Memories shattered through him in fragments—
The betrayal,
the flash of that bloodied knife,
laughter from mouth he once trusted.
The cold bite of morality followed too late to matter now.
Then came the rage.
The suffocating realization that his life had ended in mediocrity, leaving behind nothing but regret and unfinished wishes.
"No… no…" His voice cracked, raw and helpless, swallowed by the void. "I don't want to end it like this… I don't wanna die."
As if the abyss itself had heard him, it stirred.
A faint glow flickered in the distance, barely more than a spark. It spread outward, splintering like cracks across black glass. The void twisted in on itself, dragging him down.
He fell.
Faster.
Faster.
His soul was hurled through a tunnel of shadow, violet streaks slicing past like lightning. His body convulsed, breath ripped from his lungs—the sensation of being torn apart and reforged all at once.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and froze. A faintly glowing seal hovered before him, its strange runes pulsing with silent power. He forced himself upright, heart hammering, disbelief burning in his wide eyes. The air reeked of damp earth and iron. Endless corridors stretched into darkness, carved from black stone.
Where am I…? Heaven? Doesn't look like it though... not that I'd know. It just doesn't feel right.
A tomb.
The only word his mind could conjure.
A colossal, forgotten tomb.
Silence engulfed him, shattered intermittently by the slow, hollow drip of water echoing from the darkness.
He glanced down at his stomach, locked in shock. The wound was gone…
His voice came out hoarse, trembling between disbelief and fear.
"How… how am I completely healed?"
No answer.
Only silence.
Yet something stirred deep within the abyss ahead.
Ancient. Patient. Watching.
Loyed couldn't see it, couldn't confirm it but the sensation crawled along his spine all the same.
The darkness in the tomb wasn't empty.
And he wasn't alone.
He rose to his feet, dusting off his jacket as his gaze sank into the darkness ahead.
Should I go…?
The thought barely formed before his fingers curled into a fist.
"…No." His jaw tightened. "It's not like I have a choice."
He stepped forward. Slow. As if his foot didn't want to obey."
The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hollow corridors. Loyed pressed a hand against the rough wall, feeling the chill of stone creep into his skin.
The torches along the walls weren't lit by fire. Their flames burned pale blue, unnatural, cold. The deeper he went, the heavier the air pressed against him.
This place is giving me... crazy vibes.
Broken statues loomed on either side: armored warriors, faceless beasts each shattered, clawed apart as if by something far stronger. Carvings etched into the walls told stories he couldn't decipher: battles, rituals, chains binding a dark figure whose features had been worn smooth by time.
The silence pressed on him until...
Thud… thud…
A heartbeat.
Not his own.
Faint, but unmistakable, it reverberated through the stone, drawing him forward.
So there is someone here…
Loyed swallowed hard, a pit of uncertainty gnawing at him. The chill creeping up his spine did nothing to slow his cautious steps.
The corridor opened into a vast chamber, so immense the ceiling vanished into shadow. Cracked pillars surrounded a central platform, where radiant golden chains stretched like a spider's web, filling the air with suffocating pressure.
And there she was.
At the center stood a woman, bound in light and shadow. Violet eyes glimmered in the darkness, calm and knowing. Her hair was black as night, eyelids lazily hooded, a faint smirk on her lips.
Beautiful in a way that felt unreal.
"My… what took you so long?"
Nova's gaze locked on her.
Am I in another world? She's clearly not normal. I need to tread carefully from here on… gather every scrap of information I can.
Loyed's heart tightened, but his voice stayed calm.
"So… I take it you're the one responsible for bringing me here?"
A soft chuckle answered him, smooth as silk.
"Straight to the point. Hmm… I like that in a man."
His eyes narrowed.
"…Then tell me. Now that you've summoned me, what do you intend? To make me your pawn for domination?"
Her laughter rang out again—light and playful, yet threaded with cruelty.
"Pawn? Oh, darling, such an ugly word. If that's what you choose to believe… so be it. But I prefer…"
Her voice dipped, smooth.
"…to call it a partnership."
