Chapter Eight: I swear to God/s_The Soul Bound Chronicles: [A Progression Litrpg Fantasy]

Chapter Eight

 I swear to God/s

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 Now, look—I’m not a religious man. Never have been. Never saw the point in faith or the Divine, and I’d have sworn up and down that I’d live and die by that belief.

 Then again… I’m currently dead.

 And let me tell you, the gods? Yeah, they’re nothing like what we thought. Back on Earth, people fought wars, burned cities, and butchered each other over who had the right god. Even the so-called "one true God" had crusades in his name. So, I was kinda looking forward to seeing who got it right. Some all-knowing bearded guy on a throne? A thousand-armed elephant? Hell, I’d have settled for a golden cow.

 But no.

 Turns out, Earth’s god is a lazy, good-for-nothing, hippie-looking son of a bitch—who, by the way, killed me.

 Now, I’ll give him credit. He did reincarnate me into this new body, in this new world—Eidolon, was it?—but here’s the kicker. This world has its own god.

 Her name? Ishtar.

 And she’s not some all-powerful celestial being. Nope. She’s a corporate bureaucrat.

 Yeah, you heard me right. The beings mortals pray to at night, the ones we beg for miracles when everything’s gone to hell? They don’t give a single damn about us. We’re just… paperwork to them.

 So here I am, standing in front of Ishtar, and she’s holding out this big-ass book—the Codex of Gil’Jedalon—offering it to me like it’s some sacred relic. The second my fingers brush the cover, the damn thing shudders, heat seeping into my skin. The air thickens, pressing down like an unseen hand on my chest. Then, out of nowhere, a deep, rasping whisper slithers through the room:

 "You are not worthy of me… nor to use me."

 The book’s cover starts to smolder, glowing a deep, angry red, like it’s physically rejecting me.

 Ishtar’s usual smug expression flickers, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Well… that’s new.”

 Zen, who was mid-stretch with a lazy yawn, pauses and shifts his weight. “Yeah… that ain’t normal.”

 Then, just when I think things can’t get weirder, the whisper slips inside my head.

 "You… why are you bound?"

 I try to respond, but my mouth won’t move. It’s like something’s locking it shut.

 "Did I say you could speak?"

 Alright. Rude.

 I can’t talk, but I can think, so I take my shot.

 Well, Ma’am, you didn’t say I couldn’t think, number one. Number two… you didn’t say ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’ And where I come from, when someone asks a question, it’s common courtesy to answer.

 Silence.

 Then—

 A laugh.

 Not just any laugh. A deep, velvety laugh that rolls through my mind, rich and amused, like someone savoring a fine wine.

 "Manners? From a mortal? Now that is a rare commodity."

 Well, Ma’am, what can I say? I was raised right.

 "I don’t know what games my children are playing… but you, oh, you are quite intriguing."

 Wait. Children?

 "Yes… Ishtar and Zen are but two of many."

 Ah. Well, that explains a lot.

 I see. And may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?

 She laughs again, but this time, there’s something else beneath it—something dangerous.

 "No… you may not. As for pleasure, darling, all you have to do is ask. I will gladly oblige."

 …Yeah. Definitely related to Ishtar.

 Ma’am, I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline. However, while we’re on the subject of your kids—you do realize they killed me? Not once, but twice?

 "Oh yes, I’m well aware."

 And…?

 "And what?"

 You’ve gotta be shitting me.

 "Come now, darling. What they do on their worlds is of no concern to me. As long as they follow the rules, all is fair in love and war. Emphasis on love."

 Right. Of course.

 So, to recap—I’ve died twice, been dragged into some celestial office drama, and have now been propositioned by two deities. I guess this really is the good life, huh?

 She laughs again. "What a peculiar little mortal."

 I think I’m starting to get the picture. These so-called gods? They don’t mingle with mortals often. Then again… name one working-class schmuck who’s ever met a corporate bigwig in person. I’ll wait.

 Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. Stick around, you might get some entertainment out of me.

 "No… sadly, I must leave you now. I have a universe to maintain."

 Her voice starts to fade, pulling away like the receding tide.

 "Now, do be a gentleman. Say nothing of our little conversation… to my children."

 You got it.

 "Such a dear. I shall look forward to your future endeavors. Good luck, mortal… you’re going to need it."

 And just like that, she’s gone.

 The book jerks in my grip like it''s alive. Its pages flip wildly, symbols shifting in real time, each movement sending out a pulse of energy—steady, rhythmic—like a heartbeat.

 Ishtar takes a step back, golden eyes narrowing. "What is it doing?"

 Zen exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh… good question?"

 Before anyone can react, the Codex stops on a blank page. Then, as if making up its mind, it flips upside down and slams against my palm. Hard.

 And then comes the pain.

 No—scratch that. Not pain. Not exactly.

 It’s that awful pins-and-needles sensation, like when your foot falls asleep or you smack your funny bone on a counter. Except this? This is different. This is that feeling dialed up to eleven, spreading up my arm like a living current.

 "Son of a—!"

 Before I can finish cursing, the Codex levitates again. Something wet drips from its pages.

 Blood.

 My blood.

