Hajin kept her hand in his while the field settled, the last of the Goddess's light gone from the sky.
Clover swayed where the wings faded, and no outline remained above it, not even a stubborn spark to stare at. He blew out a long breath through his nose, still feeling the lingering warmth her blessing left against his brow.
'That ordinary world won't feel ordinary after this, and it's still waiting outside.'
'Natural awakening, implanted shortcuts, counterfeit conduits hiding their source, and those criminals call that garbage advancement.'
'Broken reincarnation, willing souls stranded past the Veil, stolen fragments stuffed into living carriers for somebody else's leash.'
'My Rings can resist that rot, but they can't count how many hands already serve those patrons.'
He rubbed his temple with his free hand, trying to shove the whole mess into some kind of order.
'Restore what can be restored, then find whoever keeps feeding on the hole it left.'
