I awoke to the acrid taste of rust on my tongue.
The darkness around me was absolute—not the kind one finds in a windowless room, but something deeper, oppressive, as if it bent space itself with its weight. I turned my head slowly, instinctively searching for light, for salvation, but there was none.
When I tried to move, the clinking of metal betrayed my restraint. Cold iron kissed my wrists—chains.
I pulled once. Then twice. No give. The third attempt... a crack. Pain flared, skin tearing as my hand slipped free, leaving behind a piece of myself on the shackle.
“Shit...”
“What did Ethan do to us?” I muttered, voice hoarse. “Are the others... okay?”
Through the dim, I noticed the faint outline of a doorway—no, a broken section in the wall of what I now realized was a cell. There was a hole. Small, but I could squeeze through.
I crawled toward it. Bones littered the floor like discarded branches, slick with old blood. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of death and something more—something foul, beyond decay.
I had gone to war before. Had killed men in deserts and alleys. But this... this felt ten times worse.
As I slipped through the hole, something slammed into me, pinning me to the wall. Fingers wrapped around my throat like cold steel.
A man stood before me—or what resembled one. His face was hidden beneath a black veil, ragged and soaked with grime. His breath stank of rot, his presence screamed madness.
“Let go of me—!” I rasped, but the man only laughed. A dry, splintered sound, as if his sanity had long since cracked.
“Nefta. Goddess. My salvation,” he whispered, reverent and broken. “Bless him. Let the Crown guide him.”
He pressed something cold and sharp against my forehead. Pain seared through my skull—a white-hot flash of agony that obliterated all thought.
And then, darkness again.
When I awoke, the man was gone. I lay in the same place, but something had changed. My chest heaved with shallow breaths, and my hands trembled.
There was only a single door in front of me now.
I pushed myself upright, every muscle protesting, and just as I began to move toward the door, something pulsed inside my mind. A flicker of light danced before my eyes, and then—a screen.
[Savior of the World]
Name: Jonas Lester
Role: Bearer of the Crown
Crown’s Power: Minimal
Madness: 0/100
Sanity: 100/100
Will: 7
Power: 5
Vigor: 8
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Physical: 9
Fortitude: 7
Abilities: Tongue of Babel; Crown of Thorns
A system? A game?
I reached for the floating window, but my fingers passed through it like mist. Only when I focused on the listed abilities did more text appear.
[Crown of Thorns]
You invoke the power of the Crown of Thorns. Temporarily becoming the “Faceless King,” your attributes are enhanced and you gain resistance to corruptive forces. After use, you will experience vivid hallucinations for one minute and your Sanity will decrease by 75.
“This is insane... it really is like a game.”
“What the hell did Ethan do...?”
I shook my head, forcing my thoughts to quiet. The door was locked. No surprise. I let out a frustrated breath—
—and then the crypt shuddered.
The ground groaned beneath me. Something massive was happening above. A split tore open in the stone wall. It pulsed... like flesh.
From within emerged a long, sinuous creature—a worm the color of arterial blood.
[You have witnessed a Sanguine.]
[You have gained 4 Madness.]
It looked as if it were made from twisted human entrails, its surface slick and writhing.
A scream escaped me—raw, primal. The sound scraped out of my throat like metal on bone. Images I didn’t understand flooded my vision. Memories that weren’t mine. Whispers that didn’t belong to this world.
I bit my lip so hard it bled. The drop of blood hovered, then floated—drawn to the worm.
“What...?”
The worm split open, a gaping wound in its center. The blood vanished into it. And then it grew.
It grew.
Larger and larger, until it stood the same height as me, a grotesque fusion of man and parasite. Just one drop of blood had done this?
The creature hissed, its limbs jerking unnaturally, and lunged.
I dodged instinctively—its crimson claws whistled past my head.
“Kieeek!”
I drove a kick into its torso. It gave like jelly but didn’t falter—only twisted, trying to envelop me in its limbs.
“Get off me, freak.”
I seized its arm, pivoted, and slammed my elbow into what passed for its chin. Its head jerked back—and then it threw me like a ragdoll.
I crashed against the stone wall, stars bursting in my vision.
Above, the ceiling groaned—and a great slab of stone collapsed, crushing part of the creature. It shrieked, ichor spilling from a gaping wound along its side.
“Kiiaaah!”
It went berserk, launching itself toward me once more. I couldn’t let it touch me—not even a scratch.
I considered using the Crown of Thorns, but something in me hesitated. Not yet. Not unless I had to.
I rolled away from its charge, grabbed a broken piece of ceiling, and used its own momentum to smash the fragment into its face.
The slab shattered in my hands. Blood-black fluid seeped from its wounds, and I noticed with horror that my scraped hand was bleeding.
The blood floated again.
“No—!”
The worm absorbed it. Again, it grew.
I hurled debris at it in desperation. It swelled further, nearly reaching the ceiling.
Its arm swung—unnaturally long—and slammed into me. I flew into the wall, gasping. Blood in my mouth.
The ceiling finally gave in.
A massive thorn, black and jagged, plunged from above, impaling the creature.
And with it... came her.
A girl fell with the rubble, her body limp, blood staining her side. A wound bored straight through her.
“Selena...”
My mind froze.
She was here. Right here. And she was dying.
“SELENA!”
I screamed and ran to her, cradling her in my arms as her wound began to knit itself shut unnaturally fast.
She was unconscious—or barely hanging on.
“I need to get out.”
Holding her as gently as I could, I ascended through the wreckage. Rubble formed makeshift steps, leading toward a single structure ahead. A house, its windows glowing with faint light. The others were swallowed by darkness.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Jonas...” she rasped. “The Crown... pain... Do you have it?”
I looked into her hollow eyes.
“I have it. Why?”
“Jonas. Ethan. Mira...”
And then she passed out again.
My lungs burned, arms shaking. I didn't care.
I wouldn't let her die. I couldn't.
I burst through the door of the house.
“Help! Please!”
A voice answered me—soft, almost childlike.
From behind a tower of papers, Mira appeared.
“M... Mira?”
“Jonas,” she whispered, her face lighting up. “Finally. I was so alone. You wouldn’t believe it.”
Her eyes dropped to the girl in my arms, and her expression paled.
“Selena? Is she...?”
“She’s breathing.”
Some color returned to her cheeks. She stood, brushing the dust from her shorts, and with a small skip, approached Selena.
She gently stroked her cheek, calm despite the chaos.
“What happened to her?”
I hesitated. What could I even say?
“I... I don’t know. I woke up in a crypt. Fought something monstrous. Then the ceiling broke, and she just... fell. We were under the church. But now the church is rubble.”
Mira’s eyes widened.
“You destroyed the Church of Nefta?!”
I stared at her. Nefta again. That name.
“Who the hell is Nefta?”
My temper flared—I forgot, for a moment, that Mira was still just a girl. Or at least we treated her like one. The orphan of our group.
She puffed her cheeks, stuck a yellow paper to my forehead, and pouted dramatically.
I opened my mouth to speak—but no sound came.
Removing the paper, I examined the strange symbol on it, and noticed Mira was already weaving a dress for Selena—half white, half black.
Still silenced, I frowned and settled in a corner, wrapping my wounds with scraps of cloth.
Everything was wrong.
Selena. Mira. This place.
And yet I knew... I would have to wait for
answers.
I exhaled, a whisper passing my lips.
"Wake up....Please
