Shadowseal: The Price Of Sin

CHAPTER 5

The carrier's footsteps echoed on a ground that did not exist. Every step deepened the shadows of this rotting realm within the mask. There was no sky. No shadow fell. This place belonged to neither time nor future. And in that moment, the carrier realized... This was the turning point. The crossroads where his existence and the destiny of every sealed soul within the mask converged.

A tremble echoed inside him. The silence since the demon fell had grown heavier. But this silence was not fear. It was imprisonment. The carrier stopped. Closed his eyes. Only he remained now. And in the darkness, he whispered to himself:

"I know... eventually this body will be yours. But that day is not today." "Let me go now. Don't touch my body or my soul until the missions are done. I'll give you everything, but not today..."

There was no answer. Because the demon was shackled.

Locked inside the fifth bearer. Once a king, now a caged ghost.

Outside World

Meanwhile... the world remained still.

The girl knelt beside the carrier's motionless body, surrounding them both in ancient symbols drawn in blood. The symbols shimmered in the dirt, awakening shadows beneath. Her eyes were closed, but the whispers had already reached her. Shadowseal knew her now. It... was calling.

"I will be by his side... I can only help if I become like him."

And the darkness... responded.

Inside the Mask

The shadows around the carrier shifted.

The fifth bearer approached step by step, not just with madness in his eyes anymore, but pride godlike pride.

"What now?" he asked. "Begging mercy from the demon? Hahahahaha!"

The carrier stood still, trembling with anger.

"Remember..." the fifth bearer said closer, "The demon is mine now. I chained him. His name is no longer a whisper. While he fades inside me, I am being born within you."

And then... the final act began.

The fifth bearer locked eyes with him. He drew a knife rusted, ancient, a relic meant to tear at the soul. Pressed it to the carrier's throat. The carrier didn't resist.

Blood spilled.

But this was no ordinary blood. Every drop screamed with the voices of twelve sealed souls. And then, the fifth bearer cut his own throat.

Two bodies. Two streams of cursed blood. Spilling into each other.

The ritual had begun.

And it was already too late.

This wasn't a fusion. It was an execution.

The other souls within the mask began to tremble. Darkness no longer sought its owner. Because now, the blood had chosen.

As the carrier's mind shattered, the fifth bearer glared into him:

"You were shadow. I am the darkness." "You are a vessel. I am the mask itself."

A dark pulse spread through the realm.

In the world above, black smoke rose from the mask. And the sky the real sky turned red.

Only two wills remained now within the mask. The carrier... and the new master born of blood.

And fate... was being rewritten again. But this time, in blood.

In the world outside, the darkness trembling above buried bones had begun to take form. Decayed flesh rewrapped the old bones, rebuilding a body that time itself had tried to forget. This was the body of the Fifth Bearer. The ritual had begun. But within the mask, the real war was already underway.

There were no physical limits anymore. No human frailty. Only spirit, only raw existence. Both the current Bearer and the Fifth Bearer were present in their purest essence. Pure will. Pure rage. Pure darkness.

Inside the mask, the void resembled an endless mirror. Every movement, every impact echoed, giving birth to shadows of their own. Two wills, two pasts, two destinies collided.

The Bearer, burdened by the weight of the past, still held a flicker of hope. He believed he still had a choice. He trusted not his instincts, but himself. He believed that even as he approached the end, he could still choose the path.

The Fifth Bearer had long since shattered his chains. Hope was dead to him. Truth was power. Only power and control. To him, even will was nothing but an extension of strength. This was what made the mask tremble: a disbelief wrapped in absolute resolve.

The shadows intertwined. Souls were hurled across the void. There were no screams, for in this battle, sound had no place. Only will spoke.

When the Bearer lunged at the Fifth, the sky tore apart. But there was no sky only the reflection of the emptiness within.

"This body is mine," the Bearer said.

"So is this fate."

But the Fifth Bearer laughed. His laughter fractured into a thousand echoes, each sounding like the final cry of a previous bearer.

"Everything you think you know I wrote the script. You didn't choose the mask. I brought you to it."

In the deepest layer of the mask, a chained silhouette lay motionless. The Demon. Still. And yet the silence itself threatened. He was there. But he could not move. He could not rule.

Scattered across the world, the other eleven souls trembled in their dreams. Each of them heard the rising echo from the heart of the dark. Some would run. Some would draw closer.

But let us return to the tale.

Inside the mask, the two spirits crashed again and again, flung from one side to another. With every strike, the Bearer's soul glowed brighter, but the Fifth Bearer's shadow kept reaching out to consume him.

This wasn't a duel.

It was a war of truth.

The Bearer stood strong on one belief:

"If I lose this fight, I won't just lose myself... I'll lose her fate too."

And in that moment, the darkness deepened.

The victor of this battle would claim not just a body but a future.