Oblivion was a welcome, if temporary, respite. When Sun regained his senses, it was to a profound, echoing silence and an all-encompassing darkness. For a moment, he wondered if this was it, the true afterlife, a void devoid of even the memory of power.
Then, the pain returned, a dull, throbbing symphony from every part of his body, a brutal reminder of his recent ordeal. He groaned, the sound swallowed by the oppressive blackness.
"I can't believe it," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "Still alive… Seems fair, I suppose. A god like me can't just die so miserably in this shitty, forsaken place. Even a weakened one." He tried to push himself up, and a fresh wave of excruciating pain, sharper and more focused, lanced through his right shoulder.
He instinctively reached for the source of the pain with his left hand and felt… skin. Smooth, unbroken skin where a mangled stump should have been. Confusion warred with agony. He fumbled, patting his shoulder, his arm, his hand. It was there. His arm was back. Completely regrown.
A cold dread, deeper than the fear of the monster, settled over him. "And so," he whispered, a bitter understanding dawning, "even that last, desperate splash of residual power I had left… it's vanished. Sacrificed to heal a wound that should have killed me. Or perhaps... a final gift from Him." The thought of the Unmaker's sacrifice, the source of the world's new potential, sent a shiver down his spine. Had that been a part of it? A final failsafe?
Managing, finally, to sit up, he took stock. He was in a cave, that much was clear from the damp, earthy smell and the way his voice echoed. The darkness was absolute, meaning he was deep, or the entrance was blocked. He felt a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. The regeneration had clearly taken its toll, draining the last vestiges of his inherent divine energy. He was truly at rock bottom now.
He stayed there for a long time, simply breathing, fighting back a despair so profound it threatened to consume him. Eventually, the stubborn core of his divine arrogance, or perhaps just sheer bloody-mindedness, reasserted itself.
"Right," he muttered, forcing himself to his feet. His legs were shaky, his body ached, but he was whole, if utterly depleted. "Walking. Again. At random. Again. Hopefully, luck will finally decide to give me a hand instead of a kick in the teeth."
He began to move, one hand outstretched, brushing against cold, damp stone walls. The cave was narrow in places, then opened into larger chambers. He shuffled along, his bare feet padding softly on the uneven floor. After what felt like hours, a subtle shift in the air, a faint, almost imperceptible thrum, reached his senses. It was Ki. Weak, but undeniably present, and stronger than the ambient energy on the surface.
"I feel something," he murmured, hope, a dangerous and unfamiliar emotion, kindling within him. "If I'm not mistaken… this must be it. The kind of place I was looking for. A temple, a shrine… something where energy gathers."