K.J. felt ready to die, the thought settling over him like a shroud. He had already accepted his fate—the commander's sword would strike him down, and it would be over in an instant. A quick death. His body was too weak to resist, his strength drained by the relentless assault and the arrow still embedded in his chest. The pain, sharp and growing, radiated from the wound with every strained breath, a reminder of how close he was to the end.

He could feel the cold, curling wisps of smoke emanating from the commander's body, wrapping around him like the shadow of death itself. His eyes closed, and he exhaled shakily, his heart pounding against the arrow, each beat bringing a fresh surge of pain. It was almost poetic, he thought bitterly, how death came not in a grand battle or with a noble purpose, but here, kneeling, powerless to do anything but wait for the blade to fall.

Then, cutting through the haze of despair, the voice came again.

Embrace your Desire.

It was the same voice he'd heard once before, clear and steady, yet coming from somewhere deep within his own mind. The last time, it had been during the desperate moment he'd summoned the barrier to protect the King and Oliver, a surge of magic he hadn't fully understood. He had pushed it aside then, too consumed by the chaos of the moment to question it. But now, with death looming over him, the voice returned, insistent and unshakable.

Embrace your Desire.

K.J.'s brow furrowed, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he tried to make sense of the words. Desire? he thought, the phrase turning over in his mind. He didn't understand. Where did the voice come from? Why did it return now, when he was moments away from death? He searched for meaning in its words, but all he found were more questions.

And yet, the voice didn't feel foreign. It wasn't an external command, but something deeper, something that felt like it had always been there—waiting, watching, biding its time.

His mind drifted, searching for answers, and he found himself focusing on the word desire. What was his desire? What did he truly want, above all else? The answer came almost instinctively, unbidden yet crystal clear.

K.J.'s only desire, his deepest yearning, was to love and protect. To heal the wounds of a broken world. He had known it for as long as he could remember—that the world was fractured, torn apart by endless wars and the greed of power-hungry kings and queens. He had seen it firsthand, the suffering of the innocent caught in the crossfire of ambition and corruption. His mother's frightened face flashed in his mind, the memory of their desperate flight from the Black Knights. He had been powerless then, a child clinging to hope as the world burned around him.

Now, as he knelt before the commander's blade, the weight of that desire pressed heavily on his chest, more profound than even the arrow lodged between his heart and lung. His desire wasn't about glory or revenge. It was about making a difference, about creating a world where people could live without fear. He wanted to mend what was broken, to bring light to a world drowning in shadow.

But what can I do now? he thought bitterly. He was dying, too weak to fight back, his body broken and his power seemingly gone. His desire alone couldn't stop the commander's blade.

Yet the voice didn't relent. Embrace your Desire, it repeated, calm but unyielding, as though it were offering him a choice—a chance to act. A spark of something stirred deep within him, faint but persistent, like a flicker of warmth in the icy grip of despair.

Embrace your Desire. The words were no longer just a whisper; they pulsed through him, aligning with the beating of his heart. It wasn't a command—it was an invitation, a reminder of something within him, something he had only begun to touch.

K.J.'s breaths came quicker, and he felt the spark grow, spreading from his chest outward, igniting a fire that seemed to push back the pain. The warmth grew, chasing away the cold that had seeped into his bones, filling him with a strange, unfamiliar strength. The arrow in his chest pulsed painfully, but the pain was no longer overwhelming. It was fuel—sharp, electric, and raw.

For the first time, K.J. opened his eyes. The commander's sword was still descending, its dark blade cutting through the air toward him. The wisps of smoke coiled hungrily, but they no longer felt suffocating. Instead, K.J. saw them for what they were—shadows, powerless in the face of the light growing within him.

The voice whispered one final time, steady and clear. Embrace your Desire.

And K.J. did. In that moment, he let go of the fear, the doubt, and the pain, focusing only on his desire—the unshakable need to protect, to heal, to fight for the world he believed in. The spark ignited fully, and his body radiated with a light so bright it pushed the darkness back. The commander's blade never reached him. Instead, the air around K.J. erupted in a brilliant wave of energy, the force blasting outward and throwing the shadowy figures away like leaves caught in a gale.

As K.J. rose to his feet, the pain in his chest faded, replaced by a warmth that burned with purpose. His eyes glowed with golden light, a halo of power circling his irises. For the first time, he felt the full weight of his power—and it didn't frighten him. It felt like coming home.

The commander staggered backward, his smoky form twisting and writhing with fear as the overwhelming radiance of K.J.'s light magic surged around him. The golden energy curled and coiled around K.J.'s body like a living force, bursting outward in waves that rippled through the air, pushing back the encroaching shadows. The once-formidable Black Knights, who had moved with deadly precision and unwavering confidence, now faltered. The smoke that made up their forms recoiled, curling inward as if retreating from the purity of the light. One by one, they began to cower, their menacing presence diminished by the sheer force of K.J.'s awakened power.

