Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

Aurel focused, summoning and testing. And Rindel answered. The spectral warrior materialized slowly, his form settling into the newly shaped realm with quiet confusion. He blinked, scanned the space, then turned sharply upon seeing Aurel. There was no fear in his gaze, only wonder.

"You recognize it, don't you?" Aurel murmured, watching Rindel carefully. Rindel couldn't speak, but he didn't need to—his reaction was clear, his psychic presence intertwining with Aurel's understanding. Rindel knew. This was his master's space. Aurel's space.

And so, Rindel explored. He moved through it like a child discovering a new world, testing its boundaries, its limits, its nature. Aurel let him. For the first time, Aurel did not feel the urge to destroy, to battle, or to prove himself. He simply watched. Considered. Reflected.

Then, another thought emerged. "If I can bring Rindel here..." Aurel narrowed his gaze, testing the idea. "Then, can I summon Erynos?" He reached out, attempting to call Erynos into the realm. But there was nothing. No response. No trace. Nothing passed between their connection. Immediately, Aurel knew—this space was his alone. It was not an extension of chaos; it was an extension of him. And that meant only those bound to him could enter.

Erynos' Perspective

Back in the Mystic Mountain, Erynos's attention had been drawn to Aurel's subtle shifts. He had been watching carefully since Aurel's initial disappearance, and now, the patterns grew even more pronounced. Aurel had discovered something—something beyond the Mystic Mountain itself. But where had he gone? What had he created? And how would he return?

The Realm Within

Aurel paced through the space he had created, his mind racing with possibilities. The pocket dimension was not connected to the Mystic Mountain, nor was it bound to any plane he knew. It was his—entirely his. A thought flickered. "Could I live here? Like Erynos?" He scoffed at the idea almost immediately. No. Isolation wasn't something he sought—he would never choose a hermit's life. But that didn't mean he couldn't use this space for something greater.

The Testing Begins

He walked, studied, experimented, analyzing every detail of the dimension—the conditions under which he had created it, the rules that governed it. It was a storage place, but not in the conventional sense. Here, he could shape chaos, not merely summon or control it. "That's it." Aurel's expression sharpened. "This ability—this space—it's powerful." He focused, repeating the process, testing whether he could create it again. And then, he vanished.

Erynos' Perspective: The Phantom Movements of Aurel

Meanwhile, Erynos watched. Aurel had returned, only to be gone again. The cycle repeated, Aurel flickering between realms like an entity unraveling within chaos itself, his movements strange yet deliberate. Erynos watched, amused but quietly intrigued, observing Aurel's patterns, his pauses, his concentration. "You are testing it," he murmured, though Aurel did not hear him. "You are shaping it."

Storage, Combat, Creation

Within the pocket dimension, Aurel began gathering items, testing whether he could store them indefinitely, and if he could summon them instantly. The answer was yes. Then, he attempted something more. He created within the space, shaping constructs forged entirely from chaos energy. Weapons materialized—blades with shifting edges, spears that pulsed with instability, armaments that carried an aura of destruction. And within this realm of his own making, he practiced, moved, and fought—testing his abilities against a space that could not be broken. Every motion felt effortless, every attack carried weight yet left no consequence.

Aurel grinned—this was something he could use. This was something he could refine. And for the first time since arriving at the Mystic Mountain, he felt true exhilaration—like a child discovering something entirely new, something entirely his own. This was not just a skill. This was power beyond what even he had imagined.

The Forgotten Worship

The exhilaration of his newfound power resonated within Aurel. This was a profound discovery, a skill and power beyond imagination. Yet, as the initial thrill settled, giving way to something deeper, his thoughts turned to his companion. He found Erynos, and together they resumed their journey through the Mystic Mountain, now with a subtly shifted purpose.

"Tell me more about this place," Aurel said, his voice calmer than before, the excitement now contained, refined. Erynos smiled slightly, sensing Aurel's shift in demeanor. "I can only show you what I know," he admitted, his tone carrying no arrogance, only quiet acceptance. "I am merely a resident, not a creator."

And so, they walked. Erynos led him deeper, past the tranquil landscapes, past the creatures shaped of chaos, past the places Aurel had come to recognize, until they arrived at the temple.

The Weight of Reverence

Aurel stepped forward, scanning the space. It was different—not majestic, not imposing, but undeniably sacred. Carved stone, worn yet enduring, lined the interior—a place not just of worship, but of remembrance, of longing, of something unfulfilled. And beside him, Erynos had changed. His once serene expression was now shadowed with something distant, something that settled not just in his gaze but in the way he carried himself.

"What happened?" Aurel asked, his voice low but deliberate. "You seem different here."

Erynos exhaled slowly, his fingers grazing the edge of a statue. "This is a place of worship." He continued, the words coming softly, yet carrying a weight that did not fade. "A place where we—my siblings and I—once sought closeness to our creator."

