Season 1 – THE CURSED SUMMON
Episode 4: The Feast of Chains
The world above didn't welcome them.
As Ren and Lyra emerged from the shattered stone stairwell behind the capital's lower districts, the sun had long set. The air reeked of incense and dried blood. Bells tolled in the distance, not in celebration—but mourning.
Their clothes were stained, their bodies broken, and behind them, the Warden's Labyrinth sealed itself with a sound like bone grinding into bone.
Ren barely had time to stand when they found him.
Not soldiers.
Not priests.
But the Chainsmen—black-robed enforcers of the Church's darkest rites. Their faces hidden behind bone-white masks, their hands draped with metal cords soaked in holy water.
"Subject Forty-Eight," one said in a voice as cold as steel. "You've trespassed upon a divine threshold. By right of the Sacred Trial, you are condemned."
Ren didn't even resist.
He couldn't.
Lyra tried to move, but they hit her with a shackle curse. It didn't bind her hands—it bound her spine. She collapsed, screaming.
Ren screamed too, not in fear, but fury. His veins surged. His body trembled.
He felt the Divine Learner reacting.
Something inside him recognized these Chainsmen. Recognized their magic.
> You've seen it before.
On the battlefield of the First Warden's memory…
But he didn't have the strength to fight.
Not yet.
They chained them both, gagged them, and dragged them like livestock through the alleyways. People watched. Some turned away. Some whispered.
Ren saw a child staring from a window, eyes wide with fear.
"Another failure," someone murmured.
"They never survive the Feast."
---
They were taken beneath the cathedral.
Not the Hollow.
Deeper.
To a sanctum called the Sanctorium of Chains, where the Church held its darkest rituals.
And where the Feast of Chains was held once every decade—to feed the gods.
They were thrown into a cell made entirely of rusted steel. No window. No straw. Only bones.
Lyra coughed blood. Her face pale. "What… is the Feast?"
Ren stared blankly at the ceiling.
He already knew.
In the Warden's memory, the Feast had been used to dispose of failed creations. The divines demanded sacrifice, not of the body—but of will.
And Ren had too much will.
Which meant he'd be torn apart.
He could hear chanting in the distance. The rising of choirs. The smell of incense thick in the air.
And the sound of chains tightening.
---
That night, he dreamt.
Not of home.
But of Akio.
His best friend stood in a white hall of mirrors, his eyes glazed, a divine sword hovering behind him.
"Ren," Akio said softly. "You're still alive."
Ren couldn't speak.
Akio's expression cracked.
"I wanted to believe you were dead. That it ended there. But it didn't, did it?"
Behind him, priests chanted. The sword trembled.
"They say you're cursed. That Eidros marked you. That you've seen the Labyrinth."
Ren's hands bled.
He wanted to answer.
But Akio turned away.
"If I see you again… I'll have to kill you."
---
Ren woke to chains dragging across the floor.
A priest in silver stood outside their cell. His face was heavily scarred, his eyes empty.
"I am Warden of Flesh. My duty is to prepare the offerings."
He gestured to Lyra.
"She will go first."
Ren stood. "No."
The priest didn't even blink.
"You do not choose."
Chains flew from the walls, wrapping around Lyra's limbs. She thrashed, screamed—but they pulled her from the cell like meat.
Ren smashed his fists against the bars. "I'LL KILL YOU!"
But she was gone.
And the screaming began minutes later.
Not from pain.
But from memory.
Because the Feast wasn't torture of the body—it was the ripping of sins from the soul. They used relics to strip each Summoned One of their past life. Memory by memory. Until they forgot who they were.
Until they were pure.
Ren clutched the bars so hard his hands bled.
He couldn't lose Lyra.
Not like this.
---
When they came for him, he didn't scream.
He bit the Chainsman dragging him.
They beat him bloody, but he still grinned.
He was dragged into the Feast Hall, a circular chamber lit by seven burning halos above a stone altar. At the center stood the Eidric Flame, a pyre of divine fire meant to consume memories.
Lyra knelt at the edge of it, her body limp, eyes hollow.
She didn't recognize him.
Not even a flicker.
Ren's heart cracked.
The priest stepped forward. "Subject Forty-Eight. You carry corruption. You remember too much. The Flame will burn it away."
Ren laughed, despite the pain.
"You think you can burn my sin?"
He stepped forward.
The scroll in his pocket burned bright.
The Divine Learner surged.
And the Eidric Flame flickered.
The priest froze.
"…Impossible."
Ren looked up.
And smiled.
"I learned from your gods. I took sin from the First Warden himself."
He opened his hand—and revealed the core fragment from the Labyrinth.
A red shard of sin, still pulsing.
"I'm not a subject."
He crushed it.
"I'm your curse."
---
The flames erupted.
But not in gold.
In black.
The hall trembled. Chains unraveled. Priests screamed.
And Lyra's eyes snapped open.
She gasped. Remembered.
The Divine Flame had tried to burn her past—but Ren's sin had infected it.
And sin could not be erased.
Only fed.
> New Skill Unlocked: Black Rebirth (Lv. 1 – Passive)
Allows you to corrupt one divine effect within 10 meters once every 24 hours. Grows stronger with each corrupted rite.
Ren broke his chains.
Walked to the altar.
And grabbed the priest by the throat.
"You were never gods," he whispered.
"You were never holy."
He crushed the man's throat in a single blow.
Lyra crawled toward him, sobbing, hands shaking. "You… you brought me back…"
Ren nodded.
"I said I don't leave people behind."
The walls cracked.
The halos above shattered, raining divine shards.
And the Chainsmen poured into the hall.
But Ren didn't run.
He turned toward them, arms wide.
And laughed.
"I hope you're ready to choke on your own prayers."
---
Elsewhere – Divine Bastion, Throne of Eidros
A shrouded figure stood before the God of Light.
"My lord," the voice said. "The Learner has taken the First Sin. And corrupted the Flame."
Eidros' golden eyes narrowed.
"The system is fracturing."
"What would you have me do?"
Eidros stood, light pouring from his frame.
"Send the Seventh Warlord."
"But he hasn't awakened in centuries—"
"He will," Eidros said.
"He must. The Learner is becoming something worse than a god."