Chapter 36:Freedom...
A pawn.
The word echoed in the hollowed-out chambers of his mind, a bitter aftertaste to the sheer cosmic dread. Was that what he was? A pawn of the so-called revered Divine? He had thought their dynamic was simpler, more honest: a thief to owner sort of feud. A direct, if hopeless, confrontation. Not this… this layered, manipulative chess game. So, he wasn't just the enemy of this Angel of Miracles figure; he was now a pawn. Not merely a bounded slave, or a martyr with a cause, but a mere pawn. A disposable piece on a board he couldn't even see. Man, he was better off just being enemies. At least that had a ring of dignity to it.
But he dared not voice it out. The last thing he wanted was the eradication of him and the entirety of the mortal realms. The statue's earlier words, echoing with a finality that brooked no argument, had cemented that dread deep within him. Some primal, instinctual part of him absolutely believed this entity could and would do it.
As if reacting to his rebellious thoughts, the chains binding him grated tighter, their metallic coldness seeping through to his bones. With a seismic pressure that felt like a mountain being placed upon his soul, they forced him back down to the ground. His knees buckled, and his palms slammed flat against the surface of the black, liquid glass-like sea. Yet, no ripples surged out from the impact. The force was not absorbed or dissipated; it was simply cancelled, nullified by the impossible physics of this realm. It was like striking a material that refused to acknowledge the energy, leaving the perfect, obsidian mirror utterly undisturbed. So much for being "Boundless..." he cursed inwardly...
And what the hell did this statue even want? If it was eternal bondage, then why the speech? Why the theatrics? Just get on with it. Those faintly glowing orbs were still circulating around him, their soft light a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness. They pulsed with a glimmer of comfort, a whispered promise of solace in his broken, cascading thoughts. But right now, he didn't want comfort. Comfort made him feel pathetic, softening the edges of his rage. All he wanted, with a thirst that was becoming an obsession, was Power. Raw, unadulterated power, enough to shatter these metaphysical shackles that bound him to this nightmare.
Then it struck him, a thought so practical it was chilling. If he really did break out of here, how could he possibly leave a realm controlled by some sort of angelic figure so far beyond his mortal scope? It would be suicide. A spectacularly short-lived victory. Maybe he should just stick to the comfort the orbs offered. Yeah, surrender sounded easier. But then his inner voice, the one that refused to be silenced, reasoned: wasn't death better than an eternal life in bondage? He immediately tried to quench that rebellious spark. No. Death wasn't a choice. He'd already died once; he didn't love the experience enough to repeat it. At least a man in shackles possessed hope, no matter how grim the circumstances. Right? He muttered the question to himself, a feeble attempt at conviction against the defiant voice within. He really was pathet-
"Tell me... O' Defiant Nameless one."
The voice of the statue boomed, cutting his self-pity short. It was a sound like a thousand celestial choruses speaking in unison, a thunder that should have shattered the very air. Yet, the realm itself seemed to absorb the cacophony. The sound reverberated through the entirety of the space, a physical pressure in his ears, but the Blank night laden with breathtaking green Auroras sky remained serene, and not even a faint tremor appeared on the still, black sea. The sheer, jarring duality of the violent sound and the absolute, unyielding calm of the environment was deeply unnerving. Such a contagious duality. What would it be this time?
"What does thou see when thou gazes upon those Chains? Bondage? Restraint? Entrapment? Then thy thoughts are misled." it added, its tone carrying an infuriating certainty.
His thoughts immediately cut in. Mislead? What else were these damn chains if not bondage? It was the most obvious thing in the world! Anyone with a functioning brain in this damn situation would agree. He was literally shackled to the ground-
His internal rant was severed by the statue's next words, which pierced through his skull with the precision of a blade.
"Open your eyes... truly, O nameless pawn. Look through another perspective. The real one. Those chains bind you, yet not for restraint, but for Protection. Those Chains bind you not; they Shroud you from the heavy burden of the fate you must bear."
The voice thundered again, but this time it was layered with a holy, grandeur tone that resonated with an ancient and terrible authority. It was the sound of a fundamental truth being carved into the fabric of reality, shaping the very realm he was chained in..from the Air to the sky..
Wait. His brain was a mess, a tangled knot of confusion and disbelief. As if the mysteries in his life couldn't get more complicated enough, now there was one about his own Fate? What heavy burden could he, a mere mortal who'd gotten by on wit and stolen chances, possibly have to bear that required celestial chains as a protective measure?
