A soft flash came from the Scripture. Then a new message appeared in Adrian's vision, not written on the page, but floating somewhere between thought and sight.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]Artifact Binding Limit Detected
Binding Slots Remaining: 9
FORCIBLE EJECTION FROM UNDERWORLD IN: 60 SECONDS
Adrian blinked, stunned.
"Wait... what?"
There was no vibration, no sound, but the atmosphere shifted. The air grew heavier, the world around him more distant, as if preparing to push him out.
He stared at the countdown.
"Sixty seconds," he said slowly. "You could've told me sooner."
No answer came. The Scripture hovered silently.
He exhaled sharply and focused.
"Nine slots left. What do I bind?"
He looked around quickly. one book were missing. He blinked again. No — he remembered now.
He had thrown the Scripture of the Hollow Grave away back in the Throne Room. He hadn't even meant to bring it.
Only one of the two remained: the golden-threaded book. The Scripture of Knowledge.
Adrian narrowed his eyes.
"Wait... can Scriptures even be registered as artifacts?"
He reached out slowly, placing his hand on the golden-threaded cover.
"Artifact two. Bind."
It vanished.
The system acknowledged it.
[ARTIFACTS UPDATED]Artifact 2: Scripture of Knowledge
"Huh. That worked."
A moment passed, then he shrugged.
"Alright. One problem solved."
Then he noticed something else, hovering at the edge of the chamber. A faintly glowing blue skull, no larger than an apple.
It drifted like dust, subtle and weightless.
He stepped closer and activated appraisal.
[ITEM APPRAISAL INITIATED]
[ITEM: Lost Echo]
Type: Soul Remnant
Rank: 7
Origin: Realizer of the Death Path
State: Dormant
Binding Compatibility: Confirmed
Adrian blinked. He didn't speak for a moment.
"Rank 7... from the Death Path."
He crouched slightly, studying the skull from multiple angles.
"You're more valuable than most Realizers "
He looked around the chamber once more. No other Scriptures. No weapons. No strange presences.
"Alright. Just one more thing to do."
He nodded to the skull.
"You're coming with me."
Time remaining: 40 seconds
He reached down, hand hovering a moment over the artifact. Then:
"Artifact three. Bind."
The skull disappeared into him.
[ARTIFACTS UPDATED]Artifact 3: Lost Echo – Rank 7 (Death)
He stepped back to the center of the room.
"That's it. Just those."
Behind him, the ritual circle remained, burned into the stone.
Everything felt like it was accelerating now. The pressure was rising again.
He exhaled one last time and prepared for the pull.
Part 2: The Binding Rush
[SYSTEM NOTICE]FORCIBLE EJECTION IN: 20 SECONDS
A new pulse passed through the room. Adrian felt it ripple in his chest.
He glanced around again, instinctively checking if anything was left. Nothing.
He stood tall, letting the silence fill in. A final breath. He had made his choices.
Then another notification appeared in his vision.
[ARTIFACTS UPDATED]Artifact 4: Scripture of the Hollow Grave
Adrian frowned.
"What... no. No, I didn't..."
He quickly opened the system list again.
It was there. Bound.
The Scripture of the Hollow Grave.
"I threw you away," he said coldly. "I didn't even touch you. I made that choice."
The system didn't respond. The glow of binding was faint, but definite.
There it was, logged just like the others. Bound. Registered. Accepted.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"This has to be a mistake. Some sort of glitch. I didn't even look at you. I didn't want you."
He paced back toward where he remembered discarding the book.
Nothing was there. No trace. As if it had never been thrown away.
His thoughts sharpened.
"No. This isn't a mistake, is it?"
He turned back to the system window.
"You forced your way in. The Law did this. It wanted me."
He clenched his fists.
He then take a Scripture out of the Scripture of the facture truth and throw it away at his full might
2 second later
[ARTIFACTS UPDATED]Artifact 4: Scripture of the Hollow Grave
"Fuck It came back"
"Sneaky, rotten piece of necromantic trash. You waited until the last second. Slid in the moment I dropped my guard."
He growled low in his throat.
"I should've burned you when I had the chance."
He checked the listing again. The Scripture sat calmly in Slot 4.
No reaction. Just there, as if it belonged.
His chest tightened.
"If this is what it's like being a Realizer of Death... No thanks."
He turned in place, facing the ritual circle.
FORCIBLE EJECTION IN: 10 SECONDS
The walls shimmered. The blue flames dimmed. A high-pitched ringing started in his ears, like pressure dropping fast.
Adrian squared his shoulders.
"You think coming with me changes anything? You think this was clever? All you've done is give me one more thing to bury."
The ritual circle cracked.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"I'll rip you out the moment I learn how. And if I can't?"
He opened his eyes.
"Then I'll make you wish I could."
EJECTION IMMINENT
The chamber exploded with white light.
Adrian Vale was torn from the underworld.
The last thing he saw was the pulsing glow of the Scripture he never meant to take.
There was no sound.
Only light. White, blinding light that erased every line and shape.
