The cavern after the Hollow Stag felt like a tomb. Its broken chains still twitched across the floor, fading into rust and dust, but Kael's focus was elsewhere—on the sword in his hand.
It had cracked from the final clash, jagged at the edge, but it hadn't disintegrated like the stag's body. Instead, faint black veins spread across the steel, pulsing as though the weapon had drunk from the beast's hollow heart.
Kael's claws flexed around the hilt. The hunger stirred—not just in his stomach, not just in his veins, but through the blade itself.
"Strange," Lyra whispered, kneeling beside him. "It's not dead metal anymore. It's… breathing."
Reina's golden eyes gleamed as she crouched near, studying the weapon. "Ah. The dungeon rewards you. Not with scraps of flesh, but with something finer." Her lips curled. "A leash that bites both ways."
Kael wanted to throw the blade away, to reject it, but the weapon pulsed again in his grip. It was faint, like a heartbeat buried in metal. When his claws dug deeper into the hilt, the blade shivered in pleasure.
The hunger purred.
Kael's chest tightened. "It's alive."
"No," Reina corrected softly. "It is yours. A piece of your hunger, shaped into steel."
Her words pressed into him, heavy and irresistible.
The path forward coiled downward into a stone hollow, where fungi spread pale light and the walls seemed to breathe. The dungeon's pulse was stronger here, almost like it was watching.
They weren't alone.
The cavern floor cracked open as creatures dragged themselves into the light. They were mockeries of wolves—skinless, their bodies chained together by ribs and sinew, moving in jerks as though controlled by invisible strings. Their jaws were lined with black iron teeth, clattering as they snapped at the air.
"Chain-wolves," Moro spat, lowering into a stance. "Dungeon hounds. They never stop."
The pack surged forward with a metallic snarl. Moro met the first, claws slashing sparks off its chain spine. Lyra unleashed a barrier of light, shoving back two more.
Kael raised the weapon. The living blade hummed in his hand, pulling at him. The hunger urged: Feed it. Cut. Devour.
When the first wolf lunged for him, Kael didn't dodge. He stepped into its jaws and drove the sword through its throat. Black iron teeth snapped shut around him—but instead of biting, the wolf froze as the blade pulsed, veins of darkness spreading into its body. The creature shrieked, its chains unraveling before it collapsed into dust.
The sword drank it all. Kael felt the rush inside his chest, like blood and hunger flowing into his veins at once. His body shivered—bones shifting, muscles realigning, claws retracting just enough to look almost human. His shoulders straightened, his spine less hunched, but his fangs still gleamed, and his hands remained tipped with curved claws.
"Kael…" Iria whispered, fear and awe twisting her voice. "You look…"
"Stronger," Reina finished for her, smiling. "Closer to what you're meant to be."
The wolves howled, charging in mass.
Kael lost himself.
The weapon guided his strikes, every slash leaving trails of black light that tore through flesh and chain alike. His claws worked with the blade, fangs snapping into throats. He was faster, more precise, less beast—but far more terrifying.
The hunger swelled until it drowned thought. Every kill was ecstasy. Every scream was a call for more. He laughed—a low, broken sound—as the last wolf collapsed under his strike.
Then he kept striking. Over and over, until the carcass was nothing but dust, until the blade purred with satisfaction, until Lyra screamed his name.
"KAEL! Stop!"
Her voice cut through the haze like cold water. Kael froze, breath ragged, chest heaving. His reflection in the black veins of the blade showed not a boy, not a beast—but something in between.
Reina's voice slid into the silence like poison silk. "Don't stop, boy. That is who you are. Hunger is not your curse—it is your crown. Embrace it."
Kael's claws shook. He wanted to drop the weapon, to rip the hunger out of him, but the blade clung to his hand like flesh to bone.
Before he could speak, another voice echoed through the cavern.
"Pathetic."
A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, armored in plates of bone and chain, his eyes glowing like molten silver. His presence was sharp, regal, and terrifyingly familiar. He moved with the same ease Kael now felt in his new form, but steadier, controlled.
The blade in Kael's hand trembled.
The man smiled coldly. "So this is the dungeon's little cub. Still gnawing scraps, still choking on his hunger."
Kael bared his fangs. "Who are you?"
The man spread his arms, chains rattling across his armor. "Darius. The one who mastered what you wallow in." His eyes narrowed, cruel and knowing. "And the one who will break you, if you can't learn."
Reina's smile widened. "At last. The rival arrives."
Kael's claws tightened on the weapon. Hunger roared in his chest, and for the first time, it wasn't just to feed.
It was to fight him.