The golden sprouts shimmered with slow, pulsing light—not magic, not weaponry, but something older… something alive.
The battlefield quieted as cultivators, both ally and former enemy, circled the sacred ground. Even the air carried a hush, like the world itself had paused to listen.
Kai knelt before the orb.
The flame had dimmed.
Not because it weakened—but because it had settled.
It no longer needed to scream. It had become part of him now—woven into his breath, his steps, his blood.
Ren stood behind him, arms crossed. "So, what now? You going to plant peace in all the broken lands?"
Ayaka smiled faintly. "Or are you just going to keep kicking over thrones?"
Kai looked up.
"No more thrones," he said. "No more gods. Just soil."
He stood, his voice calm, but the earth seemed to lean in when he spoke. "We don't need more rulers. We need roots that hold… when the storms come again."
The Heaven-Binder watched quietly.
"You sound like the one who came before," he said. "The one we lost."
Kai met his gaze. "Maybe we didn't lose him. Maybe he just became the soil."
A soft wind passed through.
Then—
From the golden sprouts, a bloom appeared.
One single flower.
Its petals were red and gold, glowing like flame—but its center was deep, ancient, pulsing with root-light.
Ayaka whispered, "It's… beautiful."
Kai didn't touch it.
Instead, he bowed.
> Not as a conqueror.
Not as a chosen.
But as a cultivator.
A guardian of the new beginning.