While Kael stood silently, lost in thought—still trying to process the absurdity of everything—the being beside him was no less troubled.
Noctharion, the devourer of stars, the beast born from the first collapse of reality, was… confused.
No—unsettled.
In all the eons of his existence, he had never experienced anything like this.
To be bound?
Without consent?
Like a slave?
Unthinkable.
He growled low, almost instinctively, though it faded quickly into silence. His ancient mind churned—not in anger, but in calculation.
He replayed the memory again.
The moment it happened.
Inside Kael's consciousness.
The world had fractured.
A throne had appeared—not forged, not summoned, but revealed, like it had always been there, buried beneath the skin of reality.
And then—
The Eyes.
Two eyes.
Not made of light or shadow—but older.
Before light.
Before darkness.
They had stared into him—not at him, into him—and in that moment, Noctharion, who had never bowed to gods or kings, felt fear.
True, soul-breaking fear.
He remembered the chains.
Dark, endless, living chains—not of iron, but of void—rising from the abyss and wrapping around him. Dragging him. Claiming him.
Not by Kael.
Not by will.
But by something else.
A presence.
An entity.
Hidden inside Kael.
Noctharion didn't know what it was.
But it had power—real power.
The kind that made even the primordial forces of light and darkness kneel in silence.
That being had marked Kael.
And through Kael… it had chained Noctharion.
He clenched his jaw.
His fate…
His destiny…
Now intertwined with a mortal boy.
He should've resisted. Should've fought.
But deep down, he already knew—there was no escape.
The chains weren't just metaphorical. They had fused into the core of his being.
Whoever—or whatever—had acted in that moment…
…had plans.
And Noctharion had a faint idea of what those plans might be.
He wasn't the predator anymore.
He was Kael's companion.
An unwilling witness.
A reluctant guardian.
A bound entity.
And the worst part?
He couldn't tell…
If Kael would become a savior—
—or a catastrophe.
I don't know if I'm lucky or not.
Kael let the thought linger, watching the faint trails of mana swirl in the air around him.
He had only wanted to uncover the truth behind the fortress's future destruction—nothing more. He never expected it would change everything.
Not only had his potential increased,
Not only had he unlocked his affinity,
But he was now bound to Noctharion—one of the oldest beings to ever walk this world.
An ancient entity of chaos and darkness… and now, somehow, part of me.
Kael still didn't understand how or why it happened.
Noctharion carried knowledge far beyond any book or scholar—perhaps more than anyone alive. If he was willing to cooperate, if Kael could somehow earn his guidance...
Then this absurd, terrifying event might turn out to be the greatest blessing in disguise.
If he's willing to help… then I won't just survive this world. I'll rewrite it.
Noctharion remained silent.
He could feel Kael's thoughts probing—curious, cautious, desperate to make sense of what had happened inside his own mind. But Noctharion had no intention of answering.
Not yet.
It's not time, the ancient being thought, his gaze distant as he recalled the throne... and those eyes—eyes that predated time, that bent even the primordial forces to their will.
He still remembered the moment the chains had emerged from the abyss, wrapping around his essence, pulling him into the boy's soul. He hadn't agreed to it. He hadn't even resisted. He couldn't.
Whatever that entity was—the one hidden deep inside Kael—it wasn't something even he, a being born from the darkness itself, dared to provoke.
Kael will understand eventually, Noctharion decided.
When he's ready. Or when there's no choice left.
Until then, he would watch. And wait.
After sorting through everything—his thoughts, the memories, the absurdity of it all—Kael finally stood up.
The pain had dulled. His body, which had been screaming in agony before, now felt... whole.
He glanced at his arm, flexing his fingers slowly.
A faint ache lingered, but the wounds were gone. Scarred tissue, torn muscle—healed.
"Absorbing that core must've done it," he muttered. "I'm completely recovered now."
His gaze shifted toward the tunnel's exit. A faint breeze drifted in. Dawn wasn't far off.
"It's time to head back," he said under his breath. "I have to reach the fortress before sunrise."
He took a few steps, gauging the time in his head. "I've only been here for two hours at most—"
"No," Noctharion's deep voice cut in.
"You're wrong."
Kael stopped. "What?"
"You've been here for two days."
"…What the hell are you talking about?"
"The moment you touched the dark flame, you collapsed," Noctharion explained. "You were unconscious for half a day. Absorbing the core took nearly a full day more. And after that, you were out for hours. Altogether—two days."
Kael's face twisted. "Fucking hell…"
Panic welled up in his chest.
Two days?!
"If anyone found out I was missing—shit. Liana—she would've noticed."
He clenched his fists. "She probably told the others… not because she wanted to rat me out, but because she was worried."
He exhaled sharply, trying to calm the racing thoughts.
"I have to go back. If they question me… I'll tell them the truth. Or part of it."
"I can't hide it from them…"
Kael's voice was low, barely above a whisper, as he trudged forward through the dark tunnel.
"Advancing a whole major rank... and three minor sub-ranks in one go… That's impossible. Unheard of."
He gritted his teeth.
"They'll question me. No—interrogate me."
If the fortress used a Soulglass Crystal—the artifact used to reveal one's status—he'd be exposed. Completely.
"They'll see my potential increased," he muttered. "They'll ask how. Why. And I have no idea if that damn crystal will show the rest..."
His mind spiraled.
The Primordial Sigil.
The Titles.
The Traits.
His bond with Noctharion.
Information that shouldn't exist. Power that shouldn't be his.
"Can I even suppress those details? Or will it all flash in front of them the moment they activate the crystal?"
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
"If that happens, what do I even say? That I stumbled upon a forgotten dungeon and absorbed an ancient core? That I made a pact with something as old as the gods?"
No one would believe him.
Or worse—they would.
And then they'd want to control it.
Him.