Golden Shackles

The result of losing a battle in this world almost always results in death.

On rare occasions, one might escape with their life, either by fleeing or somehow negotiating their way out of the situation.

For me, however, neither of those options came to pass. I was captured a highly unconventional outcome, but it wasn't without reason.

Stark Stultus.

A foolish and greedy man, yet within that greed and foolishness lies a mind unparalleled.

His cunning is as vast as his ambition, and therein lies his true danger.

You see, Stark's strength isn't just physical. It's rooted in his Order, his twisted philosophy that mercy breeds power.

Each time he spares someone weaker, he grows stronger.

This is the secret behind his overwhelming might.

As a Sin, Stark possesses a unique ability—to forge devilish deals with those who serve him.

These contracts bind his subordinates in obedience, granting them a share of his power. But like all deals with devils, there is a cost.

The cost is theirs, not his.

With every life his subordinates spare, Stark absorbs the abilities of the spared individual. Their skills, their potential—it all becomes his.

This twisted cycle of mercy has made him the strongest being in the natural order of this world.

And that strength is why I'm here, bound in chains of gold, unable to escape.

These golden shackles aren't ordinary restraints. They feel like the very essence of the world itself has conspired to hold me down.

Phasing through them is theoretically possible, but the moment I so much as think of trying, the army outside my cell will strike me down.

An army of hundreds no, likely thousands stands at the ready, their weapons and wills honed to stop me.

"How very greedy," I muttered, my voice carrying the weight of resignation and bitter amusement.

The chains covered nearly every part of my body, leaving only my eyes free to see the gilded prison that bound me.

I sighed, shaking the chains. The dull clinking of gold against stone echoed in the suffocating silence.

I tugged slightly on the restraints, their pull connected to the iron walls surrounding my cell.

A few guards glanced back, but none dared to speak.

Stark had forbidden them from interacting with me, convinced that I had the power to alter the future with mere words.

Granted, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Even now, I'm still unsure how much of that is truth and how much is his paranoia.

I thought about activating my gift, but it hasn't worked since I've been here.

It's almost laughable. My supposed ability, one I believed could slow time, has been utterly useless in this situation.

If only someone could save me.

I hesitated. I've been here too long, and by now, Rose must know.

I can't leave her in this world alone she's too valuable, too crucial. But I couldn't hope to call upon her now.

I tugged at the shackles once more, the unyielding gold biting into my skin, and began to speak through the chains.

There are beings in this world who are not bound by the Veil beings who exist beyond its clouded judgment.

I pray to one now, offering myself as its faithful, in hopes of deliverance.

"Through the eternal night and the consuming rage, I call the name of the Thoughtless Cage, He who Destroys, the baseless night, the God of Rage untainted by fright!"

The world trembled, a resonance rippling through the air as if the heavens themselves hesitated to respond to my call.

It was as though existence wavered, caught in contempt, rejecting the weight of my invocation.

And then, silence.

No answer.

"He didn't answer?" I muttered, my voice thick with disbelief. "How fearful. That damn bastard."

I cursed under my breath. Of all beings, I thought he wouldn't shy away from the consequences. After all, he bore the title Zero-Fright God.

Coward.

Grinding my teeth, I forced myself to focus and prepared the next summoning.

"In the depths of the sea and the heights of the sky, I call upon the Boundless Ocean, one fit to rule the heavens!"

The words were barely out of my mouth when an unbearable pressure filled my chest.

My lungs burned, the sensation of drowning consuming me as if I were submerged beneath miles of water.

My body convulsed, and I coughed violently, expelling saltwater tainted with blood.

The golden chains encasing me became slick, dripping with moisture, leaving the guards outside my cell exchanging confused glances.

That terrifying bastard didn't even bother with a refusal he outright attacked me.

"Fine!" I spat, my voice raw from the assault. "When I ascend, when I become a god myself, I'll be sure to strike them all down!"

My voice shook, but I continued. There was no room for hesitation.

"The King of Red and Black, the Keeper of Dark and Blue, the split between the fruit I summon you!"

The moment the words left my lips, my body convulsed. Agony erupted from within, blood vessels bursting under the strain.

The pain was sharp and searing, a symphony of torment that I somehow endured.

But again, no answer.

I panted, each breath labored, the ache in my body gnawing at my resolve. Even he had rejected me.

"The Scum of Battle, the Roach of the world, almighty life and a deathless fool I summon thee!'

I felt my blood boil as my bones shivered softly.

A failure.

This is bad. I might not be able to invoke the name of any other deity.

I thought of the Outer God those eldritch, unfathomable beings who dwelled beyond the Veil of existence. And the will of the world.

But the risk was too great. If they deemed me unworthy, if they found my plea beneath their notice, they might destroy the entire universe as a consequence of my audacity.

I clenched my fists, my mind racing. There were still a few gods left beings who wouldn't cower, beings who might dare to answer.

