Leon stood there, suspended in that lightless space, the glow of the core painting his face in pale gold.
The truth settled slowly, heavy and unwelcome. Learning that the root of his power had been set in motion long before his rebirth left a bitter taste at the back of his throat.
It felt too close to fate. Too close to being a piece on a board someone else had already arranged.
For the first time in a long while, he felt small.
The origin core sensed it.
"You need not fret," it said, its voice steady, without judgment. "Perfection did not choose you because it favored you. Its scope was far simpler. It sought a mortal from the lost era. You were selected by chance."
Leon frowned.
"So it was a gamble."
