Godslayer's Legacy: THE PATH TO SUPREMACY

The faint hum of mana conduits filled the medical bay, their steady rhythm cutting through the heavy silence like a fragile heartbeat. Pale blue light from stabilization runes shimmered faintly along the edges of the crystalline slab, casting Rui's fragile form in an ethereal glow.

Kovar sat slumped against the wall, exhaustion etched deep into every line of his face, his glass dome dimmed to a faint amber hue. His gloved hands trembled faintly as he stared at the boy lying still on the medical slab.

Hours had passed since the god's departure, and Rui's condition had shifted in ways Kovar could scarcely comprehend.

The diagnostic runes hovering above Rui's chest now glowed with a soft gold hue, interwoven with threads of silver mana that pulsed faintly in time with his shallow breaths. Rui's cracked mana core—still fractured, still fragile—had begun to stabilize on its own.

No rejection. No leakage. No chaotic feedback loops.

It was… impossible.

Kovar's amber-lit gaze flicked to the readings.

Core Integrity: 27%

Mana Pathways: Stabilizing

Life Signs: Improving

In hours—mere hours—Rui's core had gone from terminal collapse to stabilization. The impossible was becoming reality right before Kovar's eyes.

His gloved hand rose to cover his glass dome as he let out a sharp breath.

"…You're still fighting, aren't you?"

His voice cracked faintly, barely above a whisper.

The hum of the conduits continued. The mana infusion lines, still locked into the ports along Rui's slab, flickered faintly as stabilized energy cycled through the boy's pathways.

But something was different now.

The conduits weren't doing the heavy lifting anymore. The golden thread—the god's faint touch—was holding Rui together, anchoring him to life with something beyond mortal comprehension.

Kovar forced himself to stand, gripping the edge of the slab for balance. His boots clanged softly against the grated floor as he leaned over Rui's still form.

The boy's face was pale, but no longer sickly. The faint silver glow that had once sputtered and flickered across his veins now pulsed calmly, like light flowing through ancient glass.

For the first time in hours, Rui didn't look like he was about to die.

Kovar's breath hitched, his voice trembling faintly.

"…Thank you."

The words weren't directed at Rui. They were directed at something—or someone—far beyond the confines of the airship.

He stepped back, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"AI," he said sharply, his voice regaining some of its edge. "Initiate a secondary diagnostic sweep on Rui's core and pathways. I want every fluctuation monitored and logged."

"Understood. Initiating secondary diagnostic protocols."

The glyphs above Rui's slab flickered as streams of translucent runes descended in delicate spirals, scanning every fragment of Rui's core, every thin mana pathway stitched into his fragile frame.

Kovar turned, pacing slowly across the medical bay. His glass dome flickered with faint streams of light as data projections scrolled across his peripheral vision.

He needed answers.

Why was Rui stabilizing so quickly? Why hadn't the god healed him completely? Why leave the cracks at all?

And yet, Kovar knew. Somewhere deep in his chest, he knew the answer.

The cracks mattered.

The imperfections were a part of what made Rui… Rui. The fractures were not weaknesses—they were foundations. The god hadn't removed them because they were necessary.

He is mine. My Champion.

The god's words echoed faintly in Kovar's mind, carving themselves deeper into his thoughts.

What did it mean for Rui to be a Champion?

The concept was foreign, layered with implications that sent shivers crawling up Kovar's spine. He knew Rui was special—he had always known that. But this? This was something else entirely.

The quiet hum of the conduits shifted slightly. A faint pulse rippled outward from Rui's slab—soft, fragile, but undeniably alive.

Kovar turned sharply, his breath catching in his throat as he saw Rui's fingers twitch faintly.

The faint silver light beneath his skin flared softly.

"…Rui?"

The boy's eyelids fluttered once, twice, before slowly—agonizingly slowly—opening.

His silver eyes, faintly etched with flickering runes, stared upward in unfocused confusion. His breaths came sharp and shallow as his chest rose and fell in trembling motion.

Kovar froze, his chest tightening as he stepped closer to the slab.

"Rui… Can you hear me?"

Rui blinked slowly, his gaze flickering around the sterile ceiling of the medical bay before locking onto Kovar.

"…Kovar?"

The boy's voice was weak, hoarse, like broken glass scraping against stone.

But he was awake.

A sharp exhale escaped Kovar as his shoulders slumped with relief.

"You're awake… You're actually awake."

Rui's lips twitched faintly—a ghost of a smile, more exhaustion than joy.

"Feels… heavy," he murmured, his head tilting faintly against the slab.

"That's because your core is still fractured," Kovar said, his voice regaining a sharp edge of authority. "You're stable, but… Rui, you shouldn't be awake. You shouldn't even be alive."

The boy closed his eyes briefly, his brow furrowing as if trying to remember something just out of reach.

"There was… light," Rui whispered. "And threads… everywhere. Like rivers… flowing through the world."

Kovar's stomach twisted faintly.

"Rest now, Rui. You're stable, but you're not healed. We have… a long road ahead of us."

Rui's eyes drifted shut again, his chest rising and falling in a faint, steady rhythm.

But as Kovar watched over him, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

Not just in Rui—but in the world itself.

Outside, the dawn sky began to fully bloom—a faint glow spreading across the fractured clouds.

And somewhere deep in the void below, in the faint remnants of the Abyssal Scar, something still stirred… waiting.