oharazetsu

In a world where the gods are long gone, only their cursed relics remain—twisting anyone desperate enough to use them.

Vael never wanted power. He only wanted to survive. But when his village is destroyed by a warlord wielding a relic of the old gods, he’s left with nothing… except a choice: die broken, or take up the artifact that calls to him by name.

The moment he touches it, everything changes. The gods didn’t vanish—they were betrayed. And something older, something worse, is beginning to stir beneath the ruins they left behind.

As the power eats away at his mind, Vael must decide what he's becoming. Because in a world like this, monsters aren’t born.

They’re made.

NETHRYN

It washed the black blood from Vael's hands as he stood at the edge of the ruin. Around him, broken weapons and shattered armor lay scattered like bones. The Echo Wielders were gone, torn apart by the shadow inside him.

The mark on his chest had climbed higher—curling up his throat, black veins threading under pale skin. Each fight fed it. Each kill made it stronger.

You're unraveling, the crown whispered.

Vael didn't answer. He looked ahead—past the trees, beyond the jagged cliffs. There, mountains ripped through the clouds like black knives.

Behind them lay the Shattered Vale.

The crown feared it. But never said why.

Rotting hands broke through the soil—bony fingers, sharp as splinters. One by one, figures dragged themselves from the earth. Their bodies stitched together by black chains, their faces blank and hollow.

The crown hissed.They serve the Hollow.

Vael raised his blade. Shadows clung to the steel like smoke. The Wraithbound circled him slowly, chains dragging behind them with a sound like distant thunder. Their eyes glowed faint blue.

Vael dodged—cutting deep into its chest. But the wound closed instantly, sewn back together by chains that snapped tight with a screech.

Another struck from behind, claws slicing across his shoulder. Black blood spilled. He staggered, eyes burning.

The whispers screamed in joy as the shadows surged. They poured out of him—wild, jagged, alive—ripping through the Wraithbound. Chains shattered. Bodies turned to ash.

Piece by piece, it hollowed him out.

The last Wraithbound lunged, desperation in its movement. Vael caught it mid-air, shadows wrapping around its throat. Their eyes met—blue and black—and in that flicker, he saw it:

Hesitation will kill you, the crown warned.

The chains fell. The dust scattered.

Something moved in the ruins ahead.

A new shadow rose—taller, heavier, its body flickering like broken glass. Silver flames burned behind its eyes.

The crown's voice turned cold.This one remembers what it lost.

Hollow Chains