Chapter 4: Body
Vabos Forest
"Kakarai… we should go now."
Vabon's voice cut through the lingering echoes of the blood-rain, low and urgent. He extended a cautious hand toward the priest, fingers trembling despite his effort to appear composed.
"He!"
Kakarai's response was a guttural bark of ecstasy. His bulging eyes gleamed with manic, unholy delight. He reached back—but the instant their hands were about to connect, Vabon recoiled as though burned by invisible fire, leaping several paces away.
"You dare?" Vabon's voice cracked with raw outrage, face paling. "What is wrong with you?"
The word thundered through the space between them, unspoken yet deafening:
Condemnation.
Vabon froze, the realization crashing over him like ice water.
So that's it…
His mind reeled.
He knelt. He knelt to that monster. And now… he has been abandoned by the cult. Forsaken.
Slowly, dread dragging at his limbs, Vabon's gaze drifted back toward the epicenter of the terror—the figure still hovering amid the clearing storm.
And his soul seemed to collapse inward.
"D–Demon God…" The whisper escaped him, barely audible, body shaking uncontrollably. "This guy… this thing… he can only be a Demon God."
Before his horrified eyes, Dax's human flesh began to slough away in wet, glistening sheets—melting like wax beneath the relentless crimson downpour. Skin dissolved into rivulets of red. Muscles unraveled thread by thread. Blood washed clean, revealing the horror beneath.
What emerged was an abomination of dark majesty:
A skeleton forged from absolute blackness—ebony bones glistening with impossible vitality, as though death itself had been inverted into something fiercely alive.
And above the hollow skull floated two halos—one radiant, one shadowed—divine and blasphemous in perfect contradiction, defying every faith the world had ever known.
It was a sight that would make gods avert their gaze.
Dax drifted in an endless ocean—an inner cosmos boundless and familiar, yet strangely alien.
"This place…" His voice echoed softly across the still waters. "I've been here before."
Far above the horizon hovered two infants—one cloaked in deepest black, the other shimmering silver—positioned back-to-back like twin suns locked in eternal opposition. Their tiny forms radiated conflicting light: one pulsing with raw, primal hunger; the other with cold, analytical clarity. They were the living embodiment of his traits, the fractured duality now warring within his being.
Dax lowered himself to the ocean's surface, legs crossing as he sank into profound meditation. The water responded, rippling gently at first, then lifting him higher—wave upon wave buoying him upward until he towered over the twin infants like a colossus.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
The tranquil sea churned into violence. Towering waves rose like mountains, crashing with cosmic fury.
It was a battle.
A war for supremacy—body against soul, instinct against consciousness, insatiable hunger against calculated purpose.
This was no ordinary rebirth. This was the rarest of trials, the crucible that defined the path of only the greatest—and most dangerous—beings.
In the physical world, Dax's skeletal form inhaled sharply—though no lungs filled, no breath stirred.
The world convulsed in answer.
Air howled inward. Dirt, stones, ancient roots—everything was torn from the earth and dragged toward him. The forest floor collapsed, spiraling into a towering vortex of debris that wrapped around the black skeleton like a living cocoon.
Then, flesh began to birth itself anew.
Tendons slithered across bone like eager serpents. Muscles braided together in thick, pulsing cords. Veins formed, and blood surged through them like crimson rivers finding their course.
"Ahhhhh…"
Dax exhaled—a long, serene sound of profound satisfaction.
As if in obedience, the blood-rain ceased instantly. Clouds parted like curtains. Sunlight pierced the sky once more, bathing the ravaged plain in golden warmth.
Ding.
System notifications rang clear and triumphant, like bells heralding a new era.
Within the inner cosmos, the storm had ended.
Dax now floated beneath the twin infants. The ocean lay perfectly still, mirror-calm.
Trinity.
The word reverberated through his mind—ancient, sacred, terrifying in its implications.
"Hahahahaha!"
Laughter erupted from him, wild and joyous, shaking the very fabric of the realm.
"I remember now. My body… fought my soul for my mind."
His entire being quivered with ecstatic realization.
"The mind can serve only one master… and I have always belonged to the body."
Desire.
Greed.
Hunger.
These were not flaws to be tamed.
"My nature… my truth… I gladly accept it."
His laughter intensified, shattering the ocean's surface. The inner realm fractured, hurling him violently back into waking reality.
Dax opened his eyes.
The world had been rewritten.
Invisible threads—thousands, millions—crisscrossed the land and sky in a vast, shimmering web. Each strand pulsed with ethereal energy, alive and humming.
Mana.
He reached out, fingers brushing one strand. They passed through harmlessly, yet he felt its essence resonate against his skin.
"Fascinating…"
His gaze shifted toward the spot where the cultists had cowered. Empty. They had fled.
Far in the distance, a lone figure darted frantically between the trees—Vabon, desperation driving his every step.
Dax did not pursue. Instead, he summoned a simple black robe from his storage ring and wrapped it around his waist with casual grace.
Then, with a single, effortless step, he flickered out of existence—reappearing instants later in a distant pool of shadow.
"They're fighting."
Deeper in the forest, Vabon dominated the clash, movements precise and lethal.
Yet Kakarai—transformed, mutated, condemned by his own god—refused to die.
Disgust and grim purpose twisted Vabon's features.
"Book Two of the Wretched Grimoire… Tongue of the Damned."
He licked the fresh blood from his fingers—Kakarai's blood—savoring the metallic tang.
"You have been forsaken by the god you worshipped, Kakarai. I will end your suffering."
His whisper carried the weight of incantation:
"Kill yourself."
"Vooooos!"
Kakarai's body jerked as though struck by lightning. Eyes rolled back white. His demonic arm trembled upward—
Then plunged into his own chest with wet finality.
Thud.
He collapsed, lifeless.
Or so Vabon believed.
Thum.
A heartbeat later, Kakarai materialized behind him—unharmed, presence now utterly monstrous, radiating corruption.
"Danger!"
Vabon spun, blocking the strike just in time. His expression darkened to grim resolve.
"Fine. I'll get serious."
He slammed his palm against the earth.
Corrupt the land and obey my call—
Petrified Soul Weaver!
The forest floor ruptured violently. A massive stone pillar erupted skyward, its surface writhing with hundreds of agonized faces frozen eternally mid-scream.
From its base, three colossal statues detached and stepped forward—each bearing three tormented faces and wielding weapons of impossible size: one a bow that hummed with malice, the others swords longer than a man was tall.
Threads of dark corruption linked them back to the pillar—and to Vabon himself.
"Let's begin."
The battle exploded with terrifying force—trees splintering, earth cracking, the air thick with the stench of blood and ancient curses.
Hidden in shadow, Dax observed in perfect silence.
Every motion.
Every surge of mana.
Every ripple of murderous intent.
His eyes narrowed, not in strain, but in profound discovery.
"My eyes… no."
He lifted a hand to his temple, fingers tracing the skin as if touching something newly awakened.
"I am different."
His voice was quiet, almost reverent—laced with the awe of a scientist witnessing the birth of a new law of reality.
"I am beyond my own understanding now."