Chapter 211: Bond of the Null Heart
Essence surged through my fingers. I launched myself forward with a burst of [Seismic Burst], closing the distance in a blur. The corrupted Silversteel Hawk shrieked and flared its wings, but it was too late—I slamd into its back, both knees crashing down as my montum drove it toward the ground.
It screeched and thrashed. I gritted my teeth and held on, planting my feet and riding its bucking movents. My fist rose, then ca down hard against its spine.
Crack.
It let out a distorted cry. I struck again, then again—each blow backed by Essence, precise and brutal. The feathers along its back were torn, stained with dark blood.
The hawk flared its wings to take off, but I was ready. My hand sparked with raw lightning.
“Stay down,” I muttered.
A jolt of lightning surged into its body, dancing across its nerves. The wings spasd mid-beat, locking up, and the beast crashed back to the earth, feathers and dirt scattering on impact.
It rolled, wheezing, and tried to rise again. Its beak snapped toward in one last desperate lunge.
I raised my hand.
Ice erupted from the air, snapping around both wings and legs in thick, translucent bindings. The beast thrashed once, twice—then stopped, slumped against the ground, breathing in heaving bursts.
I climbed off its back and stood tall, sweat rolling down the side of my face. My feet crunched against the ice as I circled in front of the fallen creature.
I stepped in front of the Silversteel Hawk, its breath ragged, chest heaving under the pressure of exhaustion and restraint. Its corrupted eyes rolled toward , still burning with defiance but dim now, flickering.
I pressed a hand against the top of its skull.
“Submit.”
Essence surged from my palms, not to crush or burn but to command.
From deep within , sothing answered.
The Null Heart spun violently in my chest, a white-hot core turning faster than ever before, vibrating with an intensity that made my ribs ache. Then—
It stopped.
Completely.
And so did I.
Everything froze. My breath. My heartbeat. Even my thoughts stalled, like ti itself hesitated. The world faded to silence.
Then ca the dark.
I was no longer in the forest.
Around stretched nothing but pitch-black space. Endless and suffocating. I stood alone on a cracked pathway of ancient stone, worn by ages, suspended in the void. The air was cold and unmoving.
Ahead of lood a door.
It was colossal—impossibly tall and wider than any structure I’d ever seen. The top of it vanished into the black above, and the sides extended so far into the void that after ten feet, the path simply stopped revealing anything more.
The door stood like the last remnant of a forgotten realm.
Dust caked its surface. Spiderwebs veiled its corners. Strange, shifting runes flickered across the surface like they were alive, words in a language I didn’t recognize, dancing just beyond understanding.
Before I could even begin to study them, pain lanced through my chest.
My heart thundered once, loud enough to echo through the dark.
A glowing chain burst from my sternum.
I staggered.
Thick and ethereal, the chain pulsed a bright blue. It was massive, wide enough that I’d need both arms just to wrap around one link. It didn’t fall or drag across the ground. It floated, suspended in the air like it ignored gravity entirely, each link radiating weight and purpose without making a sound.
It extended forward, straight toward the door, gliding smoothly through the dark like a serpent of light, guided by so invisible command.
It didn’t stop until it reached the door.
The ancient door groaned.
Dust flared from its surface. Webs disintegrated in the tremor.
Then, with a sound like a mountain splitting, the door creaked open, just an inch, no more. But even that slight gap was enough to let sothing through.
From the sliver of open space floated a sphere.
Crimson. Opaque. Roughly the size of a large head. It glowed like it was bleeding light.
Inside it was the form of the Silversteel Hawk.
Or at least… a version of it.
Its body lay curled in sleep, whole and clean—no rot, no corruption. But bound. Chains wrapped around its wings, neck, and talons, shackling the beast within the floating orb.
The sphere hovered silently for a breath, then the glowing chain shot forward and latched onto it with a resounding clang.
The mont the link secured, the chain pulled back.
Hard.
The orb trembled once and then hurtled toward , dragged by the binding now anchored to my heart. I felt it closing in—its presence becoming heavier, denser, almost overwhelming.
As the crimson sphere neared my chest, I instinctively braced—but there was no impact.
The orb phased through my body.
Straight into the heart.
A final thrum shook my core.
Then the world exploded in light.
When my senses returned, I was back, kneeling in front of the Abomination. My hand was still pressed against its head. The Silversteel Hawk lay still, its eyes closed, its body unmoving.
But my attention was no longer on the creature.
It was inside , on my heart.
The spinning white core at its center pulsed slowly, steady and calm. But now, sothing new orbited it—a smaller red core, glowing dimly with flickers of raw energy. Within it, I saw the projection of the Silversteel Hawk, coiled and silent, like it was resting.
A thick ethereal chain linked the two cores, white and red, anchoring them together, bond forged and sealed.
My awareness snapped back to the world outside as a ripple of power surged from the fallen beast.
The hawk’s body began to break apart, red light spilling from its feathers. It started at the wings—particles peeling away in a slow cascade, sparkling like embers caught in a breeze. The ice encasing its limbs cracked, then dissolved entirely, unable to hold against the disintegration.
I stood and stepped back as the final remnants of the Silversteel Hawk shimred in the air, glowing red particles drifting upward like scattered embers.
Then, all at once, they surged.
The glowing stream twisted midair and shot toward , drawn by an unseen force. I didn’t flinch. I simply watched as the remnants of the beast arrowed forward and slamd into my forehead.
Creation is hard, cheer up!
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