Damien stared at the word on the screen.
[Primary Affinity: ORIGIN]
Not fire. Not shadow. Not even some obscure elemental variant like lightning, frost, or void.
Origin.
He exhaled once—long, slow.
The word didn't carry weight like a title might. It wasn't dramatic. There was no booming voice or divine echo behind it.
But something about it settled.
As if it had always been true. As if his body had known it long before the system caught up.
And as he sat in the afterglow of that quiet declaration, the memories began to rise.
Not triggered by panic. Not flaring under adrenaline. Just… remembered. Clearly. Cleanly.
The Cradle.
That endless void. The stillness. The weight of nothing, pressing against the inside of his thoughts.
The pulse that didn't come from the world, but from beneath it.
The moment he'd reached for something—not a spell, not a theory—but an impression. A beat in the dark. And when he'd answered it, something answered back.
Not a force. Not a voice.