The words crawled under his skin—tempting, dangerous.
"Oh, how rude of me…" she purred, tilting her head. Her lips curved into a smile edged with wicked charm. The chains rattled faintly as her voice flowed—sweet as honey… and just as deadly.
"Allow me to introduce myself. Elisia Grandore—also known as… the Infinity Witch."
The golden glow of the chains flickered across the cavern walls, rattling faintly. Loyed studied her,voice measured.
"Well… I'm Loyed Stoner."
Her lips curved into a slow, amused smile.
"Loyed Stoner, huh? What a peculiar name…"
Her eyes pierced through him, holding him with an unsettling assurance.
"You don't have to be so wary. Surely you've noticed…" She tilted her head, the golden shackles clinking faintly. "I can't move from this spot."
Loyed's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah… I noticed. You're shackled. Some kind of golden chains…"
A bead of sweat traced down his temple.
I don't know what's going on here… but I know this woman is responsible somehow… it's as if she knew I was coming.
A soft, low laugh slipped from her, "Ah, yes. These."
She raised her bound wrists, chains glowing faintly in protest. "This seal… is the highest level of sealing magic. A divine shackle that binds not just my body, but my power. As long as it holds, I am incapable of freeing myself."
Her voice softened, wistful now.
"How long has it been… five centuries, perhaps? Time slips away when you've been buried in darkness this long…"
Loyed's heart skipped. His breath caught.
"…M—Magic?" he whispered, disbelief cracking through his calm mask. "You mean… magic exists? And you've been sealed for five hundred years?"
Her laugh echoed through the cave, melodious and unsettling.
"Oh, dear… you really are a newborn to this world. That look on your face… priceless. So innocent. So untouched by reality."
Her eyes glowed faintly as she leaned forward, her smile sharpening into something devilish.
"Yes, Loyed. Magic is real. And me?" The chains rattled violently as a pulse of raw power seeped into the air, making the cave walls groan. "I am the strongest sorcerer in the world."
The air thickened, pressing against Loyed's chest, his knees threatening to buckle.
"So tell me, Loyed Stoner…' Her eyes narrowed, her smile widening. 'Will you take my hand… and see what we can do together?"
Loyed's jaw tightened. The cavern's glow felt too close, as if it were eavesdropping.
"The last time I decided to trust someone," he said, voice low and steady, "I died."
The words hung in the air. Elisia's smile flicked—not with surprise, but with something almost pleased, as though she appreciated the shape of his pain.
"Oh?" She tilted her head, the chains chiming softly. "How dramatic. And yet… honest. Most people go to great lengths to hide their cracks."
Her eyes tracked him, savoring him like a connoisseur sampling a rare vintage. "So… you bear scars," she murmured, violet light glinting in her gaze. "Do they make you weaker… or cowardly, perhaps?"
"They made me wiser," he said. "I won't play your little game." Shoulders squared, Loyed met her gaze. "Got it?"
A slow laugh escaped her, amusement threaded with hunger.
"Delightful," Elisia murmured. "A broken thing that bites back. Even in uncharted territory, you have spirit. It will be entertaining to see how you thrive here."
She let the word linger, then extended one chained hand as if offering a truce—an intimate, dangerous gesture.
"But hear me, Loyed… I didn't summon you for cruelty alone." Her gaze bored into him, assessing.
"You're… useful. I can see it in your eyes… restless, unsatisfied, a storm waiting to break. Help me, and the things you've only dreamed of won't seem so impossible. Refuse… and, well…"
Her smile sharpened.
"Refusal is far less interesting."
His mind raced—the betrayal, the knife, Bella's laughter. Each memory burning like salt on an open wound. Yet beneath the bitterness, something smaller blazed hotter: the ember of resolve he'd kindled the moment he awoke in this place.
"Partnership, huh." The word rolled off his tongue, tentative at first, then harder, sharper. "I won't be your puppet. And I won't be your plaything."
Cold air filled his lungs as he straightened.
"If you want me…"
His eyes locked onto hers.
