The deathly cruel truth of worthlessness sent the Book of Haze's resentment surging like a storm-tossed sea. Silver chains vibrated at an alarming rate, their metallic links humming with barely contained power.
The bonds that held Sinn tightened mercilessly, squeezing so fiercely that even the air and mist seemed to twist and writhe under their pressure.
Yet to Sinn, this meant nothing. With a faint, ironic smile curling on his lips, he waved his hand through the thickening haze. A spark of green light flickered in the gloom.
In an instant, the Chains of Realignment shattered—splinters of silver light scattering across the darkness. The Book of Haze convulsed violently; its cover writhed as if in agony, pages fluttering with desperate, pained energy.
Lamar's eyes widened in horror as realization dawned. Sinn's bindings were weakening, their grip fading with every heartbeat. Without hesitation, Lamar dashed backward, stumbling as the oppressive haze lifted from his mind.
Clarity returned, and his thoughts raced to piece together the unraveling chaos. He staggered, exhaustion threatening to drag him down, the relentless drain of battle pressing on his chest like a leaden weight.
He had been toyed with by an insane, greedy beast while also manipulated by a sentient, vengeful book.
A century of cunning and survival was now being tested to its limits.
But why…? Why was Sinn still smiling at him?
Lamar's expression twisted with terror and disbelief. Sinn's extracted, unnatural smile remained fixed upon him—a chilling contrast to Lamar's own fear-stricken face. What truly shocked Lamar was the sight of the Book of Haze's being clutched in Sinn's hands.
When had he taken it? Panic rose within Lamar.
Blood poured from the gaping wound in Lamar's chest—thick, green-black ichor spilling freely, staining the ground beneath him. In this moment of life and death, both Sinn's and Lamar's eyes reflected profound weariness—a bone-deep fatigue born of endless struggle.
Within Sinn's mindscape, a silent war raged. He fought to seal away the bizarre, terrifying, and chaotic Vest of Obscure.
His consciousness was forced to absorb the knowledge of what the vest was—and the horrors it could unleash.
The Chain of Realignment was an ability governed by the Vest of Obscure, once used to bind the Book of Haze, but later granted to it as well. Over time, the book developed a will—a desperate desire to exist. It grew to hate the Vest of Obscure, and soon, they battled for dominance. Yet the Book of Haze was itself a creation of the Vest, forged with other arcane elements. Their conflict became a war of spirit avatars, each striving to force the other into slumber, if only for a short time.
The Vest regained its avatar because Sinn was the perfect catalyst—an ideal ingredient for its evolution. The Book of Haze awakened only when it sensed mortal danger—from both the Vest's intentions and Lamar's ambition to use it for the Vest of Obscure. If the Vest evolved, the Book would become nothing more than a tool. Desperate, the Book attacked the Vest with all its might, forcing Lamar to sacrifice thirteen years of painstaking refinement—decades of effort lost in a single, reckless gambit. Ironically, this helped Sinn claim victory in the end.
When Sinn devoured the Vest of Obscure, he unwittingly aided it as well. Deep within the vast abyss of black water that was Sinn's soul gate, a black, sticky orb floated—contained for now by the chains that bound it, holding its darkness at bay.
A massive gate, adorned with ancient locks and several black hands resembling shadows, stood perfectly atop the water's surface. This gate led to something much deeper, but how? How could Sinn not see that he possessed such a massive gate within his soul? What hellish secret did it conceal? And why did his soul contain black water?
A soul was said to reflect a person. Was this place of weird, chaotic peace truly Sinn's soul?
Suddenly, a thunderous bang echoed—the gate was being pushed open. Sinn's face contorted as he peered deeper at the gate. Red liquid began to leak—not just from the gap at the bottom, but from all four corners as well.
Bang.
"Huh, again?" Sinn muttered.
The black shadows gripping the gate started to morph. The hands clenched the gate even harder, but when the blood-red liquid touched them, they began to change. Several eyes, glowing a shade of crimson, appeared along the shadowy fingers, accompanied by a low, ominous hum.
Something lunged at Sinn, though he was merely a ghostly avatar. Still, his body—or perhaps his soul—reacted instinctively. His form began to fade, and with a thought, he withdrew.
The lunging creature screeched in frustration, its cry echoing through the watery abyss. Soon, it turned its attention to something else lurking in the depths.
Its small frame was suddenly seized, its brief existence snuffed out in an instant. The octopus-like aquatic creature showed no mercy. As the crimson liquid touched the water, it began to vaporize, sending tendrils of red mist curling through the darkness.
Dragged relentlessly into the abyss of black water, the creature had no hope of escape. It became sustenance for the lurking denizens of the deep—shadowy forms that thrived in the soul's murky depths.
Slowly, the gate within Sinn's soul began to fade, its ancient locks and shadowy hands dissolving until nothing remained but ripples on the water's surface. Sensing the disappearance of the gate, several eyes with black irises emerged from the sea, their gaze unblinking and eerie. In mere moments, they morphed together, forming a single massive eye that stared upward at the clear, obsidian sky.
…
Sinn slowly opened his eyes. He was not foolish enough to consume such a thing without a plan. Manipulated though he had been by the Book of Haze, his greed and self-awareness guided his choices with uncanny precision. Still, even he felt a chill of fear at how close he had come to surrendering—to accepting death.
If he died today…
He glanced down; blood still seeped from his wounds. The chains within his body no longer constricted him, but their cold metal links still hung from his battered flesh. The blood loss was severe, threatening to sap his strength.
Yet, amid the pain, Sinn sensed something new. By consuming the Vest of Obscure, he had gained its authority, though not its abilities. He was no longer bound here.
So, what was that presence outside?
"Oh, I see," Sinn thought, turning his gaze toward Lamar.