The medical center's lights hummed quietly above Jack as he sat up on the stiff, too-white bed. His ribs still ached, a reminder of Karn's punch, and the dull throb in his skull hadn't faded. Bandages wrapped around his arms and chest, but nothing felt broken—at least, not physically.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood slowly, feeling the cold tile beneath his bare feet. His mask sat on the tray beside him. He picked it up, thumb brushing over the cracked edge before sliding it back over his face. The silence in his head was unusual. The voices were quiet—for now.
The door opened with a hiss, and the staff member assigned to monitor him stood to the side, clipboard in hand. Without a word, they gestured toward the hall.
Jack didn't wait. He walked forward, each step more sure than the last.
---
The training room was empty at this hour—metal walls, dummies, and weapons all resting in eerie stillness. The lights above flickered just slightly, casting long shadows. Jack stood in the center of the padded floor, breathing slow.
He raised his hand and focused.
"Scythe… come on. I need you."
Nothing.
He gritted his teeth and clenched his hand tighter, veins shifting dark under his skin. "Scythe!"
Still nothing.
His heart thumped harder. Sweat trickled down his temple.
He breathed in and tried once more, the third time, pushing his power deeper—into the void, into the corner of his mind where his monsters lived.
But what came wasn't Scythe.
A loud snap echoed in the room. Not from Jack, but from behind him.
He turned.
From the shadows near the far end of the room, the air bent. A black mist poured out like spilled ink, rippling across the metal floor. The lights above buzzed louder, then flickered and dimmed. Jack took a step back.
Then it stepped forward.
A beast—tall, hunched, and unnatural. Seven feet of thick, wiry black fur hung from its body in matted tufts. Its head was elongated, wolf-like, but more monstrous, with no eyes—only thick skin pulled tightly where sockets should've been. Dozens of jagged, bone-white teeth gleamed in its wide mouth, some broken, others dripping with something black and tar-like.
Two curved spikes jutted from the top of its skull, arching backward like horns, while smaller bone-spikes protruded from its spine, running down its back to a long, whip-like tail that dragged across the ground with a scraping hiss. Its claws were long and black, curved inward like sickles, scratching lines into the floor with each step.
Jack's breathing hitched.
He hadn't summoned this.
The creature's head turned to him, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air, a low growl vibrating from its chest. Then it spoke—not with words, but with presence. A pressure filled Jack's skull, like nails tapping behind his eyes.
> "You didn't call me… but I came."
Jack stepped back, eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you?"
The creature's mouth split wider into what looked like a grin. Then it moved—fast.
It was on him in a flash, but it didn't attack. It circled him, sniffing again, tail twitching.
Jack stood still, heart pounding. "You're… one of mine?"
The creature paused, then tilted its head.
> "Born of instinct. Made in silence. You made me… in fear."
Jack staggered back, his hand instinctively flaring with spores—nothing fired. His powers weren't responding the same way.
The creature—Chainline—turned to the wall, crouched, and with a snarl, slashed a deep gash through the steel as if it were paper. Sparks flew, and the noise screamed like a siren.
Jack knew then: This wasn't just a monster. This was something deeper.
A piece of him he never meant to unleash.
Jack stood in the center of the training room, the gash in the metal wall still glowing faintly from the sparks. His breathing had steadied, but the inside of his chest felt hollow.
He had summoned monsters before—horrors of teeth, bone, fungus, even creatures that howled in his head like wind through broken glass. But Chainline was something else. Something that hadn't asked to be born.
Something that came uninvited… and yet still his.
Jack clenched his fists, staring down at the floor. Then slowly, he closed his eyes.
Come to me.
His voice was steady this time—not a cry, not a shout, but a command laced with resolve.
I made you. So show yourself again.
The air around him grew cold. Not physically—but emotionally, as though the room itself tensed. The lights flickered once.
Then the dark mist returned—silent this time.
Chainline emerged again, slowly, its tall form rising like a nightmare given breath. The black-furred beast stood before Jack, head tilting like a curious predator. Its eyeless face watched him without sight, but still seemed to pierce into him.
Jack met it without flinching.
"You're mine," Jack said quietly. "You came from me. I didn't know I needed you, but maybe I do."
The monster lowered itself to one knee, claws against the floor. Obedient. Listening.
Jack stepped forward and placed his hand on its fur.
Rough. Cold. Real.
Then, with a thought, he sent Chainline back.
The black mist swallowed the beast, and the room fell still again.
---
The hallways were dim. Quiet.
Jack walked slowly, his mask hanging loosely in his hand now. His mind swirled—he had control, yes… but the kind of control that felt more like standing on the edge of a cliff and daring the wind to push him.
His dorm door hissed open.
He stepped in and closed it behind him.
Nova sat cross-legged on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, her long white hair draped over one shoulder. The moment she saw him, she stood up.
Her expression was gentle—worried.
"Jack," she said softly. "They said you were hurt."
"I'm fine," he muttered, tossing his mask onto the desk and walking past her.
"You're not," she replied, walking after him. "You're limping. And you… you smell like blood."
Jack didn't answer. He sat down on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
Nova knelt beside him, her voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"
He didn't speak.
Instead, he reached up, pressing his palms to his face, fingers digging into his eyes. The silence in his head was gone now. The voices had returned. Faint. Murmuring. Laughing.
Nova placed a hand on his arm.
He flinched slightly, but didn't pull away.
"I summoned something I didn't mean to," Jack finally said. His voice was rough, distant. "It was… tall. Fast. Covered in spikes. No eyes. It could've killed me."
"But it didn't."
"I didn't tell it not to. It just… didn't."
Nova looked down for a second, then back at him. "Maybe it knew you needed it. Even if you didn't want to admit it."
He chuckled bitterly. "That's the scary part."
Nova slowly sat beside him, leaning against his shoulder. Her warmth was soft—gentle. Like still water after a storm.
"You're not scary to me," she said.
Jack turned his head slightly. "You should be scared of me, Nova."
She shook her head. "I've seen monsters. Real ones. You're not one of them."
He didn't reply—but his shoulders loosened. His hands dropped to his lap.
Nova stayed there with him, her presence a calm anchor.
The silence between them wasn't heavy—it was healing.
For a moment, Jack allowed himself to close his eyes.
Not to sleep.
But to breathe.