The ever-looming, dreadful mountains stood as silent sentinels while thick, rough gray mist rolled forth, devouring all it touched—the forest, the Maw King, and, if not for sheer luck, him.
Now, in place of that consuming fog, there was only a void—empty stripped away, darkness absolute. Distant, faint stars glimmered in rhythmic patterns, as though alive, their complexities beyond Chrollo's understanding. If he were sunny, perhaps he would glimpse the countless unseen strings that wove together the nightmare spell.
Before Chrollo could sink deeper into his thoughts—his speculations and curiosity—the spell interrupted him once more.
[You have slain an Awakened Tyrant, Mawking.]
[You have received a memory: Mask of the Ever-Hungering.]
The notification pulled him back, reminding him of his accumulated rewards. Six memories in total, excluding Fangpiercer and the Mawtouched Carapace—both Dormant-ranked, each carrying its own useful enchantments. Though, in the chaos of the caravan, he hadn't yet examined Fangpiercer's properties.
[Fang of the Severed Oath]
A sleek, obsidian blade with veins of crimson running through its edge. The hilt is wrapped in dark leather, its surface slightly warm, as if alive. When drawn, a faint whisper lingers in the air—less a voice and more the ghost of something that once was.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Weapon.
Memory Description: This blade was not simply forged—it was taken, carved from the remnants of a vow undone. The steel remembers, and it does not forgive. Each strike is a quiet accusation, cutting not just flesh, but the weight of one's own convictions. Those who wield it may find themselves wondering: does the oathbreaker stain the blade, or does the blade stain the oathbreaker?
Enchantments: [Silent Rend] [Veinpiercer]
[Silent Rend] – The blade makes no sound when slicing through the air, rendering its wielder's strikes eerily noiseless. No wind, no whistle—only the dull realization of the wound left behind.
[Veinpiercer] – When the blade finds a vital point, it lingers in more ways than one. The wound festers, slow to close, as if the very notion of healing recoils from it.
[The Hollow Satchel]
A tattered, black leather bag with silver clasps in the shape of staring, lidless eyes. When opened, the inside appears as a vast, dark void, stretching far beyond its modest exterior.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Storage.
Memory Description: A merchant once claimed this satchel could hold the weight of an empire. It was unclear whether he spoke in awe or warning. The bag does not strain under burden, does not wear, does not break. But all things have limits, even the infinite. A hand reaching too deep may brush against something else—something that does not belong to them. Or worse, something that does.
Enchantments:[Endless Maw] [Sealed Grasp]
[Endless Maw] – What is placed inside does not add weight. It does not shift. It simply… remains. It is unclear whether the objects rest in stillness or if, in some way, they continue.
[Sealed Grasp] – No force, no trick, no hand but its owner's may take from the satchel. Yet sometimes, objects return colder than when they were placed inside.
[Shroud of the Vanishing Star]
A deep midnight-blue cape, embroidered with silver-thread constellations that shift subtly when unwatched. It flows unnaturally, as though responding to unseen currents.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Garment.
Memory Description: There are those who step lightly between moments, never fully belonging to one place or another. This cloak was theirs—or perhaps it was always meant for those who would come after. To be seen or not is not a matter of presence, but of will. And yet, when the fabric moves too suddenly, it does not ripple in the air but in something deeper, something colder. It does not simply conceal. It forgets.
Enchantments: [Duskstep] [Weightless Drift]
[Duskstep] – In the dim and the dark, the wearer becomes difficult to trace, their outline shifting ever so slightly out of sync. To watch them is to glimpse something between real and unreal.
[Weightless Drift] – Movement becomes softer, quieter, less bound by the pull of the world. Their steps do not always feel entirely their own.
[Ever-Dying Lantern]
A gnarled, wrought-iron torch with an eternal ember flickering inside a cracked glass enclosure. The flame is black at its core, shifting between deep blue and violet at the edges.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Light Source.
Memory Description: A fragment of a world long past, stolen before its final breath. This flame does not burn to consume, nor does it flicker in fear of the wind. It persists, dim yet unyielding, a defiance against time itself. But even defiance has its limits. The light does not simply illuminate—it chooses. And sometimes, it chooses not to.
Enchantments: [Eclipsed Glow] [Wraithfire]
[Eclipsed Glow] – The lantern's light bends to the will of its bearer, revealing only what they wish to be seen. To all others, the flame may appear dead, yet the shadows it casts suggest otherwise.
[Wraithfire] – Pressed against an enemy, the flame clings, refusing to be extinguished. It does not consume flesh as much as it lingers upon it, an echo of something that should have long since faded.
[Dirge of the Hollow Choir]
A pair of delicate, silver cross-shaped earrings, their edges slightly jagged, as if broken from something greater. Each bears a small, black gemstone that swirls with an eerie mist when touched.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Jewelry.
