The system spoke.
For the first time in three chapters.
It had been watching.
Waiting.
Deciding whether Bharat deserved what it was about to offer.
[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL AVAILABLE]
[Pain-Share Contract: Detected Compatible Recipient]
[TERMS: User may assume 70% of Target's physical trauma]
[COST: Equivalent damage transferred to User]
[DURATION: Until contract termination or User death]
[ACCEPT? Y/N]
Bharat stared at the notification. It hung in his vision like a ghost—blue text against the corridor's darkness, offering him a choice that wasn't really a choice.
Take Mira's pain.
Or watch her die.
Simple.
Terrible.
Inevitable.
He looked at her—unconscious in his arms, the hole in her wrist still glowing, light bleeding through like she was cracking open from the inside. Her breathing was shallow. Getting shallower.
Seventy percent of her trauma.
Meaning he'd feel the Mark burning through his own wrist.
Feel whatever the temple was doing to her.
Feel her dying.
But slower.
Because he'd be sharing the load.
[WARNING: Pain-Share protocols override standard User protections]
[System will NOT mitigate transferred damage]
[User will experience full sensory impact]
[PROCEED?]
Bharat didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
The word came out steady. Calm. Like he was agreeing to coffee instead of volunteering for torture.
[ACCEPTED]
[Initiating Pain-Share Protocol]
[Establishing neural link...]
[Connection established]
[Transfer beginning in 3...]
[2...]
[1...]
[ACTIVE]
The pain hit like a train.
No.
Like a train made of knives.
On fire.
Driven by something that hated him personally.
Bharat's chest exploded. Not metaphorically. It felt like something had reached inside his ribcage and started carving—slow, methodical, making sure every nerve got its share of attention.
He screamed.
Couldn't help it.
The sound tore out of him like it had been waiting his whole life to escape.
His left wrist caught fire. Not burning—worse. The sensation of skin peeling back, muscle exposed, bone grinding against something divine and furious.
The Mark.
He could feel it now.
Not on his skin.
Inside him.
Burrowing.
Like a parasite made of holy light.
Eating its way deeper.
Bharat collapsed. Mira fell from his arms—he couldn't hold her, couldn't hold anything except the scream trying to claw its way out of his throat.
The marble floor was cold against his cheek.
But he couldn't feel it.
Could only feel the Mark.
The divine magic tearing through Mira's body.
Seventy percent of which was now his.
[TRANSFER STABLE]
[User experiencing: Tier-4 Divine Corruption]
[Target trauma reduced by 70%]
[Target vital signs: Stabilizing]
Bharat couldn't read the notifications. Couldn't focus. His vision was white at the edges—pain so intense it was eating through his ability to process anything else.
But he could hear Mira breathing.
Steadier now.
Deeper.
Like something had let go of her throat.
Because it was choking him instead.
Worth it.
The thought came clear through the pain. Crystalline. Certain.
Worth it.
Every second of this.
If it kept her alive.
He tried to stand. Failed. His legs wouldn't obey—nerves too busy screaming to remember basic motor functions.
Crawl then.
Fine.
He'd crawled before.
Bharat dragged himself forward. Inches. Palms scraping against marble. His left wrist felt like it was disintegrating—bones turning to powder, skin sloughing off in sheets.
It wasn't.
He knew that logically.
But logic had nothing to do with pain this pure.
Three feet to the vault.
[WARNING: User mobility compromised]
[Recommendation: Terminate Pain-Share protocol]
"No."
The word came out as a rasp. Barely human.
[User health at 23%]
[Further degradation likely]
[TERMINATE? Y/N]
"No."
[Acknowledged]
[Protocol continuing]
Bharat's vision blurred. Red at the edges now, like his eyes were bleeding. Maybe they were. Hard to tell. Pain had a way of making everything else irrelevant.
Two feet.
Behind him, Mira stirred. He heard it—the small sound of someone waking up, confused, hurting but not dying anymore.
"Bharat?"
Her voice was rough. Weak. But present.
Alive.
"Keep going," he managed.
"What did you—"
She saw him. Saw the way he was dragging himself forward, the blood on his hands from where his palms had scraped raw, the way his left wrist was glowing now—faint, nowhere near as bright as hers had been, but there.
Sharing the Mark.
Sharing the curse.
"You didn't."
"Had to."
"Bharat, no—"
"Too late."
He reached the vault door. Pressed his forehead against the gold. Cool. Solid. Real.
The seven locks stared down at him.
Mocking.
Impossible.
But that was a problem for later.
First he had to stop his chest from feeling like it was being carved open.
[Pain-Share Protocol: 47% efficiency]
[Target recovering]
[User deteriorating]
[Recommendation: Immediate medical intervention]
Bharat laughed. It came out as a cough—wet, painful, tasting like copper.
Medical intervention.
In a temple that wanted him dead.
In a corridor that didn't technically exist.
While sharing a divine curse with someone who'd been marked for recall.
Sure.
He'd get right on that.
Mira crawled to him. Slower than he'd moved, but steadier. The hole in her wrist had closed—not healed, just... sealed. Like her body had given up trying to bleed and decided to save energy for more important things.
