The chains are off.

I am going to die.

Not in some glorious, dramatic battle.

Not at the hands of a legendary hero.

No, I am about to be executed like a common criminal in a backwater abbey because some old priest decided to call the Inquisition.

This cannot stand.

I need my powers back. Now.

I take stock of my situation.

My magic is sealed.

My body is weak.

I am trapped in a holy church, surrounded by blessed objects and Inquisition-ready priests.

There's a binding spell on me.

I can feel it—like heavy, invisible chains wrapped around my soul.

Whoever did this was skilled.

It's not just blocking my power.

It's draining it.

Slowly.

Methodically.

Like I'm a captive battery.

Oh, hell no.

I am not some magic livestock.

Time to break free.

There are two ways to break a magic seal.

1. The Smart Way: Use a counter-spell, slowly unravel the bindings, and reclaim power safely.

2. The Stupid Way: Overload the seal with raw force until it either shatters or kills you.

Guess which one I have to pick.

I close my eyes, focusing inward.

The seal pulses, tightening.

I grit my teeth.

More pressure.

The bindings squeeze harder.

It feels like barbed wire cutting into my soul.

But I push back.

Harder.

More.

The pain is unbearable.

My vision blurs.

Blood drips from my nose.

My heart slows.

For a split second, my entire existence teeters on the edge of oblivion.

Then—

SNAP.

A wave of dark energy erupts from my body.

The entire room shakes.

The stained-glass windows crack.

Candles flicker violently, casting erratic shadows.

For the first time since waking up—

I feel like myself again.

Power floods through my veins.

I flex my fingers, watching black mist curl around them.

The seal is gone.

The chains are off.

I am back.

And I have some unfinished business.

I whip my head toward the door.

Footsteps.

Voices.

Someone felt that surge of power.

I do not plan to stick around for the exorcism session.

I gather energy, focusing on my fastest escape option.

Teleportation? Too risky.

Shadow step? Not enough darkness.

Possession? Disgusting.

Explosive exit? Violent, but effective.

Explosive exit it is.

I raise my hand and whisper a spell.

The air tenses.

The walls groan.

Then—

BOOM.

The entire church wall blasts apart.

Dust and debris rain down as I step into the cool night air.

The village beyond is silent.

For now.

But I know I have seconds, not minutes.

The priests will recover.

The Inquisition will hunt me.

And the world will soon know that the Final Boss has returned.