Memory Description: A whisper never truly dies. It lingers, carried by those who remember and those who forget alike. These earrings do not simply hear—they listen. And sometimes, they respond. Secrets are never truly buried, and silence is never truly empty. Those who wear them may find that even their own thoughts are no longer spoken alone.
Enchantments: [Phantom Murmurs] [Unspoken Pact]
[Phantom Murmurs] – The wearer can hear whispers beyond walls, beyond space, beyond where words should reach. Some voices belong to the living. Others do not.
[Unspoken Pact] – The mind becomes a fortress, its walls harder to breach. Yet, the longer one wears them, the more the question lingers: is it truly their mind that remains impenetrable… or something else's?
[Vowbound Rings]
A pair of rings, resting in a small, timeworn box lined with velvet that has long since faded to gray. The first is a simple band of polished obsidian, smooth yet cold to the touch. The second, a slender silver ring, bears an engraving too worn to read, as if time itself has tried to forget the names once etched there. When the box is opened, a faint warmth lingers between them—an echo of something once shared.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Jewelry.
Memory Description:
Love is not merely spoken—it is known, felt, carried in the quiet moments between words. These rings were exchanged once, not out of duty or tradition, but because two souls wished never to be apart. Even now, their bond remains, waiting for another pair of hands to take them up. But closeness is a double-edged thing. To share another's presence so intimately is to understand them in ways not meant to be spoken aloud. And sometimes, to know is to grieve.
Enchantments: [Shared Pulse] [Borrowed Breath]
[Shared Pulse] – When worn and accepted, the rings link their bearers, allowing them to share glimpses of sensation, thoughts, and words across any distance. The bond is neither invasive nor forced—only when both wills align does it open, and only as much as is wished. In times of silence, a faint echo of the other remains, a quiet presence that lingers at the edges of the mind.
[Borrowed Breath] – Should one fall too weak to stand, the other may lend them strength—not from magic, but from sheer will. A portion of their stamina, their vitality, can be gifted in desperate moments, as if holding their hand from afar. But giving too much is a dangerous thing, for a flame can burn twice as bright only for so long before it fades.
[Fangpiercer]
A dagger of jagged, darkened bone, its surface slick with an unnatural sheen. Its form is crude, as though shaped by gnashing teeth rather than careful hands. The hilt is wrapped in a leathery substance that shifts at the touch—too pliant, too warm. When drawn, the blade hums with a subtle, dreadful hunger, as if recalling the maw that once bore it.
Memory Rank: Dormant.
Memory Type: Weapon.
Memory Description:
Mawspawn do not forge. They do not craft. They take. They consume. And sometimes, what is left behind is not truly dead. This blade was not discarded—it was shed, like a fang from something still growing. It remembers the taste of flesh, the pulse of life between its teeth. It waits to bite again.
Enchantments: [Serrated Hunger] [Scent of the Wounded]
[Serrated Hunger] – The blade does not merely cut—it tears. Wounds inflicted by Fangpiercer refuse to close easily, resisting mundane healing as if the flesh itself cannot forget the pain. Even shallow cuts linger, a dull ache gnawing beneath the skin, as though something unseen still clings to the wound.
[Scent of the Wounded] – Those marked by this dagger are not easily lost. Their presence lingers faintly in the air, detectable by the wielder in ways beyond sight or sound. The closer they are, the sharper the sensation—a prickle at the edge of awareness, a whisper of something breathing just beyond reach.
[Asprint! Your trial is over]
[A nameless thief wove through flames and shadow, a rat among titans. With a mind sharp as steel, he danced around death, leaving devastation in his wake. In the midst of chaos, he seized the fleeting moments, turning enemies into fuel for his survival, never once faltering as the world burned.]
[You have defeated a dormant beast: Mawspawn.]
[You have defeated six dormant humans, names unknown.]
[You have slain an awakened human: Orson Drex.]
[You have slain an awakened human: Seraphine Vale.]
[You have defeated an awakened tyrant: Mawking.]
[You have received Grasp of Nen]
[You have ascended the Hollow Mountains' edge.]
[Final appraisal: Inconceivable. a cunning bastard, dancing on the precipice of oblivion. You thrive in the shadows, and yet, you've made a name in blood.]
[Dreamer chrollo receive your Boon!]
[You have been bestowed a True Name: Seraph of the Silent Abyss.]
[Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]
Chrollo, having transcended the limits of his previous self through hardships , betrayal and sheer willpower, stands on the precipice of his next evolution.
[Dormant Aspect: Nen Initiate is evolving...]
[New Aspect acquired.]
[Aspect Rank: Divine.]
[Aspect Name: Born of Nen.]
Chrollo's analytical observation of his new memories was abruptly interrupted by the spell's appraisal. He had expected a high rating—it made sense. After all, he had faced trials similar to Sunny's, including the awakening of a Tyrant-class aspect. Yet, there was one uncertainty: the Divine Rank. Unlike Sunny, he wasn't blessed by any gods. From what he knew, every other holder seemed to have a divine connection—Nephis to the Sun God, Mordret to the War God—both due to their parentage.
