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... ture a blind craftsman, stumbling toward survival. The shape of our thoughts narrowed by culture, knowledge, and inherent biology. For even the wisest mind is wasted if its only input is darkness. And our reputation. The fabric of our legend. Sullied or gloried by those that come before.

My father is Jaus Avandaer. Savior. Godbreaker. A good man.

My mother is Zein Thousandhand. Glaive. Godslayer. An icon of bloodshed.

I am Veylis Avandaer. I am pre-shaped. Fated. But also ...

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Looking at the changes in the world, Lu Ren exhaled in a panic.

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Hearing the prompt sound in his mind, Lu Ren waved his sword hesitantly.

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