Report
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Griffin Scans
Author – Hero of death
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Chapter 3 - The Veil of shadows
Ji-Won finished the last bite of his bread in silence, the watery soup now cold in his hands. The hooded figure who had given him the food stepped forward without a word, took the empty bowl and crust, and walked away into the hall. Ji-Won watched them vanish into the darkness beyond the door.
Moments later, the chamber outside filled with low chants.
Curious, Ji-Won stepped to the edge of the door’s opening. What he saw made his stomach twist.
The same hooded figures who had just served him were now seated in a circle, surrounding a black stone sigil etched into the floor. One by one, they drew knives and cut a shallow line across their palms, letting blood drip into the circle. Then they took blades and sheared off locks of their own hair.
More chanting. The sound was guttural, ancient—something that didn’t belong in any normal world.
The blood and hair began to swirl, rising unnaturally into the air like smoke. It shimmered and twisted before being consumed by the shadow cloak he's currently wearing.
Ji-Won stepped back, shaken. What the hell is this? Some kind of ritual to feed my cloak? Strengthen it?
Before he could process more, one of the hooded men returned.
“You,” he said coldly. “ Do one hundred push-ups. Now.”
Ji-Won blinked. “What?”
“Do them now"
The hooded man ordered with some deadly voice.
Fear gripped his chest. He dropped to the floor without another word and began pushing through the pain. His arms trembled by thirty. By seventy, his breath came in gasps. At one hundred, he collapsed to the ground, drenched in sweat.
“You may rest now,” the hooded figure said.
Ji-Won stumbled into the room again, but this time four hooded figures stood around his bedroll like statues—silent, unmoving.
Bodyguards? Or prison guards?
He lay down, eyes wide. There was no escape.
“Why are you all watching me?” he whispered.
“If you don’t sleep,” one of them said, “the Shadow of the World will consume your life force. It must rest with you… or it will feed.”
Ji-Won stared into the dark ceiling above, heart pounding. Eventually, exhaustion overtook fear. His eyes closed.
And the shadow cloak pulsed quietly at his chest.
---
He awoke to the scent of stale bread.
Another bowl. Another piece. Just like before.
This time, Ji-Won looked directly at the figure who brought him the food.
“Who is the Shadow God?” he asked. “Why did you bring me here? Why was I chosen?”
The figure didn’t answer right away. Then, calmly, he said:
“You may ask the leader. Jojo.”
“Jojo?” Ji-Won repeated.
“Yes,” the figure nodded.
“The one who received the first mark. The first to kneel before Dell’Thos. The one who speaks the god’s will.”
After Ji-Won ate in silence, they came for him again.
“Come. It’s time to meet our leader, jojo"'
They led him down a winding hall—toward a darker truth.
The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, each step echoing off the cold stone walls as Ji-Won was flanked by four silent, hooded figures. None spoke. None turned. Their movements were precise, rehearsed—like soldiers escorting a prisoner to judgment.
Eventually, they reached a massive wooden door.
It towered before Ji-Won like a monument from another world. The wood wasn’t normal—it pulsed faintly, as if alive. Thick grain ran through it like veins, and its surface bore ancient carvings of trees, stars, and shadows entangled in war. The scent of age and raw power hung in the air.
“What is this…?” Ji-Won muttered, half in awe.
“This door is made from the wood of the World Tree,”
one of the hooded figures finally spoke.
“Only those chosen by Dell’Thos may pass through it.”
With a low groan, the ancient door creaked open.
Light and warmth spilled out, and Ji-Won was taken aback. Inside was a grand room—nothing like the cold, cultish chambers he had seen. The floor was polished obsidian stone, smooth and shimmering like water. Luxurious tapestries lined the walls, each depicting mythical beasts and battlefields lost to time. The ceiling was domed and etched with constellations, moving slowly in an eternal dance.
At the center, seated upon a throne of deep black stone, was a man.
Jojo.
His cloak was unlike the others—flowing darkness stitched with a mesmerizing design. A phoenix, wings ablaze with shadowfire, coiled around a silver-scaled dragon, both creatures painted in perfect motion around the back of his cloak. The embroidery shimmered under candlelight, shifting like the night sky itself.
The man radiated calm, but beneath it—something ancient. Something commanding.
Ji-Won stepped inside.
The door shut behind him.
The four hooded figures remained outside, leaving Ji-Won alone in the presence of the man they called the first servant of the Shadow God.
Jojo raised his head, revealing a young face. His eyes gleamed a deep silver, and his voice was smooth, practiced… and terrifyingly gentle.
“Welcome, Yoo Ji-Won,” Jojo said. “The cloak has chosen you… but you have many questions. I will answer what I can.”
Ji-Won didn’t speak at first. His breath caught as the room’s pressure seemed to intensify. His fingers brushed the edge of his shadow cloak as it pulsed once—like it recognized Jojo.
He swallowed. “Who is Dell’Thos?”
Jojo smiled faintly. “The god that sleeps beneath all things. The shadow behind every light. The end… and the beginning.”
Ji-Won’s voice came out sharper than he expected. “Why me? Why did you bring me here?”
Jojo leaned forward.
“Because you are the vessel,” he whispered. “The world is dying, Ji-Won. And only through you can Dell’Thos awaken… and decide whether it lives or falls into eternal night.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Jojo’s eyes bore into him—not with cruelty, but wi
th reverence.
Ji-Won took a step back, heart pounding.
What did they mean… vessel?
~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter End~~~~~~~~~~
