There was no breath.
No pain.
Only the slow descent into silence.
Allen's body had died.
But something far older far deeper had not.
He opened his eyes to a place where reality had no shape.
Where the world was black glass and broken thoughts.
He stood in a cathedral carved of shadow.
Twelve robed figures circled him, unmoving. Faceless. Ancient. Watching.
The Brokers.
They said nothing.
They simply waited.
Then, from a rift in the void, a being stepped forward not a Broker, but something brighter.
Something clean.
Terrifying in its stillness.
It wore no face of god or devil.
Just skin of white light and human eyes.
It looked at Allen, not with judgment…
…but with disappointment.
"Why are you here?"
Allen blinked. His voice cracked, smaller than it had ever sounded.
"I—I died."
The being stared through him like smoke.
"No. You didn't die."
It took a step forward, and the floor beneath its feet rippled like the surface of deep water.
"You rejected."
Allen flinched, as though struck.
The white being's voice was calm but heavy.
Like gravity.
Like guilt.
"You are the only human who does not need to lose something to become strong."
"Yet you clung to guilt. To shame. To childish vows."
"You fought yourself harder than you ever fought them."
Allen's hands trembled. His eyes burned.
"I made a promise…"
His throat tightened. But he forced the words out.
"To be good. To protect. To only use the Iron Chain with restraint."
The being tilted its head, not cruelly but like something ancient trying to understand something broken.
"You thought restraint was purity."
"That mercy would redeem you.
That kindness would survive the fire."
It stepped closer.
"But the world doesn't honor your kindness."
"It feeds on it."
Allen lowered his head. His fists clenched.
"I just wanted to be someone different. Not like them. Not like…"
He stopped.
The white being's gaze darkened, glowing faintly from within.
"You wanted to be more than a weapon."
"But weapons don't get to choose their stories."
He gestured to the circle of still, silent Brokers.
"You weren't chosen by fate."
"You were claimed by the Balance."
"Not to save the world."
"To correct it."
Allen turned. Stared at the Brokers.
They didn't speak. But he felt them all the same
Thick as chains. Cold as judgment.
You will never be the same.
The white being's voice dropped to a whisper:
"You're not a boy anymore."
"You died trying to be one."
Allen stood still.
Then, finally he looked at his hands.
They had pulled Lara from the dark. Held Thorne in restraint. Tended wounds. Reached for the light.
They had also killed. Destroyed. Failed.
Allen's eyes closed. A single breath shook his frame.
"I didn't want this," he whispered. "I just wanted to save her."
The Brokers stirred. The white being waited.
Allen opened his mouth. And spoke the name of what he was now.
"Iron Chain."
CLANG.
It answered.
The black cathedral cracked.
The shadows bowed.
The Brokers faded into the glass.
And Allen rose.
Laughter echoed through the golden hall.
Blood painted the tiles in ceremonial swirls.
A noblewoman tossed bones into a fire, cheering as a child begged beneath her boots.
Robert Vessan leaned back in his throne, sipping aged wine.
Allen's head had been mounted beside the feast table.
And then
The torches flickered.
One blinked out.
Then another.
Then all.
The chandeliers shattered. Music halted.
A wind unnatural, bitter, wrong swept through the hall.
And on the grand staircase… something moved.
CLINK. CLANG. CLINK.
A boy emerged.
But not a boy.
Allen's body was still. Too still. Like a painting come alive.
His eyes held no reflection.
The Iron Chain dragged behind him, carving into marble like a branding iron through flesh.
Robert dropped his glass.
"You… we killed you."
Allen didn't speak.
He kept walking.
A noble screamed: "SHIELDS UP! RUNE FORMATION"
Too late.
A web of black tendrils erupted from Allen's back, slamming into the guards like vipers.
They vanished into screaming darkness.
No blood.
No remains.
A high priest tried to teleport.
He reappeared inside out.
Allen walked through it all.
Calm. Measured.
The way storms walk across oceans.
"I made a promise," he whispered.
His voice was soft. Almost kind.
"To use this for good."
The Iron Chain rattled.
"I meant it."
A woman threw fire.
Allen caught it and crushed it.
A man summoned a giant beast.
Allen pointed.
Its bones turned to dust inside its flesh.
It collapsed like a puppet with no strings.
Screams tore through the air. Not war cries.
Terror.
And Allen
The hero who once asked forgiveness
Watched. Eyes empty.
Then he said, almost gently:
"But you murdered the girl who saved me."
A duke fell to his knees. "It was Robert! It was HIM!"
Allen raised a hand.
The man's soul ripped from his chest. Shimmering. Screaming.
It hovered in the air like burning mist
And Allen inhaled it.
The color returned to his skin.
His wounds vanished.
His eyes glowed and then went dim again.
Too much life. Not enough soul.
Someone vomited.
Another pissed themselves.
The noble feast had become a slaughterhouse.
Guests ran.
Allen closed the doors with a glance.
Boom.
Bolted shut.
"No one leaves."
He moved faster.
A noble's legs vanished cut off by shadows.
Another exploded into locusts.
A woman aged a thousand years in seconds, her skin crumbling into dust as she screamed in silence.
Allen passed a servant. Just a boy. Trembling.
He paused.
"Go."
The child ran. Allen didn't stop him.
But everyone else?
He made them pay.
One by one.
No mercy.
No forgiveness.
No quick deaths.
He didn't rush it.
He remembered Lara's smile in every scream.
Her kindness in every beg for mercy.
Her death in every puddle of blood.
He whispered her name once.
And his grip on the Chain tightened.
Then only one remained.
Robert Vessan.
He stumbled backward, wine staining his robes, face pale.
"Allen listen we can talk"
Allen didn't.
He stared.
"Where is the assassin?" Robert begged. "The man who killed you"
"Gone."
Robert summoned soulforged blades ten of them.
Allen let the Iron Chain answer.
It moved.
Like lightning.
Like willpower given form.
Robert's arms snapped backward.
His knees bent the wrong way.
He shrieked.
Collapsed.
Allen loomed over him.
"You murdered Lara."
"You turned children into decorations."
"You called it freedom."
Robert sobbed.
"Please… I didn't want"
"You wanted to matter."
Allen knelt.
"So I'll help you disappear."
He pressed a hand to Robert's chest.
And tore out his soul.
It writhed. Glowed.
Screamed.
Tried to crawl away.
Allen ate it.
Bit by bit.
Breath by breath.
Until nothing was left.
When dawn broke over the estate, not a single noble remained.
The walls were scorched black.
The floor cracked.
The banners of House Vessan burned to ash.
And in the center stood Allen.
Still. Silent.
A broken promise wrapped around his hand.
The Chain no longer clinked.
It hummed.
Low. Final.
And far beneath the earth, in the hollow where death meets memory…
the Brokers watched.
And something else watched with them
something that still wore Allen's face.