The obsidian walls of the arena groaned as Jin Mu-ryong pressed his shadow-clawed hand against them. The brand on his chest pulsed like a dying star, its crimson sigils searing into his flesh. Smoke curled from his fingertips as the stone beneath his palm began to melt—not into liquid, but into a viscous, tar-like substance that hissed and bubbled, devouring the arena's structure like acid.
"Faster!" the brand snarled, its voice a chorus of distorted whispers. "They're coming!"
Jin's muscles screamed. The brand's power surged through him, warping his meridians, but the toll was evident: blood dripped from his nostrils, and his vision blurred at the edges. With a roar, he slammed his clawed hand deeper into the wall. The obsidian splintered, cracks spiderwebbing outward until the entire western face of the arena collapsed inward, revealing a swirling void-like tunnel—a gaping maw of darkness that devoured light and sound.
Behind him, the shouts of mages echoed. Jin didn't look back. He staggered into the abyss, the brand's energy the only thing keeping him upright as the tunnel swallowed him whole.
In the Central Spire, Senior Mage Kaelon stared at the shattered remains of the observation orb. Its fractured surface still flickered with images of the crumbling arena and the unnatural void Jin had left in his wake.
"Explain this," Kaelon said, his voice lethally calm.
The junior mages trembled. "T-The subject's brand… it destabilized the arena's containment wards. The western quadrant is… gone."
"Gone?" Kaelon's staff struck the floor, ice spreading across the marble. "You mean a prisoner melted through Blackstone? The same stone that holds the Demon God?"
Silence.
"Assemble a search party," Kaelon hissed. "And wake the Iron Hounds. If that rat escapes the city, I'll feed your spines to the void.
Jin stumbled through the labyrinthine alleys of the foreign city, his breath ragged. The brand's power had closed his wounds, but his body felt like shattered glass. Every step sent jolts of agony through his ribs. Above him, the sky was an alien violet, lit by twin moons that cast jagged shadows over the slums.
The brand hissed, "North. The city walls. Move."
"Shut up," Jin growled, ducking into a narrow alley. The stench of rot and waste hit him—a reeking pit latrine, its wooden cover half-rotted. Desperation overrode disgust. He pried the lid aside and slid into the filth below, gagging as the sludge closed over his head.
"You reek of cowardice," the brand sneered.
"Better than reeking of death," Jin muttered, pressing himself against the slime-coated stones.
The latrine was a cesspool of horrors—thick, cloying darkness, the air choked with ammonia and decay. Jin's lungs burned, but he forced himself still as boots thudded overhead.
"Check the alleys! He can't have gone far!"
Torchlight flickered through the cracks in the latrine's lid. Jin held his breath as a guard's face appeared above him, peering into the darkness.
"Nothing here," the guard called out. "Just shit and rats."
The footsteps faded. Jin waited, counting heartbeats, until the brand hissed, "Now. Move."
He clawed his way out, retching, his robes slick with filth.
"How poetic," a voice drawled.
Jin froze. Leaning against a crumbling wall was a hulking figure clad in blackened steel. The enforcer's face was a patchwork of scars, his eyes glowing faintly violet—a mark of the Iron Hounds.
"The great hero, hiding in excrement," Varek chuckled, twirling a serrated dagger. "Senior Mage Kaelon wants your head. I want your screams. Let's see which comes first."
Varek lunged. Jin barely dodged, the dagger grazing his shoulder. The enforcer moved like liquid shadow, his strikes relentless.
"You're slower than the others," Varek taunted, slamming Jin into a wall. "The last one begged. Will you?"
Jin spat blood. "Come closer and find out."
The brand surged. Jin's shadow-arm lashed out, claws raking Varek's chest. The enforcer staggered, his armor smoking where the void-touched claws had struck.
"Interesting," Varek grinned. "But not enough."
He unsheathed a chain-whip, its links glowing with suppression runes. The whip cracked, wrapping around Jin's ankle and yanking him off-balance. Jin hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs.
"Pathetic," the brand hissed. "You're letting a worm best you."
Jin roared, tearing the whip free. His shadow-arm erupted in black flames, melting the runes. Varek's smile faltered.
Jin fled, Varek's laughter echoing behind him. "Run, rat! The walls are sealed! There's no escape!"
The brand guided him through twisting alleys, but Jin's strength waned. The city walls loomed ahead, lit by arcane lanterns. And there, beneath the gate, stood a phalanx of knights in Kaelon's colors, their spears gleaming.
"Turn back!" the brand commanded.
"No choice," Jin panted, skidding to a halt.
Varek emerged from the shadows behind him, chain-whip coiled. "Persistent, aren't you? But even rats tire."