K.J., standing tall and steady, reached for the shaft of the arrow still embedded in his chest. His fingers wrapped around the shaft, and with a single fluid motion, he pulled it free. To his astonishment, there was no pain, no resistance—only a sense of release, as if the arrow had never belonged there. He glanced down at his chest, his tunic torn but the skin beneath unmarked. The wound was gone, healed completely, leaving no trace of the near-fatal injury. He ran his fingers over the spot, his breath steady as the truth of his transformation settled over him.

Oliver, still held back by one of the Black Knights, had stopped struggling. His wide eyes were fixed on K.J., his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief. The golden glow of K.J.'s magic reflected in Oliver's gaze, and for a moment, he seemed frozen, captivated by the sight of the man he cared for standing as a beacon of unyielding light.

K.J. turned his attention to the arrow in his hand, holding it lightly as if it weighed nothing. The shaft, once a symbol of his vulnerability, now felt like an extension of his power. His gaze shifted to one of the Black Knights—the archer who had struck him in the chest. The figure hovered near the back of the group, its smoky form trembling as the golden light danced off its armor.

K.J.'s expression hardened, his grip on the arrow tightening for a brief moment before releasing it. The arrow began to float above his palm, spinning slowly at first, then gaining speed as it rotated in midair. The golden light of his magic wrapped around it, transforming the ordinary weapon into something otherworldly, its shaft glowing and vibrating with power. The Black Knight archer recoiled, its bow dropping slightly as if sensing its imminent doom.

Without hesitation, and without even a blink, the arrow shot forward, a blur of radiant energy streaking through the air. The archer had no time to react. The arrow struck its chest with a deafening burst, and in an instant, its smoky body erupted into a blinding explosion of golden light. The figure disintegrated, its armor clattering to the deck in pieces before vanishing into nothingness, leaving behind only silence.

The remaining knights froze, their forms quivering as they looked between K.J. and the remnants of their fallen comrade. The commander, still holding his sword, took another step back, his movements slower now, his confidence shaken. K.J. turned his gaze toward him, his glowing eyes unyielding, a quiet yet undeniable power radiating from him. The light around him pulsed again, sending ripples through the air, as if warning the darkness that it no longer had a place here.

K.J.'s voice echoed across the ship, booming yet carrying an ethereal clarity that commanded attention. It wasn't heavy or harsh, but light and deliberate, each word cutting through the air like a blade. "You are the true abominations of this world," he declared, his voice unwavering. "I vow to rid this world of your darkness. Tell your master—he will not escape me. I will end him."

As the final word left his lips, another surge of power erupted from K.J.'s body, a radiant, blinding wave that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly brilliance. The energy rippled outward in a cascading arc, tearing through the air with a force that made the wooden deck beneath him tremble. The golden light collided with two of the shadowy knights closest to him, their smoky forms shattering on impact. For a brief moment, the darkness that made up their bodies fought against the light, swirling and writhing in desperation, before they were obliterated entirely. Their armor clattered to the ground, hollow and empty, before vanishing into nothingness, as though they had never existed at all.

The remaining knights froze, their movements halting as the power coursing from K.J. reached them, pushing against their forms like an invisible tide. The once-deadly figures, who had moved with unrelenting precision and purpose, now recoiled, their smoky tendrils retreating inward as though trying to escape the light's reach. Their previously unshakable presence faltered, their looming menace reduced to trembling hesitation. The golden aura surrounding K.J. seemed to pull the very shadows from the air, leaving them vulnerable, their forms flickering as if they might dissolve at any moment.

The ship creaked under the weight of the energy, the light spilling out across the deck, illuminating every corner and chasing away every shadow. The knights, so fearless moments before, shuffled back instinctively, their weapons lowering as if even they understood the futility of resisting the force radiating from K.J. It wasn't just power they faced—it was purpose, a raw and unyielding force that left no room for the darkness to thrive. They were no longer predators; they were prey, caught in the presence of something far greater than themselves.

The commander, still clutching his sword, roared in fury. His voice rang hollow, desperate, as he called off his knights with a sharp, guttural cry. One by one, the remaining figures vanished, dissolving into thin air like fading shadows. The commander was the last to leave, his form retreating into the void with a final, defiant glare at K.J. before disappearing completely.

As the silence settled over the ship, Oliver was suddenly freed from the knight's grasp. He stumbled forward, his breaths uneven, before breaking into a run toward K.J. His eyes widened as he neared, taking in the radiant figure before him. K.J. still stood tall, his body aglow with golden light that pulsed rhythmically, an aura of raw power enveloping him. His eyes remained transformed, halos of white and gold swirling within them, otherworldly and unreadable.

"K.J..." Oliver whispered, his voice trembling. "Are you...are you still there?"

K.J. tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question. For a moment, he didn't answer, the glow in his eyes softening as if in response to Oliver's words. Then, with a slight nod, he acknowledged him, though he remained silent.

