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

The tunnels beneath the Midnight Bazaar were a maze of twisting stone corridors, damp with the scent of ancient dust and forgotten secrets. Elara's breath came fast as she sprinted through the winding paths, her grip on the pendant unyielding. The weight of it burned against her palm, as if the artifact itself resented being taken.

Rael ran beside her, his blade still slick with the energy of those who had tried to stop them. "They're closing in."

Elara glanced over her shoulder. The masked pursuers were relentless, their dark robes billowing as they moved unnaturally fast. Shadows bent toward them, the very walls seeming to pulse with their presence. Whoever they were, they weren't just ordinary bounty hunters.

"They're not letting up," she muttered.

Rael's crimson eyes flickered. "Because they know what you have."

A sharp turn led them into a dead-end chamber. The walls were lined with broken statues, remnants of something lost to time. There was no door. No escape.

Elara cursed under her breath. "Great. Trapped."

Rael didn't hesitate. He pressed a hand to the wall, tracing over the old carvings. "This isn't just stone," he murmured.

Elara narrowed her eyes. "If you have a trick, now's the time."

The masked figures appeared at the entrance, moving in eerie silence. Their leader stepped forward, a tall figure with piercing silver eyes beneath his hood. His voice was a whisper laced with power. "You shouldn't have taken it."

Elara raised an eyebrow, tightening her grip on the pendant. "Then maybe you shouldn't have let it end up in an auction."

The leader didn't react. He simply lifted a hand—and the air in the room shifted.

A force slammed into Elara's chest, sending her skidding backward. The pendant pulsed violently, as if it were fighting against the unseen attack. Rael moved in an instant, intercepting the next strike with his blade. The clash sent a ripple of power through the chamber, shattering one of the ancient statues.

Elara staggered to her feet, her vision spinning. The pendant hummed, whispering in a language she didn't understand. But she felt it.

Rael blocked another attack, but even he was struggling. Their enemies weren't fighting with normal magic. This was something deeper. Older.

Elara inhaled sharply. No more running.

She let the hunger rise, let the shadows coil around her limbs. The darkness in the room thickened as she reached for the pendant—not just holding it, but accepting it.

A surge of raw energy exploded outward. The masked figures hesitated, sensing the shift. The leader's silver eyes widened, just slightly.

"You don't know what you're doing," he murmured.

Elara's lips curled into a smirk. "Neither do you."

HUNTED IN THE DARK