The clang of steel echoed through the alley as Jin parried Varek's dagger with his rust-pitted sword. The blade, scavenged from a dead guard days ago, shrieked in protest, its edge notching deeper with every clash.
"Still clinging to that scrap metal?" Varek sneered, his chain-whip cracking like thunder. The serrated links coiled around Jin's sword, yanking it sideways. "Pathetic."
Jin gritted his teeth, his shadow-arm flaring to life. Black claws slashed through the whip's chains, molten runes hissing as they melted. But the sword—its hilt slick with Jin's blood—trembled in his grip. The rust had eaten through the fuller, leaving the metal brittle.
"You're outmatched," Varek growled, lunging. His dagger scraped Jin's ribs, drawing a line of fire.
Jin staggered, his back hitting a crumbling wall. The brand seethed: "Let me burn him. Let me feast."
"Not yet," Jin hissed, deflecting another strike. The sword groaned, its crossguard bending under Varek's brute strength.
A memory flashed—the blade had belonged to a young knight, discarded in the arena's blood-soaked sand. Jin had pried it from the corpse's rigor-mortised grip, its edge already blunted by desperation.
CRACK.
The sword snapped at the hilt, leaving Jin clutching a jagged shard. Varek's laughter boomed. "Now you die with nothing."
Jin spat blood. "I've survived worse."
The knights advanced, their formation flawless. Jin's shadow-arm flickered, the brand's energy sputtering.
"You're out of tricks," Varek sneered, raising his dagger.
Jin's mind raced. The brand hissed, "The latrine. The tunnel beneath."
"What?"
"The waste flows somewhere. Follow it."
Disgust warred with desperation. As the knights closed in, Jin turned and bolted back toward the slums.
"After him!" Varek roared.
The pit latrine's stench clung to Jin's lungs as he plunged into the sewer's bowels. The tunnel was a claustrophobic nightmare—knee-deep in sludge that bubbled with methane, the walls slick with algae and rot.
"Left," the brand commanded, its voice distorted by the tunnel's echoes. "The current quickens ahead."
Jin waded forward, his boots sinking into the muck. Behind him, the Iron Hounds' shouts grew louder.
"He's in the tunnels! Flood the grates!"
Torchlight flickered in the distance. Jin pressed himself against the wall as a patrol rushed past overhead, their boots thudding on the street grates. Filth dripped onto his face, but he didn't dare move.
The brand hissed, "They're diverting the cistern.The water will rise."
"Then we move faster," Jin muttered, pushing onward. The sludge thickened, tugging at his legs like greedy hands. His shadow-arm flickered, its energy drained from the fight.
Ahead, the tunnel split. The left fork sloped upward, its ceiling studded with glowing moss. The right plunged deeper, the current roaring.
"Right," the brand urged. "The outflow."
Jin hesitated. "That's a death trap."
"Do you prefer burning?"
Behind him, water surged—a frothing wave of waste and debris. The Hounds had opened the cistern.
Jin dove into the right tunnel just as the deluge hit.
The sewer spat Jin into a subterranean river, the icy current slamming him against jagged rocks. His shadow-arm clawed at the stone, sparks flying as it scraped for purchase.
"There!" the brand barked.
A grated exit loomed ahead, moonlight filtering through its rusted bars. Jin slammed his shadow-arm against the metal, once, twice—the bars bent, but held.
"Again!"
The third strike shattered the lock. Jin hauled himself through, collapsing onto a rocky bank. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling from exhaustion and blood loss.
"Not… done yet," he growled, forcing himself upright.
"Oh, but you are."
Varek emerged from the shadows, his armor dented but unbroken. A fresh cut marred his cheek—courtesy of Jin's claws—but his dagger gleamed, hungry.
"Persistent little rat," Varek chuckled. "But even rats drown."
Jin's shadow-arm sputtered, its energy spent. The brand fell silent, its whispers replaced by a hollow ache in his chest.
"No more tricks?" Varek taunted, advancing. "No more brand to save you?"
Jin's hand closed around a rock—a pitiful weapon, but all he had left.
"Come on, then," Jin snarled. "Let's see if your spine cracks as loud as your jokes."
Jin's shadow-arm sputtered, its energy drained. The knights' lanterns flickered in the distance.
Varek lunged.
As the dagger arced toward Jin's throat, the brand exploded to life—not in his arm, but in his eyes.
"JUMP."
Jin threw himself backward into the river. The current seized him, dragging him under. Varek's roar of fury echoed above:
"YOU SLIPPERY RAT! I'LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!"
Jin flipped a middle finger toward the surface, his grin savage even as the rapids swallowed him whole. The brand's laughter vibrated in his skull—until it stopped.
Darkness. Silence.
Then—glowing eyes in the depths. Dozens of them.
A voice, deeper than the brand's, rumbled through the current:
"At last… a morsel worth biting."