared at the fragment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a weary sigh, he extended it. "Alright, fine. Take it."

The shard hovered in the air between them. The stone pulsed once.

"Clever," the stone whispered, its voice low and contemplative. Then it turned, its light flashing briefly.

"Come, John."

They vanished again.

The next place was different—and somehow worse.

John stumbled forward as he materialized. This time, the light wasn't blinding—it was familiar.

The fourth destination.

They were back where it had all begun.

But the moment stretched and warped.

Ahead of them stood the same man, his once-imposing presence now disheveled and scarred.

And standing across from him—whole, impossibly untouched—was the white-haired old man.

The Divine Stone surged from John's side, a streak of furious light, and hurled itself toward the old man. But the strike never landed. With the ease of someone swatting away a breeze, the old man sidestepped, letting the golden flare vanish behind him.

Then he smiled.

"Free at last," he said, his voice amused and calm. "And you've even found a host this time. Impressive. Really."

The stone froze midair.

Its glow darkened.

"So, it is you," it growled. "The one who shattered me. Who imprisoned me. Who scattered my essence to forge your wretched clans. And now you dare to address me through this… puppet?"

The old man's smile didn't waver. "And yet, here you are—begging for reunion. Tell me, stone, do you truly believe you can challenge me? Even now?"

He raised a single hand.

Energy crackled around his fingers, ancient and absolute. A wave of force erupted from his palm, hurling John backward. He was weightless again, tumbling through the air. The blow should've broken every bone in his body.

But before it did, he appeared.

Hansen.

The strange boy who had appeared to John in moments of crisis.

He emerged like a mirage, throwing himself between John and the energy wave. His body absorbed the impact, trembling from the force.

Without a word, Hansen pulled John back, shielding him, creating space between them and the growing storm.

And then it began.

The Divine Stone and the Old Man clashed.

The heavens cracked. The ground, if there was ground, warped beneath their feet. Pure energy collided in waves. Time fractured.

John could barely breathe. Flashes of light and fury filled the space. He couldn't track the movements. Could barely comprehend the scale of it.

But he could feel it—the rage, the pain, the memory of betrayal.

And finally, after what felt like eternity, the stone struck the final blow.

The old man collapsed.

The stone hovered above him, triumphant.

"As I said," it echoed, thunderous, victorious, "I was coming for you. There is no escape this time."

It enveloped him in a radiant embrace.

Their forms merged in a blinding explosion.

Then, silence.

When the light cleared, the battlefield was still. The old man was gone. In his place, a single shard remained—glowing softly, gently. A remnant.

The Divine Stone did not absorb it.

Instead, it held the shard aloft, as if considering it.

Then, slowly, it turned.

John and Hansen stood in silence, transfixed.

The stone hovered toward them, then stopped.

"Allow me a moment to bid farewell to my… acquaintance," it said.

John turned to Hansen, confused, but the boy merely gave a solemn nod.

The stone faced John fully now.

Its voice, no longer thunderous, was almost… human.

"John," it said. "I have been granted an opportunity. And I wish to extend one to you as well. But whether you possess the strength to seize it… that remains to be seen."

The shard in its grasp began to glow—brighter, hotter.

John stepped back instinctively. "What are you—?"

But there was no answer.

Only action.

The Divine Stone plunged the glowing shard straight into John's chest.

Pain and light exploded behind his eyes.

And the world shattered once more.