(Planet Ixtal, Soron's Castle, Charles' POV)
Charles handed over the block of Origin Metal to Soron, who cradled it in his palm as if he were cradling a newborn, his withered fingers trembling ever so slightly, not from weakness but from the profound awe that shone through his ancient gaze.
"Two thousand years of searching for just twenty five grams of this thing, and now you hand me a slab weighing twelve hundred," Soron whispered, his lips curling into a smile so complete that it seemed to chase away every shadow carved into his aged face, as his eyes gleamed with the reverence of a pilgrim who had finally touched his god.
The block itself looked anything but divine.
It bore none of the otherworldly shimmer of relics or the luminous brilliance of refined ores.
