The pressure was crushing him.
Makun's astral form flickered, threatening to dissolve under the weight of whatever existed in this absolute darkness. His soul felt like it was being pressed between the plates of existence itself.
But even as his consciousness wavered, even as the immensity of the presence threatened to erase him entirely, one thought burned through the chaos.
She brought me here.
Everyone wanted something. That was the first rule Makun had learned in twenty three years of being discarded. Foster parents who kept him until the checks stopped coming. Employers who used him until he broke their equipment. Friends who drifted away when his bad luck became inconvenient.
No one did anything for free.
If this... thing... had dragged him here, through layers of reality he couldn't comprehend, then he had something it wanted.
Makun gathered what remained of his fragmenting will. Focused it into a single point of intention.
The effort was impossible. Like trying to speak while drowning. Like screaming into the void and expecting the universe to listen.
But he forced the thought outward.
"What do you want from me?"
The question projected through the darkness, his consciousness straining against the crushing weight.
For a moment, nothing. Just the endless pressure and the soft, otherworldly breathing of something vast and patient.
Then she spoke.
"Your poor luck is a result of people feeding from you."
The words resonated through his soul, each syllable carrying weight that made the chains around him tremble.
"You were meant for greatness. But those who could pierce through the incarnation veil saw you and decided to feast."
Makun tried to process this. People feeding from him? Incarnation veil? The words felt important but alien, like trying to understand a language he'd never heard.
All he grasped was the core truth: there were forces actively working against him. Powers that had been harming him.
But was any of this real?
Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was some dying dream, his brain's last desperate attempt to make sense of a senseless life.
The presence continued, her voice softer now but no less absolute.
"What exactly you have is for you to discover."
You still haven't answered.
The thought escaped him before he could stop it, his soul shaking with the effort of communication.
What do you want? And what do I gain?
Silence.
Then, something like surprise rippled through the darkness.
"Interesting."
The single word carried layers of meaning. Amazement. Recognition. Understanding.
For Makun to voice his thoughts here, in this place, to *her*... it was an exploit similar to an ant lifting an elephant. The fact that he could communicate at all, let alone demand answers, told her something.
She understood now why they had done what they did.
The presence steadied herself, her projection growing stronger.
"I have already granted you a gift. I'm sure you know it."
The broken chain. The wholeness that had flooded back into him. The piece of himself he'd reclaimed.
Yes, he knew it.
"When the time comes for you to repay your debt, just oblige. Don't forget."
Her voice was growing fainter now, as if maintaining this connection was requiring more effort than even she could sustain indefinitely.
Makun felt the debt settle around him like another chain. But this one was different. Not suppression. Obligation.
What is it you want?
She ignored the question, continuing as if he hadn't spoken.
"Now that a link is undone, they will come after you. Aiming for you."
Her force was diminishing. Each word required visible struggle.
"Get powerful. Dive deep into the Mystic. Ascend to break those chains. Only then can you repay."
WHO IS THEY?
Makun shouted the thought with every fragment of strength he had left, his soul straining against the overwhelming pressure.
ANSWER ME!
He could feel her fading. Slipping away into whatever realm beings like her inhabited.
He'd lived his entire life without answers. Everyone who'd ever hurt him, abandoned him, used him had done it from the shadows. He deserved to know who was responsible for his shit existence.
WHO DID THIS TO ME?
But she was gone.
The connection severed.
And suddenly the chains around his astral form yanked tight.
The silver cord connecting him to his dying body contracted like a rubber band snapping back.
No.
He wasn't ready. He had questions. He had...
The return was violent.
Makun slammed back into his physical form with the force of a meteor hitting earth. His body, which had been slowly shutting down from the pills, convulsed.
Every muscle seized at once.
His back arched off the bathroom floor. His fingers clawed at the tiles. His mouth opened in a soundless scream.
Then the pills came up.
All of them.
His body rejected them with violent efficiency, retching and heaving until every trace of the poison was expelled. The spiritual awakening, the broken chain, the piece of his soul that had returned... it burned through his system like cleansing fire.
Pain beyond description tore through him. Physical and spiritual agony mixing into something that transcended both.
Makun screamed.
Actually screamed this time, his voice raw and broken as his body purged itself and his consciousness tried to reconcile what had just happened.
The chains were still there. He could feel them, even in his physical form. But one was gone. One link in an ancient prison had shattered, and the absence left him feeling more alive than he'd ever been.
And more terrified.
Because she'd been clear about one thing.
They were coming for him now.
Whoever they were.