Veyrath had seen enough to know Voidbinding was no ordinary ritual.
It did not simply erase.
It did not simply return.
It changed.
Each subject reacted differently.
The scholar had returned broken.
The mercenary had returned stronger—but no longer himself.
This was not random.
It was a pattern.
A design.
And if there was a pattern, it could be controlled.
It could be perfected.
He had to know if the results could be shaped.
If he could determine what kind of return a subject would have.
Because if Voidbinding was more than a weapon—
If it was a tool for creation—
Then he had to master it.
And that meant more experiments.
More tests.
More prey.
The trading post was unraveling.
Fear had settled into the bones of the people.
The scholar's return had made them uneasy.
The mercenary's return had made them terrified.
And fear made them predictable.
It made them react instead of think.
The patrols were increasing.
More men were being sent into the woods.
Trying to find an enemy they could not understand.
That was a mistake.
Because it gave him more test subjects.
And so, Veyrath chose.
Not one.
Not two.
But three.
A warrior.
A healer.
And a thief.
Three very different individuals.
Three very different returns.
Three new ways to refine Voidbinding.
And one by one—
They vanished.
The warrior came back the fastest.
Within two days.
Not hesitant.
Not lost.
He returned as if nothing had happened at all.
His movements were fluid.
Too fluid.
He was faster.
Stronger.
But his eyes were empty.
No recognition.
No memory.
Only purpose.
And that purpose?
It was not his own.
It had been given to him.
The healer took longer.
She returned on the fourth night.
But she was not the same.
Her hands, once gentle, careful—
Now trembled with something unseen.
She could still speak.
Still remember.
But her words were wrong.
She spoke of things she had never known.
Her voice carried knowledge that was not hers.
She could see something beyond this world.
And when she looked at the people around her—
She wept.
Not in pain.
Not in fear.
But in understanding.
Because she now knew what waited beyond life.
And she knew no one should ever go there.
The thief never came back.
Not on the first day.
Not on the second.
Not at all.
And that was what interested Veyrath the most.
Had Voidbinding failed?
Or had it taken him somewhere else?
Somewhere he could not return from?
And if that was true—
Then what had he discovered?
Because if Voidbinding could erase someone permanently—
Then it was more than a weapon.
It was an absolute power.
The ability to decide existence itself.
But he needed more proof.
And for that—
He needed more subjects.
By the end of the week, the trading post was no longer a place of business.
It was a place of whispers, of paranoia, of growing hysteria.
People had stopped leaving their homes.
The streets were nearly empty.
Those who had the means to flee had already done so.
Those who remained spoke only in hushed voices.
Because they knew something was wrong.
They did not understand it.
They could not name it.
But they felt it.
A force lurking beneath their reality.
A force that had already taken too many.
And no one knew who would be next.
Not even Veyrath.
Because he was no longer choosing.
The ritual was acting on its own.
And that—
That was something even he had not expected.
Veyrath knelt in the shadows outside the settlement, tracing the runes of Voidbinding into the dirt.
Something had changed.
Something had shifted.
The ritual was no longer passive.
No longer just a tool in his hands.
It had started to act independently.
Not simply erasing.
Not simply returning.
But choosing.
A force that was not just his anymore.
It was something greater.
Something alive.
And for the first time,
Veyrath wondered—
Had he truly unlocked this power?
Or had he merely opened the door for it to enter the world?
Veyrath had felt power shift before.
He had wielded forces beyond mortal comprehension.
But this?
This was different.
Voidbinding was not just a ritual anymore.
It was not just a tool in his hands.
It was becoming something else.
Something alive.
And Veyrath did not accept things he did not understand.
If something was influencing his power,
He would tear the truth from its grasp.
One way or another.
The trading post was already breaking.
The people spoke in fearful whispers.
They believed their world was unraveling.
And in a way, they were right.
But they did not know the truth.
Because neither did he.
That was what troubled him the most.
He had wielded Voidbinding.
He had chosen its targets.
But now—
Now it was acting without his will.
Choosing people on its own.
And that meant something else was at work.
Something beyond him.
Something that had been waiting.
Veyrath did not wait for answers.
He hunted them.
He traced the pattern of disappearances.
The moment Voidbinding had started changing.
He analyzed who had been taken, who had returned, and who had vanished entirely.
And what he found was a pattern.
A design that was not his own.
It was subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
But it was there.
Something was guiding the ritual.
Shaping it.
Pushing it toward a purpose he had not intended.
And that was unacceptable.
Power was only power if it was controlled.
And if something was trying to control it instead of him—
Then it was his next target.
The power was not coming from the trading post itself.
It was not emanating from the people.
It was not a curse placed upon the land.
It was older than that.
It had been here long before his arrival.
Perhaps even before the first human settlements.
And the deeper he searched, the clearer it became.
There was a pull.
A whisper beneath reality itself.
It called to him through the Voidbinding ritual.
It had been waiting for someone to open the door.
And now, it wanted him to step through.
Veyrath followed the pull into the wilderness.
Deeper than he had gone before.
Beyond the roads, beyond the ruins, beyond the reach of civilization.
