The Refractor flared, brighter than it had at any point in the fight. Xin's first thought was that the Omega Hollow had unleashed another surge. His heart pounded, muscles taut, as he gripped his bow tighter. The battlefield, a jagged scar of rock and ash atop the Summit, pulsed with dread. Fighters around him froze, their faces pale, eyes darting toward the light. But it was not the Hollow. The glow came from deep within the Refractor itself, from the core the monster had swallowed whole at the battle's start.
More precisely, it came from the Silver Jian.
For a spell, time stopped. The Omega Hollow's pressure did not weaken. It multiplied. The air thickened, heavy as boiling tar. Every fighter on the Summit staggered, knees buckling under the weight. Minds bent. Blood trickled from noses and ears, staining lips and chins. Even Xin, braced a few meters from the epicenter, felt madness claw at his thoughts. A psychic static roared, shaking his vision until the world fractured into jagged shards of color and shadow.
The Jian flared again, brighter. Silver bled into gold. Gold burned white. The light sliced through the Refractor's shadow like a blade through fog. Xin shielded his eyes, but the glow seeped through his fingers, sharp and relentless. It was not just light. It was force, will, something alive.
The Omega Hollow screamed. Not the guttural hunger it had voiced before, but a sound of pain, of fear incarnate. Its massive form, a writhing mass of black tendrils and void-like flesh, rippled violently. The tendrils piercing Shun's abdomen retracted, leaving wet, dark wounds. The monster shrank from the glow, its edges fraying, its impossible aura flickering like a flame in a storm.
The madness in the air bled away. Xin's thoughts snapped back into place, sharp and clear. His chest heaved as he drew a breath, the weight on his mind lifting. Across the battlefield, fighters lifted their heads. Their eyes, wide with awe, turned toward the light. Even in the chaos, every gaze found it, drawn by an unspoken pulse.
The Silver Jian floated free, a shard of moonlight shaped into a sword. It hovered above the ground, its blade shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. The air around it hummed, a low vibration that Xin felt in his bones.
Shun straightened. Blood soaked the earth at his feet, pooling around his boots. His face was pale, his body trembling, but his back was rigid, his eyes locked on the Jian. Silver wings unfurled from his back, immense and radiant. Each feather caught the light, scattering it into a thousand glinting points. They spread wide, cutting a silhouette against the chaos, like a figure from a prophecy half-remembered in the oldest texts.
He called to the blade without words. His hand rose, palm open, steady despite the blood loss. The Silver Jian trembled once, then shot through the air into his grip. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, the glow erupted. Silver and gold wove together, swallowing the Summit in radiance. The light was blinding, yet Xin could not look away. It pressed against his eyes, burned a shape into his mind: Shun, wings spread, sword raised.
The pressure of the Omega Hollow broke like glass. The dome of energy above the Summit steadied. Air rushed into Xin's lungs, as if he had been drowning and only now surfaced. His knees shook, but he held his ground, bow still clutched in his hands.
Fighters around him dropped their weapons. Not in surrender, but in awe. The light was too much to look at directly. It seared their retinas, etched Shun's form into their thoughts. He was no longer just a man, not even a dragonborne. He was something more, something beyond.
Shun raised the Jian high. The glow wrapped around him like a mantle, streaming upward in pillars of silver and gold. The Hollow's scream thinned to a hiss. The wind shifted, carrying a faint hum, like music running beneath the chaos. Xin's skin prickled. The sound was not of this world.
The Omega Hollow surged forward, desperate. Its tendrils lashed, black shadows clawing for Shun. The light met them, and they evaporated. Not burned, not sliced, but dissolved, undone before they could touch him. Each strike the Hollow launched disintegrated mid-air, its power unraveling in the face of the Jian's radiance.
Shun took one step forward, then another. The Jian's edge cut nothing and everything. Wherever he walked, the Hollow retreated. Its mass shredded like paper in fire. Its aura collapsed, the psychic pressure fading in waves. The Refractor cracked, spilling light from its fractures, its dark shell unable to contain the force within.
Xin watched, every muscle trembling. The Summit lay bathed in silver and gold. Silence held, broken only by the faint hum of the Jian. Even fighters too weak to stand raised their eyes, their faces lit by the glow.
Shun moved as if gravity had shifted to follow him. His wings spread wider, catching the rising wind. His scales glimmered, each plate reflecting the sword's light. The Jian pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that Xin felt in his chest.
Shun spoke, his voice soft but carrying across the battlefield. The words were ancient, older than their orders, older than the war. No one understood them, yet they resonated. The light answered, thickening around the blade, twisting into runes that spun and shattered in the air.
The Hollow's form cracked down the center. A rift of silver light opened in its chest, swallowing the black from within. It tried to pull away, its tendrils flailing, but there was no escape. The light consumed it, relentless and absolute.
Shun raised the Jian again. His wings snapped once, a thunderclap that echoed across the Summit. He brought the sword down in an arc that seemed to cleave the sky itself. The stroke did not strike flesh. It struck the idea of the Hollow, the core of its existence.
The monster dissolved. Its scream snapped like a thread, its darkness scattering like ash in the wind. The pressure vanished. Air rushed back into the Summit, cool and clean. Minds cleared fully. The Refractor dissipated, its fragments fading into thin air.
Xin's knees nearly buckled. He caught himself on his bow, its familiar weight grounding him. Around him, fighters stared, weapons lowered, eyes wide. They had not seen a fight. They had seen something else—a figure rising above the weight of an Omega Hollow and cutting it apart without touching it.
The light did not fade at once. It poured out in waves, silver streaked with gold, draping the Summit in brilliance. Dust rose, catching the glow, turning the battlefield into a field of stars. The wind carried warmth now, not static.
Shun hovered above the ground, wings beating slowly. The Jian remained raised, its light softening but still radiant. His wounds no longer bled. The glow wrapped them, sealed them, leaving only faint scars. His face was calm, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
Xin felt the tension in his chest loosen. He had braced for death. Now he could breathe. His fingers relaxed on his bow, the wood warm under his touch.
Fighters stirred around him. Some whispered, their voices hoarse. Some wept, tears cutting tracks through the blood and ash on their faces. Some dropped to one knee, not knowing why, only that the moment demanded it.
Shun lowered the Jian. The glow folded inward, streaming back into the blade until only a faint halo remained. His wings folded but did not vanish, their silver scales catching the last threads of light. He stood, still shining faintly, and looked across the battlefield. His gaze met Xin's for a moment it was a silent acknowledgment, one shared with a weak smile. Then he turned toward the rising sun.
The Hollow was gone. Only a black shadow marked where it had stood.
It was then when Xin lost consciousness and dreamt a dream one that was filled with love...
Its about time...