The fortress bells rang at midnight.
Not in warning.
In surrender.
Arin woke to the sound echoing through stone and bone. His body reacted before his mind—chakra flaring instinctively, demon markings burning faintly beneath his skin.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Outside, hunters stood frozen along the walls, weapons in hand but unmoving. Their eyes weren't empty. They were terrified.
Arin stepped into the courtyard.
The air itself felt pressed down, as if the world was holding its breath.
Then he saw him.
A tall figure walked through the open gates—no explosion, no attack. Just footsteps. Calm. Unhurried.
He wore a long black cloak stitched with crimson symbols. His face was pale, sharp-featured, almost human. Almost.
One hand dragged something behind him.
A chain.
At its end—three severed demon heads, still dripping ichor.
Rudra appeared beside Arin, staff shaking for the first time.
"The Collector…" Rudra whispered.
The figure stopped in the center of the courtyard and looked directly at Arin.
Not searching.
Recognizing.
"So this is where you were hiding," the Collector said softly. "Little Link."
Every hunter raised their weapon.
The Collector snapped his fingers.
Time stuttered.
The hunters were slammed into the ground as if crushed by invisible mountains. Weapons shattered. Stone cracked.
Arin staggered, barely standing under the pressure.
Rudra slammed his staff into the ground, chakra exploding outward in a barrier.
"You will not take him," Rudra roared.
The Collector smiled.
"Oh, I'm not here for him."
The smile widened.
"I'm here for balance."
The chain slithered across the ground like a living thing.
Arin felt it pull at his blood.
The demon markings on his arm flared violently, responding to the Collector's presence.
"Your body is unfinished," the Collector said, eyes glowing faint red. "The bond is unstable."
He took a step forward.
"So the King has decided to complete it… properly."
Rudra moved instantly, staff striking with a wave of compressed chakra.
The attack never reached its target.
The Collector caught it with two fingers.
The shockwave obliterated half the courtyard.
Rudra was thrown back, crashing through stone pillars.
Arin screamed, chakra erupting around him.
He covered his body in chakra instinctively, reinforcing muscles and bones, then lunged—his blade coated in swirling energy.
The strike landed.
For a moment—
Hope.
Then the Collector grabbed the blade.
With his bare hand.
The chakra shattered like glass.
Arin was lifted off the ground by his throat.
"Crude," the Collector murmured. "But promising."
Arin struggled, vision darkening.
"You feel it, don't you?" the Collector continued. "Demon blood doesn't just give power."
His eyes burned into Arin's.
"It gives purpose."
Suddenly, the chain whipped forward—wrapping around Arin's arm.
Pain exploded.
Not physical.
Memory.
Arin saw flashes—ritual circles, chanting humans, demons bound in chains, a crying child screaming his sister's name.
"No—!" Arin gasped.
The Collector leaned close.
"You were never meant to be normal," he whispered. "You were cultivated."
A roar shattered the moment.
Rudra rose from the rubble, blood streaming down his face, hands glowing with forbidden seals.
"ARIN—LISTEN TO ME!" Rudra shouted. "If he completes the chain—"
The Collector snapped his fingers again.
The ground beneath Rudra opened.
Chains of shadow wrapped around Rudra's body, dragging him down.
"Teachers should know when their lesson ends," the Collector said coldly.
Arin felt something snap inside him.
Fear vanished.
Pain vanished.
Only rage remained.
His chakra changed—darkened, thickened, merging with the demon blood.
The markings spread across his chest.
The chain around his arm answered.
The Collector's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh?" he said.
Arin grabbed the chain.
And pulled.
The Collector slid forward half a step.
Silence fell.
For the first time—
The Collector looked surprised.
Arin stared back, breathing heavily.
"I don't care what you planned," Arin said, voice layered with something inhuman. "Or what you made me for."
The markings blazed.
"But no one takes my family."
The ground cracked beneath them.
The Collector smiled again—but this time, it wasn't amused.
It was pleased.
"Yes," he said softly. "You're awakening faster than expected."
He released the chain.
Stepped back.
"This isn't a capture," the Collector said. "It's a confirmation."
He turned toward the gate.
"Run. Grow. Break."
Before disappearing, he glanced over his shoulder.
"And when you're ready—"
His eyes glowed crimson.
"Come save your sister… from yourself."
The air snapped.
He was gone.
The pressure lifted. Hunters collapsed. The bells fell silent.
Arin dropped to his knees.
Rudra lay half-buried in shadow chains, barely conscious.
As Arin rushed to him, Rudra grabbed his wrist weakly.
"Arin…" Rudra whispered. "The Collector didn't lie."
Arin froze.
Rudra met his eyes.
"The ritual that made you a Link…"
His grip tightened.
"Your sister was the anchor."
Arin's blood ran cold.
"And without her," Rudra finished, voice breaking, "you will eventually become the very demon you're trying to fight."
The demon markings pulsed—slow, steady.
Like a countdown.
To be continue...