700.
800.
900.
1000.
Huff.
There it was—the thousandth of everything.
Every muscle screamed, veins burning as the Veinbound Ring drank deep, fully charged at last with three years of stored pain. Not borrowed. Not stolen. Earned.
Damn.
Next—breathing styles.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Tighten the body. Lock the core. Feel the air fill every hollow place—lungs, blood, bone—then release.
I moved.
Not fast. Gone.
Zhum.
Zhum.
One position to another, space folding around intent. Breathing wasn't just sustaining movement—it was movement. Efficient. Precise. Clean.
The Codex didn't update.
That bothered me.
No pressure behind the eyes. No rearranging of reality. Just silence.
I ignored it.
The drum beat once.
Thadum.
Yeah. I know. I felt you.
The Hollow Crown stirred—not awakening, not sleeping. Holding. Filtering. Keeping the corruption out. Keeping me sane.
Mental state: stable.
Corruption: denied.
Liberation rhythm: active.
Observation.
Zinnng.
The world bloomed into a perfect circle as I used observation.
I could see with my eyes closed—air currents, pressure shifts, intent rippling through space. Every angle. Every opening.
Breath to chain.
Will to form.
"Deny."
The chains answered—tight, obedient.
Good.
Now—test it.
Circle.
Bind.
Dash.
Clash.
Swish—swish—zoom.
Down. Up.
Circle.
Zigzag.
Rotate.
Zoom.
Perfect.
"Staff."
The stick snapped into my hand.
Enlarge.
Air bent around it as I moved—swift kick, roundhouse, the staff extending mid-strike, then shrinking back like it had never changed at all.
Big.
Small.
Extend.
I rose, the staff compact again.
Okay.
Throw.
It vanished forward—
"Come back."
It snapped home instantly.
Good.
Now the real test.
Air riding.
A sphere of compressed wind formed beneath me, humming softly as I sat cross-legged atop it. The ground slid away as I drifted forward, steering with breath alone.
Stable.
Controlled.
Ready.
"I really get surprised whenever I see you use your powers."
The voice was dry. Familiar.
I looked up and grinned. "Hey, old man."
I stepped off the air, the sphere dissolving like mist.
"Took you long enough."
I had just finished when I noticed it—your face. Serious. No evil smile, no usual exterior.
Man. Old man, that's why you don't get girls. Look at that villainous smile—jisss. Only demons would date you.
…Wait a minute.
I looked hurt. Shocked.
"Don't tell me you dated a demon," I said slowly. "Ohhh, poor old man Malcolm. Tch."
Malcolm's face went dark.
Fuck this kid.
"If you weren't weird," he said flatly, "I would've smacked your ass straight to hell."
Then his tone shifted.
"Now—serious talk. A level-three ritual anomaly has been detected in an abandoned church. It once worshipped an Outer God. You know the rule—if people believe hard enough, even imagined gods can become real."
He continued, voice steady.
"Here's what we know about the so-called god."
✨ OSSEUS, THE DIM-BINDER
(Lesser Bone Servitor)
Classification: Necro-Servitor / Failed Godling Fragment
Threat Level: Low–Moderate
Killable: Yes
Nature
Osseus is not a god—it's a collapsed idea of one. A thing meant to rule death, but it only learned how to borrow bones.
Abilities
Controls small skeletons and zombies onlyCan create a corroding lake that controls, influences, or disrupts the mind over timeUses shadows as connective tissue
Limits
No influence over souls, due to being a failed godNo regeneration—though it may gain strength through sacrificeCannot think creatively, but is intelligent enough to operate at a basic human level
Fatal Weakness
Light annihilates it (not a torch)Direct sunlight, holy lightSustained illumination causes total unbinding
"Light reminds it that it never finished becoming."
"Damn," I muttered. "So… when do we move out?"
I looked up.
Malcolm met my eyes. "Tonight."
"Are you nuts?" I said. "Can't you see the light weakness? Morning, old man. Morning."
Malcolm didn't blink. "You're an idiot if you think they'll wait till morning to summon that failed god."
I frowned. "Hey, old man—can't we just catch them? We know what they're doing. Why sacrifice our people? Let's just raid them and, you know—"
I made a twisting motion with my hands.
Malcolm looked at me, expression hard.
"I wish it were that easy. We have to contain the entity. Otherwise, if someone else tries to summon it later, they might succeed."
He paused.
"It needs to be trapped."
Here read this we will trap it in this :
A crystal what is this crystal, a locket inclosed inside was fist sized crystal.
✨ SOLARIS ANCHOR
(Sun-Forged Containment Relic)
Classification
Radiant Relic / Binding FocusCodex Tier: IIIFunction: Containment, not Extermination
Name Origin
Solaris Anchor is named not for its brightness, but for its weight.
It doesn't shine outward.It pins things in place.
The crystal was forged by focusing raw solar heat through ritual lenses until light itself collapsed into a stable lattice. What remains isn't fire—it's fixed daylight.
WHY IT CAN TRAP BEING LIKE OSSEUS
Osseus is a failed godling fragment—a being that exists by incompleteness. It survives by borrowing structure:
bones shadows belief
The Solaris Anchor denies all three.
How the Trap Works The crystal emits constant, absolute illumination Not light as energy, but light as definition Osseus cannot dissolve or spread inside it
Light reminds it what it never finished becoming.
Inside the Anchor, Osseus is forced into a single, unchanging state—no growth, no movement, no adaptation.
It is held, not harmed.
"Damn… better hope this thing works."
I looked up at the old man—Malcolm.
"Get ready. The meeting starts in ten minutes. We'll wait in the cathedral."
I let the cold water flow through my body, steadying my breath, and my thoughts drifted to what Lord Krishna said to Arjuna on the battlefield.
Yudh karna tumhara kartavya hai, Parth.Shastra uthao.(To fight is your duty. Pick up your weapon.)
Thadum. Thadum. Tahdum.
The beat rose suddenly, as if it had heard my thoughts.
Yeah.We will fight.
I cleaned myself, then geared up.
A full-body suit covered me head to toe. Knives. Guns. Holy water in sealed jars. A lighter. A string of caliber hand-knives strapped along my arms. Two swords crossed on my back. I tightened my shoelaces—the shoes themselves were deadly, blades hidden in the soles, spikes set for grip.
Damn.
They really made me a warrior.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
Damn… I'm handsome.
Thadum.
"I am not a narcissist."
Thadum.
"Yeah, yeah… jiss."
Thadum. Thadum.
I rolled my eyes at the drum.