Hours later, Kaiden returned to camp with cracked armor and dust in his joints.
No one greeted him.No one asked what he'd seen.
But the mission sigil on his belt now glowed faintly — a rune along its edge, newly lit.
A rank mark.
Only higher-tier units received them.No ceremony.No commendation.Just quiet acknowledgment that you'd lived long enough to matter.
He sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at it in the low light.
"Not trusted enough to command," he muttered. "But strong enough to use again."
He turned the sigil over in his hand.His reflection rippled across the curve — half flesh, half metal.Half man, half mistake.
"They won't unleash me."
He flexed his fingers. The tremble in his left hand was back — not from strain.From anticipation.
"They're waiting to see what I do when the leash breaks."
The fortress was quiet.
Too quiet.
Torchlight guttered along the obsidian halls as Kaiden walked alone, boots striking too loud against the polished stone.
He'd been summoned.Not invited.Summoned.
And when a demon base went quiet, it wasn't peace.
It was pressure.
The war chamber wasn't quite the throne room — but close. High-command stood in a semicircle of shadow, draped in ceremonial armor, their faces masked or half-hidden behind mana-sculpted visors.
At the center, beside a black podium, stood the Demon Commander.
"Kaiden," he said without looking. "You survived again."
Kaiden said nothing.
The commander turned, slowly descending the dais.
His expression wasn't impressed.
It wasn't annoyed.
It was colder.
"Your usefulness has outlived our expectations," he said."Congratulations."
Kaiden tilted his head.
"Is that a promotion or a warning?"
The commander held up a small metallic crest — curved, obsidian, etched in demon-script. The runes pulsed red, then shifted to gold.
"You'll lead a squad," he said. "Mixed types. Field-deployed immediately."
Kaiden took the crest without a word.Its heat burned faintly through the glove.More brand than badge.
"They won't trust you," the commander added. "But they will follow. For now."
Kaiden turned to leave — but stopped at the door.
"And if I refuse?"
The commander smiled.It didn't touch his eyes.
"Then we put you in chains.""Or pieces."
The branding ritual was quick.
The crest was pressed to his shoulder — right where metal met flesh. It didn't scar.It fused.
Bound to the plating.Glowing faintly, pulsing with his soul-core.
A leash. Decorated like a medal.
Kaiden said nothing.
But deep inside, the hum in his chest grew louder.
They assembled the squad in the outer barracks.
Five soldiers.
Two demon-hybrids — young, eager, already wary.One ogre brute, covered in old scars and old grudges.A beastkin tracker, quiet-eyed, one ear notched.And a shadow mage — hooded, arms inked with crawling sigils that refused to stay still.
None of them saluted.
They stared instead.
"That's the Rustbound?" someone whispered. "The one Arvan let live?"
"More machine than man," another muttered.
Kaiden stepped forward.
Eyes flat. Voice low.
"You don't have to like me," he said. "You just have to survive under me."
No one laughed.
No one argued either.
Their first orders came by nightfall:Cleanse a frontier outpost.Reports of human spies. Mana interference. Resistance expected.
It was routine.
But Kaiden saw through it.
This wasn't just recon.It was a test.For him.For them.
They wanted to see if he would lead.If he would obey.Or if he'd burn it all down.
Before deployment, Kaiden stood alone by the armory doors. His coat hung loose, the fresh sigil glowing through the fabric where it pressed against his chest.
It pulsed with his heartbeat.
Not pain.Not power.Just proof.
You are ours. Until we say otherwise.
He closed the coat.Hid the mark.Let it vanish into shadow.
Then whispered:
"Fine. I'll play your game."
"But I decide when it ends."