Chapter 77: Chapter 77: The Disobey Spirit

The chamber trembled—not from any earthquake, nor from the groaning bones of the mountain—but from the violent collision of two auras that were never meant to fuse.

The air hissed like boiling water.

The floor vibrated in waves.

And the ancient symbols carved into the stone walls flickered and pulsed, as if warning them all of what was coming.

It was the ritual.

And it was going wrong.

Akumo stood at the heart of the spiraling formation, his dark spirit flaring like a storm-lantern fighting its own winds. Richard’s body lay suspended in the center of the convergence circle, completely unconscious, his spirit bleeding out of him in streams of blinding white. What should have been a controlled merging had become a wild storm.

Akumo’s brows tightened.

He could feel things slipping out of his grip.

Richard’s spirit wasn’t just powerful—it was unrestrained, raw, untamed. And every second it continued to escape, the balance tipped further toward disaster.

The chamber shook again.

A shallow breath escaped Akumo’s lips.

This wasn’t good.

Not good at all.

He reached out with both hands, trying to guide the overflowing aura back toward Richard’s body. But the more he pushed, the more violently it reacted. Each strand of spirit-light lashed around like a living serpent, striking the floor, the ceiling, and the sigils that anchored the ritual.

“Richard!” he shouted, though he knew the boy couldn’t hear him. “Hold yourself together. You must hold on.”

But Richard didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t even twitch.

Only the wild torrent of spirit answered, pouring out of him as though his soul were trying to escape its own shell.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Akumo felt a pull—warm, sharp, and wrong.

His own spirit began to drink in Richard’s.

At first only a thread of light drifted into him, but within moments it turned into a flooding stream, rushing toward him like a river forced through a narrow canyon.

Akumo froze.

This wasn’t him.

He wasn’t absorbing Richard.

His spirit was doing it on its own.

“Damn it—stop!” he growled, pressing a hand to his own chest as if he could force the aura to obey by will alone.

But the bond was already formed… and it was tightening.

If this continued—even for a minute—Richard wouldn’t survive.

And if Richard died…

the ritual would rebound, taking Akumo with him.

“Raviel!” Akumo called sharply. “Now! Stop it before it consumes him!”

Raviel was already moving. His long shadow stretched across the shaking chamber as he stepped forward, planting himself beside the ritual circle. His eyes narrowed, calculating the speed of the collapsing auras. He held out his hand, and the lines along his forearm glowed.

“Understood, my Lord.”

His fingers curled, shaping the air. An orb of condensed spirit began to form between his palms—deep blue at first, then brightening to a shimmering silver. The shape of his hands looked almost like he was holding an invisible sphere, ready to seize something.

The moment the orb solidified—

—the spirit field reacted.

Instead of drifting toward Richard as intended, the aura veered sharply, swaying as if caught by a different gravitational pull.

Raviel’s eyes widened.

“It’s moving to your side, Lord Akumo!”

“I can see that,” Akumo hissed.

He pushed against the pull, trying to redirect the spirit-light back toward Richard. His arms trembled as he fought the force, the veins along his hands glowing with black-blue fire.

But the harder he pushed…

the harder the aura resisted.

Richard’s spirit was instinctively seeking the stronger vessel—Akumo. And Akumo’s own divided spirit, weakened from earlier battles, was acting on survival instinct, absorbing anything that would stabilize it.

They were trapped in a cycle neither intended.

Raviel swallowed hard, mind racing. Then, with a burst of resolve, he thrust his glowing hands forward.

“Spirit-Bind!”

The orb in his palm exploded into chains of energy that wrapped around the flickering aura strands like ropes around a wild beast. Raviel’s boots dug into the ground as he anchored himself, his body shaking from the sheer force of holding it down.

“I’ve stabilized it—for now!” he shouted through gritted teeth. “But I can’t hold it long! Make your move while you still can!”

Akumo didn’t hesitate.

He stepped closer to Richard’s floating body, his voice low yet firm.

“Richard… listen carefully.” His tone shifted, becoming almost human, almost gentle. “This is your chance to prove I wasn’t wrong to bring you back. You’re not weak. You’re not a mistake. You’re capable—more than you know.”

Something flickered in Richard’s expression.

A faint twitch.

A breath.

Akumo’s words pierced the unconscious haze.

The white aura surrounding Richard trembled… then shifted.

Slowly.

Painfully slowly.

But undeniably, it began to move back toward him.

Akumo let out a breath of relief—

—only for his relief to die instantly.

Because his own spirit surged forward again, swallowing the returning aura in one gulp of ravenous energy.

The ritual symbols cracked.

