"Do you know what you'll see after borrowing the authority of Death? You'll see every living being's countdown to death."
"You'll see when they die, how they die, and where they go after death. You'll see things you don't want to see. You'll see the deaths of people you know—Dean's death, Sam's death, the deaths of those Demon Hunter Knights, even your own death, if you can still die."
Wu Heng remained calm. "I know."
Death Old Man stared at him for a long time.
His gaze held scrutiny, helplessness, and an indescribable complexity. In the end, he closed his eyes.
"Take it." He raised a hand, palm facing upward.
A wisp of grayish-white light rose from his palm, faint as morning mist.
The light had no temperature and no weight, yet it was there, like a feather floating in the air.
Death Old Man's fingers trembled slightly, not because he was reluctant to part with it, but because he was stripping away a part of himself.
Not power, but authority—the thing that allowed him to "manage death."
Wu Heng reached out and caught the wisp of grayish-white light.
The light landed in his palm. It neither vanished nor merged into him; it merely hovered there.
He lowered his head and watched the light slowly swirl in his palm.
He did not absorb it into his body or refine it into the Trait Tree. He merely held it, as though holding a borrowed key.
The key belonged to someone else, and so did the door. He was only taking a trip through someone else's house. Once his business was done, he would return the key and leave.
Death Old Man withdrew his hand.
His face was a little paler than before, and several more wrinkles had appeared on his forehead.