Phantom Covenent: Spiritbound Ascension

Awakening!

A sharp, searing pain burned through Arman's abdomen as the possessed man wrenched his clawed hand free from his stomach. Blood gushed out, staining his clothes, pooling beneath him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Hahaha! Die, you foolish brat!" the creature cackled, its monstrous grin stretching unnaturally wide. Its glowing, vacant eyes reflected the agony in Arman's fading vision.

The pain was unbearable. His body was failing.

His limbs felt heavy. His heartbeat slowed. The sounds around him—**screams, distant footsteps, the buzzing of mall lights—**all dulled into a muted hum.

Am I… dying?

Then, suddenly—

A pulse.

A dark purple aura flared violently from his crumpled form, swirling like black flames. The possessed man stumbled back, his twisted confidence faltering.

His smile vanished.

His expression twisted in pure terror.

"No… it can't be!"

A Voice in the Dark

Arman's consciousness drifted into a vast, endless void.

The darkness stretched in every direction, swallowing light and sound alike. It was a place untouched by time—a cold abyss.

In the distance, a figure emerged.

A tall man, his long black hair brushing against his pale, ghostly skin. His piercing eyes, glowing with a dim violet hue, held an unnerving intensity. His presence was cold, yet it carried an overwhelming weight, as if reality itself bent around him.

Arman swallowed, his voice hoarse. "Am I… dead?"

The man tilted his head slightly. "Not yet."

Arman narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean 'not yet'?"

The man stepped forward, his movements eerily smooth. "That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I can save you."

Arman frowned. "Save me?"

"Yes. I can give you power. Power strong enough to kill the creature that just tried to end your life."

Arman felt a shiver run down his spine.

"…And what do you get out of this?"

The man smirked. "First—I save your life. Second—you save those innocent people." His expression darkened slightly. "As for what I gain… that's none of your concern."

Arman hesitated. His body was weak. His mind screamed at him to refuse. But—what choice did he have? If he refused, he would die. And those people…

He clenched his fists.

"…Fine," he said, exhaling shakily. "If it means saving them—I'll do it."

The spirit extended his hand. "Then take my hand, kid."

Arman reached out.

The moment their hands met—

Agony.

A burning sensation surged through his veins, like molten fire coursing through his soul. His heart pounded violently. His body trembled as an overwhelming force crashed into him.

Then—

He woke up.

The Transformation

Arman's eyes snapped open—now glowing a brilliant violet.

His wounds sealed instantly, his strength returning tenfold. A low hum of power resonated in his chest, raw and untamed.

But it wasn't him controlling his body.

His arms moved on their own. His stance shifted effortlessly into a battle-ready posture. He was aware—but he wasn't in control.

The possessed man scowled. "So… you bonded with a spirit." His grin returned, wider this time. "Doesn't matter. I'll kill you again!"

With inhuman speed, the monster lunged, its claws extending mid-air.

The punch came straight at Arman's face.

But his body reacted instantly—

He jumped.

Not back—forward.

His foot **landed on the possessed man's arm—**the very same arm that had thrown the punch. Using it as a stepping stone, he pushed off with incredible force, flipping over the creature's head.

The possessed man barely had time to react.

Mid-air, Arman twisted his body and launched a devastating kick—

His heel smashed into the man's spine.

The sheer force sent the creature flying across the room, crashing into the escalator. Metal shattered, sparks flying as the steps bent and twisted under the impact.

The possessed man groaned, his mangled bones twisting back into place.

It howled in rage, raising a trembling hand. Its nails sharpened into deadly spikes, launching toward Arman like bullets.

But Arman dodged.

His body shifted effortlessly, his movements faster than thought itself. His vision blurred—and in the next second, he was already in front of his enemy.

His hand rose—two fingers pointing like a gun.

"Spirit Bullet."

A pulse of purple energy formed at his fingertips.

The possessed man's face twisted in horror.

Boom!

A deafening blast shook the air.

The creature's head exploded in a flash of violet energy.

Its lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Aftermath

The glow faded from Arman's eyes as control returned.

And the moment it did—agony.

A searing pain tore through his entire body. His muscles screamed in protest. His breathing turned ragged.

"Ahhh! Damn, this hurts!"

A voice echoed in his mind, laced with amusement.

"Of course, it hurts. I was controlling your body, using far more spirit energy than you can handle—" yet."

Arman panted. "What… the hell… was that?"

The spirit chuckled darkly.

"And just so you know… that wasn't even a fraction of my power."

Arman barely had time to process the words before everything went black.

Arman's body collapsed onto the cold, bloodstained floor. His breath was shallow, his muscles weak from the overwhelming strain of his first fusion. The once-glowing purple light in his eyes faded, leaving him in total exhaustion.

Silence settled over the ruined mall.

Then—footsteps.

A group of figures emerged from the shadows, their silhouettes cutting through the dim emergency lighting. They moved with trained precision, eyes scanning the destruction. Their uniforms bore the insignia of the Spectral Order of Aethen.

One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard and a scar running over his right eye, stepped forward. His sharp gaze flickered between the unconscious girl and boy on the floor—then to the lifeless, headless body of the Voidborn several meters away.

The blood trail stretched across the floor.

"Looks like thay killed the Voidborn before we got here," he muttered, his voice rough with experience.

Another man adjusted his thin-framed glasses, kneeling to inspect the corpse. "Strange… If they were the ones who killed it, why are they so far from the body? And that boy—" His eyes flicked toward Arman's collapsed form. "What is he doing all the way over there?"

A young woman with short silver hair crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Are you suggesting that he took it down?" she asked, skepticism laced in her voice.

The man with glasses pushed them up with a faint smirk. "I'm just saying it's possible."

The woman scoffed. "Doubtful. Look at him. He's just a kid. He probably fainted at the sight of a headless corpse."

The scarred man let out a sigh, rubbing his temple. "Enough speculation. The Voidborn is dead—that's what matters. Take the kids and let's move."

Without hesitation, two of them moved to the unconscious girl and boy, carefully lifting them. The woman cast one last glance at Arman before hesitating.

"What about him?" she asked, nodding toward the fallen boy.

"Leave him," the scarred man said, his tone unreadable.

The woman frowned. "But if he—"

"I said leave him." His voice carried an unspoken finality.

The man with glasses adjusted his frames, watching Arman's unconscious body with a calculating gaze. "Hmph… interesting choice."

The woman hesitated. She didn't like it. Something felt off.

For a split second, she swore she saw a faint glow—a dying ember of purple energy flickering around Arman's fingertips. It sent an uneasy shiver down her spine.

She turned to the scarred man. "Are you sure? What if he's—"

"He's not our problem," he interrupted. His good eye locked onto her with an intensity that silenced any further argument. "We don't interfere with the unmarked."

The woman clenched her jaw but nodded. Orders were orders.

She unsheathed a sleek, silver sword, its edge glowing faintly with spirit energy. With a single precise slash, she sliced through the air.

At first, nothing happened.

Then—a shimmering cut appeared in reality itself.

The air rippled, folding in on itself as a tear in space opened before them—a gateway. Beyond it, an eerie mist-filled corridor stretched endlessly.

One by one, the group stepped inside, carrying the unconscious teens. The woman was the last to go.

She glanced at Arman one last time.

Something about him made her uneasy.

Then, she turned away, stepping into the portal.

As the last of them crossed, the rift sealed shut.

The mall fell silent once more.

But the air still held the faint echo of something awakening.