The Ruinbound

Elias' muscles tensed as he lunged forward, sword in hand, ready to strike.

But then—

The world shattered.

Not in the way it had before—not like the Eclipse, not like the city breaking apart piece by piece.

This was different. A glitch. A distortion.

Everything froze.

The Nullborns stopped mid-motion, their claws hovering inches from the metal bunker door. Lyra was locked in place, caught in the act of reaching for her blade. Callum stood behind them, a statue in a world suddenly without time.

And Elias—Elias couldn't breathe.

His chest caved in, his lungs burning as if the very air had been stolen from him. His vision blurred, dark spots clouding his sight. His heart pounded violently, erratically, too fast—too hard.

He hit the ground, gasping.

His hands clawed at his throat.

Nothing.

No air. No movement.

Just the crushing weight of something unseen pressing down on him.

And then—

Clapping.

Slow. Mocking. Echoing through the frozen world.

Footsteps approached, steady, deliberate. A figure emerged from the distorted air, stepping through the glitch like it was nothing but a doorway to be crossed.

He wore a long, tattered coat, dark and heavy, frayed at the edges as if it had endured storms that never ended. But it was the mask that stood out the most—

A porcelain-white faceplate, cracked across the middle like a shattered mirror, stitched together with thin, rusted wires. The mouth of the mask was carved into a permanent, jagged smile—wide, cruel, and endless.

The stranger spread his arms, bowing slightly.

"So you're the chosen one, huh?"

His voice was smooth, amused, but there was something rotten underneath. Something wrong.

"I must say, I'm disappointed."

Elias gasped, trying to push himself up, but the weight on his chest only grew heavier.

The masked man tilted his head.

"You can't even bear the Ruin Stop, Elias." He chuckled, stepping closer. "And yet, you think you can end all this?"

Then—he laughed.

Not a normal laugh.

Something hysterical.

A jagged, erratic noise that twisted the silence around them, warped the air. The Nullborns behind him glitched violently, their bodies spasming like broken marionettes.

Elias tried to move, tried to speak, tried to reach out—

"HELP ME."

He screamed for the voice inside him.

Silence.

Nothing.

The voice did not answer.

The weight in Elias' chest grew unbearable.

The masked man sighed dramatically. "Oh, right. I forgot to mention."

He crouched slightly, his porcelain mask inches from Elias' face.

"I blocked your pathway to him."

Elias' blood ran cold.

"He won't be helping you anymore."

The masked man's smile never changed, but Elias could feel him grinning underneath.

"He was just getting in the way."

Elias was on his knees, his breath still ragged, his mind reeling.

The masked man tilted his head, then turned slightly, stroking the head of the Calamity beside him.

It was unlike any Elias had seen before.

Larger. More complete. It wasn't writhing or unstable like the Nullborns. Its black, shifting skin was smooth, coiled like a living shadow. Its eyes—deep, empty pits—stared at Elias with inhuman hunger.

"Let's make things interesting," the masked man said, still petting the beast. "Try to kill my pet."

Elias' breath caught.

"If you win," the masked man continued, "you get to go on your little adventure."

His voice darkened.

"And if you die…"

His fingers tightened in the Calamity's shifting fur.

"I'll start breaking your friends' limbs. One by one."

Elias' pulse slammed against his skull.

Fear.

It poured into him, thick and suffocating.

But he couldn't move.

Couldn't do anything.

The masked man let out a sigh. "Sounds fun, right?"

Elias shook his head. "No."

The masked man's smile never wavered.

"You don't have a choice."

Then—Elias' sword vanished from his grip.

He gasped, looking down at his empty hands.

Then, in the masked man's own hand, something began to take shape.

A sword—longer, darker, lined with glowing Ruinscript. The very air around it warped and pulsed, like the blade itself was rejecting reality.

He twirled it effortlessly, then with a careless flick of his wrist, tossed it toward Elias.

The sword hit the ground in front of him with a dull thud.

"Get ready, Forsaken Scholar."

Elias stared at the weapon.

The Ruinscript glowing faintly against the night, symbols flickering in and out of existence.

His fingers twitched.

The masked man took a step back, arms open.

"Let's see if you're worth anything at all."

The Calamity growled.

Elias swallowed, his hands shaking.

Then—he reached for the sword.

Elias stared at the sword.

Its Ruinscript markings pulsed faintly, flickering in and out of existence, as if the weapon itself wasn't sure it belonged in this world. The blade was sleek, dark, and unnatural—too sharp, too perfect. It radiated a presence that made his skin crawl, whispering an invisible pressure into the air around it.

His fingers twitched.

He didn't want to touch it.

He didn't want to be here.

He wanted to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

Elias exhaled sharply and reached for the sword.

The moment his fingers curled around the hilt, a jolt shot up his arm—like static, like something ancient waking inside his bones. His head spun, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar weight. The blade wasn't heavy, but his body felt like lead.

He forced himself to his feet, his knees weak, his grip unsteady.

Across from him, the masked man still stood, completely relaxed.

One hand still rested on his Calamity's head, his fingers brushing lazily through the creature's shifting, liquid-like fur. The beast rumbled beneath his touch, an unnatural, guttural growl that made Elias' stomach churn.

The masked man chuckled.

"What did Ravelle see in you?"

Elias' breath hitched.

Ravelle?

The name rang in his head, familiar yet foreign, like something he should have remembered but didn't.

The masked man tilted his head slightly, as if studying Elias through the cracked porcelain of his mask.

"To entrust the rest of humanity on your shoulders…"

His voice was dripping with mockery, his words slow, deliberate, curling around Elias like a noose.

"The man who can't even stand in a glitch?"

The masked man's laughter exploded into the air.

Jagged. Broken. Like something trying too hard to sound human.

"Hahahahahaha! Quite amusing."

Elias' grip tightened around the sword, his heartbeat hammering.

The masked man sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

"Well then," he murmured.

With a flick of his wrist, the leash around Calamity's throat vanished.

The beast growled, its eyes locking onto Elias.

It lowered its body, muscles coiling, shadows shifting along its unnatural skin.

Above them, the masked man began floating.

Not flying—floating.

He rose effortlessly, as if the very concept of gravity no longer applied to him. His long coat billowed in the still air, his masked face still tilted downward, watching Elias like an audience waiting for the final act.

"Get ready, Elias."

Then—his voice sharpened.

"Vanish!"

The Calamity lunged.