Phantom covonent: Spiritbound Ascension

Spiritbound

"Hey, kid… kid… wake up."

"Hey… wake up."

"Wake up, you damn brat!"

Arman's eyes snapped open. He shot up, gasping, his breath ragged. His heart pounded in his chest, a dull ache throbbing in his limbs.

"Oh? So you finally woke up."

The voice echoed inside his head.

Arman's eyes widened. He twisted his body, scanning his surroundings, but—nothing. Only an endless, dark void stretching infinitely in every direction.

"Who—who is this?" he stammered, his voice unsteady.

A low chuckle rumbled in his mind. "Don't tell me you forgot already. You really don't remember what happened yesterday?"

Arman blinked. His mind was a haze, his memories blurry. "Yesterday? What happened yester—" His breath caught in his throat. The memories came rushing back.

The mall. The blood. The monster.

His own dying body.

Then—the power.

His hands clenched into fists. "Wait… the civilians! What happened to them? And that possessed guy—"

"Hold your horses, kid. Everyone's safe. As for that possessed bastard? Well…" the voice chuckled. "You killed him. Or rather—I killed him."

Arman's jaw tightened. "You… Right. You're that spirit guy. The one who made the contract with me."

"Finally remembered, huh?"

Arman exhaled sharply. His mind was still spinning, trying to make sense of everything. "Where am I?"

"Your consciousness," the spirit replied. "Right now, your body is resting in the real world. This? This is just a place where we can talk."

Arman frowned. His body remembered the pain from the fight. "Why me? Why did you choose me? Why give me your power? And—what do you gain from all this?"

The voice fell silent for a moment. Then, it spoke again, softer this time.

"Listen, kid. As I told you before, you don't need to know what I gain from this."

Arman's brows furrowed. That wasn't exactly reassuring.

"As for why I chose you? It's simple—we're similar."

"Similar? How? You're a damn ghost or something."

The spirit let out a dark chuckle. "Ghost, huh? You really think ghosts don't exist? Then tell me—what do you think happens to people after they die?"

Arman hesitated. "I… don't know. Heaven? Hell?"

"Wrong. There's an entire realm where spirits reside. A place beyond life and death, where souls either wander… or evolve."

Arman swallowed. "Wait—evolve?"

"That's right. Spirits don't just sit around doing nothing. Some remain pure, while others… well, let's just say some take a darker path."

A bad feeling crept into Arman's gut. "So… that guy at the mall… was he…?"

"Possessed? Yeah." The spirit's voice darkened. "Some spirits don't just wander—they take over people's bodies, corrupting them. Those people become monsters. And those who bond willingly with spirits? They're called Spiritbounds."

Arman's breath hitched. "Wait. So… I'm a Spiritbound now?"

The voice laughed softly.

"You're more than just a Spiritbound, kid. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Arman clenched his fists. "More than a Spiritbound? What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you don't need to know that yet. But you'll understand when the time comes."

Something about the spirit's tone unnerved Arman. It wasn't reassuring—it felt like a warning.

"Listen, kid. There's a big difference between evil spirits and good spirits."

Arman raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"An evil spirit? They give their full power to their host. But if that host is too weak… the spirit takes over their body and mind."

Arman's stomach twisted. "And… good spirits?"

"They make a contract. But they don't give their full power immediately. The host has to earn it through training, experience, and willpower."

Arman exhaled, trying to process it all. "So… what does that make you? Are you a good spirit or an evil spirit?"

For the first time, the spirit's voice turned serious.

"Me? I'm neither."

Arman frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means exactly what I said. I'm not good. I'm not evil. But one thing is certain—I won't give you my complete power yet."

Arman stiffened. "Why not?"

"Because you're not ready."

The spirit's voice was cold and firm. "Your body and mind aren't strong enough to handle my power. If I gave it to you now, you'd break. You'd lose yourself."

Arman gritted his teeth. "Then how do I get stronger?"

The spirit chuckled. "That's more like it. Don't worry—I'll teach you. I'll show you how to wield my power. But for now, kid…"

The voice faded as Arman's vision blurred.

"You need to lay low. The real nightmare… is just beginning."

And with that, the void collapsed into darkness.

Arman's eyes fluttered open. His vision was blurry at first, but it quickly sharpened. He found himself lying on a hospital bed, a soft beeping sound echoing in the room.

Slowly, he sat up, his body feeling strangely light. He glanced around—white walls, medical equipment, an IV drip attached to his arm. This was definitely a hospital room.

Before he could process it further, the door swung open, and a nurse walked in. Her eyes widened the moment she saw him awake.

"Oh! You're awake!" she exclaimed before quickly turning back. "Doctor! The patient is awake!"

A few moments later, a middle-aged doctor entered the room, adjusting his glasses as he approached Arman's bedside.

"Well, well," the doctor said with a smile. "Looks like you're tougher than you look, kid. How are you feeling?"

Arman instinctively flexed his fingers. The pain that had once consumed him before he blacked out was… gone. His body felt completely fine.

But then he remembered the spirit's words—"Lay low."

So he winced slightly and clutched his stomach. "Ah… I'm alright, I guess. Just a little pain in my stomach and… my bones feel sore."

The doctor chuckled. "That's to be expected. You had some pretty nasty injuries, but don't worry—your body's healing well. You'll be fully recovered in two or three days." He paused, checking his clipboard. "You're free to leave whenever you feel ready."

Arman nodded. "I see… uh, by the way, who brought me here?"

"The rescue team found you," the doctor replied, flipping a page. "But there was also a woman with them. She was really worried about you—kept saying it was her fault you got injured."

Arman's eyes widened slightly. A woman?

Before he could ask more, the door suddenly burst open.

"Oh my God! You're awake!"

A familiar voice—filled with relief.

Arman turned his head just as a woman rushed into the room, eyes filled with concern.

It was her.

The same woman he had saved from the possessed man.

Arman barely had time to react before the woman spoke again, her voice filled with relief.

"Oh, thank God you're alright! I was so worried," she said, stepping closer.

Arman blinked, still processing. "I'm fine, really. You don't have to worry…" He trailed off, waiting for her name.

"Kajal," she said quickly. "My name is Kajal."

He nodded. "Well, Miss Kajal, like I said, I'm fine. Just a little sore."

Kajal let out a breath, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "I'm just glad… Listen, if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask. You saved my life, and I owe you."

She glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have a meeting to get to. Oh, and—don't worry about the hospital bill. I already took care of it."

Arman's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You didn't have to—"

"It's the least I could do," she interrupted with a small smile. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Arman," he replied.

She nodded. "Arman. I hope we'll meet again soon."

And just like that, she turned and walked toward the door.

Arman sat there, still trying to process everything. That was… something.

But before he could even gather his thoughts, Kajal suddenly rushed back into the room, breathless.

"Oh! I almost forgot." She fished a small card from her pocket and handed it to him. "Here—my personal number. You can contact me if you ever need anything."

She flashed a quick smile. "Alright, really leaving this time. Take care, Arman!"

And just as quickly as she came, she was gone again.

Arman stared at the card in his hand, a small smirk forming on his lips. What just happened?

Shaking his head, he leaned back against the pillow. He had more pressing things to think about.

The spirit's words echoed in his mind.

"The real nightmare is just beginning."

And something told him…

It wouldn't be long before he found out exactly what that meant.