Clarity.
He felt it; it was undeniable. The shape of the Oath was there before him, as if it had always been waiting. Just like the day the gods first bound him, he understood what was being offered, what it would demand. All he had to do was make a choice.
But this time was different. His choice was made the moment he decided to let go of the past.
No hesitation. No second-guessing. Only the certainty that these words were his truth.
"I swear to walk my path with unyielding honesty…" He raised his voice, letting the words cut through the night, even as the shadowfang writhed and clawed against the ice that had formed around them.
Because he was done lying to himself. Done hiding behind excuses and doubts. The past had weighed on him long enough.
And more words followed, not remembered but revealed, as if they had always been there, waiting to surface.
He breathed them aloud, voice raw, letting them settle the night air. Then, like shards of ice snapping into place, the other fragments came, each burning bright in his mind:
"To never deny who I am, in shadow or in light…" His voice rose, louder this time, each word struck like a hammer, not just spoken but claimed.
Because he had long accepted every part of himself, flaws and strengths alike. There was nothing left hidden, nothing left unclaimed. He was whole, in shadow and in light, as he had always been.
Then it happened. The air around him suddenly became biting cold, the temperature dropping in a heartbeat. Frost crept across the ground, racing outward like roots claiming territory. The shadowfang froze mid-snarl, its thrashing slowed until it stood locked in place, a statue of frost, a faint cyan glow pulsing through the ice that held it.
The words did not stop. They burned in his chest, demanding release.
"To bear my truth, no matter the cost…" His voice was a roar now, sharp enough to carry across the frozen night.
Power without sacrifice meant nothing; he had already paid in blood, fear, and guilt. This was the only price that mattered.
The shadowfang shattered where it stood, fragments of ice and flesh scattering like glass across the snow.
Kael staggered, clutching his chest as the oath seared into him, every syllable carved into his very being. For a heartbeat, he thought it would tear him apart. But he did not falter.
Breath steaming in the cold, he forced the last words from his lips.
"This is my bond. My power. My curse."
Then, his voice dropped, tight with raw emotion. "And to see her death avenged… Elira."
The words rippled through him, and for a heartbeat, the Oath acknowledged her name.
Silence. Then a weight settled on him, heavy and absolute, but not crushing. It was his. For the first time in years, Kael felt whole.
And in the stillness, the name came unbidden, whispered by the night itself:
Oath of True Self.
As the final words left him, the Oath seared across his left collarbone. A brief, biting sting ran along his skin, like ice burning, and then it faded into a faint cyan mark, a permanent sign of the Oath he had sworn.
"Well, that was… dramatic," Kael muttered, voice tight with exhaustion. The faint cyan mark on his collarbone throbbed, a subtle reminder that he'd just sworn an oath capable of reshaping his life. Dramatic or not, it was done.
Great. Just great. He'd spent most of his mana on the shadowfangs, and now he had enough left for… one measly spell. One. In the middle of the forest.
"Perfect timing," Kael muttered under his breath.
He didn't waste another thought on it. With the village ahead, he sprinted, boots crunching. One spell or no spell, he was getting back fast.
"So the powerup doesn't work like the legendary Magnus books said, huh," he added, voice sharp with sarcasm, even as adrenaline carried him forward.
When he finally saw the village palisade, he muttered, "What the hell was I thinking, running into the forest to vent my anger?"
Kael slid through the village gate, boots crunching on the snow-covered road. The guards raised their spears, eyes sharp, but recognition softened their stance. He didn't stop to explain or dodge questions—he just pushed past them, cape clinging to his back, snow shaking from his shoulders.
The village seemed quieter than usual, the aftermath of the battle lingering in the frozen night air. Torches flickered along the palisade, casting long shadows across the street. Villagers moved through the snow, working tirelessly even in the night. Carrying supplies, repairing what they could. He didn't linger to watch or greet anyone. His destination was clear: his quarters, where he could finally drop the weight of the night and think.
Kael shut the door to his quarters with a quiet click, the muffled sounds of villagers working through the night barely reaching him. The warmth of the hearth didn't fully chase away the chill clinging to his clothes, but it was something. Finally alone, he sank onto the edge of his bed, boots still muddy.
"Well, that was…dramatic," he muttered again, voice low, more to himself than anyone else. The faint cyan mark on his collarbone throbbed subtly, a quiet reminder of what had just happened.
He took a deep breath, letting the cold panic of the forest ebb away. Now it was time to figure out what the Oath had really given him.
Closing his eyes, Kael forced himself into stillness, letting his senses extend outward. Mana. He could feel it, denser, more controlled than ever. The pool he'd been drawing from yesterday, barely enough to cast a few spells, now surged inside him.
After a few minutes of quiet and focus, he realized just how much had changed. His mana wasn't just stronger. It had grown exponentially. Where he had only been able to handle four basic spells at once, he now felt capable of weaving twelve. Even more, his sensitivity to mana had sharpened; he could feel it flowing, bending, and pulsing in ways he never had before. The difference was huge. He could influence the spells better and create more complex ones.
He didn't have a spellbook or any grimoires to guide him, but he knew that with a little time and effort, he could craft new spells. Stronger than anything he has.
He could control only two spells simultaneously, but now he could control at least three, probably even four, with enough training.
"Guess I can finally keep them alive… if I don't screw it up," he muttered under his breath, jaw tight.
A smile crept across his face. Impossible was done. He had the power to protect the village he'd sworn to. And with it, he was one step closer to the revenge he had long buried inside.
His thoughts drifted back to the mark on his collarbone. Cold to the touch, yet not painful, it pulsed faintly, a quiet reminder of the Oath. Too dark to examine in the mirror, he let the task wait until morning.
He focused on the mark, sensing its quiet hum. In the same way he had understood the Oath, clarity came for the mark as well.
"A lie detector, huh," he muttered, more to the empty room than anyone else.
It made sense now—the Oath of True Self, and the fragments it carried. Each piece was a reflection of truth, a shard of what he really was. He had hoped for something to help the village; he wasn't disappointed. This… this could protect it, not now, but someday, when the enemy didn't come from the forest.
He realized, slowly, that it could detect lies. Not all lies, not the trivial ones, only those that touched him, that mattered, that stirred something deep within him. The lies of people he cared about, or those whose deceit could harm the village, would brush against him like a ripple in still water. Other falsehoods, insignificant and distant, could pass unnoticed.
The mark wouldn't reveal every falsehood, only the ones tied to him, the lies that mattered, or the ones that could hurt what he held dear.
And yet, the mark could do more. If he wanted, he could activate it consciously. It might glow, a subtle cyan shimmer beneath his skin, or it might remain hidden. Then, it would reach outward, seeking lies, exposing deception wherever it lay.
For now, it pulsed quietly, patient and waiting. Kael felt its presence, the weight of it, the promise it carried. He had the power to protect the village. He had the Oath. He had the mark.
He would have his revenge. It would come, but now was not the time. So he buried it again.