Consciousness surfaced slowly from a void of endless, warm darkness.

  It was not sleep. Sleep is a temporary reprieve, but this was… an absolute stillness.

  After exhausting every drop of divine power, my soul felt like a burnt-out ember. Emptied of all light and heat, I had plunged into an infinite shadow where time, perception, and even dreams ceased to exist. I drifted there, suspended, until a familiar, gentle white glow reached out, lifting me softly from that freezing dark.

  When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in that familiar, boundless expanse of milky-white space. A steady, gentle voice resonated before me.

  "You have finally awakened, my Exarch."

  The Creator God, Zareon, stood there. He wore a single-shouldered, flowing white robe with a heavy drape, reminiscent of the garments worn by the gods in the ancient myths of my old world. His silver-white hair cascaded down to his shoulders, and within his eyes—eyes like swirling nebulae—there flickered a trace of a warm smile.

  I felt a weariness that originated from the very depths of my soul; I lacked even the strength to offer a proper salutation. Looking down, I beheld my own spiritual form—still short, stout, and robust, yet composed entirely of light. My voice came out raspy and hollow: "Lord Zareon… that power last night… what exactly was it?"

  "That power is, in truth, a part of my very being," Zareon replied, his tone calm yet resonant. "It shares the same source as the power I used to forge the world—it can bring life to all things, or return corruption to purity. When I reshaped your soul, I left the imprint of this power within you."

  He raised his hand slightly, a gentle white light manifesting in his palm. His voice softened. "The vessel I crafted for you was designed specifically to contain this divine essence."

  "I can only craft the vessel," He continued, His tone as steady as if stating an immutable law of nature. "But the key to unlocking the dormant divinity within has never been in my hands."

  His gaze grew deep, as if peering through the very layers of my soul.

  "That key is your own will—it was your resolve in that singular moment, your willingness to burn everything away to protect the one you love, that ignited it."

  My heart jolted.

  An inheritance… a part of Him?

  That meant the power I wielded—the force I swung—was not merely a gifted tool.

  It was consubstantial with the Creator God Himself.

  "And the price?" I asked, the weight of the question settling heavily upon me. "What is the price for such power?"

  "The price is yourself," Zareon’s eyes deepened. "Every 'Liberation of Divinity' will draw your soul one step closer to the realm of 'God,' and consequently… one step further from the emotions of a 'Human.' If used excessively, you will become increasingly cold, increasingly detached, until finally, you become a pure, emotionless existence of absolute divinity."

  My heart sank. An existence without emotion? If I became that, would I still be able to feel the warmth of Balin’s embrace? Would my heart still race at his clumsy, tender gestures?

  "I understand the price of power…" I took a deep breath, looking Him directly in the eyes. "But why me? You never gave me a specific task before. Why did you bestow all of this upon me? What exactly am I meant to accomplish?"

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  The gentle smile on Zareon’s face slowly faded, replaced by a solemn gravity. "Because this calamity is no accident," he said somberly. "The entity you purified last night was not the mastermind; it was merely a powerful puppet driven by a deeper, more profound darkness."

  "This world is ill," Zareon’s voice carried a hint of sorrow, like that of a grieving father. "An ancient corruption from the abyss is seeping through the cracks of the world once more. Last night’s monster tide was merely the first and most violent symptom of this great malady."

  His gaze fell upon me again, filled with immense majesty. "Yggdrasil, your mission is not one of mere slaughter or conquest. I need you, in your identity as 'Yggdrasil the Dwarf,' to walk the lands of Amfurea. To witness, to feel, and to find the 'scars' infested by the abyss, and to use that sacred power—my power—to purify them one by one."

  "You shall be the Will of God walking the earth. You are the world’s… final 'cure'."

  Walking the earth… purifying the scars of the world… My mind was in a whirl. This mission was far vaster and heavier than anything I had imagined.

  Zareon seemed to perceive my unease, and his tone returned to a gentle warmth.

  "I know this burden is too great for one so recently reborn. And yet, that is precisely why I am heartened." He paused, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Because destiny prepared 'him' for you long before your journey even began."

  "Him?" I stammered, momentarily confused.

  "The one who carried you home on his back after your strength was spent," Zareon said, his gaze seemingly piercing through the divine realm to behold the reality of the world below. "The one who stayed awake through the night, watching over your bed just to confirm the sound of your breathing."

  "…Balin," I whispered, my heart swelling as I spoke his name.

  "Indeed," Zareon nodded, a sense of relief in his voice. "Yggdrasil, you must remember this. I gave you the ideal body—the 'vessel' to hold divine power. But Balin… he is the 'Hearth-Core Cornerstone' that supports the flame within your heart."

  "He is the hearth-core of your soul's temple. Divinity is like an endless blizzard, seeking to freeze your humanity. But as long as this cornerstone remains, the hearth-fire in your heart shall never be extinguished, and the temple of your soul shall never collapse. As long as he is there, you will always be able to find your way home."

  Zareon’s words were like a warm light, dispelling all the unease and fear within me. Finally, I understood. My mission and my love were not contradictions; they were essential to one another. Balin’s existence was not just my personal luck—it was the only salvation that would allow me to complete this heavy destiny.

  "Go now." Zareon raised his staff, and the milky-white space began to thin and fade. "Your Hearth-Core Cornerstone is waiting for you to wake. Go feel that weight, touch that warmth. That is the true source of all your strength."

  The white light receded, and consciousness returned.

  I smelled it—the familiar, faint scent of burning wood in the stone house. I felt the thick, warm beast-hide blanket covering me. Slowly, I forced my heavy eyelids open.

  The dim orange glow of the fireplace bathed the room in warmth. Beside my bed, Balin sat in a simple wooden chair, having fallen asleep against the backrest. He was still wearing his tattered adventurer's leather armor, his face streaked with unwashed soot and blood, and his thick black beard was a tangled mess. He looked utterly exhausted, yet his massive, robust hand still gripped mine—held outside the covers—in a protective, unwavering hold.

  I felt the sensation traveling from his palm—the rough, warm, and undeniably real touch. I finally, fully understood the meaning of Zareon’s words: "Hearth-Core Cornerstone."

  I did not wake him.

  Instead, using every ounce of strength I could muster, I gently curled my fingers back, squeezing his palm in return.

  It is good to have you here. My Hearth-Core Cornerstone.

  Within the divine realm, Zareon’s gaze pierced the void, watching those tightly clasped hands inside the stone house. His expression held a trace of an ancient, mountain-like compassion.

  'The wheels of fate have begun to turn.'

  'My brave successor, you are the vessel of my light… but you must understand that even the most brilliant light eventually casts a shadow.'

  'What a cruel path this is. A path you cannot avoid. The more you purify, the more that expelled darkness will gather into something deeper. Every heroic deed you perform, every victory to save those under the light, only serves to feed that final, pure darkness—and pushes you one step closer to the altar of self-sacrifice.'

  'That mortal… he is not just the harbor where you anchor; he is the hearth-fire that gives meaning to your light.'

  'So, feel it. Love him. My only hope… is that the warmth you feel in this moment makes this destined journey of suffering worth it.'

  'For before you must eventually walk alone into that absolute darkness, this mortal warmth will be your… only light.'