Cold wind ripped at his face.
Soul Ming opened his eyes to the same ruined room. The wounds that had burned his ribs were gone. His chest no longer felt like it was being eaten alive. Still, the air tasted of iron and smoke—like a wound refused to heal.
He turned toward them. His sister lay pale and still. His parents were collapsed nearby, their breaths stolen away. The floor was a map of red.
A laugh crawled out of him—thin, jagged. It broke into a sob and then a laugh again until the two were one sound. He tried to speak and the question came out like a cracked bone.
"Why…?"
Why had they done this? Why had the gods taken everything he loved? He had followed their rules, answered their calls, bled when they demanded sacrifice—and still they had emptied his life like a cup.
His nails dug into the dirt until his fingers bled. He stayed there until the cold sank into his bones, until numbness wrapped him like a coat. Then, with frozen hands, he dug.
One grave. Two graves. Three. He buried them with his palms, with fists, with anything his body could spare. Each shovelful of earth felt like a promise: remember. Revenge.
When the last grave was closed, he sat on the mound and stared at the sky. The sun was a thin smear behind ash. His voice was small and certain when it left him.
"I'll make them pay."
Something inside him answered. Not with words at first, but with a tightening, like a lock being set.
[Binding complete.]
[System: Revenant Protocol — Initialization.]
[Initial Protocol: To wield power, your soul must be tested.]
[Trial — Commencing.]
The ground trembled. A crack spidered across the floor and a thing crawled up from it—stitched bones and shadow, a mouth full of broken teeth, eyes like hot coal. It smelled of rot and hunger. It moved like a thing sewn together from nightmares.
Ming stood without hesitation. Anger had steadied him into a blade. Nothing in him quivered. He did not ready a weapon—there was none to ready—only a white-hot desire to tear it apart.
The creature lunged. Ming answered.
He moved like someone who had nothing left to lose. His hands found the beast's ribcage and shoved—hard. Bone splintered. The thing shrieked and clawed, but Ming's blows were not random; they were precise in their cruelty, guided by something inside him that counted pain and opportunity.
[Trial Response: Combat Efficiency — 0.74 → 1.12.]
The system's feedback buzzed in his head, clinical and cold. It felt like a measuring stick sliding across a wound. The beast tried to bite; Ming broke its jaw with a stomp. He twisted until the stitched flesh came apart and the shadow that animated it drained away.
When the last twitch died, he stood over the corpse breathing like a furnace. The air around him smelled sweeter—less like loss, more like possibility. The system's voice was a bare line.
[Trial Complete. Access Granted.]
A small prompt flashed in his skull.
[Ability Unlocked: Painbound Strength — Passive.]
Ming tasted the word like a brand. He did not smile. He only turned his face to the graves behind him, to the horizon where the gods' light still glinted, distant and indifferent.
He took a single step away from the burial mound. The first step of a long road. His hands were stained. His heart was a dark, steady drum.
He would break them all.