The aftermath of the ruins lingered in Arlen's body like a storm barely weathered. Every muscle, every nerve, felt stretched, raw from the strain of touching the fragments. The faint glow of the veins that had appeared during their exploration still shimmered under his skin, pulsing in rhythm with the fragment's whispers.
He sat on the cold stone floor, his back against a crumbling wall, trying to regulate his breathing. The fragment's presence was insistent, tugging at him like a current pulling a boat in the wrong direction. Every pulse brought with it echoes of power, of authority, of battles fought across time — battles in which he had been both victor and victim, though he could not remember the details.
Lira knelt beside him, her expression tense yet composed. "Arlen… you're pushing yourself too far," she said softly, her hand hovering over his. "The fragments… they're not just pieces of power. They're like living entities, each with a will of its own."
Arlen shook his head slowly. "I know… I feel it. But I can't stop now. Every moment I delay… every fragment that stirs without me anchoring it fully… it grows stronger on its own. And I… I need to understand it before it controls me instead of me controlling it."
A faint mist formed in the room, a cold, almost tangible presence emanating from Arlen's body. Frosted patterns spread across his arms and neck, curling like serpents and vanishing as quickly as they appeared. The fragment stirred violently, tugging at his essence, demanding attention.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his chest. His vision blurred as he fell to his knees, clutching at his heart. Blood, faintly tinged with a strange luminescent hue, seeped from the corners of his eyes, and a trickle ran down the side of his mouth. The fragment's authority had overwhelmed his vessel — a stark reminder that he was not yet its master.
Lira gasped, reaching for him, her hands trembling. "Arlen! Talk to me! What's happening?"
He clenched his teeth, his body shuddering. "It… it's the cost," he managed to gasp. "Being a vessel… the fragment… it demands a toll… blood, mind… life itself if I falter."
The room around them seemed to respond. Dust floated upward unnaturally, lights dimmed and flickered, and the air hummed with a low, resonant frequency. The fragments were alive, pulsing in harmony with Arlen's heartbeat. And their resonance was no longer subtle — it was a tidal wave of potential authority seeking to imprint itself upon the world through his vessel.
You are the vessel, the fragment whispered, its voice ethereal, almost teasing. You bear our weight. You will bleed, you will suffer, and through suffering, you will anchor us.
Arlen's body convulsed as the fragment surged, burning through his veins. Pain rippled from his chest to his limbs, frost forming on his skin where his mana surged uncontrollably. The world around him blurred, distorting as his perception stretched beyond human limits. He could see the past battles of his previous existence, flashes of cities bending under his authority, armies clashing, and the deafening cries of victory and defeat.
He fell face-first to the stone floor, his body trembling violently. Lira pressed a hand to his back, focusing her own mana to stabilize him. Her energy wrapped around him like a warm cocoon, slowing the fragment's violent pulse just enough for him to regain some control.
"Arlen… stay with me," she whispered urgently. "You're stronger than this. You are the vessel. You can endure."
The fragment's influence was relentless, yet for the first time, Arlen felt a faint tether — Lira's presence anchoring him to reality. He slowly lifted his head, eyes bloodshot and glowing faintly with the fragment's essence.
You are not yet complete, the fragment murmured. Every drop of blood, every heartbeat, every breath… it is the price of dominion.
Arlen swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to rise to his feet despite the searing pain in his chest. Frosted patterns now spiraled across his arms and neck, tracing his veins like rivers of light. His hands glowed faintly with mana, crackling softly with electricity and frost, a visible manifestation of the fragment's power leaking through his body.
He turned to face the open courtyard of the ruins, where shadows of past conflicts seemed to flicker across the cracked stones. The fragment's authority was no longer contained — it interacted with the environment, subtly bending reality. Dust spiraled into small vortexes, the air shimmered with distorted light, and the faintest echo of battle cries whispered through the wind.
Lira's eyes widened in awe and fear. "Arlen… your presence… it's bending the environment. It's like reality itself is responding to you."
He clenched his fists, struggling to anchor himself. "It's… not me. Not entirely. I'm just the conduit… the fragment… it's…" His words faltered as another surge of power rippled through him, forcing him to collapse to his knees again.
Pain shot through his body, this time more intense than before. His blood, infused with fragment energy, bubbled faintly where it touched the stone floor. Every heartbeat sent waves of raw authority outward, subtly bending space and mana in the vicinity. The fragment was no longer passive; it demanded recognition, influence, and obedience.
You bleed, you suffer… yet you endure. Good. The vessel strengthens with pain.
Arlen gritted his teeth, struggling to breathe as he felt his body break and rebuild in cycles of agony and awakening. Every nerve screamed, yet his consciousness remained intact — barely. The fragment was teaching him the cost of hosting divinity, and the lesson was merciless.
Lira knelt beside him, her hands glowing as she tried to stabilize him further. "Arlen… you can't keep pushing like this," she said, her voice trembling. "If you collapse now, we could lose everything."
You will endure, the fragment whispered, softer now, almost coaxing. You are the vessel. Your endurance shapes the fragments.
Arlen closed his eyes, focusing on the tether Lira provided. He let her energy intertwine with his own, creating a fragile harmony with the fragment's violent pulse. Slowly, he rose again, this time steadying himself against the crumbling wall. The frost patterns across his veins flared briefly before receding, leaving him exhausted but alive.
This is only the beginning, the fragment's presence whispered in his mind. Seven anchors… and the vessel bleeds, yet endures. You will learn control… eventually. But first, you must suffer.
The night deepened around them, shadows stretching long across the ruins. Arlen and Lira sat together, the faint glow of his veins illuminating the glyphs on the walls. Each pulse, each flicker of light, was a reminder: the fragments were alive, demanding, and ever-present. The cost of hosting them was high, and the road ahead would be perilous.
But for the first time, Arlen understood the gravity of his role. He was not merely strong — he was chosen, a vessel for authority far beyond comprehension. And though the vessel bled tonight, tomorrow would bring understanding, mastery, and perhaps a sliver of hope that the fragments could be controlled, not just endured.
Seven anchors… one vessel… and the vessel bleeds, yet endures.
The night stretched on, frost forming on the stone floors and the whisper of the fragment echoing in Arlen's mind. He and Lira remained vigilant, aware that the journey to anchor the fragments and awaken the sleeping god was only beginning. Pain, blood, and endurance were the first lessons — lessons that would shape not just Arlen, but the fate of the fragments, the god, and the world itself.