Dawn's consciousness drifted through Chaos. His last memory was of his right arm exploding into a mist of blood, and a roar that had pierced his soul.
He tried to pull his body back together, but he had exhausted so much Divinity that even rebuilding flesh and blood seemed impossibly hard.
Damn it. This cost me big.
As he mocked himself, a surge of pure, gentle life force enveloped his soul—gentle, yet so overwhelming it allowed no resistance.
It felt as though someone on the verge of freezing to death had been thrown straight into a volcanic hot spring.
Nourished by that life force, his Divinity, his flesh, and his shattered right arm began to reform and regenerate at a relentless pace.
Dawn opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a massive palm covered in pure golden tiger stripes.
The palm rested against his chest, pouring an unending stream of life force into him.
He followed the arm upward and met a pair of slit-pupiled eyes blazing with molten gold.
It was Yada Yada.
There was no trace of Void or deathly stillness about Yada Yada now.
The golden tiger stripes on his body were no longer static markings. They had become flowing light. Every shift of his muscles carried an effortless rhythm—the pulse of life itself.
He stood there, and he existed.
In this collapsing Divine Kingdom, he was the only thing that felt "real."
"You..." Dawn started to speak, but Yada Yada had already withdrawn his hand.
He said nothing. He only looked deeply at Dawn's rapidly healing right arm with those golden eyes.
Then he turned and walked away.
Tiga Lingyu and Song Ling were supporting each other, their faces pale.
Yada Yada approached them and placed his hands on their shoulders.
That overwhelming life