Chapter 36: The Cost of a Constellation's Voice
A familiar ceiling came into view—off-white, dotted with old stains, the paint cracked slightly where a leak had once dried. My body screamed in protest the moment I stirred. The scent of herbs and alchemical potions filled the room, potent and calming, yet now linked in my mind with pain. A dull, radiating ache spread through my skull, centered around my ears. Bandages wrapped tightly around my head told the rest of the story.
I tried to sit up and groaned. The muffled sounds of my own breath confirmed what I feared—my eardrums were still recovering. A side effect of listening to a Constellation's voice, apparently.
The mana enhancement from the seal helped somewhat. I could feel it working even now, circulating through me, patching tissues, mending nerves. Judging by the severity of the pain and the rate of healing, I'd need another four hours before I was fully functional again.
Reaching out with slow, clumsy fingers, I picked up my phone from the side table. It was past noon—Saturday. I'd entered the dungeon on Friday morning. I blinked at the screen, absorbing the date, the time. More than a day had passed.
The room was as I'd left it—wooden desk against the wall, shelves lined with books on monsters, mana theory, and dusty academy notebooks. On the bedside table, several potion bottles were empty, their labels familiar: high-quality, made by mother. I sighed. I'd troubled her again.
But something else was off.
My new senses—heightened thanks to the seal—picked up a faint disturbance. A presence. It was subtle, restrained, nearly imperceptible. But it was there. I scanned the corners of the room.
And then it shimmered.
The figure of Gun Saint appeared in the corner like a wraith shedding invisibility. He stood with arms crossed, gaze sharp and calculating. He didn't speak immediately—just observed. His eyes moved to my bandages, pausing, narrowing ever so slightly. A flicker of surprise passed over his expression, but he masked it quickly.
He mouthed something. I shook my head.
I couldn't hear him.
Gun Saint reached into his coat pocket and tossed me a small vial. I caught it reflexively—my body protested the motion with a groan.
I drank it.
Warmth bloomed in my stomach. The energy from the potion traveled upward, coiling through my mana channels and seeping into my ears. Slowly, sound returned. I could hear the buzz of the ceiling fan. The rustling of the bedsheet. His voice.
"That was a hearing-enhancing potion," he said flatly. "My actual healing potions would overload your mana network and cause a minor internal explosion. That one's the only thing I carry mild enough for you."
"Thanks," I rasped.
He nodded once. "The second seal was released yesterday. Your performance was… better than expected. You impressed the Constellation, or so says the Old Tigress."
My brows furrowed. The Old Tigress?
He saw the question on my face and clarified.
"The Tiger Saint. She was the one who retrieved your body."
Images flashed in my mind: the silhouette, the trident, the massive white tiger by her side.
"She's the avatar of the Constellation associated with Durga. She's a walking monument to physical power. One of the few Saints who values strength above politics. She roams the indian subcontinent , protects the wild borders. You were lucky she was close."
"How… how did she get into a rank-restricted dungeon?" I asked.
He raised a brow. "Rank restrictions can be bypassed. With the right resources. She paid dearly for it."
That shut me up.
Gun Saint moved closer, arms still crossed. "Now, you were supposed to have a short exchange with the Constellation. That didn't happen. Too much of her essence passed through when the seal broke. Your body wasn't prepared for it. Ears ruptured. Mental overload. That's why you blacked out."
I nodded slowly, absorbing the information.
"You can ask something now," he added, "a question meant for the Constellation. I'll answer if I can. But your current rank limits what you're allowed to know."
I thought for a moment.
And came up blank.
There was too much I didn't understand. Asking a vague question would just get a vague answer. So I shook my head.
"Expected," he muttered.
He took a breath and launched into his own explanation.
"After the first seal broke, changes started happening—subtle ones. But the second… changed more. Some Constellations had their basic avatar techniques unsealed. Stuff that had been locked away for decades. It's already started spreading. Avatars are learning abilities they've only heard about in myth."
"And non-avatars?" I asked.
His gaze sharpened. "We get nothing. Not yet. You're a non-contracted hunter. Monkey Saint told me you're unable to form a bond with any Constellation. Your Sealbreaker constitution is the only reason you're here at all."
I blinked. "He told you that?"
"Yes. And he's worried. Because from what we've observed, the first eight seals and last eight seals are focused on restricting Constellation access to Indian hunters. The next three? They restrict access to natural mana. Everything from our breathing techniques to cultivation becomes harder. It's why these seals were called 'The 19 Chains of Sovereignty.' Even the Saints don't fully understand them."
He paused.
"I doubt even Monkey Saint knows how you're breaking them. Sealbreaker or not, your power isn't supposed to trigger until you hit Rank 3."
Gun Saint began pacing. "Once you reach Rank 3 and your constitution releases fully, the world will notice. And when they realize a rank 3 kid is triggering the seals, they'll panic. Or worse."
That sat heavy in my chest.
"You need to reach Rank 2 as fast as possible," he said. "The Constellation mentioned you won't be able to find more keys until then. The next stage of your journey is locked behind power."
He listed options.
"Three common Rank Ascension Paths. Weapon Trials—trials hidden within soul weapons. Quest Trials—undertaken in the wild, often deadly. Dungeon Trials—rare rank 1 dungeons with trial features."
I frowned. "Which do you recommend?"
"Depends. Your weapon is rare. It might have its own path. That'd be the most stable. Wild Trials are too dangerous for now. Dungeon Trials are rare… but I can find one. You'll need to decide within two months."
"Two months?"
"Yes. That's your grace period. After that, eyes will be watching."
He turned. His figure shimmered, preparing to leave.
"One more thing," he said, glancing back. "The next seal will be harder. They always are."
And then he vanished.
I stared at the space he'd occupied.
The room fell quiet again.
Exhaustion overtook me.
I let myself fall back onto the bed, head throbbing, ears ringing, heart pounding with new weight.
The second seal had only just broken.
And the storm had only begun.