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Veilbound Secrets: The Oath Bearer's Curse

Thrown into a mysterious realm teeming with forgotten magic, eldritch entities, and ancient powers, a young man from Earth awakens to find himself caught between two identities—his own and that of another named Aric Oswin. Now, he is forced to navigate a treacherous path marked by family legacies, dangerous alliances, and the echoes of a curse that binds him to a body that is not his. Guided by a cryptic voice that claims to know the way out of this realm, yet it also seems to be playing a game of its own, weaving him deeper into a web of intrigue and manipulation. As he uncovers whispers of long-lost oaths and the burden of an unfolding prophecy, he finds himself at the center of a cosmic struggle where allies and enemies blur, and nothing is as it seems. The more he tries to reclaim his fate, the more entangled he becomes in a plot orchestrated by powers beyond mortal comprehension. Caught between the shadows of reality and the horrors of the unknown, Aric faces a harrowing choice: What price is he willing to pay to reclaim his fate, and who—or what—awaits him beyond the veil?

TheEternalSky · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
16 Chs

The Flames of Defiance

"WHAT THE FUCK??"

A deafening roar shattered the stillness of the morning, followed by a shockwave that rattled the very foundations of the estate. I staggered, my ears ringing, as the ground beneath my feet trembled. Smoke billowed up from the eastern courtyard, thick and black, staining the sky like a bruise.

'WHAT IS GOING ON?'

I sprinted toward the source of the commotion, my heart hammering in my chest. As I rounded the corner, the scene that greeted me was one of chaos and destruction. The estate's walls were scorched, splintered stone and debris scattered across the grounds. Figures clad in dark, menacing armor moved through the smoke, their faces hidden behind masks that bore some kind of twisted sigils.

I couldn't recognize the emblem —a jagged, blackened star surrounded by writhing tendrils.

'I have never seen that emblem before, who are these people?'

I gripped my sword tighter, a rush of adrenaline propelling me forward. I had to find my family. Cedric, my father, was away on business in the city, leaving the estate vulnerable. And Liora—

My blood ran cold. Liora.

Pushing through the chaos, I fought my way toward the eastern wing, where I had last seen my sister. The closer I got, the thicker the smoke became, and the air grew heavy with the metallic scent of blood. My muscles ached from the earlier training, but fear drove me onward, each step fueled by the desperate need to protect the one person who meant everything to me.

The corridor leading to the eastern wing was filled with a thick, choking smoke, and the eerie glow of flames danced along the walls. I coughed, covering my mouth with my sleeve as I pressed forward, my mind racing. The estate was usually bustling with life, but now it felt like a graveyard—a place caught between the living and the dead.

I turned a corner and almost collided with a guard, his face smeared with soot and his eyes wide with fear.

"Aric! You shouldn't be here!" He gasped, his voice frantic as he grabbed my arm. "It's chaos! They're everywhere!"

"I have to find Liora!" I shouted, pulling away from him.

"Aric, it's too dangerous, the cultists are—"

But I was already pushing past him, ignoring his protests. I couldn't afford to stop. I couldn't afford to be too late. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the east wing, the flames growing fiercer with every step. The heat was unbearable, searing against my skin, and the thick black smoke clawed at my lungs.

The attackers were moving with brutal efficiency, cutting down any resistance they encountered. I could see the Oswin knights struggling against them, but they were outmatched. These were no ordinary soldiers; their movements were sharp, precise, and fueled by something dark and unholy.

*Shing*

I unsheathed my sword, my grip tightening as I charged into the fray.

*Clank!* *Clank!* 

The clashing of steel, the shouts of battle, and the acrid stench of burning wood filled the air, but I forced myself to focus. I parried the first strike that came my way, the impact jarring my arm, but I held firm. My training kicked in, every muscle and reflex honed by Sir Alistair's relentless drills.

'Ugh, they are so strong.'

These enemies were unlike anything I'd faced before. Their strength was unnatural, their strikes imbued with a viciousness that bordered on feral. One of them lunged at me, and I barely managed to deflect the blow, my feet sliding against the ground. The force behind the strike was monstrous, sending vibrations through my bones. 

Another came at me from the side, his blade aiming for my throat. I ducked, feeling the whisper of steel graze the back of my neck. I countered with a swift thrust, but he twisted away, dodging with an inhuman speed. There was no time to think, no time to plan—only the instinct to survive.

Suddenly, a cry pierced through the cacophony, one that sent a jolt of terror racing through my veins.

