He rolled onto one knee. The Eclipse pressed down, a metaphysical weight meant to crush hope itself. But hope, Seiya had learned, was a meteor. Small. Fast. Fatal to those who ignored it.
“PEGASUS...”
The meteor fist struck the Eclipse itself. Saint Seiya
The voice was a whisper of wind through cyllene trees. Marin. His teacher. Her ghost, or perhaps his own fraying sanity. He coughed, tasted copper. His legs had stopped listening three temples ago. He rolled onto one knee
The blood did not feel like his own.
“Get up, Seiya.”
It flew sideways . Through the temporal wall. Through the memory of every defeat, every doubt, every moment he had been told his constellation was the lowest, the weakest, the joke of the Saints. Seiya had learned