Bound by Darkness: Mastering the Immortal System

7

Chapter 7: Yuna

Deep within the mental archives of Sebastian's memories from the "Eternal Hell" player forums, the descent of a Taboo was always categorized into three chilling, distinct phases: Programming, Loading, and Execution. The most unpredictable and volatile of these was "Execution"—the specific, often mundane triggers that dictated when a curse would finally begin its harvest of souls. However, the most definitive and structured phase was "Programming."

While the intricate "source code" of a Taboo remained a mystery to most, the veteran players on the forums had identified two essential conditions for its manifestation. First, there had to be a catalyst of extreme, concentrated spiritual agony—wrath, searing pain, or a sharp, lingering sense of a profound injustice that refused to be silenced. Wherever a Taboo was born, a great tragedy or a scream of an unavenged soul had surely preceded it. Second, it required a sanctuary of solitude—a land where the presence of the living was thin and fading.

The world of "Eternal Hell" was vast, dark, and filled with secrets. The game company had intended to peel back the layers of its lore through successive updates, but after the very first patch, the game was banned and the developers vanished. Rumors whispered that they had fled abroad with the fortunes they had amassed from the players. Yet, before the servers went dark, the most popular theory among the community was that this world was quite literally Hell—a realm naturally saturated with the yin energy of the dead. Where living souls gathered in high density, their collective "yang" vitality acted as a barrier, pushing back the encroaching darkness in a process known as "filling the yin." But where life was absent, the environment reverted to a vast, empty operating system for death. Intense human emotions became the binary code. When these negative inputs reached a critical mass, a Taboo was programmed into the very fabric of existence.

In the game's interface, all information regarding Taboos was rendered in a violent, pulsating, bleeding crimson font. Back then, Sebastian had dismissed it as a graphic gimmick designed to heighten the atmospheric tension. But now, seeing that exact same malevolent red through his Mind's Eye, burning vividly against the ink-black canvas of his blindness, the reality was bone-chilling.

His breath quickened, his lungs struggling to pull in the cold air. His throat felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. He coughed to clear the sudden constriction and finally managed to ask, "Ellen, can we move? Is it possible for us to leave Riverside Village behind?"

Ellen stopped her work at the medicine rack, her silhouette turning toward him in surprise. "Business is slow, and the villagers here haggle over every single copper, but moving is no simple feat, Sebastian. My father looked into it years ago. The Empire operates on a rigid residency system known as the 'Baojia.' Ten households form a 'Jia,' and ten Jias form a 'Bao.' Every soul is tied to their unit. Moving requires official migration permits, heavy bribes to the village elders, and the personal seal of the magistrate. We simply do not have the silver for such an endeavor, especially after the recent conscriptions and grain taxes bled us dry."

Sebastian stepped closer, gripping her shoulders with an intensity that made her gasp. His voice was low, vibrating with an urgent dread. "Ellen, look at me. Listen to me. Would you believe me if I told you that I can see things... 'unclean' things that shouldn't exist in the light of day?"

The air in the room suddenly turned heavy and stagnant, as if the oxygen had been sucked out. Before Ellen could find her voice to respond, a soft, melodic, yet profoundly weary voice drifted in from the street outside. "Doctor Ellen... are you still receiving patients?"

Sebastian turned his head sharply toward the sound. Through the biting winter wind that whistled through the cracks in the door, his inner vision outlined the delicate silhouette of a woman rendered in shimmering, pale lines.

[Strength: 0 ~ 0]

[Affection: 80]

He recognized the voice instantly from his predecessor's memories. It belonged to Yuna, a woman in her early twenties who had originally hailed from the provincial capital. She had moved to this rural backwater after marrying Ethan—formerly known as the mighty Ethan—the strongest and most handsome man Riverside Village had ever produced. Their wedding had been the talk of the county, a rare moment of celebration. Yuna was a legendary beauty, refined and soft-spoken, yet she had shown incredible fortitude, caring for her elderly mother-in-law after Ethan was drafted into the Imperial Army. He had quickly risen through the ranks to become a personal guard to a high-ranking general, but only weeks ago, the devastating news of his death on the battlefield had reached them. She was a city flower, now wilting in a cold, rustic cage.

