The weight of the Voidfang lingered in Ren's grasp, its presence a silent storm raging within his soul. It was unlike any weapon he had ever wielded—cold yet searing, weightless yet heavier than the heavens themselves. The moment he had touched it, something in him had changed. He could feel it—not just in his body, but in the way the world now looked at him.
The air around him felt denser, charged with an invisible force that made even the bravest of his subordinates hesitate before stepping too close. Fear. He could see it in their eyes, the way they glanced at him when they thought he wasn't looking. He had led them through wars, helped them defy fate, but now… now they weren't sure if they were following a man or something far worse.
Mira was the first to speak. Her voice was steady, but Ren noticed the way her fingers curled around the hilt of her blade, a reflex she didn't even realize she had. "Ren… what did she give you?"
Ren turned the Voidfang in his hand, watching as the black steel rippled, shifting as if alive. "A weapon," he said simply. But that wasn't the truth. Not all of it.
A weapon did not beat like a second heart in his palm. A weapon did not whisper to him in the void between thoughts. A weapon did not feel like an extension of his very soul.
"It's more than that." The voice that interrupted was not Mira's. It was Draven, his most loyal strategist and the man who had followed him from the very beginning. But for the first time, there was something new in his gaze—hesitation.
Ren met his stare. "Say what you want to say."
Draven's jaw tightened. "You don't feel it?" He gestured to the sky above, where the unnatural storm still swirled. "Ever since you took that thing, the world itself feels… wrong."
Ren exhaled slowly. He understood what Draven meant, even if he didn't want to admit it. The air had changed, the very balance of energy around them shifting in an unnatural way. Even the magic beasts that lurked beyond the ruins had grown restless, their distant howls echoing through the wind. It was as if the world was reacting to him—to the Voidfang.
Or perhaps… it was warning them.
Mira stepped closer, her voice quieter this time. "Ren. What did you feel when you touched it?"
Ren hesitated. He could lie. He could tell them it was just a weapon, just another tool in his path to godhood. But as he looked at the people who had followed him this far, he realized that trust was worth more than power.
"I saw the gods fall." His voice was steady, but the memory still burned in his mind. "Not just one. All of them. Dying. Screaming. The heavens collapsing as something far worse devoured them."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Mira's eyes widened, her breath catching. Draven clenched his fists. The others who had gathered—commanders, soldiers, even the most hardened of warriors—looked shaken.
"What do you mean?" Draven's voice was low, wary.
Ren tightened his grip around the Voidfang. "I don't know yet. But the gods aren't as untouchable as they seem. And whatever killed them in my vision…" His gaze lifted to the storm-filled sky, where divine energies churned in unseen fury. "It's still out there."
Another silence. But this time, it was Mira who spoke first.
"Then we need to be ready."
Ren turned to her, surprised by the certainty in her voice. There was no fear in her expression now—only resolve. Whatever had happened, whatever he had become, she had already made her choice.
Draven exhaled, rubbing his temples before nodding. "Then we prepare."
A smirk tugged at Ren's lips. "Prepare for what?"
Mira's blade gleamed as she lifted it toward the heavens. "For war."