"Liora!"

I turned, my blood running cold as I saw her—my sister—cornered against a wall, her back pressed to the stone as one of the attackers loomed over her. Liora was clutching a small dagger, her face pale but defiant, her eyes unfocused as always but filled with fear. But it was clear she was no match for her opponent.

"Get away from her!" I roared, lunging forward with my sword. The cultist twisted, deflecting my strike with a swift motion, but he was momentarily off balance. I pressed the attack, every swing driven by sheer desperation. He parried each blow, his movements precise and cold, and I realized with a sinking feeling that he was toying with me. Each blow he dealt pushed me back, my muscles screaming under the strain. 

I was losing ground, and fast. I could feel the edges of panic clawing at my mind, but I couldn't afford to falter. Not now. Not with Liora in danger. 

*Khu!*

A sudden kick to my chest sent me sprawling, the air knocked out of my lungs as I hit the ground hard. My vision blurred, pain radiating through my body. The enemy loomed over me, his sword raised high, ready to deliver the final blow.

"You are nothing, Oswin heir," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Pathetic. Just like your bloodline. We the followers of the forgotten gods shall bring back the true rulers."

My vision swam, darkness threatening to close in, but I fought against it, dragging myself back up.

Time seemed to slow as I looked past him, my eyes locking onto Liora's. She was bleeding, her shoulder stained red where she'd been struck, and the sight of it sent a wave of anger and fear crashing over me. She was my sister, the one person who had always been there, who had seen me at my lowest and never once wavered.

*Snap*

In that moment, something inside me snapped.

A surge of energy erupted from deep within, raw and untamed. I felt it burning in my veins, a torrent of mana that roared to life with a vengeance. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before—a violent, searing force that threatened to consume me from the inside out. The pain was excruciating, like my very soul was being torn apart and reforged in the flames of my fury.

But I didn't care. I couldn't afford to care. 

"AHHH!"

I raised my hand, and the ground beneath the enemy rippled and twisted, bending to my will. The air around us distorting as the space itself warped violently. The attacker staggered, thrown off balance as he was pulled sideways, his form flickering like a mirage.

"Spatial magic?" the cultist snarled, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the sudden shift. 

I lunged, driving my sword into his side with a scream of rage. The blade bit deep, tearing through armor and flesh. He recoiled, but before he could recover, I wrenched the magic again, hurling him away with a force that sent him crashing into the wall.

But the power was too much, too wild. I could feel it slipping from my control, the mana raging like a storm within me, tearing at my very being. I tried to reign it in, to focus, but it was like trying to catch lightning in my bare hands. My vision blurred, my limbs shaking as the energy continued to surge, relentless and unyielding.

"You will not touch her!" I shouted, my voice laced with defiance.

But even with the sudden burst of strength, it wasn't enough. The cultist regrouped quickly, his strikes more calculated and fierce. My newfound power flickered, unstable and unpredictable, and as I swung my blade again, the energy sputtered out, leaving me vulnerable.

"FUCK! NOT NOW!!"

The cultist smirked, seizing the opportunity. He struck hard and fast, his blade cutting across my side. I stumbled, clutching the wound as pain shot through me, hot and blinding. I fell to my knees, gasping for breath, and the cultist stood over me, triumphant.

"You're not worth the effort." he sneered, as he disappeared out of my sight.

"Aric!" Liora's voice was faint, pained. I turned just in time to see the cloaked figure appear in front of her. I tried to intercept, but my legs gave out, the mana within me flaring uncontrollably. I collapsed, gasping, as my vision went white with pain.

The cloaked figure loomed over Liora, a sinister blade in hand. My heart pounded in my ears, a deafening drumbeat of helplessness. I struggled to rise, to force the mana back into some semblance of control, but it was no use. I was burning out, the power consuming me from within.

Just as the enemy raised his blade, a blinding light filled the courtyard.

A man charged in with a roar that shook the air, his sword blazing with mana so intense it seared the very ground he walked upon, it was my father, Cedric Oswin. Behind him, the knights of the Oswin estate surged forward, their faces hardened with fury and determination.

"Stay away from my son!" Cedric growled, his sword ablaze with a fierce, golden light. He moved with a speed and precision that left the cultist scrambling, each swing of his blade charged with deadly intent.

