Chapter 96: Lingering Pain
Pain.
Not the kind that could be endured, not the kind that dulled over time. This was something else—as if his very essence was being ripped apart from the inside out. A scorching, twisting agony that burrowed into his being like serrated hooks, digging deep, pulling, unraveling him thread by thread. His Ka flared in protest, thrashing wildly against the force that seized it, but it was useless—there was no fighting this. There was no escape.
Velren tried to scream, but no sound came out. His throat clenched, strangled by the sheer force of the suffering that wracked his body. His vision blurred, twisting and contorting as the world around him wavered. His limbs felt distant, unreal, as if they no longer belonged to him, flickering between presence and absence. One moment, he could feel the solid ground beneath his feet, the weight of his body, the cold steel in his grip—then in the next, it was gone, replaced by an overwhelming emptiness that swallowed him whole.
A sickening sensation coursed through him, as if something was trying to peel him away from reality itself. His fingers twitched, his muscles spasmed, and his body trembled violently under the sheer force of the unknown power gripping him. He was being stretched thin, dispersed like mist caught in the wind, scattered between existence and nonexistence. The edges of his form shimmered erratically, as though he were nothing more than a ghost failing to take shape, a fleeting mirage on the brink of dissolving.
His Ka was in chaos. No, it wasn’t just that. It was being consumed. Stripped away, piece by agonizing piece, devoured by the very blade he had sought to wield. The wakizashi, still clutched in his trembling grip, pulsed with an eerie resonance, as if it were feeding on him, drinking in his presence like a predator savoring its prey.
Dark spots danced at the edges of his vision, his mind screaming for relief, for release. But the pain did not stop. It did not relent. It only deepened, sharp and merciless, twisting through his veins, clawing at his core, threatening to unmake him entirely.
And then—
A snap. A rupture. A shattering inside of him.
With sheer instinct, Velren wrenched his hand away from the wakizashi. The blade clattered to the ground, but the torment did not cease immediately. He crumpled to his knees, gasping, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gulps as he clutched at his chest. Every nerve screamed, his limbs trembled, and for a horrifying moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he was still there. His hands roamed over his form—his arms, his torso, his legs—checking, confirming, desperate to ensure that he was still whole, that he hadn’t flickered into nothingness entirely.
And then, just as the pain began to subside into a dull, lingering ache, a faint chime echoed in his mind.
His Codex materialized before him: