The silence that followed Yurei's departure was deafening.
Elian collapsed to his knees, his fingers scraping the cold stone floor of the cell. For the first time in years, he no longer felt the weight of chains on his wrists. But freedom, instead of bringing relief, brought anguish.
"What just happened...?"
He wasn't a hero. Never had been. Just another anonymous condemned soul forgotten by reality. But now, the blood of a traitor god flowed through his veins. Argat'hul. The one whose name had been erased from records and memory. The same god who had been chained not for his crimes, but for knowing too much.
And Elian was now a fragment of him.
The pulsing in his arms intensified.
Cold sweat trickled down his neck. The mark Yurei had left still burned on his forehead. Then, a black light flared before his eyes. A circle of floating symbols—alive, breathing—appeared in the air.
[Access granted to the Curse Registry][Bearer: Elian Vahrn][Hidden Lineage: Heir of Argat'hul, Devourer of Chains][Status: Awakened — Chain 1 broken]
He gasped. It was a system. But not like the ones whispered about in the deliriums of the other cursed inmates. This wasn't a system of progression.
It was a system of malediction.
Each line floated as if it had a pulse. The texts weren't just words—they were sentences, seals, decrees. Studying them caused a dull ache behind the eyes and a faint ringing in the mind.
[Active Skill: Whispers of Argat'hul]→ Allows the user to hear echoes of the dead gods. The information may be useful… or maddening.→ Cost: Sanity.
[Passive Skill: Silent Corruption]→ Your presence weakens structures built on the laws of this world. Magical and technological constructs fail around you over time.
[Active Curse: Resonance of the Traitor]→ With each broken Chain, more of Argat'hul's consciousness merges with your own. Unpredictable gains. Irreversible side effects.
"So... I'm literally becoming something I may not be able to control."
The fear was real. It wasn't heroism. It was survival instinct.
He stood slowly. His body felt steadier. The Cursed Water that dripped from the cell above no longer burned—it now seemed to strengthen him.
He walked to the cell door. Placed his hand on the old wood.
It opened. Without a sound.As if the world no longer resisted his presence.
"I need to get out of here before the system begins to consume me."
An old staircase lay at the end of the corridor, partially collapsed. He climbed the steps in silence, feeling the stone structures tremble as he moved. Ancient magics protecting the routes were dying in his wake.
"I can't trust this. Not this power. Not her. I can't become a puppet like the others."
And yet… part of him liked the sensation.
The way power slithered beneath his skin. The way the echoes whispered forgotten formulas into his mind. The invisible eyes of the dead gods now watching him—not as prey... but as successor.
Elian stopped before a door etched with bluish-silver runes.
A seal.
His eyes glowed with the same black light of the curse.
[Do you wish to corrupt the seal and proceed?][Yes / No]
He hesitated.
Took a deep breath.
And then...
— Yes.
The door dissolved like sand in the wind.
Beyond it… the beginning of the true labyrinth. The Seven-Level Prison. Where reality and curse intertwined—where each floor was guarded by horrors even the gods dared not name.
But if he wanted to escape—if he wanted to understand why he had been chosen—he would have to pass through every single one of them.
And survive.