Until he found it.
A place where the trees grew twisted, their roots forming unnatural spirals.
Where the air was thick, heavy, as if the world itself struggled to breathe.
A place that did not belong.
And at its center—
A structure.
Not man-made.
Not built by anything mortal.
It was not stone.
Not wood.
Something else.
Something impossible.
A monolith of shifting material, its surface pulsing like a living thing.
It had no entrance.
No seams.
Yet Veyrath knew it was not solid.
It was a door.
A door to whatever had been watching him.
And the moment he set foot near it—
It noticed him.
A pulse of energy rippled outward.
Not an attack.
Not a threat.
A greeting.
And then—
A voice.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
But felt.
"You are not the first."
Veyrath did not flinch.
He did not step back.
Instead, he spoke.
"Then why am I the only one left?"
A pause.
Then—
"Because you are the only one who understands. The others… were unworthy."
A pulse of energy rippled outward.
Not an attack.
Not a threat.
A greeting.
And then—
A voice.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
But felt.
"You are not the first."
Veyrath did not flinch.
He did not step back.
Instead, he spoke.
"Then why am I the only one left?"
A pause.
Then—
"Because you are the only one who understands. The others… were unworthy."
A pulse of energy rippled outward.
Not an attack.
Not a threat.
A greeting.
And then—
A voice.
Not spoken.
Not heard.
But felt.
"You are not the first."
Veyrath did not flinch.
He did not step back.
Instead, he spoke.
"Then why am I the only one left?"
A pause.
Then—
"Because you are the only one who understands. The others… were unworthy."
Veyrath studied the shifting monolith.
He did not trust voices without faces.
But neither did he fear them.
"You are the force guiding Voidbinding."
A pulse of confirmation.
"Guiding. Not controlling. Not yet."
"Then what is it?"
The voice shifted.
Became something deeper.
Something closer.
"A bridge. A doorway. A wound between realities."
"And what lies on the other side?"
Silence.
Then—
"We do."
Veyrath felt the weight of the words settle over him.
He had suspected Voidbinding was more than just a ritual.
More than just a technique.
It was a connection.
A link to something beyond this world.
And now he knew.
Voidbinding was not just a tool.
It was a pathway.
A means for something else to reach into this world.
Something that had been waiting for a door to open.
Something that had been using his ritual to shape itself within reality.
Not just altering his victims.
But preparing them.
For what?
That—
He did not yet know.
The monolith pulsed.
And the voice spoke again.
"You are stronger than those before you. But strength alone is not enough."
"Then what is?"
"Understanding. Willingness. A desire not just to wield power, but to become part of it."
Veyrath's claws flexed at his sides.
"What do you want from me?"
"Not servitude."
A pause.
Then—
"A partnership."
That was what caught his interest.
Not worship.
Not submission.
Something far more dangerous.
A force that did not demand fealty—
But offered power.
And that meant it believed he was capable of taking it.
Which meant it was right.
Veyrath did not answer immediately.
He had stood before kings and warlords.
Had seen men kneel for power, beg for it.
But he was not a servant.
Not a follower.
And if this entity thought he would bend to its will,
It was mistaken.
"A partnership," Veyrath repeated, his voice low.
The monolith pulsed.
"Yes. Power shared, not given. Strength earned, not bestowed."
That made him pause.
This was not a master seeking a pawn.
Not a god seeking a worshiper.
It was something else.
Something that recognized what he was.
And what he could become.
That made it far more dangerous.
But it also made it far more valuable.
So he smiled.
And accepted.
The moment the words left his lips,
The world shifted.
The monolith shuddered, its form twisting, as if reality itself was uncertain.
A pulse of dark energy coiled around Veyrath, seeping into his skin, deeper than flesh—
Into his very being.
It was not pain.
Not like the burn of fire or the sting of a blade.
This was something different.
Like stepping into a world that had always been there, just beyond his reach.
A world that was now opening for him.
And then—
The voice returned.
"You will not serve. You will not obey. You will only understand."
Veyrath gritted his teeth.
His vision blurred.
The monolith disappeared.
And then—
He was somewhere else.
It was not a place.
Not in the way mortals understood.
There were no skies, no land, no horizon.
Only existence.
A shifting mass of darkness and light, endless and undefined.
And in the distance, things moved.
Not creatures.
Not spirits.
Something older.
Something watching.
Waiting.
Veyrath did not flinch.
Did not step back.
If they wanted him to fear this place,
They had failed.
Instead, he spoke.
"What are you?"
The answer did not come in words.
It came in understanding.
A force pressed against his mind, not controlling, not invading—
But revealing.
And for the first time,
Veyrath saw.
It was not a god.
Not a demon.
Not a creature born of mortal myth.
It was something else.
Something that had never belonged to this world.
Something that had been sealed away long before the first man took his first breath.
It did not rule.
It did not command.
It simply existed.
And in its existence, it consumed.
Not out of hunger.
Not out of malice.
But because that was its nature.
Because all things, given enough time, return to the void.
And now, it had chosen him.
Not as a vessel.
Not as a pawn.
But as a conduit.
As the one who would bring its influence back into the world.