Cedric's blade met the cloaked figure's, and the resulting clash sent a shockwave that rippled through the courtyard, forcing the enemy back. The attackers, seeing their leader repelled, began to retreat, slipping back into the shadows from whence they came. They moved with a practiced swiftness, disappearing as quickly as they had arrived, leaving only the aftermath of their assault behind.

Cedric turned to me, his expression softening with concern. "Aric, are you alright?"

I nodded weakly, wincing as I clutched my side. "Liora… where is she?"

Cedric's eyes darted to where Liora lay, her form partially hidden by the rubble. He rushed to her side, his hands glowing with a faint, healing light as he checked her wounds. "She's hurt, but she'll be okay. We got here in time."

The silence that followed the battle was heavy, filled with the crackling of dying flames and the faint groans of the wounded. I stood there, feeling the weight of my own helplessness, my eyes never leaving Liora. Cedric knelt beside her, his expression stern yet laced with concern as he worked to stop the bleeding. 

"Can you move?" Cedric's voice was calm, but the tension was clear. 

Liora nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I think so."

Liora tried to sit up, wincing as she touched her side, where the wound still oozed. "They came out of nowhere… I tried to fight back, but…"

"You did enough." My tone was firmer than I intended, trying to keep the fear from breaking through. "We were all caught off guard."

I glanced at Liora, the reality of it sinking in. This had been a targeted strike—a calculated attempt to take her. The weight of that knowledge settled heavily on my shoulders, and I realized just how unprepared I had been, how fragile our sense of safety truly was.

Cedric's expression darkened, his gaze shifting to the remnants of the battle. "Uncontrolled mana. It's dangerous, especially without proper training. If that's what I think it is… we can't afford any mistakes."

As the knights continued their work, we moved toward the main hall, seeking refuge from the night's chaos. The estate felt different now—wounded, but not defeated. There was a resolve in the air, a shared determination that transcended fear. 

Cedric's voice cut through the stillness as we reached the threshold of the hall. "Tomorrow, we start preparing. No more waiting for the enemy to come to us. We take control of our fate."

The cultists had come for us, but they had underestimated what it meant to challenge the Oswins. We were more than just a family bound by blood; we were bound by a legacy of strength, and we would not be easily torn apart.

The estate was quiet as we settled into the hall, but the sense of urgency lingered. The night was far from over, and the shadows that clung to the corners of the room seemed to whisper of the dangers yet to come. I knew that this was only the beginning—a prelude to something far greater and far darker.

The estate was left in ruins. The once-proud walls of the Oswin family home now stood battered and scarred, their grandeur marred by blackened scorch marks and deep gouges from battle. The grounds were littered with the remnants of the fight—broken weapons, shattered stone, and the dark stains that marked where the fallen had lain.

Knights and servants moved through the wreckage like shadows, their voices low and somber as they tended to the wounded and began the grim task of cleaning up. Despite the flicker of torches and the dim glow of the moon, everything felt dark. The fires had been extinguished, but the thick, acrid smoke still hung in the air, making it heavy and hard to breathe.

Cedric was nearby, his presence commanding as he directed the knights, but his face was drawn tight with a worry he could not hide. Liora, leaning against me, tried to stand tall despite her injuries. The sight of her in pain made my chest ache with a deep, gnawing guilt. I should have protected her. I should have been stronger.

The frantic surge of energy that had pushed me through the fight was gone now, replaced by a deep, all-consuming exhaustion.

The words of the hooded man echoed in my mind, a taunt that cut deeper than any blade: "You're not worth the effort." And maybe he was right. I had tried to fight, tried to tap into some unknown power within me, but it wasn't enough. It was wild, untamed, and fleeting. And I hadn't been able to protect anyone with it.

My vision swam, the world around me shifting and blurring, the weight of everything that had happened crashing down on me all at once. Liora's hand gripped my arm tighter, but her voice seemed distant, her concern muted like a sound heard underwater.

The truth was sinking in, deeper and deeper, settling into my bones. I wasn't ready. I didn't understand this power, this world, or the dangers that lurked in its shadows. My thoughts were a jumble of confusion and frustration. What was this strange mana that coursed through me? How could I wield it without losing myself in the process?

But the weight was too much. My body trembled as if it were about to shatter under the strain. The adrenaline that had kept me going now drained away, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. 

My legs gave way beneath me, and I collapsed, unable to bear the weight of it all any longer. Exhaustion took over, and as my vision darkened, I let myself fall into the void—a deep, merciful darkness that embraced me, taking me away from the shattered remains of a home I could no longer protect.

...

Creation is hard, cheer me up!

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