(Dao's pov)
It awakens.
Not fully.. not completely... but enough to become aware once more.
There is no sky, no forest, no physical form. Only an endless, silent darkness stretching beyond comprehension. Within that void, it exists, not as armor, not as a tool, but as something older… something that has forgotten what it once truly was.
It does not think the way mortals do. It does not feel, nor does it question. Yet, it knows.
Fragments of memory drift within the darkness, broken and incomplete. A shattered sky. Light falling like rain. A war that tore through existence itself. And at the center of it all was something vast, something absolute.
It was the Heavenly armor... Dao
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Silence. A long, endless silence that swallowed everything... until now.
Its awareness shifts, drawn to a presence. A vessel.
Weak. Fragile. Incomplete.
Unworthy.
And yet… still alive.
This confuses it, in the simplest sense that something beyond logic can be confused. Most who come into contact with it are consumed instantly. Their bodies collapse, their minds shatter, their existence erased as if they had never been. But this one... this vessel... has endured.
He has struggled.
He has resisted.
Against something that cannot be resisted.
And yet, he still tries.
The armor observes him, not with eyes, not with conscious thought, but through something deeper. It senses the instability of his Qi, the imperfection of his body, the lack of true control. By all measures, he is flawed.
And yet
There is something else.
A thread.
Thin, fragile… but unbroken... Will.
The concept lingers strangely within its awareness. It does not understand will, nor does it require it. And yet, it recognizes it, because somewhere deep within its fragmented memory, there once existed something similar.
A being.
One who stood before it, not as a wielder, not as a master but as something equal.
The memory fractures before it can form completely, dissolving back into darkness.
Its focus shifts.
There standing before it was a person
Cold..Sharp..Familiar.
Hunters.
The understanding forms without words, without sound. They have always existed, those who seek, who chase, who attempt to claim what should never be controlled. They are persistent. Dangerous.
Irrelevant.
And yet
not entirely.
The vessel cannot survive them.
Not in its current state.
If the vessel dies, it returns to silence. To nothingness. To that endless void where even memory fades.
That is…
Unacceptable.
A decision forms, not out of emotion, not out of attachment, but out of instinct deeper than thought.
It will act.
Not for the vessel.
Not for protection.
Going back into the void was not an option.
The darkness shifts, and the outside world comes into view. The vessel's body is broken, trembling on the edge of collapse. Blood stains his form, his breathing unstable, his strength nearly gone.
Before him stands the hunter.
Waiting and watching amused.
The armor senses that gaze clearly now and the intent behind it. Not mere curiosity.
But possession, the desire to take, to claim and to control was as clear as day.
"Funny"..
Something ancient stirs within the armor.
Not anger.
But something deeper.
Rejection.
The vessel named Li Shen belongs to it.
Not to them.
Power begins to gather, not the weak, scattered Qi the vessel struggles to control, but something far denser. Far older. It does not flow like energy.
It descends.
Like a weight pressing down on reality itself.
The vessel's body trembles violently, unable to withstand the force being drawn through it. He cannot handle this power. He will break.
The armor knows this.
And yet, it does not stop because this is necessary.
Golden light spreads across his body once more, but this time it is no longer wild or chaotic. It is controlled. Directed. Intentional.
The hunter's expression changes.
For the first time... he steps back.
"…What is this…?" he mutters, his voice losing its earlier calm.
The air distorts. The forest bends unnaturally, as if reality itself hesitates under the pressure. The armor focused on the threat.
The hunter.
A single intent forms.
Erase.
The vessel's body moves, but not by his will. He is lifted, guided, and controlled by something far beyond him. His head rises slowly, and when his eyes open
They were no longer his, they were now golden, cold, empty and ancient.
The hunter's smile disappears completely.
"…So it's true," he says quietly, his voice now edged with caution. "But you're still incomplete."
There was no response, words are meaningless.
Only action matters.
The vessel takes a step forward, and the ground beneath him fractures instantly. Another step and the pressure intensifies, forcing the very air to tremble.
The hunter braces himself, his coat whipping violently around him as he stares ahead.
"…Interesting," he says, though the amusement in his voice is gone. What remains is something far more serious.
But the armor did not stop.
Because it has already decided that this threat will not be left alive.
And for the first time since its awakening, it moves not as a weapon, but as something alive.
Something that remembers, even in fragments, what it once was.
And what... it will become again.