SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 956 - 956: Spirit Of Vengence!
“A mortal has called me… properly.”
Dharisya’s brows lifted slightly.
“Properly? Many call you. Most beg. Some dare to demand.”
“Yes,” the god murmured. “But this one does not beg. He offers.”
A pause.
His middle face narrowed its eye.
The twitch returned.
“He sat under flame. Bled into metal.
He spoke my three names not with tongue, but with silence.
I saw no arrogance. Only… intent.”
Dharisya stepped closer, her gaze soft but unblinking.
“Intent? What does this mortal seek? Glory? Vengeance? Immortality?”
The Three-Phased God was silent for a long moment.
Then he whispered something even the stars leaned in to hear:
“He seeks… worthiness. To carry a burden that should not be his.
To tame a storm he was never meant to face.”
The Three-Phased God slowly raised his middle hand — the one of Karma — and turned the divine palm over.
There, in glowing threads of time and possibility, they both saw the image:
A young human.
Dark-haired. Eyes closed in prayer.
A bow hovering before him — trembling like a chained force of nature.
A serpent-bodied master crafting arrows behind him.
And in the depths of the mortal sea, storms stirring without clouds.
Dharisya’s breath caught.
“He calls to you… to awaken the soul of a weapon?”
“Yes,” the god answered. “But not just a weapon.”
He touched the air.
And a rune formed.
It shimmered into the shape of a bow, but the string was spun from karma threads, and the grip was shaped like the balance scale of judgment.
“He is not forging an arrow to kill.
He is forging an arrow to judge.”
Dharisya’s fingers brushed the vision.
Her voice grew soft, thoughtful.
“What if he is not ready? Mortal hearts change. Power seduces. What if he falls?”
The Three-Phased God smiled — all three faces curving differently.
“If he falls, the weapon will sleep again. Or choose another.”
“But if he does not?”
The God of Creation, Karma, and Destruction looked toward the sea one more time.
“Then the heavens shall tremble.
And the Divine Weapon Spirit shall rise — no longer a tool, but a force of its own.”
Dharisya stepped forward until her silhouette shimmered beside the Three-Phased God’s middle face.
“And what do you need from me?”
He turned his left face — the face of Destruction — toward her.
“He has built the body. He will build the soul. But he will need a guardian.
Someone to stand in silence as the world curses him.
Someone to remind him of peace when he holds power.”
Dharisya closed her eyes, her own soul whispering through time.
When she opened them, they shimmered like moonlight on still water.
“Then I will send a blessing. Not one he can use.
But one he will one day understand.”
The Three-Phased God smiled once more.
Then turned his creation face downward.
“Let the boy pray.”
“Let the arrows come.”
“When the time is right… I will answer.”
And with that, the Three-Phased God’s body stilled again — not asleep.
The celestial stillness had returned.
The Three-Phased God had quieted.
His three faces once more faced the stars, the turning wheel, and the void.
And beside him, the Serene Goddess Dharisya had folded her hands across her chest and vanished into the breath between worlds.
But the moment they left, the corner of the divine space darkened.
A breeze that had no source brushed across the sacred disk of woven truths — colder than memory, older than time.
A figure stepped out from between the stars.
She wore the torn veil of a former divinity.
Her hair was streaked with the ash of lost temples.
Her eyes — once revered — now burned not with light, but with a long and quiet hate.
She bowed slightly, but not in reverence. Her voice was hollow, scraping softly against the silence.
“You called for me.”
The Three-Phased God did not turn his head. He spoke without movement, all three voices layered into one.
“You were once a goddess of flame and spirit. You fell because you loved justice more than obedience.”
“They feared your voice. They erased your name.”
“But your soul endured.”
She said nothing. Her fists clenched slowly.
“Do you seek vengeance?”
The goddess raised her eyes — and in them, not fury, but clarity.
“Not on mortals. Not on fate. Only on those who sealed my name while claiming righteousness.”
“I want a voice again. A will. A form.”
The Three-Phased God finally opened his hand.
And floating above it, formed of golden breath and silver karma thread, was the divine bow — not yet awakened, its runes dim, its spirit absent.
“A mortal calls. One who does not seek dominion. One who does not beg for favor.”
“He bends not knees, but iron. He offers his soul, not ambition.”
“He will carry this weapon into storms he does not yet understand.”
The fallen goddess stared at the bow. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“You want me to become the spirit… of a weapon?”
“Not just a weapon,” the god said. “A legacy. A judgment.”
“You have the flame. He has the resolve. Together… you may burn clean what the heavens have forgotten.”
She took a long breath. Then stepped forward.
“Let me test him. If he wavers—”
“Then the bond will break,” the god said flatly. “And you will return to the silence.”
“But if he does not?”
The Three-Phased God looked down — and this time, all three faces turned toward the mortal sea below.
“Then the world shall learn the name they tried to erase.”
—
Within the forge, Kent sat unmoving — deep in his months-long prayer to the Three-Phased God. His back straight, his face calm, eyes shut tight in meditation.
The divine bow floated before him, trembling gently.
But now… something shifted.
The temperature in the forge dropped for a moment. Even Muni Naga, hammering the internal channels of the Immortal Quivers, paused and looked over his shoulder.
“Hm?” he murmured. “What is this feeling…”
Above Kent’s bowed head, the divine bow flared, its surface shivering like a heated mirror plunged into cold water.
And then — it began to glow.
But not with flame.
Not with lightning.
With presence.
A silhouette appeared behind the bow — a woman-shaped spirit made of embers and smoke, her face obscured, her hair flowing like silk in water. She did not look at Muni Naga. She did not even glance at the forge.
She only looked at Kent.
At the mortal who had dared to offer himself.
She studied him. Silently.
Then slowly, she extended her hand and pressed her palm against the runes etched on the bow’s frame.
The runes lit up, one after another — no longer wild or chaotic, but calm. Harmonious.
And as her spirit sank into the weapon, the bow trembled once — then went still.
—
Inside his meditation, Kent felt nothing at first.
No voice. No flash. No vision.
Only silence.
But then — a faint whisper touched his mind. Not speech. Not instruction. Just a presence, warm and sharp, like the feeling of someone standing behind you in total darkness, not touching — but near.
He didn’t open his eyes.
He didn’t break prayer.
But in that instant, his-pulse matched the bow’s hum.
His breath flowed with its rhythm.
She began testing Kent!
—
Back in the Divine Sky
The Three-Phased God turned his head away at last.
In the distance, Dharisya’s voice echoed softly.
“You gave her another chance.”
“No,” the god murmured.
“I gave him one. A permanent one to stay on his side.”
–
