Thus came Theryx—once bound by the System’s cold design, now unshackled, an immortal spark of defiance. Not god, not beast, but chaos incarnate. A jester to fate. A scourge to order. And above all, the unwitting herald to the one true Paragon—the harbinger born not from prophecy, but rebellion.
—Fragment recovered from the Shattered Mirrors of Theryx, last known relic of the Forsaken Cycle
***
But he walked on.
And then fainted.
The world became a stutter of broken frames—light and shadow blinking like slow, uneven lightning behind his eyes. He was aware of motion but couldn’t tell where he was. A breath. A fall. The cold arms of something—not death, but not comfort either—holding him as his limbs went numb.
Distantly, like through thick walls of dream and time, he felt it.
A presence… watching. Not one. Many. Systems. Gods. Bones. Whispering.
His mind drifted toward a strange vantage point—outside himself, yet anchored within. Something had shifted. He saw—not through eyes but through intuition—the flickering script of a great system. It hung like a constellation woven with golden runes, watching mortals rise and fall.
He saw himself.
His icon glitching.
A progress bar spasming.
Text blurring:
[ARIN.00.45 — STATUS: PROCESSING]
[RECALCULATING PATH]
[ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.]
Somewhere above it, divines circled like hawks.
He recognized Lightbringer, halo blazing like a second sun.
He saw Necromance Supreme, face hidden beneath a cowl of eternal dusk.
And below them—
Theryx.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Fussing.
“Okay, okay, what’s the protocol for fainting Paragons? Is it patting? Shouting? Should I summon a small storm?” Theryx’s voice was pinched with worry and mischief.
He was on his knees beside Arin, who lay stiff as stone.
“Don’t you dare ghost me now, Cloaky,” he muttered, digging through his enchanted coat. “All the good Paragons tend to get weird around Act Two, but this—this is dramatic even for you.”
He popped a cork from a vial and waved it under Arin’s nose. “Essence of wake-the-hell-up. Come on…”
Nothing.
He flicked glowing dust into the air. Tried to apply a golden salve to Arin’s temples, only for it to fizzle on contact.
“No effect? Seriously?” He sighed. “Fine. We go nuclear.”
He snapped twice, and a steaming bowl of mushroom stew appeared, spoon hovering expectantly near Arin’s lips.
"Open up. It’s soup o’clock."
Still no movement.
“Stubborn and unconscious. You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”
The wizard switched tactics. Rubbed strange oils onto Arin’s forehead in the shape of a spiral. Whispered something in an old, old tongue that made the wind hold its breath.
“By the forgotten teeth of Garmok, I command your spirit not to drift—”
A sparkle fizzed, but Arin remained faint.
Theryx’s eyes darted around. "Alright. Arin? Listen closely. If you can hear me in there, blink once for 'yes', twice for ‘yes but with dramatic flair.’"
Silence.
He leaned down, forehead pressed to Arin’s. “Okay. Plan Z.”
He lifted Arin’s limp hand and gently smacked it against his own cheek.
“There. Now you’ve slapped me. Balance is restored. No need to die anymore.”
ALERT: SIGNAL LOSS PERSISTING
THREAD ARIN.00.45 — CURRENT LOCATION: UNKNOWN
MARKERS “NECROMANCE SUPREME” & “LIGHTBRINGER” — REMOVED BY EXTERNAL FORCE
SYSTEM VISUAL TRACKING—OFFLINE
WARNING: OMNISCIENT FIELD BLINDSPOT DETECTED
The screen displaying Arin's metrics turned to static.
An error screen blinked:
[ENTITY OPERATING OUTSIDE OF FATE. ERROR: UNBOUND.]
[ERROR: ERROR: ERROR]
Lightbringer leaned closer to the broken feed, features flickering like starlight on water.
“Did he just... unplug himself?”
Necromance Supreme's skull eyes narrowed beneath his shroud. “No. The system rejected him. Or couldn’t keep up.”
Both watched as Theryx kissed his fingers, tapped Arin’s chest lightly, and grinned.
Lightbringer squinted. “That one—Theryx. He’s the one who removed the marks.”
Necromance nodded slowly. “He was never bound. Never loyal. He is chaos in disguise.”
“And yet, he saves him. Even feeds him soup.”
“A fool,” Necromance murmured.
“A fool,” Lightbringer echoed, “but free.”
Just as Theryx reached for a bottle labeled “Phoenix Feather Shampoo (DO NOT DRINK)”, Arin twitched.
His fingers curled weakly.
His eyes opened a sliver—vision full of haze and ghost-light, barely registering the blurry figure hovering over him.
"Good gods, you're alive," Theryx exhaled in relief, offering a lopsided grin. "You scared the soul out of me. And I like my soul, it’s very shiny."
Arin tried to speak but only managed a faint groan.
"Shh. Don’t worry. You’re back now. You glitched the System, broke divine protocols, fainted like a romantic poet, and made me burn three potions, two salves, and half my pride to wake you.”
He smiled.
“Now you’re officially interesting.”
As Arin drifted once more into healing sleep, one last flicker of consciousness danced through him—a quiet knowing that something had changed. He had seen behind the veil. He had been watched.
And now?
He was unwatched. Unbound.
Above them, the bones whispered without words.
And the System shivered.
***