The forest had gone quiet.
No.441 crouched low near a thick tree trunk, his hand still warm from where it had gripped the system panel moments before. His breathing had steadied. His limbs no longer ached with each movement. But as he peered through the leaves, a low, throaty snort shattered the stillness.
The boar had arrived.
It was massive—easily twice his size. Thick hide bristled with jagged, black spines. Tusks curved upward like dull blades, stained with dried blood. Its eyes glowed with dull aggression, scanning for movement.
No.441 swallowed. He could feel his heart hammering again, but not like before. This wasn't the panic of a slave trying to survive.
This was fear sharpening into focus.
He moved.
The Razorhide Boar charged instantly, snorting as it barreled through bushes. No.441 barely leapt aside, tumbling across the dirt. The beast's hooves cracked into a tree behind him, shaking the trunk.
He scrambled up, eyes darting. He needed something. Anything.
His hands found a thick branch—rough, solid. He gripped it tight and turned just in time to swing as the boar came again. The branch cracked against its snout. It reeled back, growling.
No.441 kept his stance. The branch had helped… until he looked down.
A fracture ran through the wood. It was going to break.
The boar came again, faster. He swung. The branch snapped in half on impact, leaving him with a useless chunk and a bleeding forearm where the tusk grazed him.
He threw the branch and ran.
Ducking low, weaving between trees, panting hard. He spotted a stone—a fist-sized rock. He picked it up and flung it. It bounced off the boar's shoulder. Useless.
Another stone. Bigger. He bent and grabbed it with both hands. It was heavy, rough, but he could manage.
The boar snorted again and charged.
He didn't run.
He waited.
Waited.
Closer. Closer.
Then—he threw himself to the side, the boar brushing past him by inches. The ground shook.
No.441 turned. The beast struggled to stop its momentum.
Now.
He raised the stone with both arms, surged forward, and brought it down with everything he had.
The crack of impact echoed through the trees.
The boar dropped instantly, legs buckling beneath it. Its body twitched once. Then went still.
No.441 dropped the stone. Fell back onto the dirt. Chest rising and falling. Hands trembling.
He had done it.
[Quest Complete: Defeat the incoming monster without system assistance.]
[Reward: Astral Soul Weapon – Oathlink unlocked.]
Then—everything went black.
Everything was silent.
No.441 blinked—but he couldn't see.
The forest was gone. The boar. The trees. The pain in his arm. All of it had vanished.
Now there was only blackness—an endless, empty abyss.
He stood on nothing, yet his feet didn't fall. No ground. No sky. Just... void.
Where am I?
A faint glimmer pulsed in the distance.
He turned toward it instinctively. The glimmer pulsed again—like a heartbeat. Faint, but steady. He began walking. Slowly at first. Each step echoed strangely in the dark. Too loud. Too clear.
The glow grew stronger.
And then he saw it.
A massive figure, curled inward, knees to chest—its form half-shadowed, half-luminous. It was him. A giant version of himself, crouched in the dark, shoulders trembling, head buried in its arms.
It was crying.
No.441 stopped a few paces away, heart caught in his throat.
He didn't understand. Didn't know what this was. But his body moved on its own. He stepped closer, one foot, then another, until he stood before the giant's side. The air was cold here. Still.
His hand lifted. Hesitated.
Then, gently, he placed it against the giant's arm.
A pulse rippled outward.
Chains exploded from the darkness—massive, ethereal, unrelenting. They wrapped around the giant's limbs, waist, neck. More spilled upward and coiled around No.441, binding him in place.
He gasped.
His arms were yanked backward. Wrists locked. Ankles dragged together. His body trembled against the invisible weight. The chains weren't just holding him—they were crushing him.
His mind flooded.
"Give up."
"You are nothing."
"You were born a slave."
"You will always be a slave."
The whispers crawled through his skull.
He clenched his teeth. Fought. Tugged. Nothing.
The pressure mounted. His knees buckled. His thoughts blurred.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe it really was just a dream.
He thought of the woman with red hair. The look in her eyes. The boots. The whip. The laughter.
He thought of the cages. The chains. The voice that told him to be still.
His body sagged. His head lowered.
Maybe this is all I'm good for.
He thought of his parents—whoever they were. Of the empty space inside him that they left behind. Of the number carved into his identity.
No.441.
The echo of his name rang hollow.
But then—
Something shimmered.
A faint, soft pulse from deep within. His Astral Heart.
It beat once.
Then again.
Warmth returned to his limbs. His chest. His mind.
No.441 raised his head.
"I'm not weak anymore."
The chains shuddered.
"I'm not theirs anymore."
Cracks split through the shackles binding him.
"I will never be owned again."
The chains exploded off his arms.
The giant figure uncurled, rising with him. The chains still wrapped around both of them—but now, they weren't tight. Weren't suffocating.
They moved with him. Flowing. Alive.
[Astral Soul Weapon attained: Oathlink – Sealed Form.]
[Chains of the Oath: Bound to user's will.]
[Form: Chain tattoos manifested on both forearms.]
[Sealed Form active. Final evolution locked behind vow completion.]
No.441 opened his eyes.
He was back in the forest.
Blood still dried on his forearm. The Razorhide Boar lay dead nearby. But now… his arms pulsed with faint warmth. Black chain tattoos coiled around his forearms, down to his wrists.
He raised his hands.
The chains materialized, coiling around his arms—alive, shifting with his movement. A short length extended outward from each, swaying like waiting serpents.
He gripped them tightly.
And for the first time in his life, he held a weapon that belonged to him.
The chains hummed faintly in No.441's grip.
He turned his wrists slowly. The links followed every movement—no resistance, no delay. As if they were an extension of his own body.
When he extended his right arm, the chain unfurled and floated a few feet outward. With a thought, it stopped mid-air. He twisted his wrist again, and it looped upward in a tight spiral before snapping straight once more.
Complete control.
His heart thumped with something unfamiliar.
Not fear. Not anger.
Power.
He stood there for a while, feeling the weight of the chains wrap comfortably around his arms. They weren't heavy, but they carried something deeper. A presence. A reminder.
The system chimed.
[Oathlink – Sealed Form:]
Chain manifestation active. Form and function tied to user's will and growth.
Sealed form represents the burden of your vow.
Vow registered: Destroy the slave business that once imprisoned you.
True form locked until vow is fulfilled.
He nodded slowly.
The chains had once symbolized captivity.
Now they were the shape of his resistance.
He sat down near the Razorhide Boar's corpse, letting the tension finally fade. His body ached, but it was dull—manageable. Nothing compared to the fights he used to endure daily.
His eyes drifted to the sky above the canopy.
"I need to learn how to fight properly," he said aloud. "I got lucky today. If that thing had charged again after I missed, I'd be dead."
He looked at his forearms.
"System… is there any way for you to help me train? I need experience. I need more than just instinct."
[Combat Inquiry Registered.]
[Training Protocol Available: Virtual Manifestation Interface.]
His eyebrows rose.
"What's that?"
'A mental training environment constructed by the system.
Virtual opponents will be generated based on your cultivation level.
Realistic pain and fatigue can be simulated, but physical injury will not occur.
Skill, reflexes, and combat instincts gained in training will carry over to reality.
Sessions can be ended at any time by user command or system override.'
'Would you like to initiate combat simulation now?'
He paused.
Looked at the corpse beside him again.
Then at the chains.
"No," he said. "Not yet."
He leaned back against the tree and stared upward again.
His breathing slowed.
This time, when the silence returned, it didn't feel lonely.