And for that, it would grant him power.
Real power.
Not spells.
Not rituals.
But the ability to shape reality itself.
Veyrath's mind burned with new knowledge.
Not words.
Not incantations.
But understanding.
A new law of existence seared into his being.
Voidbinding had been a doorway.
A means to remove things from reality.
But now—
Now it was so much more.
Because he could choose what returned.
Not just who.
Not just when.
But how.
He could unmake a man and return him as something else.
Not just stronger.
Not just weaker.
But changed at the fundamental level.
His body.
His mind.
His very existence.
And that—
That was power beyond kings and warlords.
Beyond magic and steel.
The ability to rewrite what is.
To shape the world as he saw fit.
And it was now his to wield.
Veyrath opened his eyes.
The monolith was still there, silent.
But he felt it now.
Not as a thing.
Not as a prison.
But as a gateway.
It had chosen him.
And he had accepted.
His hands curled into fists.
The world around him felt different.
Lighter.
More fragile.
As if reality itself had become something he could shape with enough effort.
And he would.
Because this was only the beginning.
The first step toward something greater.
Something the world was not ready for.
But they would learn.
They would fear.
And they would break.
Because Veyrath was no longer just a hunter.
No longer just a killer.
He was something else now.
Something that did not just take life.
But could remake it.
And that power?
He would use it.
On everything.
New Power Unlocked: Unmaking
[Unmaking – Tier 1]
• Allows Veyrath to erase a target from existence and selectively choose their form upon return.
• Returns are no longer random; he can now alter aspects of the body and mind.
• The ritual is unstable at higher alterations. Further refinement is needed.
Veyrath stood in the stillness of the ancient grove, his body thrumming with the weight of his newfound power.
Voidbinding had been a door.
Unmaking was what lay beyond it.
He could now erase and return—
But not as they were.
As something new.
Something reshaped by his will.
But theory was not enough.
Power meant nothing without control.
Without understanding.
He needed a test.
A subject to unmake and remake.
And so, he chose.
A wandering hunter, moving through the woods alone.
Unaware.
Unprepared.
And in an instant, he was gone.
Not killed.
Not taken.
Simply—
Removed.
Veyrath closed his eyes, feeling the ritual's connection.
The man was gone from reality.
Suspended in a place beyond time, beyond form.
Before, this was where the ritual had ended.
The erased were sent away, then returned at random.
But now—
Now he could reach into that place.
Now he could decide what came back.
The man's form was no longer fixed.
His flesh, his mind, his very being—all malleable.
Veyrath focused.
Experimented.
Pushed the limits of what he could change.
Could he strengthen the body?
Yes.
Could he rewrite the mind?
Yes.
Could he force loyalty?
…Not yet.
The deeper he tried to alter, the more resistance he felt.
As if reality itself was fighting back.
But that only meant it could be overcome.
He was not a god.
Not yet.
But he had just taken the first step.
Veyrath pulled the hunter back into the world.
The moment he reappeared,
The air crackled.
The ritual had changed him.
His muscles were denser, his movements sharper.
He stood, blinking, disoriented—but not afraid.
He did not speak.
Not yet.
But his eyes flicked to Veyrath.
And for the first time, the returned did not look confused.
He looked…
Aware.
Veyrath stepped closer.
The man did not flee.
Did not tremble.
Did not question.
He simply stood there, waiting.
"Do you remember your name?"
The man's lips parted, but no sound came at first.
Then, finally—
"I did."
A pause.
Then—
"But I do not think it matters anymore."
Veyrath's smile was slow. Calculated.
"Good."
One experiment was not enough.
The first had been a success, but incomplete.
The man had returned stronger. More controlled.
But still human.
Still bound by the limitations of flesh and mind.
That was not enough.
If Unmaking was to become more than just a tool,
It had to transcend simple improvement.
He had to see how far it could go.
And so, he chose another.
A rogue.
A man who had been hiding at the edges of the trading post, waiting for an opportunity to escape.
He did not get the chance.
Because in an instant, he was gone.
And this time, Veyrath pushed further.
The rogue was not just erased.
Not just removed.
This time, Veyrath reached deeper.
He did not just alter the body.
He altered the essence.
Changed what the man was at a fundamental level.
His bones became lighter, more flexible.
His mind became quieter, sharper—stripped of unnecessary emotion.
He would not just return.
He would be reborn.
A creature that was no longer fully human.
A creature that had touched the void—
And come back as something new.
This time, the air did not just shift.
It rippled.
Veyrath could feel the sheer force of what he had done.
The rogue appeared—
But he was not the same.
His skin was slightly darker, his eyes sharper.
His breathing was too steady, too precise.
His movements were controlled, effortless.
And when he turned to Veyrath—
He did not just look.
He recognized.
"I understand now."
Not confusion.
Not fear.
Just acceptance.
Veyrath tilted his head.
"What do you understand?"
The rogue's lips curled into a faint smile.
"What I was is gone. And what I am now… is better."
And that—
That was the moment Veyrath knew.
Unmaking was no longer just a ritual.
It was creation.
And the world was not ready for what came next.