Like staying alive.
She touched his shoulder.
"You're an idiot."
"I know."
"This is going to kill you."
"Probably."
"Why did you do it?"
Bharat turned his head. Looked at her. Blood on her face. Exhaustion in her eyes. But breathing. Present. Here.
"Because you don't get to die before I save you."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"I'm full of stupid things today."
She smiled. Small. Real.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
Bharat pushed himself up. Slowly. Every muscle screaming. His chest felt like someone had replaced his ribs with broken glass.
But he stood.
Swaying.
Bleeding.
Standing.
"The vault," Mira said.
"I know."
"Seven locks."
"I know."
"We don't have keys."
"I know."
He pressed his palm against the first lock. Gold. Warm. Carved with symbols that looked like they were moving—crawling across the surface like insects made of light.
[LOCK ANALYSIS: Divine-Class Security]
[Requires: Priest-Level Authorization OR System Override]
[System Override available]
[COST: 90 days lifespan]
[ACCEPT?]
Ninety days. Three months. For one lock.
Seven locks total.
That was...
Bharat's brain refused to do the math. Too tired. Too much pain.
Six hundred thirty days.
Almost two years.
To open a door.
[ALTERNATIVE DETECTED]
[Pain-Share participants may pool lifespan costs]
[Shared cost: 45 days per lock (315 total)]
[Both participants survive: 71% probability]
[PROCEED?]
Bharat looked at Mira.
"The system wants us to pay."
"How much?"
"Everything we have left."
"And if we don't?"
"We die here. You from the Mark. Me from sharing it."
She considered this. Nodded slowly.
"Then we pay."
"Mira—"
"We pay, Bharat. Together."
"This is—"
"The only option. I know."
She placed her hand over his on the lock. Her palm was warm. Steady. The hole in her wrist pressed against his skin—he could feel the faint pulse of light still bleeding through.
"Together," she repeated.
"Together," he confirmed.
[DUAL AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED]
[Processing payment...]
[45 days deducted from User: Bharat]
[45 days deducted from User: Mira]
[LOCK 1: RELEASED]
The first lock clicked open. Smooth. Easy. Like it had been waiting for this—for two people stupid enough to pay the price.
Six more to go.
Bharat's knees buckled. Mira caught him—or tried to. They both went down, kneeling before the vault like supplicants before a god that didn't care if they lived or died.
Just cared that they paid.
"Can you stand?" Mira asked.
"Give me a second."
"We don't have seconds."
"Then give me half a second."
He forced himself up. The world tilted. Righted itself. His chest was a symphony of agony—the Mark's corruption spreading, the shared pain eating through him like acid.
But he stood.
Second lock.
[COST: 45 days per participant]
[ACCEPT?]
"Yes."
[PROCESSING...]
[LOCK 2: RELEASED]
Third lock.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Each one cost more than the last—not in days, those stayed constant, but in the effort it took to keep standing, keep breathing, keep his hand steady on the gold while the system drained his life like blood from a wound.
Sixth lock.
Bharat's vision was darkening at the edges. Not pain this time. Exhaustion. The kind that came from burning through your lifespan like currency, spending future days to buy present seconds.
"One more," Mira whispered.
Her voice was fading.
Or his hearing was.
Hard to tell.
Seventh lock.
[FINAL PAYMENT REQUIRED]
[45 days per participant]
[WARNING: User Bharat lifespan post-payment: 67 days]
[WARNING: User Mira lifespan post-payment: 51 days]
[Survival beyond vault access: NOT GUARANTEED]
[PROCEED?]
Sixty-seven days. Two months and a week. That's what he'd have left after this.
If he survived.
If the grimoire worked.
If any of this was worth it.
Bharat looked at the vault door. At the six open locks. At the one remaining—seventh, final, the only thing between them and whatever the temple had been hiding all along.
"Yes."
[ACCEPTED]
[PROCESSING FINAL PAYMENT...]
The world went white.
Not light. Absence. Like someone had erased color, sound, sensation—left only the bare fact of existence.
Then—
[PAYMENT COMPLETE]
[ALL LOCKS RELEASED]
[VAULT ACCESS: GRANTED]
The door opened.
Silent.
Smooth.
Like it had been waiting centuries for someone stupid enough to pay.
Or desperate enough.
Inside—
Darkness.
Absolute.
And something glowing in the center.
Gold.
Pulsing.
Alive.
The grimoire.
Bharat took a step forward. His legs gave out halfway through.
He fell.
Mira caught him.
Barely.
They collapsed together.
Kneeling before the vault.
Before the book that might save them.
Or kill them.
Probably both.
"We did it," Mira whispered.
"Not yet."
"We're here."
"Here isn't enough."
"It's close."
"Close doesn't count."
She laughed. Weak. Exhausted.
"Nothing counts anymore, Bharat. We're both dead in two months."
"Then we make them count."
He crawled forward. Into the vault. Toward the light.
The grimoire pulsed.
Waiting.
Watching.
Deciding whether they were worthy.
Or just desperate.
Bharat reached for it—
And the temple screamed.