 But it’s not just dripping—it’s moving.

 The crimson liquid slithers over my fingers, twisting and pulsing like it has a purpose. Like it’s searching for something.

 Then, without warning, it seeps into my skin.

 I rip at my sleeve, fingers shaking as I undo the button. My breath catches.

 "What in the actual hell…?"

 Tattoos.

 Crimson-red, bestial, tribal markings coil around my arm and shoulder, shifting and pulsing like they''re alive.

 A familiar blue prompt flickers to life in my vision:

 [Notice: Reconnected to the System.]

 The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

 [Would you like to Sync with the Codex of Gil’Jedalon?]

 [Yes] / [No]

 My pulse hammers.

 I glance at Ishtar and Zen. They look just as confused as I feel.

 Then, against my better judgment… I select [Yes].

 "Wait!" Ishtar snaps, voice sharp. "Are you saying you’re reconnected with the System?"

 "Uh… yeah?"

 Zen, ever the laid-back asshole, still has that nonchalant look—but his eyes? Wide as hell.

 "How?" Ishtar demands. "You lost your connection to Theia!"

 I throw up my hands. "How the hell should I know?!"

 Another prompt flashes:

 [Notice: Please outstretch your left arm…]

 I exhale, already regretting this, and obey.

 The Codex drifts toward me, shifting—morphing.

 One second, it’s a thick-ass ancient tome. The next? It’s a vambrace.

 Silver and gold, sleek and elegant, with tiny runes etched along its surface. The intricate carvings form animal-like symbols—a bear, a dragon, a wolf, a tiger, and others I don’t immediately recognize.

 "Holy shit," I breathe. "A freaking Transformer."

 I barely get the words out before the temperature plummets.

 The air ripples, like reality itself is bending. A dark, shifting spectral form emerges from the vambrace, towering over us—its body made of swirling ink and parchment.

 And then, it speaks.

 "Hello, daughter."

 Ishtar freezes. Her ever-present smirk vanishes. "...Gaia?"

 Zen, who had been casually leaning against a pillar, immediately starts sneaking away.

 "Really, love?" Gaia’s voice is both amused and dangerous.

 Zen chuckles, adjusting his tie like he’s trying to play it cool. "Hello, Mother."

 The entity—Gaia—turns its glowing gaze toward me.

 "And you… Beast Lord," she murmurs. "Would you claim what was lost?"

 "Uh…" I hesitate. "I don’t exactly know what I lost." I glance between Ishtar and Zen. "Other than, y’know, my life."

 Gaia chuckles—a sound both gentle and deeply unsettling.

 "Ah… so you do not remember?"

 "Remember what, exactly?"

 Before she can answer, the visions hit me like a freight train.

 A battlefield. Towering beasts. The dying screams of warriors. Twisted landscapes drenched in blood and fire.

 Through the chaos, a voice—deep, resonant, ancient—echoes in my skull:

 "Do you remember any of it?"

 I stagger. My vision blurs. My lungs won’t expand.

 Ishtar reacts instantly, her hands igniting with divine light. "Grant?!" She grips my shoulder. Her touch is warm, grounding me.

 Zen, unfazed as ever, just sighs and adjusts his sleeves. "Mother… is this really necessary?"

 Gaia’s form shifts, her presence pressing down on the room.

 "Silence," she commands.

 And just like that, the world goes dark.

 Again.

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 When I come to, the celestial plain is gone. Just

 like that—poof. No more glowing lights, no more echoing voices, no more

 overwhelming sense of divine judgment.

 Instead, I’m flat on my back, staring up at a sky

 that looks… normal. Or at least, as normal as it can be for someone who just

 died. Again.

 For a split second, a dangerous thought crosses

 my mind. Okay, I’m back. Everything’s fine.

 Except—it’s not.

 The moment I push myself up, I realize

 something’s off. The air is crisp, wild, untouched by civilization. The ground

 beneath me isn’t cold stone but soft earth, scattered with fallen leaves and

 patches of glowing moss. The trees? Yeah, they’re not the kind you find back

 home. These bad boys are massive—their trunks so thick it’d take ten

 people linking arms to get around one. Their branches stretch impossibly high,

 leaves shifting in a slow, hypnotic gradient from deep emerald to shimmering

 gold.

 I turn my head in a slow circle, taking it all in. A

 deep, ancient forest. Not like the woods back on Earth—no, this place screams

 fantasy. I half expect elves meditating in the treetops or a hooded stranger

 stepping out to offer me a cryptic quest. Hell, if a glowing blue exclamation

 mark popped up over my head right now, I wouldn’t even blink.

 It reminds me of something. Something oddly

 familiar.

 Then it clicks.

 Holy shit. This looks like Elwynn Forest from

 WoW.

 But it’s not.

 The second thing I notice—other than the dull

 ache in my back—is the weight pressing down on my chest. Not heavy, but

 definitely there.

 A girl.

 A very pink, pale-skinned young woman, her wavy

 crimson hair spilling from beneath the hood of what looks like… a onesie?