Aurel narrowed his eyes. "You worship the Chaos God?"

Erynos nodded, his expression distant. "Some of my siblings blamed him for how we were created—for the burden of our existence. And yet, none of us denied that we longed for him." Aurel felt it—the depth of those words, the truth woven within them. There was no single emotion within the Abyssals. There was conflict. Resentment. Devotion. Hope. And in the midst of it all, Erynos had chosen solitude.

Aurel's Purpose Reawakened

For a moment, Aurel felt nothing. Not anger. Not pity. Just understanding. Then, Erynos spoke again. "Perhaps the truth you seek cannot be answered in the Mystic Mountain." He turned, meeting Aurel's gaze with something firm, steady—an offering rather than a demand. "But, I can show you my memory."

Something shifted within Aurel. For days, he had lost himself in the tranquility of this place, in its serenity, in his own creations. He had almost forgotten why he had come here in the first place. "Please trust me," Erynos said, his voice carrying no force—only certainty. "I will show you my history—our history as Abyssals. You may discover something within it."

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Aurel studied him, the offer lingering between them like an unspoken challenge. Then, he asked, "Why? Why do you do this? Why do your siblings care for me when I only feel hatred toward your kind?"

Erynos did not hesitate. "I cannot blame you for feeling that. I hated my own existence too." The admission was not weak, not self-pitying, just truth. "I killed. I fed on malice. It was only guilt that forced me to separate myself from that world—that made me choose to stay here. Even I hated my kind."

Aurel remained silent, absorbing the weight of the words before him. Erynos continued, "My brothers and sisters—the Abyssals—they cling to a hope. That maybe, one day, we will find salvation through you. Everything will be explained through my memory—should you accept it." The words settled—heavy, undeniable. And now, the choice lay with Aurel alone.

The Unspoken Truth

The weight of Erynos's offer settled heavily on Aurel. To link with him, to truly delve into his past, felt like an immense step. Aurel's gaze narrowed, his senses reaching beyond the offered words—beyond mere expressions—to something deeper. "Link with me," Erynos had said, a phrase that echoed with both promise and an unnerving unfamiliarity. "'Link?'" Aurel pondered aloud.

"I am sure we can do it," Erynos continued, his voice steady but carrying a weight beneath it, something unspoken yet undeniable. "You can link with Rindel. I can link with my brothers. And you... I believe you can link with me." He exhaled slowly, his presence unwavering. "I do not know how—but I believe you can." Then, his gaze deepened, quiet yet deliberate. "Would you like to try? That way, you have control. I will fully submit to you."

Aurel's Doubt

Something flickered within Aurel's instincts. A warning. A recognition. Malice. Not the kind that came from hunger, violence, destruction. Something different. A lie. His presence sharpened, his voice turning cold with certainty. "You are hiding something from me."

Erynos did not deny it. Instead, he admitted it. "I have lived long enough." Aurel said nothing. Erynos continued, his voice steady, unshaken, yet carrying a quiet grief within it. "I am almost at the end of my lifespan. The Mystic Mountain has helped me survive this long, but it cannot sustain me anymore. It is starting to reject me." He sighed—soft, resigned. "And when it does, I will disappear."

Aurel stared at him, his thoughts sharp, his instincts unyielding. The words felt true. "It is my wish to give my memory to you before that happens." For the first time, Aurel saw no deception, no hesitation. Only honesty. Only certainty. The truth was not something forced upon him. It was something offered. And then, he responded, "What if I find a way to help you?" And with that—the moment shifted. Not as an answer. But as a challenge. And Erynos did not expect it.

Chapter XX: The Birth of Anima

Aurel's unexpected challenge hung in the air between them, a testament to his burgeoning will. Erynos, taken aback, nonetheless recognized the profound shift. It was a new path, unforeseen, but one that resonated with the very essence of what was to come. The decision was made, unspoken yet undeniable. And as the air began to shimmer, bending beneath an unseen force—something ancient, something beyond mortal comprehension—the final act of their journey began.

The Final Conversation Between Aurel and Erynos

Aurel stood firm, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "You understand what you're asking me to do?" Erynos nodded, his expression carrying no regret, only certainty. "I do."

"You wish for me to turn you into something else—to reshape what remains of you?" Aurel pressed.

"Not quite," Erynos murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I do not seek rebirth. I do not wish to linger." He exhaled, his gaze shifting toward the horizon of the Mystic Mountain—toward something only he could see, something long past yet forever within him. "But you, Aurel—you can take what is left of me and shape it into something new."

Aurel's expression darkened slightly. "I could bring you back—"

"No," Erynos interrupted gently. "I have lived long enough. If it were the old me, I would have embraced that idea. I would have taken the chance without hesitation." His eyes softened, but the weight of age, of experience, settled within them. "But now... I feel nothing but guilt. I do not wish to prolong my existence."