However, it seemed that such blessings weren't strictly necessary. Chrollo had uncovered an alternative feat of equal caliber, a path not reliant on divine favor, but one he had forged through his own means.
Aspect: [Born of Nen]
Aspect Rank: [Divine]
Aspect Description: You are the living embodiment of Nen itself. A being born from the depths of this mysterious power, your existence transcends that of a mere user. As a divine being forged from Nen, your abilities stretch across the boundaries of your Nen affinities . You are both a weapon and a vessel for this energy, your very form pulsing with the life force of Nen, limitless in scope but bound to your own nature.
Innate Ability: [Dual Harmony]
Ability Description:
[Two threads, twisted from the very fabric of existence, hum within you—one born of the Transmuter, the other of the Specialist. These threads, once intertwined, grant you dominion over their limitless potential, their power feeding your every will. To wield them is to bend the world to your design, as if the very laws of nature conspire to serve your hand.
Yet, the other affinities—Enhancer, Emitter, Manipulator, Conjurer—they are not beyond your reach. They whisper to you, but only faintly, their voices tangled within your mind, calling you to use them as shadows in your dance. Though they remain bound, your grip is sure. You may wield their power, but never fully, as if their essence eludes your grasp, forever slipping like water through your fingers.
The balance is delicate—your true strength lies in the harmony of two, but the others remain a mystery you may call upon, fleetingly, as you see fit.]
[The First Seal is broken]
[Awakening dormant powers …]
Suddenly, Chrollo fell to his knees. A sharp, warm pain spread through his body, starting from his gut and radiating to his lungs. This strange heat invaded each cell, coursing through him with a disorienting intensity. Despite the initial pain, the warmth was oddly comforting, as though his body was awakening to new power. But curiously, this power didn't feel like a foreign force—it felt like something that had been dormant within him all along.
The heat settled, coalescing into a hot ball of energy, presumably his soul core. Its comforting wisps of energy began to spread throughout his body.
"Aaagh…"
Chrollo's euphoric high was shattered by a sharp, blunt pain—something had pierced the warmth he felt. Though the sensation still lingered, the warmth no longer felt like the guiding star it once was. Inside him, the soul core seemed to have vanished.
He opened his eyes. Before him lay a still, silent dark sea, and from its depths, a small, translucent white ball hovered. Tendrils stretched from it, each holding a shard that resembled a broken piece of marble.
Was that his soul core? No bright star, no black sun. His soul's sea was dimly illuminated by a struggling star, held together by a force he couldn't yet comprehend—most likely his nen.
Does this mean he can no longer grow stronger? No, not quite. He recalled a character who had faced a similar situation— Soul Reaper Jet, a master and later a saint, who had been part of the Changing Stars cohort. From what little he remembered of the TikTok spoilers he had caught on his way to school each day, he knew Jet had navigated this very challenge. Thank God for those spoilers—without them, he'd have been a frantic, hysterical mess.
[ Awakening Aspect Ability ]
Aspect Ability: [Bandit's Secret]
Ability Description:
[You possess the extraordinary power to steal and use the Nen abilities of others through your conjured book, Bandit's Secret. To steal an ability, you must first witness its use through the eyes of the target. Following this, you must engage the target in a conversation about Nen, ensuring they answer your questions with clarity. The final condition requires the victim to place their palm upon the handprint etched into the cover of Bandit's Secret.
Only by fulfilling these conditions within a strict hour can you successfully capture their Nen ability, locking it into the pages of the book. The stolen ability is then sealed within the book, accessible for use at any time, but only one ability may be used at a time]
Name: Chrollo Lucilfer
True Name: Seraph of the Silent Abyss.
Rank: Dreamer
Soul Core: Dormant
Soul Fragments: [??/1000]
Memories: [Vowbound Rings] [Dirge of the Hollow Choir] [Ever-Dying Lantern] [Shroud of the Vanishing Star][The Hollow Satchel] [Fang of the Severed Oath] [ Fangpiercer ] [ Mawtouched Carapace]
Echoes: [The Eclipsing Shade Seraphine Vale]
Attributes: [Mark of the Forgotten King] [Fated] [Phantom Heart]
Aspect: [Born of Nen ]
Aspect Rank: Divine
Aspect Ability: [Bandit's Secret ]
Chrollo opened his runes, bearing witness to his new status. Unlike Sunny, he would have had to absorb soul fragments like other Awakened, but that was no concern. After all, the part of his runes related to that was grayed out, signifying his inability to gain soul fragments.
[All power has a price.]
[You have received a Flaw.]
Chrollo let out a heavy sigh, already having silently guessed his flaw. Most likely, he had a shattered soul.
Flaw: [Soulless]
Flaw Description:
As an entity not born of this world, you do not belong. You are neither alive nor dead, but null. You lack a means of identification; your soul does not exist, and thus cannot be strengthened.
[Wake up Seraph of the Silent Abyss.]