Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

The Awakening: Aurel's Unintended Creation

The creature before Aurel was a grotesque mockery of its former self. No longer a Darkcutie, its features were grotesquely distorted, a chilling echo of the Malifuge it had once been. Whatever monstrous thing it had become, it was now horrifyingly stable, no longer writhing in agony. Yet, it lay motionless.

Aurel's eyes narrowed, studying it carefully. "What's wrong with it?" he murmured, a prickle of unease tracing his spine.

Then, a subtle shift—not a physical movement, but a palpable surge of hunger. Aurel felt an unfamiliar pull, a pressure stretching towards him. It wasn't a voice or a whisper, but an undeniable demand that resonated deep within his mind: "Feed me."

No sound escaped the creature's lips, but its intent pressed against Aurel's consciousness, an insistent, primal urge. "No," he muttered under his breath, instinctively resisting. But then, the energy around him shifted. His chaos essence began to drain, siphoning away against his will. It was consuming him.

Aurel immediately retracted his energy, severing the insidious flow. The creature reacted violently, its form fluctuating, colors warping and shifting like an unstable elastic force. Then, it pulsed—not wildly, but deliberately—reaching out again, searching for something deeper.

Aurel's perception fractured. His surroundings faded into a void of static pressure, the world around him growing dark, not in sight, but in sensation. Then, a psychic link snapped into place. It wasn't words or speech, but raw emotion. The creature was communicating through pure intent, a torrent of unadulterated feelings spilling outward, which Aurel, to his astonishment, could interpret.

It didn't understand itself. It wanted something, a deep yearning, but lacked the comprehension to know what that something was. Aurel stood frozen, the profound connection shaping his mind in ways he had never experienced.

"What are you?" he whispered, the question hanging in the desolate void.

The creature shuddered, but offered no answer.

The Contract of Chaos: Aurel's Decision

The dark void enveloped them, a merging of consciousness that isolated Aurel and the entity from the tangible world. Aurel could feel it now: the creature wasn't resisting; it wasn't fighting back. It wanted something profound—it wanted to be part of him.

Aurel's instincts recoiled at the sensation. The raw attachment, the desperate pull, was akin to a child clinging to its parent, yet the feeling was utterly alien. It was a deep, chaotic essence, reaching beyond comprehension, something entirely new—neither purely destructive nor simply created.

"No," Aurel thought, his refusal firm.

The creature reacted instantly, its energy stretching like tendrils, chaotic fibers pulling at his mind, attempting to meld into his very existence. Aurel fought back, not with the intention to destroy, but simply to separate. Yet, as his will collided with its own, something unexpected shifted. The creature didn't resist; it adjusted. It wasn't forcing connection; it was acknowledging rejection.

That flicker of hesitation—that pause between battle and surrender—ignited an idea in Aurel's mind. "I won't destroy it... but I will shackle it."

The thought solidified in his consciousness, and the creature responded instantly, as if approving his decision. Chaos links—invisible, pulsing strands—began to interweave between them, forming a connection not of submission or control, but of an agreement. Aurel wasn't merging with the entity; he was binding it to him. This was a contract.

The creature shuddered, its essence stabilizing, adjusting as if accepting its fate. Its form still shifted, but no longer out of desperation. Aurel narrowed his eyes, feeling the weight of the link solidify, profoundly unsure of what he had just established, yet knowing, deep down, that this moment had changed everything.

The Birth of an Anima: Chaos Given Form

The void shattered, dissolving as Aurel's consciousness snapped back into reality. But something fundamental had changed. The creature—once chaotic, unstable, barely clinging to existence—began to take form.

Aurel recognized the pattern immediately. A distant memory surfaced: Zeyr's castle, the mimic, the creature that had assumed the form of his deceased wife. No, it wasn't just a mimic; it was the Malus, that insidious creature that felt like this, that tried to do something like this. Its trying to copy me? It was happening again. The new entity was trying to become him. Its features shifted, its outline sharpening, mimicking his image, copying his presence like a reflection barely solidified.

"No, you don't," Aurel's voice cut through the moment, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward, asserting his rejection. "Don't."

He could sense its intention, feel the raw urge behind its transformation—it wanted to become him, to merge into his identity. But Aurel wouldn't allow it. Instead, he forced his thoughts outward. He envisioned Kirin. Clyde.

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The entity paused. It understood. Aurel could feel its hesitation, as if it had been given an instruction, a command—a concept beyond its own instinctual mimicry. And then, it changed. It reshaped, adjusting, integrating Kirin and Clyde's features, yet... it still clung to Aurel's face.

The final transformation settled. The entity took its ultimate form, standing before Aurel with a fully formed human appearance, indistinguishable from any living being. Chaos had been given life. An Anima.

Aurel exhaled, his grip tightening slightly. This was no ordinary creation; it was something born of his soul and chaos, something entirely new. And whether he had intended it or not, this entity was now bound to him.

The Birth of Something Unknown

The Anima stood there—human, too human—yet infused with an unsettling emptiness Aurel couldn't fully grasp. It bore the features of Clyde, the features of Kirin, and disturbingly, features of himself.

"What...?" Aurel muttered, studying its form. It looked like a man, but with a presence that felt fundamentally off, unsettling. Not lifeless, but not entirely living either. It didn't speak. It simply stood there, watching, as if waiting for something—silent, unblinking, oddly compliant.

Aurel could still feel the psychic link pulsing between them, subtle but undeniable. The Anima understood him, not through words, but through something deeper. It was unnervingly boring, almost creepy, like an unfinished being, waiting for something to define what it was supposed to be.

