The bond between them was unlike the Shadow Bond that Sunny had. Unlike the Shadow Bond, which would enslave the person once their true name was spoken aloud, this bond was more like a bridge. While the bestower gained unrestricted access to the mind of the bestowed, it didn't give the bestower control over them. If the bestowed—Cassie in this case—firmly believed something was wrong and refused to act, the bond couldn't compel her to obey unless hypnosis was used. However, against someone with a high affinity for fate and revelation, that would be a risky move. The point of this bond was to create a connection of mind and soul between them.
It was akin to acquiring a citadel in the domain of the mind. As he ascended, he suspected he would be able to create such bonds to expand his domain. This could be an early form of a domain, one he could expand through the creation of more bonds. But there was a problem… why could he only make one bond? He had four soul cores, so by normal logic, he should be able to create four such bonds. And why did he have four soul cores? How had he gotten them without going through the first nightmare?
Ivan frowned slightly, a lost expression crossing his face. What was I thinking just now?
—--------------------------
["The mark creates a bond between the bestower and the marked, allowing both the bestowed and the bestower to benefit from one another's attributes. The stronger their bond, the mightier they become..." Does this mean I can benefit from Ivan's attributes as well? Will he gain revelations like me as well?....]
—----------------------------
He turned to look at Cassie, his eyes widening. He was listening to her, but her mouth did not move. She was reading the runes, speaking her thoughts aloud in her mind, but he could hear them as if she were whispering them directly into his ear.
No way…
He immediately focused back on his runes.
—---------------------------
Name: Ivan
True Name: Adam
Description: ???
Rank: Sleeper
Class: Devil
Soul Cores: [4/7]
Soul Fragments: [23/4000]
Attributes: [Telepathist], [Listener], [Sailor], [Bard], [Student of Ratiocination]
—--------------------------
Aspect: [Visionary]
Aspect Rank: [Divine], ???
Innate Ability: [Envision]
Attempts: [4/7]
—----------------------------
Three of Ivan's attributes had advanced, and all three were of the mind domain. Did creating the bond help him advance his attributes? There was a possibility that he could progress his attributes while his soul cores were dormant. His Sailor and Bard pathways hadn't advanced—perhaps they required actions related to the sea, purification, devotion, or religion?... His Spectator, Secret Suppliant, and Reader pathways had advanced when he created the bond. To accommodate his bonding ability, he needed at least this much power to make it usable.
That aside, this was good news. He had thought he needed to complete nightmares and ascend to increase his power, but now he realized he just needed to determine the advancement requirements and fulfill them. This would allow him to gain greater power at a lower level. Still, these attributes seemed closely tied to his soul core and soul fragments.
***
At the same time, far to the north west, beyond the forgotten shore and at the edge of the burned forest, a cacophony of explosions erupted. A massive cloud of smoke and dust billowed into the air, large enough to cover three towns. High at the edge of the smoke, a gaunt man in a tattered space suit emerged, leaping out of the chaos. As he moved, the surrounding space seemed to warp, bending and twisting in strange patterns. With a swift movement of his leg, the man accelerated, his body moving at what appeared to be normal speed—but the very fabric of space around him distorted, causing the distance and surroundings to contract. This allowed him to move at ridiculous speeds, as though the world itself bent to his will. The gaunt man in the space suit continued running, clearly trying to evade something.
In the center of the smoke-filled area, a figure stood. His form was blurry, obscured by the thick dust and haze. Beside him, a quill floated in the air, writing on thin air without the figure needing to touch it. The figure, shrouded by the smoke, turned his head toward the gaunt man, then glanced at the quill. The quill wrote vigorously on the air.
[The gaunt man in the space suit continued to blink in and out of existence, his form appearing and disappearing with each bend of space around him. However, his aspect is not suited for handling prolonged exposure to the immense pressure of this compressed space. As he attempted to summon the souls of the residents of the burned forest, the compressed space, which had been in a state of unnatural distortion, suddenly recoiled. The recoil was an inevitable consequence of the sustained bending of spacetime—when the energy holding the space in its compressed form suddenly released, it generated an intense backlash.]
[Asterion faced the full brunt of this recoil. The compressed space snapped back, causing an explosive release of energy. The force of this energy threw Asterion in the opposite direction at extreme velocity. His space suit's visor shattered from the sudden shockwave. As the shards of the broken visor flew inward, they threatened to pierce his face, but the Sovereign's body was far more resilient than ordinary flesh. Despite the assault, his face remained mostly unharmed; however in the process he dropped a wooden tablet. This is a reasonable development.]
"That damned quill..." The gaunt man in the space suit—Asterion—cursed as he stood up. As he did, a figure emerged from the receding smoke. This time, the quill remained in the figure's hand, and it wasn't writing anything. The figure approached the wooden tablet that had fallen from Asterion, bent down to pick it up, and inspected it with a keen eye. After a moment, the figure gave a satisfied smile.
"You know, if you had asked nicely, I might have given it to you. Though not for free, I would have been open to trading it..." Asterion said, still preparing to pull on his tether to the waking world. "For that quill, I might have agreed to an exchange. I know using that quill puts you in danger, which is why you never use it beyond a certain interval. I—"
"What is your type?"
Asterion's eyes widened, not because he had been cut off, but because of the question itself. "What?" he replied, his voice edged with confusion.
"I am in a good mood right now," the figure said, his voice warm but carrying an undertone of something more profound. "You see, I'm having a great time right now—well, the other me, at least."
As the smoke continued to dissipate, the figure's appearance became clearer. He was a man who appeared to be around 20 years old, standing at about two meters tall. His bright golden eyes were sharp, yet soft at the corners. His blonde hair framed his face, and the expression on his face was that of someone thoroughly enjoying the moment—radiating a smile that was warm and genuine.
It was Ivan. He wore a classic black clergyman's robe, and a silver crucifix hung from his neck, catching the faint light that filtered through the smoke.
"You see—" Ivan started, but just then, something was thrown at him. It was shapeless, and its form was nearly impossible to detect with the naked eye. Ivan reacted instantly, ducking and avoiding the formless projectile as it zipped through the space where his head had been only moments before. Once he stood back up, however, Asterion had vanished—he had returned to the waking world. Ivan's eyes lingered on the spot where Asterion had been, then swept over his surroundings.
He let out a long, weary sigh and collapsed onto his back, letting his body rest on the charred earth. The quill that had been in his hand disappeared in a small spark of light, vanishing into the air. "I really overestimated myself," Ivan muttered.
In his other hand was the wooden tablet. Ivan gazed at it for a moment before casting a tired but knowing smile towards the direction of the Forgotten Shore. Sending him there was the right choice, Ivan thought, though a tinge of regret followed closely behind. But I'm running out of time.
Ivan summoned the quill once again, the familiar feeling of the object materializing in his hand. He began to write something in the air, its strokes forming invisible symbols. I should be able to merge back before the siege of the Crimson Spire, Ivan mused as he finished writing.
In one swift motion, he broke the wooden tablet in his hand, causing a surge of blinding light to erupt from it. The light enveloped him entirely, burning brighter with each passing second.
The flash of light grew blinding, consuming everything around him. After a moment, the light began to dim, slowly dissipating into the air until it was completely gone. The terrain remained unchanged: the ground was still charred, barren, and lifeless, with no sign of life.