Before Oliver could say more, K.J.'s gaze shifted, his glowing eyes narrowing as if he were hearing something distant. Faint, desperate cries for help seemed to echo through the air, pulling his attention toward the port. His head turned sharply, his focus locking onto a specific spot near a row of battered buildings. Among them, near a fish shop, a woman's scream pierced through the quiet—raw, desperate, and filled with grief.

Without a word, K.J. began to float, his body lifting effortlessly from the deck of the ship as his light pulsed once more. Oliver called after him, but K.J. didn't look back. His form glided through the air, moving steadily toward the port, drawn by the cries like a moth to a flame.

Rek, standing at the helm, barked orders to his crew. "Move us to the port! Now! Quickly!" The sailors scrambled to obey, their movements frantic as they steered the ship toward the dock.

K.J. landed softly on the cobblestone street near the port, his feet touching down with a grace that defied the chaos around him. His glowing eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of lingering Black Knights, but the streets were empty save for the scattered debris and the frightened townsfolk peering from the shadows. Satisfied, he turned his attention toward the fish shop, where the woman's screams grew louder.

As he approached, K.J.'s expression remained calm, but his glowing gaze softened as he saw the woman clutching a young boy in her arms. Her face was streaked with tears, her sobs shaking her body as she cradled her son protectively. The boy's chest bore a deep, jagged wound, the unmistakable mark of a Black Knight's blade. Blood soaked his tunic, and his small body was still, unmoving.

K.J. tilted his head slightly, observing the scene in silence. His eyes flickered briefly as if reading the boy's condition, the aura around him pulsing faintly in response. The woman flinched as K.J. kneeled beside her, her grip tightening on her son's lifeless body. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "No, please, don't take him from me. Please..."

K.J. raised a hand, a silent gesture of reassurance. Slowly, the woman hesitated, her sobs quieting as she looked into K.J.'s radiant eyes. There was something in his expression—something calm, powerful, and resolute—that made her loosen her grip ever so slightly. She didn't understand what he was, but in that moment, she chose to trust him.

Oliver leapt from the ship as soon as it docked, his boots hitting the wooden planks before he sprinted toward K.J. and the woman. He arrived just in time to see K.J. extending a glowing hand toward the boy. Oliver gasped softly as his gaze fell on the child's wound—a vicious slash that had stolen his life. His stomach twisted, the sight too much to bear, but his eyes darted back to K.J., searching for an answer, for a plan.

K.J. didn't speak. Words felt unnecessary in the face of what needed to be done. Instead, he moved with a quiet, deliberate purpose, his hand extending slowly toward the boy. The faint aura of light surrounding him intensified, a soft, warm glow emanating from his body like a beacon. From his outstretched hand, a delicate stream of white light began to curl, flowing like liquid energy, fluid and ethereal. It danced around his fingers, pulsing gently in rhythm with his heartbeat, each pulse radiating warmth and life.

The light gathered at his fingertips, its brightness growing with every passing moment, as though responding to K.J.'s unwavering focus. It wasn't harsh or blinding; it was pure, soothing, and radiant, casting soft reflections on the tear-streaked face of the boy's mother, who watched in silence, her breath caught in her throat.

K.J. lowered his hand carefully, the light quivering as it hovered just above the jagged wound in the boy's chest. With a grace that defied its power, the energy began to drip like molten silver, each drop shimmering as it touched the torn flesh. The liquid light seeped into the wound, spreading outward in intricate patterns that seemed to flow like veins of pure magic. It moved as if alive, each thread weaving itself into the boy's body, knitting the flesh back together in a seamless, almost artistic motion.

The gash began to close, the broken skin melding as the light worked its way deeper, mending muscle and tissue with an effortless precision that was both mesmerizing and impossible to look away from. The boy's pale skin regained its color, the edges of the wound glowing faintly as they healed completely, leaving no scar or trace of the injury that had nearly taken his life.

Around K.J., the aura pulsed again, the warmth of it spreading outward in gentle waves that seemed to soothe not only the boy but also his mother, whose trembling eased as hope replaced her grief. The light lingered for a moment, curling protectively around the boy's chest, as if ensuring its work was complete before dissipating into the air with a soft, shimmering glow. The stillness that followed was profound, a quiet reverence settling over those watching, as though the very world had paused to acknowledge the miracle that had just occurred.

The boy's body convulsed faintly as the light enveloped him, curling around his chest and spreading outward like ripples on a still pond. K.J. closed his eyes, his face serene as he focused entirely on the boy. The glow intensified, wrapping the child in a cocoon of warmth and radiance. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, with a sudden gasp, the boy's chest rose. His eyes fluttered open, wide and confused, as if waking from a deep sleep. The mother let out a choked sob, her hands trembling as she touched her son's face, her disbelief giving way to overwhelming relief.

K.J. slowly lowered his hand, the glow around him dimming slightly as he stood. His gaze lingered on the boy for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turned to Oliver, who was staring at him in stunned silence.

"K.J..." Oliver whispered, his voice filled with awe. But K.J. didn't answer. His glowing eyes shifted back toward the town, scanning the horizon as if sensing something far beyond the moment—a greater purpose pulling him forward.