Elius stared at Keith, eyes glowing faintly beneath the darkened lights of the fractured dome.
Then, without warning, he leaned back and spoke—not with force, but with a strange softness, like someone whispering to a reflection on water.
"Let me tell you a story," he said.
Keith furrowed his brows but remained silent.
"It starts with a boy," Elius continued. "Just a boy. No powers. No legacy. No cult of followers whispering about divine blood. No system screens blinking in front of his eyes. Just… a boy. And his mother."
His voice took on a nostalgic lilt.
"They lived in a tiny apartment. The walls were cracked. The ceilings leaked. The lights flickered when the rain was heavy. They didn't have much, but the boy didn't care.