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

She could feel the throne beneath her—not as cold stone, not as something lifeless, but as a living, breathing extension of herself. The shadows pulsed at her fingertips, waiting for command. The Veil was hers, but she knew one truth above all else:

A ruler who does not understand their kingdom is nothing more than a fool on a stolen throne.

She would see everything.

A deep hum echoed through the throne room, the air vibrating as Elara focused. The city of Varos still flickered at the edges of her awareness, but it was distant now—irrelevant compared to what lay beyond.

There were other doors.

The Veil was not simply one boundary—it was a network, a web of hidden realms, lost corridors of existence, places untouched by mortal hands.

Elara reached outward with her mind. The throne responded.

The world rippled.

The air around her throne darkened, and then—a gate appeared. Not the same as before. This one was… different. Smaller. Less chaotic. Controlled.

A doorway only she could open.

Rael took a wary step forward, his sword still in hand. "Elara, what the hell are you doing?"

Darius Vale, ever the observer, smirked. "She's testing the limits of her power. Smart."

The moment she crossed the threshold, she felt the difference.

This place was not like Varos. The air was heavy, thick with something ancient. Stone pillars stretched into an endless black sky, their surfaces covered in glowing symbols she almost recognized—fragments of an old language, one that whispered in the back of her mind.

She heard the laughter.

Something that had been waiting for her.

"Elara Noctis," the voice crooned, smooth as silk and sharp as glass. "At last."

A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, elegant, draped in robes of deep violet and obsidian. Their eyes burned with golden fire, and the air bent around them, as though they did not fully exist within the same space.

She knew, without needing to be told, that this was no ordinary being.

This was something like her.

Or something she might become.

The being smiled, tilting their head. "You sit upon the throne, but do you truly know what it means?"

The being chuckled, taking a slow step closer. "Do you know why the Veil exists? Why it was built? What it was meant to keep out?"

Her fingers twitched. "It was meant to keep beings like you from interfering in the world."

The figure's smile widened. "Oh, little queen… no. It was meant to keep something else in."

For the first time since taking the throne, she felt something close to uncertainty.

And now, it was staring back at her.

Beyond the Veil