Truly reaching the realm of demigod wasn't louder or brighter. It was quieter. The world stopped arguing with me. Floors kept their promises. Air stopped trying to have opinions. When I lifted Valeria, space met the edge halfway instead of insisting on a committee meeting.
It also shoved a lot of my old habits into the attic. Arts that had carried me through wars suddenly felt busy. Busy gets you hit at this level. If I wanted a storm, Grey was a better storm. If I wanted calm, Lucent Harmony held without drama. If I needed to write a room, Mythweaver did it in three short sentences. The element chains and proud sequences that used to make sense were garnish now. Useful for strangely specific jobs, sure. Otherwise, noise.
I wasn't going to throw them out. They built the hands I have. The task was to make them smaller and sharper. Elevate, not erase.
