NOVEL WEB Chapter 16: Lend it to me
Vonjo stared at the system screen, the radiant glow reflecting off his widened eyes, his mouth slightly parted in stunned disbelief.
"The fuck?"
The names blazed across the interface like ancient prophecies written in celestial fire—Crimson Doom, Cerulean Doom, Ultraviolet Doom.
His thoughts raced, tangled, crashing over one another like waves against the cliffside of his sanity.
"For real?" he muttered under his breath. "All three… not permanent?"
The disbelief lodged itself deep in his gut. Hoping that's not what he was comprehending, he tapped the information icon, and at once, the mechanical chirp of the system rang in his ears.
A cold, sterile message unfolded before him, devoid of compassion:
[System Notice: The Doom Triad is locked.]
These legendary bloodline abilities of the House of Sutterfouse—Crimson Doom, Cerulean Doom, and Ultraviolet Doom—can only be activated in the presence of the Main Character or selected Core Side Characters of the storyline.
This is due to their narrative-linked resonance, which feeds off the story's focal gravity. Outside their presence, the abilities remain in a dormant, incomplete state.
To permanently unlock the Doom Triad and wield them at will, the Host must fulfill a condition:
— For 365 consecutive days, the Main Character must genuinely believe the Host is the strongest existence.
— Any moment of doubt, lapse, or comparative thought within this period will reset the condition.
Vonjo's fingers clenched involuntarily. The corners of his lips twitched downward as a wave of resentment surged warmly in his chest. "Don't tell me… I'm shackled to the main character as long as they are not permanent?"
He could taste his mouth. It's bitter.
A future bound by narrative dependency—it was the last thing he wanted. But just as the cold iron of inevitability began to wrap itself around his spine, he tapped open his profile window, hoping—desperately hoping—for something.
And there it was.
A quiet line of simple, stark, and yet glorious information:
Endless Doom: Permanent.
Relief poured through him like warm rain washing off months of grime.
"Phew! Almost got me," Vonjo slumped forward, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Bastard system… I thought you gave me everything," he muttered, then snorted. "I'm disappointed."
He closed the window.
The second gift was still loading, spinning slowly in the corner of his interface like it was toying with his patience. He shook his head. "Whatever. That first gift alone is enough to make me a god among insects."
Suddenly, a crunch of shifting rubble broke his train of thought.
Oh, right. Those two.
Before him, the two opponents—one round-faced, lips trembling; the other tall, one-armed, clutching his side—collapsed to their knees.
Their faces were pallid, their breathing ragged, their entire aura shattered beyond repair.
"You…" the round-faced one choked out, voice brittle with confusion and terror. "Your power—what is it? How… How come?! We used everything! All of it! We struck you down a hundred ways! We aimed for your organs, your bones, your blood—yet not a single strand of your hair was harmed!"
His companion, eyes wide with disbelief, added, "It's not possible. Not even the Royal Enforcers could take a direct hit from us and stay standing. Not even the war saints! You're… you're a monster. Did you really awaken something from.our House of Sutterfouse?!"
Vonjo tilted his head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had almost forgotten they existed. Just background noise now. Tools, really. Their fear tasted like fine wine to him—sweet, sharp, intoxicating.
The two men dropped prostrate before him, desperation clawing into every syllable as they pleaded.
"Please, Vonjo, listen—don't turn the House of Sutterfouse against you. You're still one of us, aren't you? You carry the blood, you bear the crest. Our family is sacred, cursed maybe, but sacred! Don't bring us ruin. We only came at you like that because of personal matters between your brothers and not the whole family. We were wrong. Blinded! Your half brother twisted our orders!"
The round-faced one reached toward him with trembling hands. "I have a mother who's blind, Vonjo! I'm her only son! If the House falls, you'll execute her for the sins I committed and not hers!"
The tall man followed, voice cracking with raw anguish. "And my brother—he's a mere boy. Fifteen! He just got his first spirit mark. If the House falls, they'll toss him into the Blood Arena to die like a hound for sport! Please, Vonjo… we only did what we thought was right! Spare us. Spare the House."
Their tears, their desperate gasps, the way their foreheads kissed the blood-soaked earth—it was all so pitiful Vonjo almost wanted to applaud.
He hadn't even cared about the House of Sutterfouse. Not anymore. The bloodline, the crest, the name—it was all just bait.
Those words he uttered earlier were only designed to ignite these two into attacking with everything they had, just so he could strut through their best efforts and wring the system rewards out of their failure. And it worked. Beautifully.
Now, it's no use anymore as they groveled. Clinging to his boots like insects caught in a rising tide. He doesn't feel anything for them.
Still, Vonjo's mind churned. Useless as they were, there had to be a way to squeeze some use out of them.
And then something clicked in his head.
The archery reward of the system.
He turned his gaze. Eugene stood nearby, cradling George's almost unconscious, bloodied body, but what caught Vonjo's eye was the item behind him—an ornately carved bow, its limbs humming with dormant energy.
A slow grin spread across Vonjo's face. He turned back toward the two.
"Alright," he said casually, flicking some dust from his coat. "If either one of you survives… maybe I'll think about it."
The two lifted their heads, stunned.
But Vonjo raised a finger. "Actually… forget that. Let's make this more fun."
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping like the calm before a storm.
"If you two run away now… and survive my next shot… I'll let the House of Sutterfouse live. No revenge. No extermination. Just walk away, and don't die."
The round-faced one blinked rapidly. "Wait… what? Are you serious?"
"Truly? If we run… and live… you'll spare the House? And we can report to the Cultivation Enforcement, or the Doom Registry, or the Black Bell Agency?"
Vonjo sighed. "Yes."
"But what if only one of us survives?! Do we both have to live? Or just one? Does it matter how far we run? Can we split directions? What if we use shields? What if—"
"I said what I said," Vonjo snapped. "I'm giving you a chance. Use it. Or don't."
The two scrambled like mad dogs.
The round-faced one roared an order, summoning a black-furred Hell Hound, massive and drooling flames.
Without hesitation, both men mounted it—one clutching its fur, the other hanging on for dear life.
Not content with only one method of escape, the tall man threw out his palm and summoned a dark-winged Hell Roc from a swirling portal and climbed on top of it.
They split—the Roc soared skyward, the hound bounded across the shattered stone of the hellish place.
Vonjo watched, stunned for a brief moment.
"No wonder they asked so many damn questions…" he muttered. "They were buying time. Crafty bastards."
Then, he shook his head, amusement glittering in his eyes. "Even better. Now I get to test what the system gave me."
His gaze turned to Eugene. The bow was there, gleaming under the fractured sunlight like a divine instrument of judgment.
"Hey," Vonjo called, voice steady and filled with cold purpose, "lend me your archery bow for a moment."
And with that, the air grew still—ominous, silent, breathless—as if the world itself was waiting to see if fate could truly be rewritten with a single arrow.