A choice. A price. There was always a price.
The throne room was a tableau of frozen terror. The King, the Grand Magus, and a court of nobles watched as a god dissolved and attempted to merge with the strange, otherworldly "hero" they had summoned. To them, this was a display of incomprehensible divine power. To me, it was a hostile negotiation with the universe's most ruthless lawyer.
I was being forced into a partnership. The Collector, a being of immense conceptual power, would become my personal enforcer. My own supernatural hitman. Any deal I struck, any promise I extracted, would be backed by the inescapable authority of a Judicator. It was a staggering upgrade to my power.
But the price was a piece of my soul. My sovereignty. I, who had declared myself unbound by any law, was being forced to chain myself to one.
The system offered the choice, a list of fundamental concepts that governed this reality.
[CHOOSE YOUR BINDING:]
[1. BIND TO 'TRUTH': You will be physically incapable of speaking a deliberate lie.]
[2. BIND TO 'JUSTICE': You will be compelled to punish any wrongdoing you witness, regardless of your personal desires.]
[3. BIND TO 'MERCY': You will be unable to deliver a killing blow to a surrendered or helpless foe.]
[4. BIND TO 'GRAVITY': Your physical form will be permanently and irrevocably anchored to the planet Veridia. You will never be able to leave this world.]
I stared at the options, my mind a whirlwind of calculation.
Truth? Justice? Mercy? They were the sentimental chains of a hero. They were antithetical to my very being. Accepting any of them would be a form of suicide, neutering my ability to scheme, manipulate, and kill.
That left the fourth option. Gravity.
To be bound to this world, forever. To abandon my ultimate goal of ascending to the Higher Realms, of eventually leaving all mortal coils behind. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
But what was the alternative? To become a glorified paladin, a puppet of morality?
No. The choice was clear. A true sovereign does not allow his actions to be dictated by abstract concepts. But a king must have a kingdom.
I would sacrifice my endgame to secure my absolute dominion over the here and now. I would become the god of this world, and let the heavens tremble.
"I choose my binding," I declared, my voice ringing with the force of a cosmic decree. "I bind my existence to this world. I am Kaelen. And I am of Veridia."
...CHOICE CONFIRMED. BINDING TO THE CONCEPTUAL LAW OF 'GRAVITY'.
...SOVEREIGN'S PACT IS BEING FORGED.
The dissolving essence of the Collector surged into me. It was not a violent consumption, but a seamless, contractual merger. I felt a profound, metaphysical click as its authority settled into my soul, a cold, hard, legalistic power that felt strangely familiar. It was a missing piece of the Nexus Codex's original design, a hint of the 'Primeval Edict' that had been stolen.
At the same time, I felt a new, immense weight settle upon me. It was not physical. It was the weight of a planet, a conceptual anchor chaining my soul to the very bedrock of this reality. The path to the stars was now closed to me.
The light in the throne room returned to normal. The chilling aura vanished. The Collector of Oaths was gone.
I stood in the center of the room, changed. I was still Kaelen. But now, I was also the Pactmaker. The Master of the Collector.
The entire court stared at me, their faces a mixture of terror and utter, slavish awe. I had not just defeated their god of fear. I had absorbed it. I had become something greater.
King Alaric was the first to react. He slowly, deliberately, knelt. Not with one knee, as a knight to his lord, but with both knees, as a mortal before a god.
"Your... Your Majesty," he stammered, the word 'King' no longer sufficient.
One by one, every other person in the throne room, from the mighty Grand Magus to the lowest servant, followed his lead. They knelt.
I had come to this city as a suspect. I had entered this room as a curiosity. I was leaving it as a deity.
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: 'THE PACTMAKER'.]
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: 'THE UNBOUND LORD' (IRONIC).]
[FAVORABILITY WITH 'KINGDOM OF ALARIC' HAS BEEN MAXIMIZED: 'TERRIFIED WORSHIP'.]
My power in this kingdom was now absolute. I had achieved in a matter of weeks what would have taken decades of political maneuvering in Aethelgard.
In the days that followed, my legend was cemented. The story of the Saint of Hess who had consumed the Gray Lord spread across the continent. I was no longer a 'Fallen Star'. I was a living god. The King became my most devoted follower, his kingdom my resource. Grand Magus Vorlag became my head researcher, tasked with understanding the "divine miracle" of my existence. Lady Elara became my high priestess, spreading the gospel of my power.
I had my kingdom. I had my power. I had my court.
And in my private chambers, I had Lyra.
Her porcelain form was now housed in a body of exquisite, enchanted rosewood, crafted by the finest artisans in the kingdom under my direction. She was a silent, beautiful enigma, her soul slowly mending in the quiet safety of my new divinity. Our relationship had settled into a strange, comfortable silence. I was her god, and she was my most sacred relic.
My shameless System, ever adapting, continued its work.
[SOVEREIGN'S WHIM (CORRUPTED): DIVINE INTIMACY]
Description: The subject 'Lyra's' soul-vessel requires a periodic infusion of concentrated life-force to maintain its integrity. Your own essence is the most compatible source.
Objective: Perform a direct, intimate transfer of energy. Kiss her.]
Reward: Increased vessel stability, +1,000 SP.
These tasks were no longer about data. They were rituals of maintenance and ownership, acts of a god tending to his most precious creation. The first time, she had flinched. Now, she simply closed her painted eyes and accepted the "blessing," a silent, willing participant in her own gilded captivity.
My reign was perfect. Stable. All my enemies were gone or forgotten. All my needs were met. I was the undisputed master of my reality.
And it was intolerably boring.
The System, in its broken wisdom, seemed to agree. After a month of this peaceful, divine monotony, a new quest appeared. It was not a 'Sovereign's Whim'. It was a 'Main Quest', the first the System had generated since my arrival, a sign of a true, world-altering event.
[MAIN QUEST (CORRUPTED): THE ECHO OF A FALLEN STAR]
Description: The 'Core Collapse Protocol' did not just destroy your old reality and transport your soul. The resulting conceptual explosion sent out ripples, echoes of your existence, across the Overvoid.
One such echo, a ghost of your past, has just washed ashore on this reality.]
An artifact, a broken piece of your past life, has just been discovered by a fishing vessel off the coast.]
It is a shattered, half-melted obsidian gauntlet.]
My blood turned to ice. The Void-Eater's Hand. A piece of it had survived. An echo.
But it was the final part of the quest description that brought the true, horrifying twist. The part that proved that no matter how far you run, you can never truly escape your own ghosts.
[WARNING: The artifact is not empty. The Core Collapse separated you from the 'Karmic Abscess' of the true Kaelen Ravencrest, but it did not destroy it. The abscess, the vengeful ghost of the prince you usurped, has latched onto this echo of your power.]
[CURRENT EVENT: The ghost of Kaelen Ravencrest, now bound to the artifact, has just awoken. And it has just found its first, compatible, and very willing host.]
[HOST IDENTIFIED: The last surviving member of the Silvermoon Dynasty... a forgotten, exiled princess living in a remote fishing village... a woman who happens to be the identical twin sister of the girl you know as Lyra.]