Golden light splintered across the battlefield like shards of divine wrath, so bright and heavy that the very air trembled under its weight.
Kyle halted mid-step, sword still drawn, as the searing presence of divine mana descended from the heavens, converging onto the crumpled form of the Saintess.
His eyes narrowed.
'Not good.'
The Saintess's body, previously collapsing under the weight of their clash, arched upward as if seized by unseen threads.
Her wounds mended not with healing but with transmutation; her limbs shimmered like molten gold, her skin glowing with radiant light. Her once-human frame now teetered into the realm of something divine—no longer mortal, not yet god.
The golden aura pulsed violently. Cracks splintered through the earth beneath her.
Kyle took a slow breath as the pressure increased.
"She's burning herself alive."
