Savior in Shadow Slave

The effort to convert a god's severed arm into mortal flesh was—by all rights—impossible.

The sheer scale alone defied natural law. A limb forged by Flames of Desire, steeped in the essence of blood, desire, and celestial violence—such a thing could not be contained in human form.

And yet, the Apparition had prepared everything for him.

The runic circle at the heart of the Red Sea pulsed with unbearable light, ancient and surgical. As if time itself held its breath.

Above it, the severed Arm of the Goddess began to glow—deep crimson bleeding into the surrounding air. The surface of the arm shimmered like living obsidian as the white lines of the runes crawled over it, burrowing inward, consuming the sanctity of its form.

It started with a hum. A single, low buzz—Then the circle awakened.

A ripple shot outward from its center, bending the red sea itself into trembling submission. The God's Arm began to shake, first subtly… then violently.

The tremors deepened—The sea itself, once still and eternal, shuddered.

Waves rose from the void, walls of blood crashing against the edges of unreality.

And then—The waters receded.

A terrible silence fell.

Followed by a roar.

A tsunami of divine liquid surged skyward, crowned in light and fury, as if the entire realm were weeping, screaming, birthing all at once.

Murphy—what was left of him—watched from the edge of dissolution.

His body was already gone. There was nothing now but consciousness suspended in the spell's hold, surrounded by a crown of symbols, time, and silence.

He watched as the God's Arm shrank, a titanic structure reduced by half in a blink—compressed by forces no mortal mind could name.

"Even divinity yields to will," he thought, awed.

"This circle… it is more than magic. It is a Miracle."

He squinted into the blinding red light, took a deep breath—though he had no lungs—and focused on the narrowing pillar of divine flesh and fury.

Then—The arm burst.

Not in an explosion, but in a release—like a dam shattered by something greater than water.

A fountain of blood surged forth, radiant and unstoppable, as if the sky itself were bleeding.

And that blood—no longer just divine, but something new, something made—rushed downward.

Into the circle. Into him.

Into what would become Murphy.

The torrent of divine blood struck the runic circle like a falling star, the air shrieking as power beyond comprehension flooded the space.

And then—It entered him.

Not gently. Not as a blessing.

It tore into him like wildfire laced with knives, every droplet of divine essence a scream of pain made liquid.

Murphy had no body, and yet he felt everything.

First came the heat—unbearable, endless.

Like being boiled alive in molten hunger.

Then came the weight—crushing, folding his soul in on itself, pressing the essence of a god through the seams of a man.

He thought, barely coherent.

"…this is truly a birth through death."

Muscle reformed.

Tendons were stitched from something.

Bone calcified beneath pressure meant to break stars.

Something else was being digested in his body as well. Something sacred. Something pleasurable.

He screamed—but no sound came.

There were no lungs. No lips. Only the pulse of a body being remade, moment by agonizing moment.

Nerves sparked to life—each one like a raw wire, fire dancing along them.

He felt his spine grow—crackling, stretching, twisting as it fused with the God-Arm's marrow.

His heart formed last, forged in a crucible of wrath and memory, then ignited with a single, deafening beat that echoed across the Red Sea like thunder through a hollow world.

THUD.

The pain reached its peak.

For a moment—there was nothing. No self. No thought.

Only the pure scream of rebirth echoing across the Red sea.

Then—A flicker.

Sensation returned.

The cold of the Red Sea on newly formed skin.

The echo of blood dripping into silence.

The soft glow of dissolving runes fading like stars at dawn.

Murphy opened his eyes.

Breath hitched in his throat.

He was… whole. Different.

Reborn through divine sacrifice and unthinkable pain.

His hands—trembling—clenched slowly.

There was power in them now. Ancient. Anchored.

And somewhere beneath it all… sorrow still smoldered.

He stood. A god-touched man.

Alive. Changed.

But not broken.

Then—a melody rose.

Not joyful. Not soft.

But furious. Fierce. Wrath clothed in sound.

[Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]

Murphy blinked, breath caught between awe and confusion.

"I didn't know… Aspects could evolve mid-Nightmare?"

That's when he heard it.

Not Spell. But something else.

Someone else.

A voice—warm, familiar, laced with quiet mirth and aching sadness:

"Hello, Murphy,"

"This is your friendly Goddess of the Moon."

His heart slammed against his ribs.

