The statue was utterly untainted.
Its serenity did not come from ignorance of suffering, nor did it appear to be the result of overcoming anger, grief, or desire. It possessed a divine indifference so complete that even the destruction of a thousand worlds would not have disturbed its expression. Kingdoms could crumble, stars could perish, and countless lives could vanish into the endless dark, yet that tranquil face would remain unchanged.
Not because it delighted in destruction.
Not because it wished for suffering.
But because, before such an existence, the rise and fall of worlds seemed to belong to a reality so distant that they could not reach it.
Lican stared at the statue with widened eyes.
The peace surrounding him was almost unbearable. It entered him without permission, washing away the resistance he had carried within himself. Yet the more peaceful he felt, the more painfully aware he became of his own imperfections. Every restless thought, every instinct born from fear, every fragment of anger and resentment seemed suddenly exposed beneath that golden light.
He felt naked.
Not in body, but in spirit.
There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn his gaze without feeling that the smallest part of his existence had already been laid bare. The statue did not look down upon him with contempt, nor did it appear to judge him. Its expression remained as calm as ever, and that very absence of judgment made the experience more overwhelming.
Lican had encountered cruelty before. He understood the fear of being hunted, the desperation of struggling to survive, and the helplessness of standing before something stronger than himself. Those things could make him tremble, but they also gave him something to resist.
This was different.
The presence before him did not threaten him, yet every instinct within his body screamed that he was standing before something he could never oppose. It did not demand that he kneel, yet his legs began to weaken beneath him.
A crushing urge seized his body.
He wanted to kneel.
Not because he feared punishment, nor because he believed the statue would harm him if he refused. The urge came from somewhere deeper than thought, an instinctive recognition of something so impossibly flawless that standing upright before it felt almost like an act of defiance.
His knees trembled.
His breathing grew uneven, and he struggled to keep himself standing as the golden light washed over his face. For a brief moment, he felt that if he simply lowered his head and surrendered himself to the presence before him, every burden he had ever carried would disappear.
He would no longer need to struggle.
He would no longer need to suffer.
He would no longer need to question anything.
Then a voice resounded throughout the void.
It did not come from the statue's mouth, nor did it seem to originate from any particular direction. The words emerged from everywhere at once, flowing through the celestial staircase and reverberating within the depths of Lican's soul.
"Mortal flesh is but dust; only the eternal spirit shall cross the heavenly gates."
Lican stumbled as the chant washed over him.
The words sounded ancient, carrying a solemn weight that made the space itself seem to listen. They were neither shouted nor whispered, yet every syllable reached him with perfect clarity. The voice possessed no discernible anger, compassion, or excitement. It simply declared a truth that had existed long before he was born and would continue to exist long after his death.
Mortal flesh is but dust.
Lican looked down at his own hands.
They were small, fragile things, marked by the struggles of a life that had already demanded more from him than he could understand. His flesh could bleed. His bones could break. His body could grow tired, weaken, and eventually return to the earth.
Was that all he was?
A temporary vessel destined to perish?
Before he could find an answer, the voice spoke again.
"A thousand eons pass like a breath; ten thousand worlds crumble like ash."
The golden sky shuddered.
For an instant, Lican thought he saw distant worlds appearing within the radiance, countless spheres suspended in the depths of existence. Some glowed with brilliant light, while others were dark and lifeless. He watched as entire worlds rose and fell in the span of a single breath, their mountains collapsing, their oceans evaporating, and their skies breaking apart like fragile glass.
Civilizations flourished upon them, only to vanish beneath the passage of time. Empires rose with the ambition to rule eternity, yet their glory dissolved into dust. The cries of countless living beings seemed to drift through the vision before disappearing into the endless silence.
And through it all, the statue remained unmoved.
A thousand eons passed like a breath.
Ten thousand worlds crumbled like ash.
Yet the golden radiance continued to shine, and the statue's serene expression never changed.
Lican's heart tightened.
He had always known that the world was cruel. He had seen enough suffering to understand that life offered no promise of fairness, and that strength often determined who survived and who was left behind. But this was something else entirely. The vision made even the greatest struggles of mortals appear insignificant, as though every victory, every tragedy, and every desperate attempt to change one's fate were nothing more than fleeting ripples upon an endless sea.
The voice continued.
"Shatter the ego, cleanse the soul, or dissolve into the endless cosmos."
The words struck Lican with a force that no physical blow could match.
Shatter the ego.
Cleanse the soul.
Or dissolve into the endless cosmos.
The three commands echoed through the void, each repetition sinking deeper into his consciousness. He felt the peace surrounding him grow heavier, pressing against his thoughts and drawing him toward a silence that promised to erase every distinction between himself and the universe.
His anger, his fear, his memories, his desires—all the things that made him who he was seemed suddenly fragile beneath that immeasurable presence.
What did it mean to shatter the ego?
What did it mean to cleanse the soul?
And what would remain of him if he dissolved into the endless cosmos?
The golden light enveloped him, and for a moment, Lican could no longer tell whether he was standing upon the celestial staircase or floating within the boundless radiance surrounding the statue. His body felt distant, his thoughts seemed to drift apart, and the boundaries separating his existence from the surrounding void began to blur.
The urge to kneel returned, stronger than before.
His legs shook beneath him.
Yet somewhere deep within his chest, something resisted.
It was small, almost imperceptible, buried beneath the overwhelming peace and the crushing weight of that sacred presence. It was not courage, not strength, and certainly not understanding. Lican did not know what he was witnessing, nor did he possess the power to challenge it.
He only knew that he did not want to disappear.
He did not want his existence to become meaningless dust scattered across an endless universe.
Even if his flesh was mortal, even if the worlds themselves were destined to crumble, some part of him refused to accept that his life was nothing more than a passing breath.
The statue remained silent.
The golden sky stretched endlessly above him, and the celestial bells continued to resonate through the shattered void.
Then, from somewhere beyond the limits of perception, a final sound emerged.
"Om."
The single syllable spread through the heavens.
The staircase trembled. The altars shone with golden light, and the countless white particles began to circle the statue in vast, spiralling currents. The sound travelled through Lican's flesh, his bones, and the deepest reaches of his soul, leaving nothing untouched.
For one immeasurable instant, everything became still.
There was no wind.
No movement.
No distant world.
Only the statue, the golden heavens, and the sound that seemed to contain the beginning and the end of all things.
Lican stood beneath that boundless radiance, his eyes fixed upon the sacred figure as the last traces of the chant faded into the endless void.
And for the first time in his life, he encountered something that did not need to destroy him to make him feel powerless.
It only needed to exist.