Aurel exhaled, his mind struggling to process the absurdity of it all. He finally sank onto a nearby rock, resting his forearms against his knees, seeking to ground himself.

Then, through their communicator, he finally asked: "Did you see all that?"

Static crackled, then Clyde's voice, uncertain, shaken: "Yeah. We saw it."

Kirin's voice cut in, equally stunned. "What... what is that?"

Neither of them knew. And truthfully, neither did Aurel.

The Anima: Bound by Chaos

The modified transport truck hummed softly, rolling through the rough terrain. Inside, silence hung heavy, not from exhaustion, but from sheer uncertainty.

Kirin, ever restless, adjusted his seat and eyed the Anima, who sat unnervingly still. Then, with a casual grin, he pulled out one of his snack bars, extending it toward the creature. "Here, energy bar. Whole day's worth of fuel in one bite."

The Anima didn't move. It didn't even acknowledge the food, its gaze locked solely on Aurel—motionless, unreadable.

Kirin raised an eyebrow. "Master, it likes you."

Aurel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know. And it's creeping the hell out of me."

Kirin chuckled. "So this thing's kind of your creation?"

Aurel exhaled. "Sort of. I don't know." His expression was calm, but his tone carried a weighty hesitation—uncertainty over what, exactly, this Anima was. "It's born from chaos. I molded it from the remnants of that Malifuge abomination. But unlike my usual constructs, this one—" He tapped his temple lightly. "We have a psychic link."

The Anima nodded slightly—a subtle confirmation.

Kirin flinched, his voice rising. "It moved—it AGREED with you, Master!"

Clyde remained silent, watching the exchange carefully, still processing the bizarre spectacle they had witnessed back at the battlefield. Aurel stared at the creature, his instincts screaming that this was just the beginning of something far greater.

The inside of the transport truck was dead silent as the newly formed Anima stood before them, its human-like appearance unnervingly blank, its presence still hard to process.

Clyde, arms crossed, observed it carefully. "It reacts to you, Aurel. That means it has some level of intelligence."

Aurel nodded, equally intrigued but still uneasy about the creature's nature.

"Do you mind testing it?" Clyde continued. "Tell it to do something—bend over, raise a hand, anything."

Aurel considered it. Could it obey direct commands? "Fine," he muttered. He imagined it standing up and... dancing.

A moment passed. Then—the Anima stood abruptly, its limbs moving stiffly, awkwardly. And then—it started to dance. Sort of.

Kirin snorted, watching in both amusement and horror. "Is that... is that dancing? I don't know what to call that, but it's making an effort."

The creature's movements were unnatural, jerky, almost experimental, as if it was trying to mimic the concept of dance without truly understanding what it was.

Aurel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This thing is going to be a problem."

Clyde shook his head, staring at the bizarre scene. "Well, at least we know it can follow instructions."

But the bigger question remained—was it truly aware? Or was it simply responding to Aurel's commands instinctually? Whatever the answer, this thing was unlike anything they had ever encountered.

Naming the Anima: Aurel's Final Decision

The modified transport truck hummed softly, carrying the Vanguard through the rough terrain. Inside, silence lingered, but not out of exhaustion—out of profound confusion.

Kirin leaned forward, grinning as he observed the Anima, who sat eerily still. "Ahh, it's kinda cute," Kirin mused. "Master, maybe you should name it?"

Aurel exhaled, his gaze locked onto the creature. It was unsettling. Human. Too human.

Kirin wasted no time. "Alright, let's throw out names!"

"Luke."

"Barnok."

"Penny."

"Tavros."

"Glint."

"Erebus?"

"Voidfang?"

Aurel stared blankly. "Stop with those stupid names." Then, as if something personally offended him, he added: "But Barnok? Really? What even is that?"

Kirin giggled, throwing up his hands dramatically. "I dunno, sounded cool!"

Aurel sighed, shifting his focus back to the creature. "I should name you."

But Clyde interrupted, smirking slightly. "No, don't. Remember what you called those Malice Gatherers?"

Aurel paused. "Yeah—Darkcuties. What about it?"

Kirin immediately lost control, erupting in laughter, his voice loud enough to echo inside the truck. "DARKCUTIES?! BWAHAHAHAHA—!" He was actually gasping for air, gripping his sides. "I THOUGHT MY NAMES WERE BAD, BUT MASTER, YOU'RE ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL!"

Aurel rolled his eyes, visibly exasperated.

Clyde, suppressing his own amusement, offered a serious suggestion. "This thing is born from you—your chaos—and it carries features of all three of us. It's... weirdly like our child. What if we combined our names?"

Kirin, recovering just enough, jumped in. "Aurelkirinclyde?" "Kirinclydeaurel?" "Clydekirinaurel?"

Aurel shot him a flat glare. "No." Then, after a brief pause, his voice steadied. "Rindel. That's your name." He glanced at Clyde and Kirin. "I originally thought of you two when I was forming its face. So... Rindel."

Kirin pressed a hand to his chest, mocking sentimentality. "Master, you're so thoughtful. So sweet."

Aurel ignored him entirely.

Clyde nodded, approving. "Rindel, then."

And then—the Anima moved. Its gaze lifted slightly, its expression still unreadable, but it nodded, just as it had before. This time, however, there was something more—a slight shift in its presence, something akin to approval.

Aurel frowned. "Did it just... agree?"

Kirin grinned. "Yep. Rindel likes it."

For the first time, it truly felt like Rindel understood.