Chapter 21 – Merging with Stubborn Orb
Leon lay broken.
Bones shattered. Blood everywhere. Breath shallow and ragged.
The throne creature hadn't moved after nearly breaking every bone in his body and leaving him on the verge of dying.
It didn't need to.
It had already won.
His vision dimmed again. The edges went dark, flickering in and out like a dying lantern.
His body screamed.
His mind, worse.
But he hadn't passed out.
Not yet.
Because something inside him refused.
Something stupid. Stubborn.
Something human.
His thoughts, scattered and cracked, reached for the one thing he hadn't let himself think about until now.
Her.
Seraphine.
That overpowered lunatic in uniform with her perfect footwork, cutting glares, and—
Those gods-damned hugs.
The ones that squeezed the air from his lungs like a python trying to bond with dinner. She always caught him off-guard. Mid-training. Mid-sentence. Mid-anything.
He'd complained.
So many times.
'"Stop hugging me like I'm a pillow with trauma."'
'"You do not get to affection-yeet me, woman."'
And she'd just laughed. Or squeezed harder.
Back then, it was annoying. Smothering. Embarrassing.
But now?
Now the thought of never feeling one of those bone-crushing hugs again—
It terrified him.
'What if I die here?'
'What if I never see her again?'
'No more lessons. No more dumb smirks. No more idiotically strong arms dragging me into a hug I pretend to hate.'
'...No more her.'
The thought sliced deeper than any claw.
'You'd be mad if I gave up now, wouldn't you?'
'You'd be pissed I didn't at least punch the bastard once before going out.'
A bitter breath left his cracked lips.
"I'm not done yet," he rasped.
Even if everything was broken. Even if he had nothing left.
He reached inward.
Past the pain.
Past the fear.
To his last treasure.
The Orb of All-Elemental Affinity.
He summoned it from his soulspace with a whisper of will. It hovered just above his trembling palm—smooth, pristine, and utterly unbothered.
A perfect, divine joke.
All light.
No substance.
And still silent.
The Ring of Minor Regeneration pulsed faintly on his finger, trying to close wounds that wouldn't close anymore. It was like pouring water on a wildfire. Not enough. Not even close.
Leon's grip on the orb trembled.
"...I need your power," he whispered, blood slipping past his lips. "I need… a miracle."
The orb did not respond.
Not even a flicker.
"Merge with me," he rasped. "Do something."
Still nothing.
Just that soft, calm glow. Like it was watching. Judging.
'You smug, floating fraud.'
Rage stirred in his chest.
He coughed once—hard—and pain stabbed deep.
Then, loud enough for the entire chamber to echo, he screamed:
"You're nothing but a worthless treasure!"
The words tore out raw, wet, and furious.
"You sit there glowing like a divine artifact—like you mean something—but you've done NOTHING!"
The orb pulsed. Dimly.
But he wasn't done.
"I was the one who was going to give you meaning!"
His voice cracked. Blood spilled. His teeth clenched.
"I was the one who was going to make you more than just a showpiece!"
He glared through the pain, through the haze, through the fear. Through the finality.
"What meaning is there… in a treasure that never fights?!"
The orb pulsed again—faintly.
He lifted it toward his chest with the last ounce of strength he had left.
"Become mine."
The words were a vow.
"Merge with me."
His voice dropped, dark and shaking.
"Fight with me."
Then—
"We will make the world tremble."
BOOM.
Light.
Blinding. Blazing. Consuming.
The orb erupted in a violent explosion of energy—pure mana, pure heat, pure will.
The chamber trembled.
The monster paused.
And Leon burned.
The orb didn't shatter.
It merged.
Into his chest. Into his soul. Into his everything.
His body arched—veins glowing, bones creaking, heart roaring as the elemental essence fused into him like molten fire threading into steel.
The room cracked.
Mana screamed.
And a core started forming inside his body, a storm awakened.
All the ambient magic—sucked inward. A vortex born from nothing, fed by everything.
Torches shattered.
Walls rippled.
And Leon—
Leon couldn't hear anything.
Couldn't see beyond the wall of light.
The outside world—the dungeon, the throne, the monster—was gone.
Only the sphere remained.
A shell of living mana—ever-shifting, ever-surging—had fully enveloped him, its surface rippling with color like oil across flame. Red, blue, green, silver—elements coiled and tangled, crashing together in silent chaos. The air inside shimmered, thick with energy so dense it felt like he was breathing liquid fire.
And at the center of it all—
Him.
Leon floated inches above the ground, suspended by something that wasn't gravity.
His eyes were open, but he saw nothing but light.
His ears heard no sound. Not even his own breath.
Silence. Absolute. Crushing.
A terrifying kind of stillness.
'Where… am I?'
The question echoed inside his own skull, but no answer came.
Because nothing else existed here.
No creature.
No dungeon.
No pain from before.
Just this.
The transformation.
It wasn't gentle.
It was agony.
Relentless and raw.
The Orb of All-Elemental Affinity wasn't merging with him—it was rewriting him from the inside out. He could feel it in his marrow. In his spine. In the frayed edges of his soul.
His muscles spasmed as threads of mana laced through them, pulling apart fibers and rebuilding them stronger, denser, more attuned.
His bones creaked. Snapped. Reformed.
Veins surged with elemental current—heat, ice, static, stone—his body cycling through all at once, burning and freezing and electrifying and grounding.
It didn't stop.
Not for breath. Not for mercy.
His skin glowed from within, threads of colored light chasing under the surface like veins turned to rivers.
His mind strained to hold together.
He bit down on nothing—jaw clenched, breath frozen—and fought to stay conscious.
To not let go.
Because if he passed out—
If he let go for even a second—
'He knew he wouldn't wake up again.'
And so he endured.
Screaming silently in a world that couldn't hear him.
'This pain… this isn't punishment.'
'This is evolution.'
And still, no glimpse of the outside.
No way to know what moved just beyond the sphere.
No sound. No pressure. No clue.
The cocoon had become everything.
A barrier. A crucible. A cage.
And all Leon could do—
Was survive what came next.
Or die trying.
'''
Outside the sphere, the throne stood empty.
The creature had vanished.
No sound. No warning. No blur of motion.
One moment, it was seated—legs crossed, smiling lazily.
The next, it was gone.
Not even the air stirred in its absence.
But then—
A hum. Low. Bone-deep.
It reappeared.
Standing directly before the shimmering cocoon of mana that now encased Leon.
No theatrics. No grin.
Just presence.
And in its hand—no, slung with effortless weight across its shoulder—
The hammer.
Twisted. Monolithic. Alive with a slow, pulsing heat that warped the air around its head.
The creature gripped it with both hands now.
And shifted its stance.
No flourish.
Just pure, honed intent.
Like a butcher preparing the first swing.
Its obsidian form coiled low, feet firm, shoulders squared, every edge of its carved frame tensing with restrained violence.
Eyes locked on the sphere.
Reading it.
Judging it.
Preparing to destroy it.
But inside, Leon saw nothing.
Felt nothing.
The outside world had vanished.
But death still waited just beyond the glow.
And it was ready to strike.