Bound Armor Oblivion Novels & Stories

Vale moved in front of Lyra without hesitation, Ronan flanking her left side, Cassian her right, Malachai behind. “I hate that this formation makes sense,” Cassian muttered. Vale’s voice vibred low. “Silence.” The storm pulled itself inward, folding, compressing— until a figure stepped out. A tall silhouette in armor carved from pale bone. Antlers curled from its helm like sharpened branches, each one inscribed with lines of ancient script. The armor was not dead material—it breathed, faint flashes of silver and red pulsing under its surface like veins. And the air around it…

I stood in front of the floor length mirror, it was easily eight feet tall, framed in carved obsidian, pulsing with soft light like it had a heartbeat, and I swore I could feel it watching me. It hummed. Softly. Like a lullaby with sharp teeth. “Okay,” I breathed, adjusting the straps on my leather fighting gear. The armor was sleek, form fitting, reinforced with moon steel at the joints and collar. Comfortable, easy to move in. I felt like a warrior. At least on the outside. Inside? My stomach was a war zone.

Because it's true I look down at my hands, they're shaking, not from fear but the amount of restraint and power I'm holding back. My claws tear into my palms, my eyes gaze at the piece of cloth in my arm, the scent is fading, almost gone. If it disappears, I pray I disappear with it. Dax clears his throat carefully. “There's a Tier- one facility on the border.” he continues. “It's called the sanctuary.” “They have reinforced isolation suites,” he continues. “Titanium and silver walls, soundproofed and no omega unless requested.” I close my eyes, Finn says. “Just a place to weather the storm.” I close my eyes, breathing hard, body trembling, I need to leave now. “Prepare the transport.”

I went to gear up. Armor. Weapons. Scent mask. Blade laced with silver, just in case. And one more thing—a small velvet pouch Naomi gave me months ago. “For luck,” she’d said. Now, I’d carry it like a promise. They took my mate. They touched what was mine. They declared war with their hands on her skin. And I was going to show them exactly what kind of monster they woke up.

They were circling. Alya felt the pull deep in her chest—an echo. A call. It wasn’t just the sword they were after. It was her blood. Her lineage. Her soul. --- The largest of the creatures stepped from the smoke. Not like the others. Human-shaped. Wearing old armor cracked by time. No eyes. Just a carved mask over its face… and a crown of thorns atop its skull. Lucien froze. “That’s not a guardian.” “What is it?” He didn’t answer.

Like memory. This wasn’t paranoia. This was insurance. This was fucking justice. Outside, I could already hear the growl of engines starting. The low, snarling sound of warhorses waking up. My brothers were ready. Diavlo Scurri didn’t ask questions. They didn’t need speeches. They followed instinct. And tonight, instinct led to blood. I grabbed the body armor next. Thin enough to wear under a suit. Hard enough to stop betrayal. I strapped it tight, chest to ribs to spine. It felt like a second skin. Like vengeance made wearable.

The energy core of a peak Thorium Realm energy beast was its power source, Xasha was confident he could withstand 100 of those attacks. His only gripe with this armor was that it was too bulky and hard to move in, he had to use less material at the joins to increase his movements, but it left those places venerable. He had to divert a larger amount of mana to reinforce those vulnerable places. This solved all the prior problems, but the rest of the armor could be stronger had it not used most of the energy making up for shortcomings.

Eriyumilai stood proudly between Blake’s legs. Eriyumilai’s sleek, muscular frame was now clad in matching black armor, intricately designed to complement Blake’s suit. The armor was both elegant and functional, with sharp, angular lines that mirrored the pup’s natural strength and agility. Spikes adorned his shoulders, and the chest plate gleamed with a polished finish, offering protection while enhancing his intimidating presence. The pup’s eyes, still bright with youthful energy, now held a fierce determination, his sharp teeth barely visible beneath the armor that covered his strong, battle-ready jaw.

“You never told me about the armour, Arshild.” :Like I said, it wasn’t meant for you. With how little your mana is, you won’t be able to maintain it for long so I just discarded it out of the interface. Besides, you already have incredible power with your astra alone. But after what we’ve been through today, I’d say we better work on your mana capacity soon: “Yeah. My mana is already a lot higher than average, isn’t it? Just how much mana does the armour use?” :That depends. If the armour gets damaged in battle, the consumption is going to increase to repair said damage. Just like the weapons. The armour was never perfect since the Hero came before I could finish it:

Neither Mom nor Dad spared me a backward glance. From that day onward, I learned to stand on my own two feet. I had to take care of myself. I was only six years old when I faced the loneliness, the danger, and the helplessness of life on my own. I forced myself to be strong and resilient. I forced myself to be independent. I made sure to build a tough armor around myself to protect myself from harm. My armor was close to perfect during my childhood and teenage years. However, on the night of my 18th birthday, the first crack started to form in my carefully-crafted armor.