 Yeah. A black, hooded onesie, a little baggy, like it’s trying (and failing) to

 hide something that bulges in a narrow line down her lower back. A tail? A

 weapon? No clue. She also wears an oversized scarf, completely swallowing her

 up. And despite the questionable fashion choices, she’s gorgeous—the

 kind of gorgeous that makes you do a double take, then pretend you weren’t

 staring.

 And for whatever reason, she’s sitting on me.

 Legs crossed. Casual as could be.

 I frown. Look around. Nope—no bags, no gear, no

 indication of how or why she’s here. Just her. And me. And the weird fact that

 she’s dead asleep.

 I hesitate. “Um…” My voice comes out scratchy.

 “Young miss?”

 Nothing. Not even a twitch.

 Okay. Weird.

 I reach up and give her a light poke on the

 shoulder. “Hey.”

 Her eyes snap open.

 For a second, she just stares. Big, wide,

 unblinking, like she’s seeing something impossible.

 Like me.

 I mean, yeah, I keep in shape—forty-something,

 run every morning like a responsible adult—but I’m not exactly Henry Cavill.

 So why the hell is she looking at me like I just

 stepped off a movie poster?

 I flash her a smile. Not a hey, I’m a total

 creep smile—more of a hey, this is weird, right? kind of smile.

 Friendly. Casual.

 I try to sit up.

 Big mistake.

 Her hand shoots out, grips my shoulder, and pins

 me flat like I weigh nothing.

 “Holy shit, you’re strong,” I blurt.

 “Master!” she cries, eyes practically sparkling.

 “Mas—wait, what?”

 “You’re finally awake!”

 “Hold up!” I shove her off and scramble upright,

 putting some much-needed distance between us. “Excuse me, lil’ miss, but can I

 help you?”

 Her face immediately falls. Tears well up

 in those wide, pink-tinged eyes.

 “Aww…” she sniffles. “You offer it so freely? To

 me? Really? You are truly a good Master.”

 I freeze.

 Offer what freely? My soul? My dignity? My

 nonexistent lunch money?

 I stand up, eyes darting around for

 witnesses—because if anyone is watching, I need to be ready with an

 excuse. Or a plea for help.

 Hold up.

 A few feet away, a tiny rabbit is staring at me.

 And it looks just as confused as I feel.

 More than that—it looks judgmental.

 “Hey!” I point at the rabbit. “It’s not what you

 think!”

 The rabbit tilts its head. Slowly.

 Condescendingly. Then it lets out a tiny, unimpressed huff and hops away.

 Wait.

 Did that rabbit just understand me?

 The pink-haired girl watches, clearly amused. Her

 lips twitch at the corners, barely containing a smirk.

 “It’s okay, Master,” she murmurs, far too pleased

 with herself. “I am your loyal servant.”

 “Nope!” I shoot back immediately, jabbing a

 finger at her.

 She gasps, clutching her scarf like I just slapped

 her.

 Okay… that’s actually kind of cute.

 No. Inappropriate. Get it together, Grant.

 I shake my head and point at her again, forcing

 myself to stay serious. “Don’t corrupt me, devil!”

 She giggles, pressing a hand to her hood. Then,

 with a playful flourish, she pulls it back—revealing a pair of curled horns

 poking through her crimson hair.

 “Silly Master,” she coos. “I’m far too young to

 be a devil. I’m a demon. A succubus.”

 I groan, rubbing my temples.

 Deep breaths, Grant. Deep breaths.

 I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. “Smooth. Real

 smooth, Ish,” I mutter, throwing my fist up toward the sky in frustration.

 Then I actually look at the sky.

 My jaw drops.

 The sun is an eerie shade of orange, casting

 long, strange shadows over the treetops. And in the distance, two moons loom

 against a deep turquoise sky.

 The girl tilts her head. “Ish?”

 “The goddess. Ishtar,” I mutter.

 “Ohh…” She claps her hands together. “Why do you

 yell at her like that, Master?”

 I sigh. “Because she’s obviously screwing with

 me.”

 Her eyes light up. “Oh! I love games! Can

 I play too, Master?” She wiggles her fingers eagerly, like a kid waiting for

 their turn with a controller.

 “No,” I deadpan. “I do not feel like playing this

 game.”

 “Aww…” she pouts, swaying dramatically.

 I sigh, rubbing the back of my head. “Look,

 miss…?”

 She blinks.

 I wait.

 She stares.

 I stare back. Half-expecting some kind of

 response.

 Silence. Nothing but the wind.

 “…Right,” I mutter. “This is the part where you

 introduce yourself.”

 Her eyes widen. “Oh! Right, right!” She

 straightens, dusting off her onesie and fixing her hair, suddenly trying to

 look presentable. Then, lifting her chin, she speaks with newfound

 formality.

 “I am an emissary of Gaia,” she declares, “and I

 have traversed many realms in search of you, my new Master.”

 She finishes with a deep, sweeping bow.

 I sigh. Already feeling another headache forming.

 And then I notice movement.

 Slowly, I turn my head.

 The rabbit is back.

 And this time, it’s brought friends.

 A whole crowd of woodland creatures—foxes,

 birds, squirrels—just staring at me.

 Judging.

AliNovel

Chapter Eight: I swear to God/s