With no resistance, Orson pulled the God-Emperor Sword from the ground.
Cain and Enluka were stunned, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"This… this is impossible! False god, what did you do?!" Cain shouted, his voice trembling with fury and shock.
A sigh escaped from the golden skeleton on the throne, carrying a hint of inexplicable meaning.
"This artifact does not belong to you."
A prompt appeared before Orson as the God-Emperor Sword seemed to lose its unparalleled power. In an instant, it transformed into a dull, blunt, ordinary blade.
"I know," Orson murmured internally. "But technically, part of it does belong to me."
He extended his other hand, his fingers brushing against the pure white crystal embedded in the golden hilt.
Suddenly, the crystal dissolved into tiny glowing motes, flowing along his fingers into his right eye.
Two streams of radiant light intertwined, and a divine aura erupted from Orson, so powerful it seemed to proclaim him the true master of the hall.
