Chains of the Godslayer

The forest was suffocating. The dense canopy of branches blotted out the sky, the air thick with an unnatural stillness. The boy trudged behind the master, his steps heavy and uneven. Though he had broken another chain, the remaining links pulsed faintly within him, heavier than before, as if punishing him for his defiance.

"Keep your eyes forward," the master said, his tone sharp and unwavering. He didn't look back, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

The boy quickened his steps, his breath shallow. "You said the altar was supposed to help me, but the chains feel tighter now."

The master smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed focused on the twisted trees around them. "That's because they are. Breaking a chain doesn't make the others weaker—it makes them fight harder. The heavens don't like losing their grip."

The boy frowned, gripping the hilt of his rusted blade. "How can chains fight back? They're not alive."

The master glanced at him briefly, his expression grim. "They're alive enough. Those chains aren't just metal—they're tied to your soul. Breaking them isn't just a fight against the heavens—it's a fight against yourself."

---

The boy shivered as the air grew colder. The trees around them twisted like claws, their dark shapes casting shifting shadows that seemed to reach for him. A faint whisper drifted through the forest, low and indistinct.

"What is this place?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The master slowed, his eyes scanning the shadows. "A scar," he said, his voice low. "This forest is a fragment of the heavens' cruelty. They left it behind when they thought they'd won. But the forest isn't empty—it remembers."

The boy froze, his heart pounding. "Not empty? What does that mean?"

Before the master could answer, the whispers grew louder, overlapping until they formed fragmented words.

"You are nothing."

"You will fail."

"The chains will never break."

The boy's breath hitched as the voices surrounded him, their venomous tones seeping into his thoughts.

"They're memories," the master said, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. "They're not real, but they'll feel real enough if you let them."

---

The boy hurried to keep up, his eyes darting toward the shifting shadows between the trees. The whispers grew louder, forming sentences that twisted like daggers in his mind.

"You are weak."

"You will kneel."

"You cannot escape."

The boy clenched his fists, his voice shaking with defiance. "They're lying."

The master glanced over his shoulder. "They're not lying," he said evenly. "They're telling you what the heavens want you to believe. The question is whether you listen."

The boy faltered, his knees buckling as the chains inside him seemed to grow heavier.

"I can't—" he started, his voice breaking.

The master turned sharply, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him upright. "Yes, you can," he said firmly. "They're only as strong as you let them be."

The boy looked up, his vision blurred by tears and exhaustion. "Why are they doing this?"

The master's gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained resolute. "Because they're afraid of you. And they should be."

---

The whispers grew louder with each step, pressing against the boy's mind like a vice. His legs trembled, the chains inside him pulling harder, as though they wanted him to stop.

They stepped into a clearing, and the boy's breath caught. At the center stood a withered tree, its bark blackened and cracked. Chains hung from its branches, swaying gently despite the still air.

"What is that?" the boy asked, his voice trembling.

"A remnant," the master replied, his tone grave. "The heavens used it to bind those who rose against them. It's dead now, but its power lingers. And so do its memories."

The boy took a hesitant step closer, the chains within him thrumming in response. The whispers in his mind sharpened, each word cutting deeper.

"Kneel."

"Submit."

"You will never be free."

The boy froze, his chest tightening as the voices pressed against him.

"This is your fight," the master said, his voice quiet but firm. He stayed at the edge of the clearing, his arms crossed. "I can't help you this time. If you want to break another chain, you'll have to face it alone."

---

The boy's legs trembled as he stepped toward the tree. The whispers grew deafening, their voices merging into a single, commanding roar.

"KNEEL!"

The chains inside him flared with golden light, their heat searing into his flesh. Pain tore through him, and he fell to his knees, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Through the agony, the master's words echoed in his mind.

"They're afraid of you. And they should be."

The boy clenched his fists, his breathing ragged. He gritted his teeth, forcing the words from his throat. "I'm not… yours."

The whispers faltered, their roar breaking into fragmented murmurs.

"You will fail."

"The chains will never break."

The boy lifted his head, his voice rising above the cacophony. "I will break them!"

The chains inside him pulsed violently, their golden light intensifying until one of them snapped. The broken link dissolved into shimmering sparks, scattering into the air. The whispers fell silent.

---

The boy collapsed forward, his body trembling with exhaustion. The remaining chains still glowed faintly, their weight a reminder of the road ahead. But for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope.

The master stepped into the clearing, kneeling beside him. His hand rested on the boy's shoulder, his expression unreadable.

"That's three," he said quietly.

The boy looked up, his eyes burning with determination. "How many more?"

The master smirked faintly, his tone carrying a hint of pride. "Enough to make you strong."

As they left the clearing, the boy glanced back at the withered tree. The chains hanging from its branches no longer called to him.

For now, the whispers were silent.