Ren stood in the center of the Throne Room.
The ceiling stretched high above him but he couldn't see where it ended. The dark swallowed everything past a certain point. No wind. No echo. Just space and stone and stillness. The only thing that broke the emptiness was the throne itself, raised on a wide platform made of bone and old marble.
A skull sat on it. Huge. Split down the middle like something had cracked it with a chisel and left it that way. A rusted iron crown rested on top, jagged and crooked, fused into the bone like it had been hammered on and never removed.
Ren didn't speak at first.
He listened.
Not to anything in particular. Just to the silence. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't waiting. It was the kind of silence that came after something ended. After the screaming stopped. After the last shovel of dirt had been thrown over a grave. It settled deep, not just in the room, but in the chest. Heavy. Cold.
He stepped forward and slowly knelt down.
From inside his coat he pulled out the three books he had taken from the black coffin in the Veil Room. They were heavier than they looked. Not physically, spiritually. Just holding them made his arms feel slower.
He placed them on the cold floor in front of him side by side.
They didn't slide. They didn't shift. They sat still like they'd already chosen this exact spot long before he arrived.
Ren looked at them for a long time.
"These aren't books" he said quietly "They're contracts"
It felt strange to say it out loud but the words were true.
This wasn't about learning a new skill. These things weren't study materials. They were alive in a way books shouldn't be. They watched back. Waited. And once opened, once accepted, they would bind something to him that couldn't be undone.
Something deeper than flesh. Deeper than thought.
He had already died once. That wasn't something he could forget. He had felt the moment when everything shut off, the helplessness, the cold, the clarity of being erased. That fear had never left. It lived in the pit of his stomach. He had crawled his way out of death and he knew one thing with certainty.
He would never go back.
If there was a path, any path, that gave him the power to stay alive no matter what it cost, he would take it.
This choice was about survival.
He looked down at the first book.
It was bound in discolored skin. Dried and tight like old leather but uneven, too organic to be anything processed. The clasps were made of bone, fingers, yellowed and cracked. It smelled faintly of earth, like something pulled from a grave.
The title was carved into the hide, deep and clear
Scripture of the Hollow Grave
Law of Death
Ren let out a slow breath.
"Designed to scare off anyone sane" he muttered
The second book was stranger. Wrapped in broken glass, sharp, cracked, but held together by something unseen. Looking at it too long made his eyes ache like it didn't want to be read straight.
The title shifted, sometimes split down the middle, sometimes mirrored
Scripture of Fractured Truth
Law of Contradiction
He didn't say anything about that one. Not yet.
The third book was the quietest. Bound in soft blank fabric with threads of gold. No title at first. Just silence. But when he stared, the letters emerged, slow and deliberate, like they were waiting for his focus
Scripture of Knowledge
Law of Knowing
He studied them all.
No sudden moves. No rush.
Which one of these would give him what he needed? Which one would help him stay alive, not just for a year or a decade, but for good?
Death. Contradiction. Knowledge.
Each offered power. Each demanded something in return. None of them felt safe.
But Death, that one felt familiar.
Not comforting. Not easy.
Just honest.
He reached out and placed his hand on the cover. It was cold. Not sharp. Not hostile. Just cold, like stone left in the shade too long. His fingers curled slightly over the corner.
"Just to study" he whispered "Not to commit. Not yet"
He stayed still for a moment.
Then, almost without thinking, the question slipped out. Low. Quiet. Like it had been waiting somewhere in him all along
"And at the end of the path of all this… do I become a god"
The room didn't answer.
But the book felt heavier in his hand like it had heard the question and was waiting to see if he deserved the truth.
Ren let out a quiet breath.
Then, steady and slow, he opened the first page.
The pages opened with a sound too soft to be heard but not silent. It was more like the feeling of something old being disturbed, a whisper of dust, a breath through dry stone. The book adjusted itself in his hands like it was alive, like it recognized its reader.
The first page was blank at first.
Then the ink bled through, dark and uneven, forming lines in slow strokes
Law of Death
All things must fall still. All things must empty. All things must return.
There is no wake. There is no return. There is only the Eternal rest that waits beneath all things
As he read, the temperature around him dropped by a few degrees. It wasn't his imagination. The air thickened. His breath felt heavier in his chest. Shadows lengthened slightly, not visibly, but perceptibly. Even the light that filtered in from the cracks in the walls seemed colder.
Ren kept reading.
There was no introduction. No history. No explanation. Just the Law, absolute, stated as fact.
All things must fall still.