"Yuna, please, come in. Sit by the hearth," Ellen said warmly, her voice full of genuine pity. She liked Yuna; there was a quiet dignity about her that the other village women, with their loud voices and constant haggling, lacked.

Yuna entered, her face a mask of hollow sorrow. "Doctor Ellen, my mother-in-law is gravely ill. She was holding on just a few days ago, but now she refuses to even leave her bed. She does nothing but weep and call out Ethan's name in her sleep." Tears began to track down her pale, porcelain-like cheeks, making her look like a wilted lily caught in a relentless rain.

Ellen immediately began packing her worn leather medical bag. "Stay here, Sebastian. Watch the shop and keep the door bolted. I'll go with her and see what can be done."

Sebastian watched the two silhouettes hurry away into the gray twilight. It was late into the night when Ellen finally returned, her footsteps heavy with exhaustion. She fetched more dried herbs and a bottle of her specially prepared medicinal wine before heading back out once more. When she finally finished her duties and bolted the heavy wooden door for the last time that night, she pulled out a small, glinting piece of silver, letting it catch the flickering light of the tallow candle.

"Yuna's family still has some hidden reserves of wealth," Ellen noted, a satisfied but weary smile playing on her lips. "She didn't haggle at all. She paid two silver mace—two hundred copper coins—without a single word of complaint or a request for a discount."

Sebastian's brow furrowed in the darkness. "Does she always pay like that? Without questioning the price in a village where people fight over a single coin?"

"What's wrong with that?" Ellen teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Since when did honesty and fair payment become a flaw in your eyes? I gave her the best medicine we have, and she paid what it was worth. Not everyone is a miser like Sister Cauliflower."

Sebastian shook his head but remained silent. In a world this cruel, a person who stopped haggling was either exceptionally wealthy or had completely surrendered their will to live.

That night, perhaps fueled by the day's small financial success or the encroaching sense of dread that Sebastian couldn't shake, their intimacy was more intense than it had ever been. The old wooden bed groaned and creaked rhythmically against the uneven earthen floor, the sounds mingling with the howling winter wind outside. It was like a furnace being stoked to white heat in the middle of a blizzard.

When the storm of passion finally subsided, Sebastian lay in a state of total exhaustion. Ellen, noticing a sharp draft, hopped out of bed for a moment, her pale legs moving through the shadows as she blocked the window gap with a woven bamboo basket. She scurried back under the heavy quilts, her cold feet pressing against Sebastian's legs for warmth.

"Forget about the move for now, my brave husband," she whispered, resting her head on his chest and listening to his racing heart. "Once I earn more silver from patients like Yuna, I'll buy enough meat to turn those skinny bones of yours into real muscle."

"Ellen," Sebastian said, his voice cracking with a seriousness that chilled her. "I meant what I said earlier. I can sense a cold, malevolent energy festering near that old gray tree to the west. It hasn't fully manifested into the physical world yet, but it's there, growing. That is why we must leave before the programming is complete."

Ellen reached up and affectionately pinched his cheek. "You're just a bit of a coward, aren't you? You spend too much time in the silence and the dark, imagining ghosts where there are only shadows. I've lived in these mountains my entire life. Ghosts only go after those with weak spirits. With me around, this house is overflowing with life and fire. Nothing from the darkness will dare touch you."

Sebastian didn't push the matter further. He knew that in this chaotic era, people didn't abandon their hearths unless blood was already flowing in the streets. Every change carried a mortal risk. He turned his focus inward, checking the progress of his Ancient Pagoda Visualization. He needed the next breakthrough. He needed to transcend this

fragile, mortal shell to see for himself exactly what was rotting in the heart of Riverside Village.