Then, as if reading the frantic scramble of his thoughts, the voice replied, its tone final and absolute.
"Inquire no more... O' Pawn of the Divine."
Tch. He bit the inside of his cheek, the coppery taste of blood a small, real sensation in this unreal place. Truly, weakness was the greatest sin. Now he wasn't just a slave to this angel; he was a slave to his own Fate, a destiny so grim he needed to be protected from it. His life kept getting worse and worse, piling on layers of cosmic absurdity until his psyche couldn't keep up. Well, if the colossal statue had finalized it, then it was best to let it slide for now. But he would find the answers himself. That was a promise.
"You have been judged by the Lord, The Divine Angel of Miracles, and found to be worthy of the Gift of Free Will." The voice declared, shifting in tone. "Within my Arm lies the Celestial Scale of Balance, by which you have been weighed. Thou had offset the balance. You were to be subjected to Eternal Bondage..Soul shackled in Chains within thy abyss.., but it seems the Ones above thy Lord have judged you worthy..and in thy Favor they have Spoken..Be grateful, O' mere mortal, touched by mother Luck."
This time, the thunderous voice held a distinct, undeniable tinge of consent. It wasn't warm or congratulatory; it was the grudging, official acknowledgment of a verdict passed down from a higher court. Elation, sharp and dizzying, surged through him. Damn the Angel of Miracles! His eyes snapped upwards, focusing on the colossal scale held in the statue's hand. It was an immense, intricate device, its two pans hanging in perfect equilibrium. The arm that held it aloft was wreathed in a soft, unwavering Halo, a ring of pure, condensed light that hummed with serene power. And damn the so-called ones above the angels! He was Free. He knew mother luck had never truly departed him. He really was Free. A heavy, shuddering breath he didn't realize he was holding escaped his lips. He could have shed a tear or two of joy, if not for the fact that the chains binding him were still very much present, cold and unyielding against his skin.
His face clouded in dismay. What kind of freedom was this, still bounded in chains? He hoped this wasn't some cruel, cosmic joke. A part of him imagined the statue pulling off a smirk and laughing, "I got you there, didn't I?" The thought was absurd, too comically human for that monolithic entity, but in that moment, it felt entirely possible.
"Uhm, uhm, sir-" he began, his voice raspy from disuse.
The statue's voice cut him off, a chill of dread laced within its powerful tones. "Freedom comes at a Cost, O Puny mortal."
His momentary elation evaporated, replaced by a cold knot of apprehension in his gut.
"You stole a Halo, in all its Glory, from the Lord. A symbol of Divine Authority and Duality...The Sacred schism bordering Light and Shadow..A treacherous transgression, indeed. Yet, you were judged to be Free. But at what Cost? That, I shall now lay bare to you. Incline your ears to my sayings."
The entity's words began to flow with a new, heavier cadence. They were holistic, each syllable weighted with ancient significance, grounding the cosmic drama in a dark, mythic, and scriptural reality. The grammar shifted, becoming more formal, more resonant, as if the very laws of language were bending to its will.
What is it talking about? At what cost? His mind raced, screaming against the theatrics. Just cut the suspense and get to the main part. The Cost.
His throat gulped involuntarily. His ears twitched, straining. For a fleeting moment, he considered using his heightened Perception to parse every nuance of the voice, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Given the sheer, soul-shaking loudness of the entity's voice, amplifying it would mean a permanent goodbye to his eardrums, which already felt like they were on the brink of oblivion. No. He was deviating again. Focus.
"The Grand Descent of the Monolith of Withered Souls," the voice intoned, each word a hammer blow of destiny. "The Planting of the Seed within you. The Glorious Halo, stolen by you, O Mortal man watched by the Divine. The Odyssey of Power. It was all Orchestrated by the Lord, the Angel of Miracles. For Thee to Conquer thy Perilous Fate that lies ahead. Something written in the Records to be Unattainable. What greater 'Miracle' would there be, than Achieving the Unattainable? And for that... you, O Nameless One, are the Perfect Pawn."
The voice bellowed sacredly from above, and with each word, a colossal, invisible pressure mounted upon him, not just physical, but metaphysical, pressing down on his very spirit. Yet, something far greater struck him, cutting through the pressure with the cold clarity of a shard of ice. Realization.
So, this was it.
This was the cost of his freedom.
It was really that twisted..