There was no sound in the infinite expanse of pale mist, only a vast, weightless stillness that swallowed all pain.
Hajin drifted through the quiet void, suspended between the absence of breath and the fading memory of a shattered chest.
The crushing agony of fractured ribs and the choking warmth of blood in his throat vanished, replaced by an absolute, terrifying peace.
Looking down at his translucent hands, he noticed that his physical form dissolved into shimmering threads of amber and silver light.
The translucent numbers and glowing skill panels of the system were nowhere to be seen, leaving his soul stripped down to its barest spiritual essence.
Yet even in this boundless stillness, three distinct tethers pulled gently against the center of his drifting soul.
One tether burned with the fierce, warm radiance of silver lunar fire, another pulsed with stubborn demonic resolve, and the third hummed with ancient, haughty amber brilliance.
