I lay on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling of the cabin, listening to the creaking of the ship. Sleep refused to come.
My mind kept drifting back to the Cenotaph.
How did I get there?
It happened so suddenly before—right after I died—that I couldn't figure out the trigger. But I remembered the feeling. The pull.
Should I try speaking the Nepshi I heard in my head?
I sat up. Seraphim was likely asleep in his own quarters, and Arthur... well, I had no idea where Arthur Pendragon was. He wasn't on the deck during the fight.
Where the hell was he?
Whatever. I couldn't rely on them forever. Seraphim did most of the work against the Leviathan, and even though he saved me, his power over "Fate" and "Time" was terrifying. He said he could see my fate... but could I trust him?
No. I need to be strong enough to stand alone.
It would take two more days to reach the town of Bransy. I couldn't waste this time.
I closed my eyes and focused.
I tried to recall the symbol I saw on the Throne. In the darkness of my mind, I visualized it: A Crown of Thorns and Elegant Chains, burning with cold Blue Flames. It felt heavy, regal, and suffocating.
I took a deep breath and whispered the titles I had seen on the System screen.
"The Whisperer in the Tides."
"The Primordial Monarch of the Velvet Deep for Desire."
At first, nothing happened. Just the sound of the waves outside.
Then—CRACK.
My head split open.
It felt like someone had driven a rusted nail directly into my temple.
"Gah—!"
The world twisted. The smell of salt and old wood vanished, replaced by the scent of ozone and absolute zero.
When I opened my eyes, I was back.
I was sitting on the Throne of Glass. Beneath my feet, the floor was not wood, but a swirling, silent galaxy. The vastness of the cosmos stretched out below me, indifferent and cold.
Is this... what it's supposed to be?
I looked around. The "Ribcage" architecture was still there—giant, bone-white arches stretching into the infinite darkness. It was creepy as hell.
Can I change this? I wondered. If this is my domain, shouldn't I control the decor?
I focused my will. I want a castle hallway. Something traditional.
SCREEEEEEEECH.
The dimension screamed. It was the sound of metal tearing, of reality being forced to bend. My headache spiked to a blinding level.
But slowly, the bone arches shifted. They twisted and morphed, turning into high stone walls and obsidian pillars. The galaxy floor remained, but the walls now resembled a grand, gothic corridor leading up to the Throne.
Better.
I panted, wiping imaginary sweat from my brow. Now... let's check the damage.
"Status," I commanded.
A blue window materialized in the air.
[Status: Lucian]
[Sequence: Sin of Pride]
[Tier: 2 (Morningstar)]
[Memory Fragments: 1/7]
[Titles:]
The Ruler of the Cenotaph of Pride.
The True Owner of the Throne of Glass.
The Ruler of Sins, Devils, and The Abyss.
[Authorities:]
[Supernova]: (LOCKED - Requires Tier ???)
[P?w?hi- (Physics/Prohibition)]: (Unstable. Can be used for 3 seconds).
Supernova?
That sounded like an attack that could wipe out a city. And the "Question Mark" power... was that the ability to rewrite physics?
So, there are specific Cenotaphs for each Sin? This one is the Throne of Glass... does that mean the others have names too?
I tried to focus on the locked authority, but—
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
My brain felt like it was being microwaved.
That's the limit. Tier 2 can't handle this pressure.
The hallway shattered. The galaxy dissolved.
GASP.
I woke up in my cabin, drenching the bedsheets in sweat. My nose was bleeding.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A heavy, lazy pounding came from my door.
I wiped the blood from my nose and staggered over to open it.
Standing there, looking disheveled and sleepy, was Arthur.
"Luci," he yawned, rubbing his eyes. "How was your sleep?"
"..."
What do you mean, sleep? I just came back from the dead and a dimension of cosmic horror.
I ignored his question. I was too annoyed.
"Where were you?" I demanded. "When we were fighting the Leviathan. Where were you?"
"Oh." Arthur scratched his stomach. "I went to London."
I blinked. "London?"
"Yeah. Had some important work to do. Picked up some dry cleaning."
"We are in the middle of the ocean, Arthur," I said slowly, trying to process his stupidity. "London is hundreds of miles away. How did you get to London and back in... what, an hour?"
Arthur looked at me, confused.
"Oh. Right. I haven't told you."
He leaned against the doorframe, looking like he was about to fall asleep standing up.
"Not a big issue for me. I am a Dragon."
"..."
"What?" I whispered. "You mean... your Sequence is Dragon?"
"No," Arthur shook his head. "I mean, I am a Dragon. Like, the flying kind. Mythic creature. Scales. Fire. All that."
He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "So I just flew to London. It's faster than taking a boat."
Shit.
I never thought he meant it literally.
"Do... do Dragons feel tired?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
"Yes. Very much," Arthur nodded solemnly. "Flying burns a lot of calories. I need to recharge."
He patted his stomach. "Anyway, let's eat something. I'm starving."
"You haven't eaten for... fifteen minutes," I pointed out.
"Like I said. London trip. Burned a lot of energy."
I stared at him.
Here I was, struggling to survive, dying to monsters, and getting headaches from my own powers.
Meanwhile, my team consisted of:
Seraphim: A man who can rewind time because things are "rude."
Arthur: A literal Mythic Dragon who flies to London for errands during boss fights.
And then there was me. Lucian. The guy who bleeds out if a piece of wood hits him too hard.
This is so bad.
Arthur started walking down the hall toward the cafeteria. "Coming, Luci? They have ham."
I sighed, grabbed my cane, and followed the sleeping dragon.
I really need to level up.