The chamber floor blistered under the pressure.

The air temperature shifted violently between freezing cold and burning heat.

Raviel’s voice trembled.

“Lord Akumo… your spirit—it’s too large. It’s absorbing him faster than he can pull himself together.”

Akumo’s heart clenched.

He looked at Richard.

At the boy who had lost everything.

At the boy he had brought back with his own power.

At the boy who now might die because of him.

“Enough,” Akumo muttered. “I will not let this continue.”

He tried to sever the spirit-bond, forcing his aura to retreat.

But the bond fought him.

Like claws embedded in his soul.

Like chains soldered together by instinct.

The more he resisted, the more the aura surged toward him.

Richard’s fingers began to twitch uncontrollably. His skin paled, becoming translucent at the edges. If this kept up, he would fade… completely.

Akumo clenched his fists.

Fine.

If breaking the bond by force didn’t work, then he would overpower it another way.

He drew a breath deep enough to shake his ribcage—

—and let his dormant power ignite.

The air around him darkened, vibrating with raw force. His hair lifted as though gripped by invisible winds. The ground beneath him cracked outward in a spider-web pattern.

His spirit split, fractured from earlier battles, could not awaken fully—

—but even a fragment of Akumo’s true power was not something the world could ignore.

Blue-black flames ignited around his body, swirling upward in a spiral of lethal elegance.

Raviel’s eyes widened.

“He’s doing it… he’s awakening again.”

Akumo thrust his hand forward.

A burst of pure energy exploded outward, slamming into the unstable aura like a wave hitting a boulder. The force redirected it, pushing the spirit-light entirely toward Richard’s side.

Raviel exhaled in relief.

“It’s working…! Lord Akumo, it’s working!”

For the first time since the ritual had begun, both Raviel and Akumo allowed themselves a small, fleeting smile.

But the spirit-light had only shifted—

not fully entered Richard’s body.

And if it wasn’t completely inside him, the ritual was still hanging at a dangerous midpoint.

Raviel called out urgently, “Lord! We must push it all the way into him! Only then will the ritual align!”

Akumo nodded sharply.

“You’re right. This is our only chance.”

He and Raviel moved in unison, both placing their hands toward Richard’s spirit-core. The chamber’s air thickened around them, vibrating with their combined force. The white aura trembled, resisting like a wild animal refusing its cage.

But they pushed.

Harder.

Harder still.

Then—

Richard’s body jerked.

His eyes tightened.

His breath hitched.

His chest rose faintly.

But his energy…

It was too low.

Akumo’s expression hardened.

“If we force it in all at once,” he warned, “his vessel may break. His cells—his soul structure—won’t withstand the pressure.”

Raviel swallowed. “But if we hesitate—”

“He dies anyway.”

Their eyes met.

Both understood what was at stake.

Richard’s body glowed faintly, flickering like a candle in a storm.

Akumo drew in a deep breath, bracing himself.

“Raviel. On my mark.”

Raviel nodded. “Yes, Lord.”

Together, they readied themselves to push the spirit-light—slowly, perfectly measured, without shattering Richard’s fragile form.

The chamber stilled.

The air thickened.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

Akumo’s voice dropped to a whisper.

The moment they pushed the aura forward again, Richard’s body trembled violently. Fine cracks of light ran across his skin—like a glass vessel beginning to fracture from inside. His fingers curled, his jaw clenched, and his entire frame shuddered in a way that sent a surge of fear through the room.

Raviel’s eyes widened.

“Lord—his body can’t handle this! His cells are breaking! If we push any further—”

Akumo cut him off sharply.

“Do it.”

Raviel froze. “But—”

“Continue, Raviel!” Akumo barked, voice trembling with fury and fear. “Push it all into him! I will handle whatever comes next.”

Raviel swallowed hard. His hands shook—but he obeyed, driving the coiling aura harder toward Richard’s fading vessel. The chamber’s sigils flickered, then sparked. The air itself bent under the pressure.

Richard cried out—a raw, strained sound torn from somewhere deep in his soul—as another bright crack split across his chest. His entire form twisted, teetering between holding together and collapsing into pure spiritual dust.

Raviel’s voice broke, “Lord Akumo, he’s—he’s about to shatter!”

Akumo stepped forward, eyes blazing with a fierce, almost terrifying resolve. Shadows curled from his arms, gathering into a dark vortex of power.

“I said continue,” Akumo growled. “Even if his body breaks… I will not let him die. I have one move left.”

Raviel looked at him with disbelief.

“One move…? My lord

Akumo “Believe in me”. Now..

Akumo “believe

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