In all honesty, Mikel felt like everything had been a blur the moment he walked out of his ward.
The applause from doctors, nurses, and hospital staff felt like a distant dream. Some people clapped with them out of a pure understanding of the gesture. Others—the not entirely human anymore—watched him with silent curiosity.
One lady stood on the side with a smile, but the rest of her body was passing through the nurse's counter. Just enough to cover her twisted leg. A patient's reflection in the window didn't match their movements. Or rather, their reflection was not even there.
It was a short walk, meant to give him a sense of pride or joy. After all, he was finally leaving this place. Leaving with his sight still intact.
But alas…
Mikel didn't feel triumphant. He didn't even feel embarrassed by what the attention should've made him feel.
Instead, he felt lost. Confused even.
Like he was drifting, untethered, through a world full of oblivious smiles — smiles that had no idea what walked among them. And this felt isolating. More than anything else.
—
A wind passed, but none of the leaves on the trees moved. He looked around. No one else seemed to notice. Of course they didn't.
Mikel found himself seated at a bus stop across the street from the hospital.
He blinked and looked up, gazing at the building that had been his home for the past three months.
[Master, are you excited about going home?]
He ignored the hovering text for a moment before finally deciding to interact with it. Slowly, he raised a finger and poked the screen.
His hand used to appear behind it like a background effect, but now the display rippled at his touch.
There was no sensation. Nothing tactile. But he could see it react.
[Hihihi~]
His brow twitched. "Did that tickle?"
[Not one bit, but I suppose it should.]
One side of his face twitched. He shook his head mildly. He hadn't had time to stop and think. Not until now. Now, the silence felt too loud. Last night, he was simply trying to survive.
But now?
Now that the urgency had faded, a thousand questions bubbled up inside him — questions he hadn't even known he had. Still, he didn't ask. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know where to begin.
"So…" he started, just as a bus pulled in.
A few passengers stepped out and dispersed. They passed him by like another background character in their own story.
Then, the bus left again.
Mikel's eyes stayed on the hovering screen.
"...You're going to be with me?"
[Yes.]
"For how long?"
[For all eternity.]
His mouth opened, then closed. Doom really was a parasite—the annoying kind. And he was stuck with it for eternity. Fantastic. Especially since the system seemed to do whatever the hell it wanted.
"So what are you, aside from being an annoying pest and some kind of twisted butler?" he asked, more sharply this time.
Doom didn't reply, as if the silence was the answer.
"Fine, so you are Doom." He waved it off. "Show me everything you showed me last night. And today."
[Should I simplify them for you?]
"Details. Time is all I have now."
[Won't you ride the bus first?]
"Never mind the bus. I'll get motion sickness."
[Recovery will help you with that.]
Mikel frowned. "Don't want to show them to me?"
Doom didn't answer immediately. But then, without warning, it generated all the prompts Mikel had seen before.
First came his own stats—status, level, strength, attributes. Then came Doom's information. Nothing impressive, except that it shared Mikel's level.
Then came last night's enemy:
The Nightbound. Its overview, statistics.
Followed by the Blood Chain, currently dormant as a bracelet around his wrist.
---
[Blood Chain: Curse Suppression]
Overview: Binder of the Dead. One of the Thirteen Crimson Relics from the Ancient Cursed Order.
Description: Forged from the burnt prayers of the condemned and bound in vow, the Blood Chain is a cursed relic designed to bind, restrain, and in some cases, seal the malevolent. It is a short but heavy set of crimson beads, each representing a soul that gave its life to seal away the most evil of demons.
The Blood Chain, specifically, was solidified using the blood and bones of its first owner, who tamed a demon through sheer will and sealed it within the beads wrapped around his own severed wrist.
Function:
Soul Bind: Restrains, burns, and nullifies spirits or cursed beings.
Special Traits:
May act on its own, protectively, or rebelliously.
Hidden Potential (Locked): ???
Warning:
When active, the Blood Chain requires fuel. Feed it by binding and absorbing cursed spirits. Otherwise, it will consume the host's energy and emotions. Prolonged starvation may result in it draining the host's lifespan—and eventually, their soul.
---
"What the—" Mikel instinctively tugged the bracelet off, but it tightened around his wrist like a handcuff. He struggled with it, but it clung to him like a clingy ex.
[Master, once the Blood Chain is equipped, you may not remove it.]
"It didn't mind when I tossed it that night!"
[...Unless there's a feast. Then it'll jump on it.]
"Damn it," he hissed, glaring at the bracelet, then at the screen. "And you're only telling me this now?!"
His voice was loud—loud enough that people across the street gave him strange looks. Mikel, arguing with no one, looked a lot like someone losing their mind.
[You said you didn't want details that night.]
His face soured. Doom had gone from annoying to downright suspicious.
But most importantly…
"So that's why I've been feeling like crap," he muttered, eyeing the bracelet like it owed him money. "It's probably because of this damn thing."
[Master, the Blood Chain had quite the feast not long ago. It's full. What you're feeling is just... your own emotions.]
"Wow. Thank you for the clarification. Very helpful," he said dryly, leaning forward to shake off the twisting unease in his gut. "Show me the rest."
Doom complied:
---
[Rewards:]
— Basic Talismans: Blessed talismans effective against the Lost and lesser spirits.
— Night Vision: Grants the host clear sight in the dark—literally and metaphorically. Enhances distinction and perception.
— Book of the Dead – The Grimoire:
Overview: One of the Thirteen Cursed Relics of the Ancient Cursed Order.
Description: A relic that predates recorded history. The oldest known relic, forged from the dying thoughts of an entire civilization wiped out in a single night.
The pages write themselves when the dead speak.
Function:
Spirit Absorption, Phantom Contracts, Ghost Index, and Incantation
Hidden Potential (Locked): ???
Warning: Prolonged use increases mental and spiritual burden. It may tempt the host with forbidden knowledge, ancient rituals, and sacrifices. Prolonged use may erode the host's mind.
Status: Awakened
Sealed Spirits: None
Active Spell: Echo of Despair — the scream of the Nightbound.
Doom: [Credit to Blood Chain for preserving the Echo to pass into the Grimoire.]
---
Mikel skimmed the rest. The Grimoire contained a lot of info — too much, really. Some of it already felt like it was pressing against the corners of his skull.
"A book?" he muttered. "Where —"
Before he could even finish, something faintly glowed from within the bag that was on the ground, which was placed between his feet. Mikel furrowed his brows, reaching out for the zipper, and sure enough, a book he had never seen before was right there waiting for him.