I just have to choose wisely.

I was taking away these guards' ability to hear me summon but in a few moments, I might just kill them.

I'm getting quite angry.

"Through the chaos of stars and the harmony of silence, I summon thee, the Eternal Symmetry! He who binds the laws of balance and holds the scales of judgment!"

The air grew cold, unnaturally still, as though time itself hesitated to flow.

My chains vibrated faintly, resonating with a deep, unearthly hum.

But it was short-lived.

A searing pain ripped through my mind, as though my thoughts themselves were being shredded.

I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming, but a low, guttural groan escaped.

When the sensation finally ceased, the oppressive silence returned.

No answer.

I cursed under my breath. Even he refused to heed my call.

"Fine," I growled, my voice hoarse, my patience fraying. "One more. One last chance."

I took a deep breath, forcing my trembling hands to steady, and spoke with every ounce of strength I had left.

"Bearer of the Thousand Flames, the Warden of the Blazing Abyss, I invoke thy name! The Sovereign of Infernos heed my cry!"

The golden chains around me grew hot, searing against my skin. The air thickened, the faint scent of sulfur rising around me.

For a moment, I thought the summoning might succeed.

But then, a fiery wave of pain erupted within me. It felt as though molten lava coursed through my veins, burning me from the inside out.

My vision blurred, and I collapsed against the wall, the shackles digging deeper into my flesh.

When the pain finally subsided, I could only laugh bitterly.

I don't think my soul can handle any more summoning. If this one fails, I might have to just kill everyone here and hope the king doesn't come.

I clenched my fists, the golden chains pressing harder against my skin.

I know I contradict my own thoughts. But I'm certain with enough anger, I can do it.

"The Sheep of Time, the Slug of Fate, the Peace of Fear, and the Holder of Pain, I invoke the name of the Lamb, who never fades!"

My body was enveloped in warmth, as if cradled by an embrace that soothed every fiber of my being.

My wounds began to knit themselves closed, a gentle heat radiating through me.

Then, in the vast silence of the cell, he appeared.

A boy sat upon a cloud that seemed to shimmer between reality and dream.

His white hair, soft and curled like sheep's wool, framed a face with skin of warm fawn.

Draped in an oversized white jacket with puffy rims and a fur-lined hood, he wore black shorts and peculiar shoes reminiscent of the Victorian era.

Yet, his most striking feature wasn't his attire—it was his eyes. Alluring black sclera encased golden irises, their pupils ticking like the hands of a clock.

No, not just resembling a clock; they were a clock, spinning with the passage of endless time.

This was no mere god. He was the Lamb God, the Shepherd of Time, the Laze of Fate, the Slug of Fate. The one who cradled existence within his grasp.

The very creator of time itself, standing above the seas of temporal flow and the veil of mortal understanding.

And he was known to be the kindest of all deities—Natalie had said so herself.

He stared at me with a mix of awe and pity before floating closer on his cloud. "You poor thing," he said softly, his voice a blend of a child's innocence and a god's might. "I see that you called me."

Before I could respond, a sharp, searing pain erupted in my eyes.

Blood poured from them as if they wept in reverence of his overwhelming presence.

Even in his weakest form, his power was undeniable.

Yet, the wounds healed as quickly as they appeared, a bizarre and unsettling phenomenon.

Blinking the blood away, I forced myself to speak. "I beg of you, grant me a sliver of your power, and I will repay you however I can."

The Lamb tilted his head, a gesture both curious and ominous. "I can help you," he said, his childlike tone laced with divine authority. "But, as you know, the price will be something grave."

I gritted my teeth. "Must you take my life? Or carve away some of my time?"

He shook his head slowly. "Little lamb, lost in a fight against fate," he murmured. "I could give you power, but... as a Visionary myself, I fear you cannot bear the stakes."

I let out a heavy sigh. "You mean... I see."

His golden clockwork eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Though you are a good soul," he continued, "I shall temper the price with my mercy. For I am just, even to those who seek my aid."

He stepped down from his cloud, approaching me. With a wave of his hand, the entire world around me shifted.

The golden chains vanished, and I suddenly found myself pinned to a cross, iron nails driven through my hands and feet.

"I do hope the horrors of this world do not consume you," the Lamb said, his voice reverberating with both kindness and finality. "After all, you are my one and only... Prophet."

This this was why I had avoided calling upon him.

Though he was powerful, merciful, and just, he was also unrelenting in his role as a keeper of cosmic balance.

In his eyes, all mankind bore sin, and for daring to seek his help, I had to suffer for their transgressions.

As I hung on that cross, I saw beyond the veil of my pain. A tsunami loomed in the distance, an unrelenting force surging toward me.

The price for my salvation was clear: I was to endure the sins of humanity. To gain his power, I had to die not for myself, but for the sins of others.