"Apparition?"

He said it aloud, almost disbelieving.

The voice laughed softly—Not present, but echoing, like a memory stitched into the fabric of his soul.

"I recorded this at the same time as when I left you. If you're hearing this… And you've been reborn, successfully."

He let out a shaky laugh.

Tears—hot and new—spilled freely down his freshly-formed cheeks.

"If you've made it this far, Murphy, then you're probably seeing something like

[Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]…and you're wondering how that's even possible."

"You don't have to worry."

Her voice grew softer now—solemn, but still steady.

"Spell is bound by rules, but it bent them so far, twisted them so many times… that we found a loophole."

"Normally, your Aspect evolution would've been frozen till the end of the Nightmare.

But since Spell violated the natural order to try and erase you—we got a chance to interfere.

So now, Murphy… you receive your evolution now.

Also as a bonus, I have left behind an ability that can only be used once a year."

Silence followed.

Then came the final blow of truth.

"I don't really know if I should tell you or not but...

The Nightmare you were thrown into—it's not a standard First Nightmare."

"It's a replica of the Third Nightmare… the one where Griesha was born."

"It wasn't meant to test you. It was meant to execute you."

Murphy's fists tightened, knuckles paling.

"In truth… Spell could have thrown you into any of the Nightmares.

But because of Him—you ended up here. In this one."

The voice faded like a falling star.

But the weight of her words did not.

Murphy stood still.

The Red Sea behind him had stilled. The echoes of the Apparition's final words hung in the air like fading starlight. He stared into the silent system prompt that still glowed before him, as if the very world were holding its breath.

Then, quietly—He crossed his arms.

"Yes," he said.

[Ascended Aspect Spectator is evolving…]

[New Aspect acquired.]

[Aspect Rank: Divine.]

[Aspect Name: Nirvana.]

Curious by all of this, Murphy silently summoned the runes and read them.

Name: Murphy

True Name: —

Rank: Aspirant

Soul Core: Dormant

Memories: —

Echoes: —

Attributes: [Perfect Sorcerer], [Ember of Divinity], [Terror], [Soul Beast], [Broken Being], [Rebirth]

Aspect: [Nirvana]

Aspect Description:

You have transcended desire—not by denial, but by becoming its grave.

You desire nothing.Because everything is meant to assimilate into you.

You are no longer moved by rage or fear.

No longer bound by rage, fear, or longing, the bearer becomes a hollow flame—calm, clear, and unshakable.

You do not conquer—you endure.You do not burn—you dissolve.You are not divine or dead.You are free.

Aspect Ability: Karma

Ability Description: Your thought can pass through the the mental barriers and enter another person's Mind, allowing you to judge and to directly change the target's subconsciousness and read their thoughts, memories and desires silently, Manipulating them to do all sorts of things.

Attributes:

[Perfect Sorcerer]

Description: You possess unparalleled talent for all kinds of sorcery.

[Flame of Divinity]

Description: Your soul is aflame with the light of divinity.

[Terror]

Description: The more someone fears you, the less powerful their attack becomes against you.

[Soul Beast]

Description: You are in possession of a miraculous being who walks the path from the Profane to the Divine. You can use most of its abilities. It is currently asleep.

[Broken Being]

Description: Y□□ □□□ b□□□en □□d □□i□ul b□in□ □□o can□ e□en r□□□m□□□ □□□□s□□□.

[Rebirth]

Description: "You have devoured a portion of Beast God."

[A Fragment of Pleasure and Passion.]

??: ??

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Description: [When an obscene existence willed herself free of corruption, The One Who Knows felt a spark—and made it his purpose.

He crossed realms, bartered with Daemons, and stood unbidden before thrones of gods.

He waged war upon minor divines and profane lords who embodied passion and pleasure.

After a millennium adrift, he returned.

Yet for the Druid who waited, and all life within the forest's bounds, only a year had passed.

Time is an Absolute Law—and its defiance demands ruin.

To escape its wrath, he sought the Goddess of Carnal Desire and asked for her hand.

She pondered, then smiled—severed her arm, and gave it freely.

With blood of gods, a soul, a slave, a chain, and a Concept, he forged a path.

A vessel through which she might ascend from Profane to Divine.

This is one of two sacred fragments born of pleasure and passion intertwined.

*It's currently being digested*

Current Digestion: 24%]