The boy stayed on the ground, the unseen force pinning him down. The cold stone beneath his forehead seemed to sap its chill biting into his skin. strength,
The silence stretched endlessly, wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud.
Finally, he summoned the courage to speak.
"Forgive me, great lord," he murmured, barely louder than a whisper. "Forgive me for disturbing your slumber."
The boy swallowed hard, his throat dry and scratchy, but he continued.
"I am your humble servant, just a simple villager. My people, we honor you. Every prayer, every offering we've made, has been towards you."
His words echoed faintly in the vast space, unanswered. He clenched his fists against the floor, frustration tightening his chest. He hadn't come this far to leave empty-handed.
"There was an incident," he continued, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "In the city where I studied. A conspiracy... immortals... and in their schemes, they took her. Someone dear to me. I couldn't stop them."
The words tumbled out like a confession, each syllable cutting into him. His failure, his weakness, it was all laid bare.
His shoulders trembled as he relived the humiliation of that day, the crushing loss, and the unrelenting pain of his broken core.
"I don't ask for revenge," he said, his voice firmer now, though still tinged with desperation. "I'll face them myself, and I'll fix what they've broken. But for that, I need a way to repair my crippled core."
He took a shuddering breath, his forehead still pressed to the ground. "Please, great lord. Is there a method? Even the smallest chance to fix it?"
The silence grew heavier and only his breathing broke the stillness.
"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why won't you answer?"
Slowly, he lifted his head, his knees still planted on the cold stone floor. "For generations, we've prayed to you. We've protected this forest in your name. And now, when I need you most, you stay silent. Why?"
The lights flickered faintly, but no voice came. No sign.
He gritted his teeth, his sorrow and frustration boiling over into anger. He planted his palms on the ground and pushed himself upright, his legs trembling under the spiritual pressure that bore down on him.
His body ached, his bones groaning under the strain, but he refused to bow any longer.
His shoulders trembled as he took another step forward.
"If you won't wake up and help me," he snarled through gritted teeth, "then I'll help myself."
Without hesitation, he reached out, his hand plunging into the stone sarcophagus. The figure inside remained unmoving, his peaceful expression untouched by the boy's intrusion.
But the moment his hand crossed the edge of the stone, the markings etched into its surface began to glow.
The air around him grew thick, thrumming with an otherworldly energy. The runes on the stone seemed to come alive, twisting and writhing like serpents.
They slithered up his arm, glowing patterns coiling around his skin.
"What is this...?" He gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the glowing symbols crept up his forearm, twisting toward his shoulder. The sensation was indescribable, a cold burn, an electric jolt, and an icy chill all at once.
Still, he refused to pull back. His hand plunged deeper into the stone, his fingers brushing against the radiant figure's abdomen.
Gritting his teeth, his hand plunged deep into the corpse, seeking something, anything that could be the source of the power.
His fingers closed around a smooth, warm sphere.
The moment he touched it, the entire pagoda shuddered violently.
The markings that had snaked up his arm now covered his entire body, pulsating with a searing light. It was as if the energy within the tomb was being unleashed, its presence overwhelming and unrelenting.
In his palm, he held the core, a small, radiant sphere that seemed alive, pulsating with an immense, unearthly power.
Warmth radiated from it, wrapping around him like a fire. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.
He stared at the core, his breathing rapid and uneven. This was it. This was the heart of the so-called deity, the very essence his people had worshipped for generations.
His fingers tightened around the sphere.
He knew what he was about to do was madness. Devouring the core of an entity so powerful was unthinkable. The risks were unfathomable, it could destroy him, body and soul. Yet, it was his only chance. His last, desperate hope to reclaim what he had lost.
"Forgive me, father," he whispered, his voice trembling as his resolve hardened. "But I have no choice."
Without hesitation, he brought the core to his lips and swallowed it whole.