Aurel studied him, searching for deception, hidden intention, any trace of manipulation. He found none. Only truth. Only finality. Erynos continued. "However—you may use what remains of me to create something greater. Something new."

Aurel furrowed his brow. "You're certain it will work?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Erynos chuckled, his voice carrying a faint hint of nostalgia. "The same way we Abyssals access the memories of the Malifuge—the ones we dominate." Aurel's gaze narrowed, calculating. "You can do that?" Erynos nodded once. "That is how Nephra controls them. That is how we pull from their power."

Aurel's mind shifted—questions forming rapidly, logic intertwining with understanding. "So when you dominate a Malifuge, you do not simply bend them to your will—you take their knowledge, their experiences?"

"Correct."

"Is that why Nephra has such deep control? He has absorbed more of them?"

"Exactly."

Aurel's mind was racing, threading what he now knew into everything he had previously assumed. "And you wish for me to do the same to you?"

Erynos smiled again, this time softer, quieter. "Yes. But you must link with me, Aurel. Only then can you take what is mine."

Aurel stared at him, his instincts clashing with emotion. "I already feel close to you," he admitted, his voice lower, edged with something unspoken. "Friendship, trust, understanding—it feels strange to simply take what remains of you and use it as I see fit."

Erynos' smile did not fade, but his eyes carried something deeper. "Do not despair, child of chaos. I chose this. Consider it my salvation." The words settled between them—heavy, irreversible. And finally—Aurel accepted.

The Creation of Anima

Erynos closed his eyes, his form trembling, his existence beginning to fade. Aurel had no time left. He reached forward—pulling, linking, connecting. Threads of void and dusk connected them, weaving together in a spectacle unlike any he had witnessed before. Not violent. Not unstable. But gentle. Submissive. Willing. Erynos' essence did not resist—it flowed, as if it had already belonged to Aurel long before this moment. Aurel's chaos responded, wrapping around the glowing core, a mass of dark violet light, shifting and trembling in its raw form. The birth had begun.

The Birth of Anima

The air shimmered, bending beneath an unseen force—something ancient, something beyond mortal comprehension. Aurel felt it before he saw it—the unraveling of existence, the slow surrender of Erynos' essence into something beyond decay, beyond death, beyond absolution. Erynos was fading. Not in agony, not in despair. But in choice. In acceptance. And Aurel—he had no time left to hesitate.

He closed his eyes, reaching into the abyss, pulling Erynos into the depths of his power, into the domain of chaos itself. Threads of void and dusk connected them, weaving together in a spectacle unlike any he had witnessed before. Not violent. Not unstable. But gentle. Submissive. Willing. Erynos' essence did not resist—it flowed, as if it had already belonged to Aurel long before this moment. Aurel's chaos responded, wrapping around the glowing core, a mass of dark violet light, shifting and trembling in its raw form. The birth had begun.

The World of Creation

Aurel was no longer standing. He was floating—deep within a realm of chaos, a domain of pure creation, where nothing existed unless willed into being. And in this space, he saw them. The threads. Thousands of them, spiraling outward, reaching, expanding, each one a path into something unknown, something greater. At the center—Erynos' essence. And Aurel did not hesitate. He reached forward, his mind diving deep, bending the chaos with precision, with purpose, with authority. The threads responded, intertwining, merging, converging into something tangible, something forming. And then—life answered.

The Creation of Anima

Rindel watched, standing at the edge of reality, witnessing something he had never seen before. Aurel sat motionless, his presence unwavering, yet the space around him was alive, shifting, pulsing with something otherworldly. The essence of Erynos had disappeared, but from that absence—something new was taking shape. A being. A form. At first, small, curled within the glow of creation—an infant born from chaos itself, formed not from destruction, but from renewal. Then—it grew. Limbs stretched, the form taking shape, the raw energy solidifying into flesh, into clarity, into something real.

And before them stood an Anima—an entity unlike any Abyssal before. It was majestic, its aura shifting between existence and divinity, tied to Aurel by a bond deeper than control, deeper than servitude. It had been made for him. It had been born from him. And in that moment—Aurel understood.

The Spirit's Farewell

The space within Aurel's domain trembled, shifting with the delicate hum of chaos energy—no longer destructive, but woven in reverence, in farewell. Aurel stood within his own creation, yet his attention was drawn elsewhere—to the flickering presence before him. Erynos. But not as he was. His form was fading, unraveling, yet in that dissolution, he carried peace.

"Thank you, Aurel," the spirit murmured, his voice gentle, carrying not regret but gratitude. "You truly are the salvation we were waiting for." The final words settled between them, echoing into the depths of the realm, carrying meaning beyond mere existence. And then—Erynos was gone. But not lost. Never lost. For his memory, his essence, his truth—had already become something more. Something that belonged to Aurel alone. And for the first time—Aurel understood what salvation meant.