Nova_Verse

In the world of NOVA, death is not the end. Beneath the mortal realm lies the Soul Land, where the spirits of the departed linger, sustained by the memories of the living. But once the last person who remembers you is gone, so are you.

For most, this is an inevitable fate. For a rare few, it is a chance to rise.

Those who leave behind a lasting impact—be it through legend, power, or sheer will—gain the ability to defy the boundaries of life and death. These beings, the Soulbound, can forge bonds with the living, exchanging power for emotion. The greater their influence, the stronger they become, even gaining the ability to walk between worlds.

But not all spirits wait to be remembered. Some claw their way back through sheer hatred. Some carve their names into history through blood and fire.

This is the story of one such soul.

A man betrayed. A warrior forgotten. A legend reborn.

And now, Rael Noctis will forge his own destiny—one soul at a time.

The masochists

Elara twirled the black dagger between her fingers, feeling the weight of it—both physical and symbolic. It wasn't just a weapon. It was proof. A mark of belonging.

But the question lingered in her mind: Did she truly belong here?

The murmurs of the onlookers faded as Kalen stepped closer, his golden eyes glinting with approval. "You've done what few can. The pit claims most who enter it."

Elara sheathed the dagger at her side, steadying her breath. "And now?"

Kalen smirked. "Now, you work for us."

Rael, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "You're sending her on a mission already?"

Kalen glanced at him. "She survived the pit. She's ready."

Rael's expression was unreadable, but Elara could sense the tension beneath it. He didn't trust this—not yet. But he wouldn't interfere. This was her decision.

Elara met Kalen's gaze. "What's the job?"

Kalen motioned for her to follow. He led her through a passageway deeper into the underground complex. The air was cooler here, the walls lined with old maps, scattered documents, and relics of a history she didn't yet understand.

He stopped in front of a wooden table and placed a folded parchment on it. "There's a man named Darius Vale. A collector of rare artifacts. He has something we want."

Elara arched an eyebrow. "And by we, you mean the Syndicate?"

Kalen's smirk deepened. "Of course. The item he possesses isn't just rare. It's dangerous."

Elara unfolded the parchment. A rough sketch of an ornate silver pendant stared back at her. Symbols were etched into the metal, ones that seemed to twist even on paper. Her tattoos pulsed faintly at the sight of it, an unspoken recognition passing through her body.

"What is it?" she asked, voice low.

Kalen's expression darkened. "Something tied to the very foundation of what we are."

Elara traced the pendant's shape with her fingertips. She had been thrown into this world, forced to navigate its shadows and power struggles. But now, she had a chance to take control—to uncover the truth.

She looked up at Kalen. "Where do I find him?"

Kalen's smirk returned. "He'll be at the Midnight Bazaar. Three nights from now."

Elara exhaled, already running through the possibilities in her mind. "Consider it done."

As she turned, she caught Rael's gaze. He studied her, something unreadable flickering behind his crimson eyes.

Be careful, his silence seemed to say.

Elara only gripped the dagger tighter. She wasn't afraid of stepping deeper into the abyss.

She was ready to carve her path through it.

A DAGGER IN THE DARK