Then motion.
Adrian felt his body pulled, stretched, then hurled through something that wasn't air or void.
It was like being shoved through a tunnel made of glass and sound.
The pressure pushed against his skin, his bones, his thoughts.
He didn't scream. He couldn't.
He was traveling. Not just fast — impossibly fast.
Faster than light, faster than thought.
Shapes flickered outside the tunnel, strange sigils and constellations that didn't exist.
Then the tunnel snapped.
And he was floating.
In space.
Adrian turned slowly in the vacuum, no gravity, no pull. Just stillness.
Yet somehow he could breathe.
Below him, a planet rotated slowly.
He blinked.
Blue skies. Clouds. Forests. Oceans. Cities alive with motion.
He could see the roads, the cars, the glowing light of skyscrapers.
Airplanes traced invisible lines through the sky.
Life. Order. Civilization.
It looked almost exactly like the world he remembered. Earth. But not quite.
His lips parted in disbelief.
"Did I... get sent back?"
The thought hung there, heavy.
Everything looked so normal. So human. So close to the place he had died. Even the buildings resembled the ones in New York.
The cars below looked like modern designs, sleek and polished, weaving through clean streets lined with trees and smart lamps. Neon signs flashed across rooftops. Drones hummed lazily between towers. People strolled with coffee cups in hand, heads bent to digital devices, their lives untouched by panic or fear. It was peaceful. Familiar. Almost... safe.
The people moved with the casual grace of those who didn't fear the sky.
A moment of irrational hope flickered inside him.
Maybe this was Earth. Maybe this was home. Maybe everything—death, fire, the Soul Ocean—had just been a dream.
But then he noticed something else.
He was too close to the sun.
Much too close.
He shouldn't have been able to see it so clearly. The curve of the planet was beneath his feet, but the sun filled the upper sky like a monstrous eye, glaring down with impossible proximity. And it didn't burn.
Not in the way a sun should. He could feel its heat, yes—but it wasn't heat. It was pressure. Presence. Attention.
He turned his gaze upward.
And froze.
The sun wasn't made of gas. It wasn't flame or plasma or light.
It was moving.
The surface writhed—not with solar flares, but with texture. The burning sphere was covered in worms. Not a metaphor. Actual worms. Countless pale, glistening worms, each one as thick as a building and as long as a city block, slithered and twitched across one another in rippling, hypnotic waves.
They didn't just crawl. They wove.
Through each other. Over. Under. Into. Out of. Constant motion, folding and looping with deliberate, unsettling rhythm.
Each movement seemed to form patterns—circles, eyes, spirals, impossible geometries that dissolved before they could be understood.
And then Adrian realized:
It wasn't a mass of worms.
It was a single creature.
The worms were its skin. Its hair. Its nerves, exposed and living.
The surface was its body, constantly re-knitting itself like a wound trying to scar over. It wasn't just moving. It was breathing. Reacting. Observing.
And the patterns it made—
They weren't random.
They were language.
Not spoken. Not written. But felt. Each curl, each twitch of its massive body sent a pulse through space that shook his thoughts like a bell. Not words. Not sentences. But meanings.
Direct injections of ancient, alien concepts into his mind—like a whisper made of weight.
The longer he looked, the more the meanings built up. Not one worm, not one gesture, but an orchestra of symbols.
Layers of comprehension he couldn't hold all at once. They piled into him, pressing against his identity.
He tried to look away. He couldn't.
The thing in the sun blinked. Not with eyes, but with its whole being. A shift in the worm-flesh.
And something emerged.
From the center of the mass, the worms parted.
A face began to push through.
Pale. Human-shaped. Gigantic. Its skin was smooth and waxen, like porcelain soaked in embalming fluid. The features were soft, almost gentle, but lifeless—like a mannequin trying to smile.
Its lips parted.
Its eyes opened.
And they locked onto him.
Then it smiled.
That smile wasn't kind. It wasn't cruel. It was curious.
A grin worn by something that has taken you apart before, and is wondering what pieces it forgot to check.
Then, in a voice that wasn't sound, but memory, it spoke:
"Long time no see, old friend. What should I call you now? Fracture... or Death?"
And that's when Adrian's eyes burst.
Both sockets erupted in a spray of red and white as pressure built inside his skull.
He couldn't even scream. His nerves lit up with pain, then his skin started to melt, like wax under a torch.
His limbs bent. His spine folded. His soul shook loose from his body.
Every memory, every thought he'd ever had began to drip from him like color from an overexposed painting.
He was unraveling.
And still, the face in the sun smiled.
Then, a voice — calmer, smaller, colder — entered his mind.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]Target of Possession Selected Initiating Vessel Override...
Everything stopped.
The pain froze in place.
Adrian's soul was snatched from the collapsing husk of whatever form he'd been in.
"Choosing the target of possession... completed."
The voice sounded emotionless. Mechanical.
Then a final command:
"Begin possession."
And Adrian fell.
No more light. No more space.
Only the plunge into something solid.