"Make me a deal worth taking."
Elisia's smile softened. She leaned forward until the cavern's dim light caught the violet in her eyes, turning them into twin coals.
"As I said… those eyes betray you," she murmured, voice low, almost purring. "You hunger for more than the world allows—to grasp the impossible. Something achievable only through raw, undeniable power."
For a fleeting moment, Loyed's pupils constricted—beyond his control. He didn't answer; his quiet made the truth unmistakable.
Her voice dropped, smooth yet edged with menace.
"Well… you don't have to look far. I can give you that power."
Loyed forced his voice steady. "…And what do you want in return?"
Elisia exhaled a dramatic sigh, bored with eternity—a razor in her patience.
"Shall we make a pact, Loyed Stoner?" She raised one bound wrist, golden sparks dancing along the chains.
The first finger rose.
"First… set me free from this dreary prison."
The second finger lifted gracefully.
"Second… you'll grant me a front-row seat… as you reshape this stagnant little world."
Finally, she leaned close, whispering into his ear.
"And third…" A wicked smile tugged at her lips. "…Put on a damn good show for me."
Loyed blinked.
"…That's it? Really? No demand for my soul or something cliché?"
Her laugh rang.
"Your soul?" The shackles shifted as she moved, eyes gleaming.
"Boring. And what good would your soul do me anyway—"
"—what I want… is rarer."
"And what would that be?" Loyed asked, eyes slightly narrowed.
She paused, letting the thought rot in the air.
"Entertainment."
Her eyes flared.
"Thousands of years of repetition have dulled me to tears. So… surprise me."
He stepped closer, eyes burning.
"Fine. I'll take your deal because honestly…"
His grin sharpened.
"I've been bored too."
"Well then, seems we already have something in common."
The chamber quaked as her voice rang out—velvet, yet commanding.
"Kaelthar nyr'voss… thal'kira venor…
Ithar lumis… draven'kor…
Voryn, soul eternal, heed my call…
Rise. Forge of Gluttony. Betzalel!"
The stone floor split apart.
A violet distortion tore open reality, darkness spilling forth. From within it, a blade rose—black steel wrapped in a turbulent aura streaked with deep purple shadow. The air thickened, suffocating, as if the sword itself exhaled malice.
Loyed stiffened, pulse hammering.
It feels… alive.
The weapon towered before him, grotesquely beautiful. Its aura writhed, hungry, reaching for everything within range. He swallowed, a crooked grin slipping onto his face.
"What the hell…? When did that get here? And—" His voice cracked with awe. "Damn… it looks incredible."
He eyed her with suspicion.
"Hey, I thought you couldn't use magic anymore."
Elisia chuckled, golden chains rattling softly.
"Sealed or not, magic is still mine to command. Think of this ritual as… a little inventory trick. Amusing, isn't it?"
Her gaze bore into him with the weight of eternity.
"This sword is Betzalel. One of five Legendary Weapons. Each contains a soul—and those chosen inherit not only its cursed strength, but unique abilities."
She tilted her head, lips curling.
"Before I was sealed, I poured the remainder of my magic into Betzalel. That power is part of it now. Even if I were ever freed, my magic would never fully return. But Betzalel carries a piece of me… and it hungers."
Loyed blinked, struggling to process.
"Wait… 'chosen'? As in—lucky enough just to find it?"
Her playful smirk vanished. Her gaze hardened.
"Finding Betzalel is difficult… but not impossible."
The sword's aura pulsed then flared violently. The chamber trembled as pressure slammed outward.
"Kings. Demon Lords. Legendary heroes—and all who reached for it… regretted ever laying eyes on it."
The words struck Loyed like a physical blow. His breath caught, a bead of sweat tracing down his cheek. Yet his eyes never left the blade.
Elisia's smile returned sharp, merciless, seductive.
"So then, Loyed Stoner…" Her voice dripped with anticipation.
"Knowing all this… will you dare to grasp it?"
The sword pulsed again, each heartbeat resonating through the tomb, pressing against Loyed's chest. A living challenge.