The onlookers were stunned, their murmurs dying out as the shock of the scene before them took hold. The king's face twisted in distress, a mix of fear and fury contorting his features at the unexpected turn of events.
Valencia, her once gentle eyes now ablaze with determination, raised her hand, conjuring a thin spear of light. It shimmered for a brief moment before shooting forward with lethal precision, piercing cleanly through the swordsman's skull. The chamber fell deathly silent as the swordsman's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Gasps echoed through the hall—no one had anticipated that a newly summoned otherworlder could wield multiple magic spells so quickly and with such deadly precision.
As the body of the fallen soldier lay still, more blades of light began to materialize around Valencia, swirling with an almost celestial brilliance. The air crackled with raw energy, and the crowd recoiled in fear, awestruck by her power. This was no ordinary magic; it was a force summoned without any of the traditional formations, something entirely unheard of in their world.
The blades streaked through the air with blinding speed, targeting those who surrounded Michael. Some struck true, finding their marks with deadly precision, while others glanced harmlessly off the soldiers' armor, sending sparks flying in all directions. Michael, caught in the midst of the chaos, watched in a mix of awe and horror as his childhood friend unleashed her terrifying power in a desperate bid to protect him.
"Quick! Attack her soul!" the king shrieked, his voice tinged with a rising panic. His command cut through the chaos, and the mages flanking him immediately sprang into action, unleashing a barrage of soul-corrupting spells. The dark tendrils of their magic snaked through the air, closing in on Valencia with malevolent intent, their purpose clear—to shatter her spirit and break her resolve.
Valencia's scream tore through the chamber as the dark magic invaded her mind, overwhelming her senses with unbearable pain. Her body convulsed violently, her fingers twitching as she fought against the onslaught, but it was a battle she was destined to lose. With one final, heart-wrenching cry, she collapsed to the floor, unconscious and defenseless. Unnoticed by all, her status menu flickered, and in a cruel twist of fate, her class shifted from Holy Saint to Demonic Saint, marking her fall from grace in the eyes of humanity.
Seizing the opportunity, a soldier hefted a massive greataxe, his face twisted with determination and a grim sense of duty. With a sickening thud, the blade came crashing down onto Valencia's back, the brutal impact silencing the last flicker of light in her eyes. The chamber fell into an eerie stillness as Michael watched, his heart shattering into a million pieces. The girl who had been his closest companion, his only friend in this unforgiving new world, was now nothing more than a lifeless body on the cold stone floor.
A strangled cry escaped Michael's lips, a sound so raw and full of pain that it seemed to reverberate through the very walls of the chamber. He had failed her. The realization tore at his soul, a searing agony that left him feeling hollow and lost.
In response to his anguish, a large, ominous coffin burst forth from Michael's chest, an artifact of ancient and terrible power. It flew across the room, hovering for a moment above Valencia's lifeless body before descending upon her, absorbing both her body and soul into its dark depths. The onlookers stared in morbid fascination, captivated by the eerie spectacle unfolding before them. But one mage, more astute than the others, managed to cast a detection spell before the coffin could return to Michael, revealing its true nature to all present.
—
SoulForge Coffin
Rarity: Unmeasurable
Gift by The God of Death #073
Soulbound Item
Uses: Unlimited
Capacity: 1
An ornate coffin crafted from the mythical eternavyx ore, adorned with mortisite gems and intricate white gold inlays. Created by the God of Death #073, it is a unique artifact, impossible to replicate.
This coffin traps the soul of a recently deceased individual, offering the wielder a chance to resurrect the soul with a new body. The body will retain features similar to the original but will always belong to a different race, though still humanoid. The soul can be stored indefinitely, but once released, it cannot reenter.
—
Despite the coffin being the most extraordinary item anyone in the room had ever seen, the haughty humans dismissed it without a second thought. To them, a coffin that would alter a human's race was of little value, especially since it was soul-bound, destined to vanish upon the wielder's death.
Michael's heart seethed with a mix of rage and despair, the loss of Valencia pushing him to the brink. His hand shot out, seizing the dagger from the man who had stabbed him earlier, and with a surge of adrenaline, he drove it into the soldier's carotid artery. Blood spurted in a crimson arc as the man fell, dead before he hit the ground. The act, brutal and swift, earned Michael a few levels for defeating such a high-level opponent, though his victory was short-lived. Another soldier, quicker than the rest, struck him from behind with the pommel of his rapier, the blow sending Michael crumpling to the ground, unconscious.
"Throw him in the pit. We don't need trash like necromancers in my kingdom," the king spat, his voice laced with contempt and disgust. His anger was palpable—his future queen had sacrificed herself for a mere necromancer, and many of his elite soldiers had perished in the chaos.
Michael's limp body was dragged away, his mind lost to darkness, while the other soldiers and courtiers resumed their duties, indifferent to the tragedy that had just unfolded. In the corner of the chamber, the coffin that held Valencia's soul remained, an ominous presence that went unnoticed by most.
When Michael regained consciousness, several days had passed since his summoning. He awoke in a tiny, dank cell, the walls closing in on him as the reality of his situation settled in. His punctured lung had been crudely healed with Valencia's magic, but the wound throbbed with every breath, a constant reminder of his near-death experience. The loss of Valencia weighed heavily on him, a dark cloud that seemed to sap the very life from his soul.
The following day, Michael was dragged from his cell and brought to a location near what appeared to be a gladiatorial arena. Shackled in heavy chains, he trudged forward under the disdainful glares of the people around him, who regarded him as a criminal, a monster unworthy of their mercy. Their eyes were cold, devoid of any sympathy or understanding for the horrors he had endured.
Finally, he was forced to stop and look up at a stage where the king and his officials were seated, their expressions cold and unfeeling, as if they were merely presiding over another day's entertainment.
"For your crimes—being a user of necromancy and killing the second otherworlder—we have decided on a fitting punishment," the king announced, his voice dripping with malice. "Here lies a pit leading to the deepest known part of this world. If you survive, you will be pardoned. If you die, so be it."
Michael stared at the king with a blank expression, his mind numb from the horrors that had unfolded. The pit before him yawned wide, a dark, bottomless chasm that seemed to stretch into eternity, promising nothing but suffering and despair. His chains were removed, and with a rough shove, he was forced toward the edge.
A soldier, his face twisted with contempt, delivered a sharp kick to Michael's back, sending him tumbling into the darkness below. The pit swallowed him whole, the light of the world above rapidly fading as he plummeted into the abyss. And so began Michael's new journey, one marked by pain, loss, and a burning desire for vengeance that would drive him to the very edges of sanity.