Alright, I’m home. I need to solve this matter: this man is unpleasant. First, I have to figure out how to obtain a bond.

  Blaise’s body must withstand one; right now it isn’t able to. I’m not capable of fighting well in my current condition either. After thinking this, Axia enters a state of meditation.

  After a while: good, this should be enough; I should have some control. A stomach growl pulls him out of his trance.

  —I should eat something —he thinks.

  Axia decides to go downstairs toward the kitchen.

  —You came down, idiot —was the first thing he heard.

  —I did. Do you have a problem? —Axia replied, confident in his physical state.

  The man, surprised, approached Blaise’s body with a threatening tone. However, Axia, though not as strong as in his past life, reacted to the provocation and struck the man’s jaw, which allowed him to land a left hook straight to the liver. The man collapsed, agonizing on the floor. Axia grabbed him by his short black hair:

  —Is this what you were looking for, stalker? Now tell me how to obtain a bond.

  The unpleasant man, still shocked and in pain, tried to speak, but the blood in his mouth stopped him.

  —Bah, you’re useless to me like this —said Axia, letting the man go and walking away from the kitchen. Then he heard the man whisper:

  —Bond ritual —before fainting on the floor.

  —Of course, how didn’t I think of that? —Axia said out loud—. Fine: bonding ritual. I need to know one…

  A headache struck him; as he fell to the ground, he remembered: one liter of the binder’s blood, a blood orb, and the hands of a thief, along with the determination to achieve it.

  Well, Blaise, you’re not useless after all. It seems this boy wanted to stop being weak. Thank you, Blaise; I won’t waste your knowledge. After that, Axia began gathering materials. I need a liter of my blood, a blood orb, and a thief’s hands… thief’s hands: mine could work.

  After considering it, Axia headed straight to the library.

  —I’m not only a strong man, I’m also a skilled reader —he thought. I can’t defend myself against everyone with martial arts alone; this world gives me chills.

  Walking along, he came across a strange-looking man: black eyes, light brown hair, and sunglasses that contrasted with his black robe.

  Axia, approaching without hesitation, asked:

  —Are you rich or what?

  The man, surprised and a little agitated, replied:

  —Who are you?

  —I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Ax… no, I’m Blaise. My name is Blaise —he said, extending his hand.

  The man, somewhat distrustful, shook his hand and introduced himself:

  —My name is Lucius Decarnell, I’m a student at the academy.

  —Lucius… you don’t look very strong —Axia said. Lucius, somewhat surprised, answered:

  —Well, my family isn’t very wealthy; I can’t afford training.

  —Families… what’s the country’s hierarchy? —Axia asked.

  —Don’t you know? —Lucius replied—. In our kingdom there’s the king and the bishops as high ranks; then counts, viscounts, knights, merchants, workers, and the poor.

  —Wow, hierarchy is everywhere. I hate to admit it, but I’m poor… —Axia murmured, watching Lucius—. Do you know what a blood orb is?

  Lucius, boasting of his knowledge:

  —Of course I do. They’re orbs you can make by refining chaos stones, or otherwise buy them. They’re expensive, but worth it if you want to be a binder of the Corpse Collector’s path. Though, you’d also need a corpse that wants to live.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  —A corpse that wants to live? —Axia frowned—. That doesn’t appear in my memories, but fine. Lucius, how do I get and refine one of those chaos stones?

  The boy, surprised, got closer to Blaise:

  —Will you try to refine a stone by yourself? It’s very dangerous; you could lose your sanity or… die from lack of chaos.

  —Chaos… yes, I’ll do it, but I don’t know where to find one —Axia replied. Lucius pulled two stones from his bag and handed them to Blaise:

  —Take them. I don’t need them; my bond doesn’t require them, so they’re useless to me.

  Blaise, astonished by the young man’s kindness, thanked him.

  —See you, Blaise. I hope we meet again soon.

  —Now I have the stones; I just need to refine them, but… how do I do it? Damn, that boy didn’t tell me anything about the process.

  Looking around, Blaise, furious, decided to look for the library on his own.

  After two hours, he found it. Tired, he entered and searched for books related to bonds. He learned: “The refinement of chaos stones requires a special meditation method, in which chaos is poured into the stone until it transforms; but, if you lack enough power, it can permanently damage your body or… kill you.”

  When Blaise was about to put the book back, a note fell from between its pages:

  —If you’re reading this, please, run. You’re trapped inside a dream. A binder of the God of Dreams did this.

  —God of Dreams… —Blaise grew uneasy, but kept reading—. “Only if you have a bond can you escape this. I couldn’t…”, the note ended.

  —Damn. —Blaise ran outside the library and saw no one—. Son of a… agh… no, think. I need to refine the stone.

  He returned to the library, where he saw a corpse still covered in cobwebs and a note: “It’s a trap; after three days, that’s all that remains.”

  He died of thirst… Blaise, with a melancholic expression, said:

  —I have three days to escape this place; having a bond doesn’t guarantee my way out.

  Blaise entered meditation again, but this time not to strengthen his body: he used one of the stones to create the blood orb. After channeling all the chaos in his body, he felt exhausted; before fainting, his body reacted, giving him a surge of chaos.

  Was it luck or…? No time to think. With the blood orb, he needed a liter of his blood and… his hands.

  Blaise placed the blood orb on the ground. With his right hand, he used one of his techniques to cut off his left hand.

  He almost fainted from the pain of losing his hand.

  —If I fall now, I’ll die even more pathetically than before. I can’t die like this —he muttered. Opening his eyes, he drew a pentagram on the library floor.

  Looking at his right hand, Blaise took his only option.

  Crack… crack… crack…

  With three bites, Blaise severed his hand.

  Falling to the ground from blood loss, Blaise repeated:

  —Appear, damn bond. I refuse to die. I refuse to die so pathetically.

  After repeating it six times, a purple mist enveloped Blaise’s body.

  —Human.

  Blaise noticed a face in the man made of mist, surprised.

  —Do you want to sign a bond with the “#####”? —the shadow asked.

  —Yes, I accept. Give me your power so I can leave this place —Blaise didn’t catch the rest.

  The shadow touched the bleeding young man without a hand, with a sad expression. A shadow wrapped Blaise’s body, restoring his hand. A mark appeared on Blaise’s chest.

  A sword.