Arin didn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw chains.
Not the shadowy ones from the battlefield—but something deeper, heavier. Chains that weren't meant to restrain the body, but the soul.
Rudra's voice echoed in his mind.
If you follow that pull without preparation, you won't return as human.
Arin stood on the fortress wall, staring into the distant wastelands where human territory bled into forbidden ground. The pull was stronger now—constant, undeniable.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Rudra.
Wrapped in fresh bandages, leaning heavily on his staff, yet standing tall.
"I knew you'd be here," the old man said.
Arin didn't turn. "You're not stopping me."
Rudra sighed. "No. I'm making sure you don't die on your first step."
He planted his staff into the stone.
The runes along it flared.
The air twisted.
A circular sigil formed between them, etched with symbols older than the fortress itself.
Arin felt his chakra react instantly—resonating, aligning.
"A gate," Arin said.
"A fracture," Rudra corrected. "A thin place between worlds. It won't take you deep into the Demon Realm—but it will take you close enough to be noticed."
Arin finally looked at him. "Good."
Rudra met his gaze, serious. "Once you cross, the Demon King will feel it. And so will they."
"They?"
Rudra hesitated.
"The other Links."
Arin's breath caught. "There are more?"
"There were," Rudra said softly. "Most didn't survive."
The sigil brightened.
Before Arin could step forward, Rudra placed a hand on his shoulder.
"One rule," he said. "No matter what you see—no matter what they offer—you do not drink demon blood again."
Arin clenched his jaw. "And if I have to?"
"Then," Rudra said, voice heavy, "you stop being my student."
The words hit harder than any blow.
Arin nodded once.
"I'll come back," he said.
Then he stepped into the sigil.
The world collapsed.
Heat crushed him from all sides. The air burned his lungs. Gravity twisted, flipped, vanished.
When Arin landed, the ground beneath him was black glass veined with glowing red cracks.
The sky was wrong.
No sun. No stars.
Only a massive red moon hanging low—watching.
The pull inside him screamed.
Arin steadied himself, chakra coating his body instinctively.
"Okay," he muttered. "First step."
A sound echoed behind him.
Clapping.
Slow. Deliberate.
"Well done," a smooth voice said. "Most Links collapse before crossing the threshold."
Arin spun, blade drawn.
A man stood there—human in shape, dressed in fine dark robes. His eyes glowed faint gold, pupils slit like a predator's.
"And you are?" Arin demanded.
The man smiled politely.
"Your escort," he said. "And your judge."
He bowed slightly.
"I am Kaalith. The Chain Bearer."
Arin felt the markings on his body burn violently.
Kaalith's smile widened.
"Relax," he said. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing."
He gestured forward.
"Come. The Demon Realm is eager to meet you."
Arin hesitated—then took a step.
With each movement, the land around him shifted—structures rising from nothing, demons watching from afar, whispers crawling through the air.
Kaalith glanced at him.
"Tell me, Arin," he said casually.
"If your sister asked you to surrender your humanity to save her…"
He stopped walking.
And turned.
"…would you?"
The pull inside Arin answered before he could.
The markings flared.
Kaalith's eyes gleamed with interest.
"Oh," he said softly.
"This is going to be entertaining."
To be continue...