The silence lasted only three heartbeats.
Just enough time for Elian to feel the knot in his throat tighten—like a collar made of fear and instinct. The figure before him — Sírhen — was no ordinary obstacle. He was a sentence made flesh. His presence demanded reverence, an ancient discomfort. Each step he took seemed to unravel hidden layers of reality itself. The air grew heavier, denser. As if even time hesitated to move when he approached.
Sírhen was known. Not by name, but by consequence. The hunter of the Fragmented. The silent inquisitor. The entity that descended upon those who dared delve into the forbidden echoes of Chain VII. And now he stood there—watching Elian with the single, glowing eye embedded in his forehead, as if he had already witnessed every possible future of this encounter.
Elian took a step back.
Mistake.
The bone altar behind him reacted like a primal sentinel. A burst of aetheric energy erupted from its base, racing in zigzags along the columns, producing a growing hum—like a warning. Like a summons for unseen eyes.
You've been seen.
Sírhen didn't move. His black robes rippled slightly, as if stirred by winds from another dimension. The central eye rotated slowly, analyzing, recording.
— You touched the Fragment without purification. — His voice sounded like it came from a tomb—deep, gritty, devoid of emotion. — You channeled Argat'hul's aura without the Oath Seal. That makes you a corrupted link. A systemic threat.
Elian clenched his fists—not out of courage, but desperation.
— Then why the speech? Why not end me now?
The inquisitor raised his hand. Not to strike—but to summon.
From the ceiling, chains descended. Alive. Black. Pulsing. Made of flesh stitched with metal and magic. Each end bore a mouth—literal ones—whispering forgotten syllables in the language of the Origin. It wasn't a tongue Elian understood intellectually, but bodily. In his bones. The words made his muscles tighten, his guts twist.
Words that knew where it hurt.
— Because you carry more than you understand, — Sírhen continued. — A second Fragment activated this week. The trail leads to you.
Elian gasped.
— Another... Fragmented?
— Not like you. But because of you. Chain VII is reacting. And when it reacts… the Throne watches. Do you understand what that means?
He did.
The Throne—whether entity, artifact, or consciousness—was the hidden apex of the Chain system. The silent judge that awakened only when cosmic order was truly threatened. Its appearance heralded the end—of worlds, timelines, truths.
— What do you want from me? — Elian asked, aware his margin for survival was razor-thin.
Sírhen stared.
— A chance. Surrender yourself. Accept incorporation. Sacrifice your freedom and identity so we may study the reason for your singularity. In exchange, your death will be… useful.
Silence. The system blinked in his mind:
[Existential Risk Alert][Escape: 4.2% success chance][Combat: 1.7% success chance][Manipulation: 23.4% negotiation success chance]
Elian closed his eyes. Visualized the possibilities. Calculated. Weighed.
Surrender wasn't defeat.It was strategy.
— I accept.
The surprise on Sírhen's face was subtle, but present. He nodded.
— Kneel. The contract will be carved into your flesh.
Elian knelt.
But inside, he prepared for rupture.
[Active Fragment – Core 001: Argat'hul – Forced Partial Awakening][Ability Unlocked: Reverse Echo][Effect: Partially reflects a Chain ability for 3 seconds.]
As the first living chain touched his skin, Elian didn't resist.He absorbed.
Pain.
Pure.
His body screamed. Nerves lit on fire. Flesh tried to reject it.But the Fragment forced incorporation.
And then came silence.
A mark appeared on his chest. A seal that belonged neither to Sírhen nor the system. It was ancient. Black lines moved of their own accord, forming symbols that seemed… sentient. A shadowed eye opened at the center of his torso.
Sírhen stepped back.
— What…?
Elian stood. Blood dripped from his mouth. His eyes burned with a new, unstable light.
— I won't be incorporated.
He extended his arm. And from the shadow cast by the altar, a chain rose.
But it wasn't just any chain. It bore the Seal of Hæron. It was forged of will, pain, and fragmentation. It didn't answer to the system.
It answered to Elian.
And it was hungry.