Raven reached into his trade channel's inventory and pulled out the sword.
The moment his hand gripped the pitch-black hilt, his eyes went blank.
The world stilled.
Then, it turned violet.
Not Indigo. Not Blue. But Violet.
An overwhelming, all-consuming violet washed over everything.
It covered everything.
He couldn't see the floor. He couldn't feel his body. He couldn't hear his heartbeat.
He could only see violet.
Then, slowly—agonizingly slowly—his vision began to return.
The world rebuilt itself in layers, but everything was still tinged with that same majestic hue.
The bed, the chair, the window, and even the scenery outside.
But then, Raven saw it.
It wasn't the world that was violet.
The color was converging.
It spiraled and streamed, drawing itself toward the sword in his hand like divine mist finding its altar.