He turned the page. The script had changed. Thinner now, sharper, like it had been written with the point of a knife
How to Make the Vow
Find a place where no other living being of your species exists within 100 paces
Dig a grave. Bury yourself in it
Bring with you one object that means everything to you, not something expensive but something personal
Write your full name on a piece of human bone. Swallow it
Recite the following words without stopping for 48 hours while buried
I vow to tread in the shadow of Death itself
Let no soul escape my grasp and no heartbeat defy my will
Where I walk graves open and life remembers its place
Ren read the lines again. And again. Each time slower.
It wasn't metaphor. It wasn't symbolic.
Bury yourself. Swallow bone. Chant for two straight days with no food, no water, no escape. Alone underground with nothing but a keepsake and your breath, if it held out.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"I don't even get to know if I'm allowed back up afterward" he muttered "That's... generous"
He stared at the page. The ritual didn't demand action. It demanded surrender. It wanted him to give up comfort, safety, and certainty — the very things that had kept him alive so far.
This wasn't a path for those who wanted to fight death.
It was for those willing to become part of it.
It's not strength they want he thought. It's stillness.
He turned the page
Mystic Rank First Step
Undertaker
Corpse-Binder of Stillness
The ink had changed again, now tightly structured and clinical. It read more like a medical document than a holy text.
Death Sense
The Realizer gains awareness of all corpses and lingering souls within 50 meters. This awareness functions through walls, across barriers, and under the ground. Strong emotional residue — fear, rage, despair — creates brighter signals
Ren blinked. He imagined walking through a city with that kind of vision. Every alley. Every building. Every sewer. Lit up with the echoes of trauma. Not just graves, but every hidden death. Every murder no one spoke of. Every suicide no one found.
"It's like sonar" he murmured "but for ghosts"
The potential was obvious — search and recovery, tracking, even battlefield awareness
The cost? Constant exposure to things no one should see.
Mortuary Seal
The Realizer may mark a corpse using their own blood. This preserves its flesh and binds lingering soul fragments. Sealed corpses no longer decay and may later be studied, used, or commanded
He tapped the page. Practical. Direct.
Corpse preservation wasn't just for study. It was a foundation. Something to build on.
The blood price wasn't just for drama. It was a link. A claim.
"This is how you tag your corpses" he said "Mark the ones you want later"
Soul Delay
Upon death, a soul typically descends into the Soul Ocean within moments. This ability interrupts that process for 24 hours. The soul remains tethered and can be interacted with — questioned, bargained with, bound, or destroyed
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"That's not a rescue. That's a trap"
He imagined a soul trying to pass on only to be pulled back and interrogated. No peace. No rest. Just an extension of death.
Useful, yes. But cruel.
Then again, wasn't all power cruel in the right context
Deadweight Binding
The Realizer casts a spectral chain that latches to a target's soul. This chain slows movement, interrupts casting, and drains stamina. If the target is injured or unstable, the weight increases, potentially immobilizing them for up to six seconds
Finally. Something for combat.
A soul chain that punished fear. That punished weakness.
He could see it working mid-fight. The moment an opponent hesitated, collapsed under pressure, the chain would drag them down.
"Turn panic into gravity" he muttered "I like it"
Grave-Eyes
The whites of the Realizer's eyes turn pale gray. They can see the tether between soul and corpse, a thread that fades over time. If it's intact, the body can still be used. If it's broken, it's just meat. Grave-Eyes also reveal traces of violent death on objects and places
Evidence. Echoes. Tools.
Not just for battle. For understanding. For learning what happened and when.
For someone like him, who built his life around reading people, this felt natural.
Death's Veil
While standing on ground where a person has died, the Realizer becomes invisible to the living. Not just to the eye, but to all forms of detection — magical, spiritual, technological. Only beings of higher Rank or with counter-Laws may see through it
Ren's eyes stayed on that one longer.
Not just hiding.
Erased.
This was more than stealth. This was erasure of presence, the power to vanish by standing on tragedy.
"That's terrifying" he said "In the right hands, that's... unstoppable"
He turned the page and found only titles for the Ranks beyond
Mystic Rank Second Step
Undertaker
Embalmer
Mystic Rank Third Step
Undertaker
Forensic Technician
Mystic Rank Fourth Step
Medical Examiner
Mystic Rank Final Step
Necromancer
No details. Just names.
But it was enough.
"So Mystic is what beginner Realizer call"
This was a slow climb. A methodical one. A Law that wanted you to understand death before you ruled over it.
And he hadn't even committed to it yet.
Ren closed the book gently.
His fingers lingered on the cover and the cold crept back into his hands.