The cavern had grown still after the revelations of the Lich's chamber. Vel moved deeper through the stone arteries of the earth, every step echoing with a fury that had no release. His sockets burned dim yet steady, fire contained within bone, tempered like steel heated too long in the forge. He had learned the truth of his existence. He had seen his name scribbled among the failures of an immortal butcher. He knew now that he had not simply awakened by chance—he was shaped, forged, designed.
But vengeance was hollow without strength. And Vel knew now, more than ever, that bone and blade would never be enough.
The System had whispered of mana since his rebirth. Chaos Mana, sealed and unreachable, locked away because his skeletal body lacked the organ to channel it. He had carried that curse like a chain. Each time he had slaughtered, each time he had evolved, the promise of power had dangled before him like fruit he could not taste.
But the research notes had revealed something else. They spoke of grafting, of necrotic tissue and mana-channelling organs. They had recorded failed attempts, corpses that rotted, skeletons that shattered when forced to bear living cores. Yet buried within the horror there had been fragments of instruction. Equations, ritual diagrams. The Lich had not merely experimented—he had documented. And Vel, unwilling subject turned unwilling scholar, carried those notes burned into his marrow.
The path forward was written in gore and ink.
Vel found it when he stumbled into another cavern, smaller, narrower, the air heavier with decay. He smelt it first—the stench of burnt herbs and blood long stagnant. Then he saw it. A corpse slumped against the wall, black robes clinging to withered flesh, skull still crowned with fragments of feathers and bone charms.
A shaman.
Its flesh had rotted, stretched thin across brittle bones. Yet within its chest, through the cracks of its ribcage, Vel saw it—an organ, shriveled and black, but faintly pulsing with residual light. A heart that had once been a vessel of mana.
Vel froze, sockets narrowing.
The marrow-fire inside him trembled. He knew what he was looking at. This was no ordinary corpse. This was opportunity.
He approached slowly, claws scraping stone. The shaman's eyes snapped open, dull green fire flickering within empty sockets. It hissed, jaws snapping with the hunger of undeath. Its limbs twitched, claws scraping at the stone, but the corpse was too far gone. The System whispered faintly:
[Lesser Mana-Shaman Zombie detected.]
Vel did not hesitate. He drove his broken blade through the creature's skull, pinning it against the wall. The fire in its sockets flickered once, then died. The cavern fell silent again.
Vel tore into its chest. Bones cracked beneath his claws, brittle ribs snapping like twigs. The stench of rot filled the chamber, thick and suffocating. He dug deeper until he grasped it—soft, pulsing faintly, the shaman's heart. Black veins stretched across it like roots, glowing with the faintest shimmer of mana.
He lifted it before his sockets. His flame flared.
Here it was. The missing organ. The key the System had denied him. The forbidden path the Lich had mapped in his cursed notes.
Vel turned inward, reaching into the fragments of instruction burned into his marrow. Diagrams unfolded across his vision—charts of where the heart must be placed, how the channels of bone must be carved, how necrotic essence could be fused with marrow to hold mana. It was madness, it was blasphemy—but he was already an abomination.
He spread his ribcage with his claws, pulling bones apart until a hollow yawned within his chest. No flesh. No organs. Only darkness. Into that void, he pressed the shaman's heart.
The organ twitched. For a moment, it seemed to reject him, writhing as if alive, pulsing against his claws. But Vel pressed harder, forcing it deeper, wedging it into the cavity.
Then he carved.
He used his own claws, scoring runes into the inner walls of his ribcage, gouging channels into bone. Each cut echoed with pain he had not thought possible. He had no nerves, no flesh, but the marrow screamed with each stroke, as though his very soul was being split. Black ichor bled from the carvings, dripping onto the stone.
The heart began to beat.
Slow at first, a faint twitch. Then louder. Stronger. It pulsed against his chest, veins of black crawling outward, fusing into his ribcage. His bones rattled violently, sockets flickering as fire flared brighter than ever before.
The System roared inside him.
[Unauthorized graft detected.][Temporary Mana Core forged.][Integration: 27%... 54%... 89%...][Integration complete.]
Vel fell to his knees, clawed hands braced against the stone. His chest rattled violently, the heart within glowing faintly with each beat. His sockets flared so bright the cavern lit with ghostly flame.
And then, for the first time since his rebirth, he felt it.
Mana.
Not the sealed promise, not the whisper he could never touch. Real, burning, coursing through him. It flooded his bones, seeped into marrow, resonated with the death-energy bound to his existence.
Chaos Mana stirred.
It was not calm. It was a storm. Two rivers colliding, flesh and bone, life and death. The shaman's heart pumped with the residue of mortal mana, his marrow bled with necrotic flame, and together they clashed, twisted, fused.
Vel screamed without lungs. His sockets flared white as his body convulsed, bones cracking under the pressure. The cavern shook with the sound of resonance, like chains snapping and forging anew.
The System's voice thundered:
[Restriction lifted.][Mana Channeling Organ detected.][Chaos Mana sealed status: removed.]
Vel collapsed against the stone, his chest rattling violently. The shaman's heart glowed faintly between his ribs, its veins spreading like roots through his skeleton, fusing into him. His sockets flickered, fire dimming as though he had burned too bright.
But within, the storm raged. He could feel it—the dual rivers of mana at his command. Necrotic death-energy, bitter and cold. Living mana, faint and fragile, bleeding from the heart. Together, they did not cancel. They clashed. They twisted into something new.
Chaos Mana.
Vel lifted his claws, staring as faint black flame flickered at their tips, licking the air like shadows burning. The cavern walls darkened where it touched, stone blistering, cracking under heat that was not heat at all.
Vel's sockets narrowed. For the first time, he was not bound. For the first time, he could wield more than blade and claw. He had forged within himself what the Lich had denied. He had taken the forbidden and made it his own.
The System whispered softly:
[Skill unlocked: Chaos Manipulation (Basic).][Warning: Temporary Core unstable. Overuse may lead to marrow fracture.]
Vel's claws closed, snuffing out the flame. His sockets burned cold. He knew this was no permanent salvation. The heart would decay. The graft was unstable. His Core was temporary, a crude imitation of what true mana vessels could be. But it was enough.
Enough to begin.
Vel rose slowly, ribcage rattling as the heart pulsed within. He felt heavier, denser, as though the storm inside him dragged against his bones. Yet he felt stronger, too. The chains had been broken.
He turned his sockets toward the dark ahead. Somewhere beyond these caverns, the Lich walked still. Somewhere, the architect of this torment lingered, weaving experiments, binding souls. Vel's broken hilt rattled against his side, his only relic of the man he once was. But the flame inside him told him now: he was no longer that man.
He was weapon. He was vengeance. He was Chaos given bone.
The cavern shook as Vel's first step echoed forward, and the System hummed faintly within his marrow:
[Path Divergence confirmed. Evolution accelerated.]
Vel whispered into the dark, voice a rasp of fire scraping stone:
"You gave me death."
His sockets flared brighter, flames coiling like storm.
"Now I will give you Chaos."
And deeper into the abyss, Vel marched, the shaman's heart beating steadily in his chest, each thrum a drumbeat of war.