The moment they spoke the word—"Accept"—the world around them shattered.
Not with the violence of an explosion. Not with the noise of battle. But with the hushed finality of breath drawn too sharply between parted lips.
The sigil beneath their hands flared with a deep crimson glow, like blood remembered by stone. The tower's carvings pulsed in response, threads of old magic awakening from their slumber and coiling upward along the spire like vines made of runes.
Ezra felt something tug.
Not on his flesh.
But on the parts of him that didn't bleed.
They were pulled into a void.
Not darkness. Not emptiness. A void. Pure and clean and hollow.
They floated side by side, hand in hand, suspended in space without gravity. Around them hovered translucent spheres—dozens, maybe hundreds. Each one swirled with blurred images, like distant dreams viewed through fogged glass.
[Initiating Blood-Bond Transfer Ritual]Participants: Ezra Vale / Rei Elowen
Gem: POWER – Contained within Host Rei Elowen
Ritual Phase One: Memory SacrificeEach participant must surrender a formative memory to power the fusion and enable dual resonance.
A low chime echoed across the void. One of the spheres drifted closer to Ezra, vibrating like a struck bell.
Candidate Memory: Streetfire (Age 9)Classification: Core Trauma / Survival DefiningContent: Escape from the burning orphanage. First awakening of necrotic affinity. Loss of friends Milo and Ren.
Ezra's throat tightened.
He hadn't thought of that night in years. Not really. Not with clarity.
The flames. The smoke. The sound of children screaming. The way the matron's body had slumped over the stair railing as the building collapsed around them. His hands, trembling, stretched over Milo's still-warm face.
And that pulse. That first awakening. The ground splitting. Bones clawing from ash. Screams silenced by him.
It was the night the world stopped asking him who he wanted to be—and started telling him what he was.
He reached toward the memory.
And stopped.
"Is there another?" he whispered.
Alternate Memory: First Summoning (Age 14)Classification: Identity ShapingContent: Successful summoning of Gravetusk. Formation of first bonded undead.
Ezra breathed in.
Gravetusk.
The first real companion. The first thing he didn't lose.
The system waited.
Behind him, Rei floated quietly, her own spheres circling. She hadn't said a word yet. He didn't push.
He reached out.
Touched the second sphere.
And let go.
The memory unraveled. Not erased—but removed. Unhooked from the lattice of his mind like a thread pulled from a woven tapestry. He felt the absence immediately.
Not pain. Not emptiness.
Just… silence.
Memory Transfer Confirmed. Resonance Pathway Opened.
Ezra turned to Rei.
She was staring at a single orb, her hand trembling.
He floated closer, gently placing his palm against her shoulder.
"What is it?" he asked.
She didn't look at him.
"Age six," she said quietly. "My mother. The day we left the last free zone. She gave me a necklace. A song."
Ezra frowned. "You still wear it."
"No," Rei said, eyes glassy. "I just think I do."
Her voice cracked.
"I don't remember what she looked like anymore, Ezra. Just the sound of her humming. That necklace was the last thing she ever gave me. If I give this up… I might never hear her again. Not even in dreams."
Ezra didn't speak. Couldn't.
The system waited.
So did the void.
Eventually, Rei let out a slow, shaking breath.
"Tell me we're not monsters."
Ezra squeezed her hand.
"We are," he said softly. "But not to each other."
She nodded.
And touched the orb.
Memory Transfer Confirmed. Dual Resonance Pathway Unlocked.
Gem of POWER is now bond-shared between Ezra Vale and Rei Elowen.No fatality risk detected.
Hollow Mercy Gem Slot 5: Integrated.
The void lit up.
And in the center, the scythe appeared.
But it was no longer the weapon Ezra knew.
It floated before them like a relic unearthed from a forgotten god's tomb—larger now, its blackened spine gleaming with veins of red-gold energy. The five Gems set into the blade's curved spine pulsed with synchronized light, each one beating in rhythm with Ezra's heart—and now, faintly, Rei's.
Its shape had changed.
What once looked like a brutal, practical scythe now bore elegant curvature, etched with thousands of runes too ancient for the system to translate. The handle was no longer just metal—it was bone-wrapped silver, warm to the touch, and heavy with intention.
The system chimed again.
[Hollow Mercy – Ascended Form Achieved]
Class: Sovereign Relic / Living WeaponStatus: Sentient (Dormant Consciousness Awakening)
New Abilities Unlocked:
• Judgment Veil – Hollow Mercy now sees guilt, memory weight, and soul instability. Users may choose to strike in accordance with "soul truth."
• Grave Choir – Up to five bonded undead may speak and act independently for a limited duration.
• Gem Overdrive – All five Gems may be activated in a surge state for 15 seconds. Once per day.
Note: Hollow Mercy is now partially sentient and will grow in awareness over time. Respect the weapon. Or be consumed.
The final line made Ezra pause.
He could feel it already.
Hollow Mercy was no longer just a tool.
It was a presence.
Not human. Not spirit.
But willful.
A fragment of something that had once carved destinies across the stars.
Ezra reached out.
His fingers brushed the handle—
And a voice spoke. Low. Distant. Like bone scraping marble.
"Bearer."
Ezra's hand froze.
"Do you intend to be my master… or my mirror?"
The question echoed long after they returned to the real world.
The tower's final sigil lit as the fusion completed. The gate opened.
Behind it, a long stairway spiraled downward into what looked like a vault carved from obsidian and soulglass. A chamber Ezra's mother had sealed before her death.
They descended together.
Inside, the chamber was empty except for a single chair and a small, cracked mirror.
Rei stepped forward and touched the glass.
It didn't show her reflection.
It showed her mother—young, vibrant, smiling. A memory trapped in time.
She stepped back without a word.
Ezra approached the chair and sat.
There, etched into the floor beneath him, were words written in old tongue.
He read them slowly.
"Only those who lose themselves may carry the world."
He closed his eyes.
And felt the weight settle.
Not just power.
Not just loss.
But the road ahead.
The war that would come.
And the truth still hidden beneath it all.