Chains of the Forgotten

The chains above trembled, their massive links grinding together like the bones of an ancient beast awakening from slumber. A deep, resonating hum filled the air, sending vibrations through the crumbling city. Aaron's instincts flared in warning.

"Something's coming," he muttered, shifting into a defensive stance.

The Forgotten One remained still, watching as the Ruined Seat pulsed with a sickly light. The throne, though cracked and broken, seemed to respond to the shaking chains, its surface shimmering with faint echoes of power.

Aaron's grip tightened around his sword. "I thought you said this place was abandoned."

The Forgotten One didn't look at him. "No place touched by fate is ever truly empty."

A shiver crawled down Aaron's spine.

Then—the air split apart.

With a deafening clang, the chains snapped downward, slamming into the ground like iron pillars. A shockwave blasted through the ruins, kicking up a storm of dust and ash. Aaron shielded his face, his golden-black aura flaring to keep himself steady.

When the dust settled, he saw them.

Figures wrapped in chains emerged from the shadows. Their bodies were barely human—warped, elongated, their limbs twisted as if they had been pulled apart and stitched back together. Their faces were obscured by rusted metal masks, their eyes glowing dimly beneath.

Aaron exhaled slowly. "Prisoners?"

The Forgotten One shook his head. "No. Remnants."

As if responding to his words, the chained figures lurched forward, their movements jerky and unnatural. The ground beneath them cracked with each step, as if reality itself recoiled from their presence.

Aaron's instincts screamed at him.

Danger.

One of the creatures suddenly lashed out, a chain whipping through the air like a serpent striking its prey. Aaron barely managed to twist his body, dodging by an inch as the chain shattered the stone behind him.

No more hesitation.

Aaron moved.

His golden-black energy surged around him, lightning crackling along his blade as he dashed forward. He closed the distance between him and the nearest Remnant, slashing clean through its torso.

For a moment, he thought it was over.

Then—the wound stitched itself back together.

Aaron's eyes widened. The Remnant's chain-covered body reformed instantly, the glowing runes on its chest pulsing brighter.

"They can't be killed so easily," the Forgotten One said, his voice unreadable.

Aaron clicked his tongue. "You could've said that before I attacked."

The other Remnants began to move, their chains writhing like living creatures. They surrounded Aaron, cutting off any escape. The air felt heavier, the weight of countless forgotten souls pressing down on him.

For the first time in a long while, Aaron felt something close to pressure.

He smirked.

"Alright," he muttered, gripping his sword tighter. "Let's see how much you can actually take."

He raised his free hand, gathering energy into his palm. The golden-black light swirled violently, shaping into a sphere of compressed destruction.

The Remnants lunged.

Aaron unleashed the blast.

A massive explosion erupted outward, tearing through the ruined city and swallowing the Remnants in a surge of raw power. The very air screamed as the golden-black energy devoured everything in its path. The ground shattered, sending debris flying in every direction.

When the dust cleared, Aaron stood amidst the devastation, his breath heavy. The area where the Remnants had stood was nothing but a scorched crater.

But then—the air shimmered.

Aaron's stomach sank.

From the edges of the crater, the Remnants reformed. Their chains pulled their scattered pieces back together, binding their bodies whole once more. The only sign of damage was the faint flicker of their glowing runes.

Aaron clicked his tongue. "Well, that's annoying."

The Forgotten One finally spoke. "These are not enemies you defeat with power alone. They are bound to the Ruined Seat—as long as the throne stands, so will they."

Aaron's gaze snapped to the cracked throne at the heart of the city. He could feel it now—the faint pulse of something old and unyielding.

His lips curled into a grin. "Then I guess I'll just have to break the damn throne."

The Forgotten One let out a soft chuckle. "That is easier said than done."

Aaron rolled his shoulders. "Good. I like a challenge."

The Remnants began to close in again, their movements slower but no less relentless. The air hummed with tension.

Aaron exhaled, letting his energy flare brighter. If the throne was the key, then there was no point wasting time.

"Cover me," he said, launching himself toward the Ruined Seat.