The masochists

The world was suffocatingly silent. A thick, crushing weight pressed against Rael's chest as he opened his eyes to an endless abyss. A cold numbness seeped into his bones, yet he felt no pain. Instead, a single thought echoed in his mind: I shouldn't be here.

He barely had time to process that before a voice—whispering yet deafening—called out to him.

"Rael Noctis… forgotten by the living, cast into the void."

Memories rushed in like a flood. He had died. Betrayed, cut down in the mortal world. His influence—his legacy—wasn't strong enough to anchor him in the Soul Land. That meant only one thing.

Oblivion.

"No…" Rael clenched his fists, his spectral form flickering. He could feel himself unraveling, his soul thinning as his presence faded from existence. Fear gripped him. He refused to disappear, not like this. Not when his killer still walked free.

Then, something changed.

A pulse of energy erupted through the void, slamming into Rael's chest. His body convulsed, his senses igniting like wildfire. Power—pure, raw, and overwhelming—began to swirl around him, taking shape.

Someone remembers me.

A voice—soft yet unyielding—spoke his name. The sound reached across the realms, pulling him back. Who? The answer came as a warmth blooming deep within his core.

His brother.

The only one left alive who still carried his name in his heart.

As if answering that recognition, the abyss shattered. A tidal wave of energy surged into Rael, reforging his soul. Symbols burned into his skin, forming intricate black tattoos that glowed with ethereal light. The bond had been formed. Power flooded into him.

He wasn't just a forgotten soul anymore.

He was a Soul Bonder.

Rael's eyes snapped open to a sky drenched in twilight. The air around him crackled with unseen forces, his new body pulsing with an unfamiliar strength. He had returned—to the mortal realm.

But he wasn't the same.

A deep hunger stirred within him—not for food, but for emotion. His soul craved something. Then it hit him.

Rage.

His brother's grief had called him back. That was the fuel, the anchor that tethered him to this world.

As he looked down at his hands, a smirk tugged at his lips. This was power beyond what he had ever known in life. The abilities of the dead, unrestricted by mortal limitations.

He flexed his fingers, and the air around him twisted, forming a swirling vortex of darkness.

"Let's see what this new life has to offer."

Because this time, he wasn't just going to survive.

He was going to rule.