Which Characters Receive Lilith'S Cord In The Manga Adaptation?

I tend to read stories through patterns and symbolism, so the recipients of Lilith’s cord in the manga adaptation read like archetypal placements to me: first, the protagonist, second, an intimate ally, third, an antagonist or corrupted user, and fourth, a relic-bearer who carries history. Each of these placements serves a different narrative function.

The protagonist’s cord is a coming-of-age instrument — it forces choices, marks responsibility, and unlocks a power that carries a moral price. The ally’s cord manifests the theme of shared fate and complicates rescue sequences: you can’t simply power up; you have to reckon with what that tether does to relationships. The antagonist’s possession (or grotesque imitation) of a cord externalizes the threat as intimate and personal, turning battles into moral reckonings rather than spectacle. The relic-bearer, often older or silenced, provides exposition through their scarred connection; their cord might be severed or damaged, showing the long-term cost.

If I zoom out, the presence and distribution of cords in the manga adaptation do more than map who’s strong — they map who’s accountable. That framing made the series feel less like a shonen power-list and more like a meditation on obligations, which I appreciated a lot.

I like short, punchy takes when sorting out who ends up with something as weird as Lilith’s cord.

In the manga adaptation I followed, the primary recipients are clear: the main protagonist (to kick off the plot and gain access to forbidden power), a closely tied companion (to raise emotional stakes), and an opposing force that either hijacks or corrupts a cord to create personal conflict. There’s also an older character who once wore a cord and now serves as a cautionary example; their broken link explains much of the world’s lore. The cords aren’t random trinkets — they bind people physically and emotionally, and the manga uses that to make victories bittersweet. I kept thinking about how cool and tragic that setup was.

I get a little giddy thinking about the way mystical objects get handed out in adaptations, so here’s my take from a reader’s perspective.

In the manga version I followed, the cord tied to Lilith functions as both a literal connection and a narrative device: it usually goes to the lead who needs a power-up and to at least one emotionally tethered supporting character. The protagonist ends up with it first — it’s used to mark them as ‘‘Chosen’’ and to drive their internal conflict. A close friend or potential love interest receives a secondary thread that creates stakes (think: the cord ties their fates together, so danger to one is danger to both). The antagonist, or at least an antagonistic faction, often obtains a corrupted fragment or imitation of Lilith’s cord, which sets up confrontations that feel personal rather than purely physical.

Beyond those three, there’s almost always an elder/mentor figure who either severed their own link long ago or bears the memory of a cord’s influence; they’re a living reminder of the cost. Visually the manga emphasizes the cord’s look — thin, vein-like, or glowing — and its attachments are used to stage reveal panels. For me, the best moments are when the cord complicates relationships more than it simply grants power; it makes the supernatural intimately human, which I dig.

My brain always maps supernatural mechanics to character roles, so here’s a casual breakdown of who usually gets Lilith’s cord in the manga adaptation I read.

First, the main character gets the primary cord — the story uses it to force growth and hard choices. Second, a close ally or childhood friend is given a linked cord so their well-being is narratively tied to the protagonist’s decisions; it’s a neat way to keep emotional stakes high. Third, there’s often an antagonist or rival who either steals a cord or uses a twisted version, which explains why fights feel personal. Finally, a seemingly minor character (a sacrificed village member, a mysterious child, or a past love) sometimes carries an old, Broken cord that reveals backstory and history. The manga loves making the cord a catalyst for moral questions, so recipients aren’t chosen at random — they represent bonds, debts, and consequences. That emotional focus is what made me keep turning pages late into the night.