The void was never silent.
It thrummed, a deep and endless vibration, like the heartbeat of some god waiting to crush us.
The Saint sat slumped, head low, chains burning faintly. He hadn't spoken in hours.
I had.
"Cycle 23,112. Eaten alive by a mimic."
I muttered, pressing bloody fingers against the void's floor. My necromantic phantom flickered—a distorted Seo-jin, skin torn and half-digested, eyes bulging in mute agony.
It lunged, scrabbling at my chains, gnawing with teeth that weren't teeth. Sparks erupted. The links hissed.
Then the phantom crumbled into dust.
I hissed out a laugh. "Too weak. Need to anchor longer."
The Saint raised his head at last, lips cracked. "…You summon your own deaths."
"Practice makes perfect." I bared my teeth. "Each phantom is a rehearsal. If one can bite through the links, we walk out of here."
His eyes widened, then darkened. "…Do you realize how monstrous that is?"
"Of course. And that's why it'll work."
He tried to avert his gaze, but he couldn't.
Every phantom I dragged forth was a blasphemy to his faith. My own corpses crawling from void, whispering agony, clawing at chains.
But every time one managed a scratch, his eyes burned with hunger.
He wanted it.
Freedom.
I leaned back against my spire of metal, chains groaning. "Admit it, Saint. You need me."
His fists clenched. "I need… no heretic."
"Liar." My grin split. "You need this heretic. The Tower's darling has no answers. Only I do."
He shuddered. But he didn't deny it.
The void pulsed.
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The Enforcer stirred in the black above, gears grinding like tectonic plates.
Its voice grated:[Correction Protocol IV: Purification Flood.]
The chains erupted with searing light.
The Saint screamed.
A deluge of light drowned us.
Not illusion—something worse. Memory rewritten, faith rewritten. The Saint convulsed, eyes rolling white as streams of holy fire surged through his chains into his body.
He gasped words, frantic, pleading: "Forgive me—Father forgive me—I shall not stray—"
I snarled.
This wasn't just punishment. It was indoctrination. The Tower was trying to overwrite him, purge the pact before it grew roots.
The Saint's chains glowed so bright I thought he might vanish entirely.
I lunged forward, chains screaming, dragging the phantom of "Cycle 1" from my chest.
The boy I had once been. Seo-jin, trembling, fragile, before the first death.
He staggered into the light.
And it warped.
The Saint's head snapped toward the phantom. Tears poured down his face, but his trembling hand lifted. "What… what are you doing…?"
I grinned. "Short-circuiting their flood."
The phantom—my first self—screamed. His voice was my own, raw and desperate. "Don't leave me! Don't let me die alone!"
The flood of holy fire faltered. The Overseer's correction was tangled in contradiction. My phantom's plea wasn't blasphemy. It was pure, pitiful humanity.
The Saint convulsed, torn between Tower's command and the phantom's words.
"…Mercy…" he croaked. "…He needs… mercy…"
His trembling hand reached—not for the light, but for the phantom.
And for the first time, he defied the Tower.
The moment his fingers brushed the phantom, his chains split with a violent crack.
The sound echoed like a thunderclap.
The Overseer's voice thundered.
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The Enforcer screeched, gears grinding to molten sparks. The flood collapsed.
The Saint fell to his knees, shaking, chains sparking. His eyes burned with horror at what he'd done.
But it was done.
Across the Tower, the flood spilled into every hunter's vision.
They saw the Saint's trembling hands, not clasped in prayer, but reaching for my phantom. They heard his words:
"…Mercy…"
The hunters erupted into chaos.
"Did he just—""No… impossible… the Saint—""He chose the Calamity!"
Across the guild halls, leaders paled. Priests tore their vestments. Even monarch-class hunters shivered.
Because the symbol of absolute obedience had bent.
The void quieted. Ash drifted where the phantom had crumbled.
The Saint's voice was hoarse. "…What have I done…"
I leaned close, whispering into his ear. "You broke your oath. You betrayed your god. You're mine now."
He shook. Tears rolled down his face. "No. I… I only wanted to comfort him. A boy…"
"You wanted freedom." I smirked. "Don't dress it in holy words. You chose me over the Tower."
His lips trembled. But he didn't deny it.
Above, the Overseers argued, voices splitting the void.
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Another voice—slower, heavier.
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Silence. Then reluctant assent.
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The Enforcer retreated.
And we remained.
Hours passed. Or years. Time was meaningless here.
The Saint trembled still. His aura flickered, confused, unsteady. But his chains… his chains bore fractures now.
I tugged mine. They groaned, cracks widening.
He flinched at the sound.
"…You're going to get us both destroyed."
I laughed, sharp and loud. "We're already destroyed. That's the beauty. What's left to fear?"
He stared at me. I saw it then—the faintest smile, broken, unwilling, but real.
"…Madman," he whispered.
"Exactly."
I pressed my palms to the void again.
This time, I summoned three deaths at once.
Cycle 7: Burned alive.
Cycle 112: Crushed by stone.
Cycle 4,893: Poisoned and gasping.
Three phantoms staggered, shrieking, clawing at my chains. Sparks erupted, links rattled.
For the first time, the metal buckled.
The Saint's eyes widened. "It's working…"
"Yes," I hissed, sweat pouring. "But not enough."
The phantoms dissolved. My chest heaved.
But the cracks had grown.
He stared at his chains. Then at mine. His lips moved.
"…Show me how."
I blinked. "What?"
His fists clenched. His face twisted with shame and fury. "Show me how to summon them. The… deaths. If I am to survive—I will need it."
I grinned.
The Tower had just lost him completely.
Floor 75.
Guildmasters convened in frantic council.
"If Seo-jin can summon phantoms in chains—""And if the Saint is learning—""The Tower is no longer absolute."
One whisper silenced them all:
"…What if they escape?"
The void pulsed again. Chains groaned. Cracks spread.
The Saint's hand trembled as he reached toward his own link. He whispered a prayer—not to the Tower, but to himself.
A flicker of light appeared. Not holy, not law. Something raw. Human.
And his chain trembled.
I laughed. Loud, wild, triumphant.
The sound echoed, shaking the void itself.
The Overseers stirred uneasily.
Because they knew.
The prison was failing.