Chapter 7 – The New Map
As a cold, gray dawn stretched across the sky, the carrier slowly opened his eyes. A dull pain still pulsed in his chest. The girl lay several meters away, resting silently at the base of a rock alive, but unconscious. The recent crash had shaken them both deeply, but Shadowseal had protected the carrier.
Just enough… to keep him alive.
He could no longer sleep with his eyes closed.
Each time he drifted into darkness, the same scorched voice echoed in his ears:
"Where is the map… the task awaits… more is needed…"
But the tasks were never given directly. No Shadowseal only delivered missions inside the dark temple in hell. Yet something had changed. A new boundary had been drawn. A new rule etched itself into the fabric of his fate.
Now, going to hell wasn't enough.
The map would only appear if his soul was pulled deep enough into darkness.
At first, he tried prayer. Then meditation.
Nothing.
There was only silence.
A cold emptiness sat in his chest like a stone.
And then… the voice returned:
"Only pain, only true pain… can unlock the next path."
His eyes shot open. He inhaled sharply.
The blade lay in his backpack, tucked inside a small leather sheath. The girl remained unconscious. The mask, hidden beneath his skin, throbbed gently invisible, but present. Beating like a second heart.
He pulled the knife free.
Pressed it against his chest, just to the right of his heart.
There was no hesitation. No trembling.
With quiet resolve, he drove the blade into his flesh.
Blood erupted.
A strangled sound left his throat, but he didn't scream. The pain surged through him like an icy river.
And then it appeared.
Right before his eyes, suspended in the empty air like a sketch burned into light:
A map.
Not of this world, yet imprinted into his mind.
A reflection from hell itself. A maze unfolding behind his eyes.
The new task was there.
A new target.
A new sin.
He collapsed to the ground, gasping.
Tossed the blade aside.
His blood seeped into the soil.
And this time, a whisper came from within the mask:
"The fact that you can do this…
is what sets you apart."
He leaned his head back against the stone.
The sky was still gray, but inside him, a deeper darkness was settling.
The girl began to stir.
The mission was waking.
He now knew where he needed to go.
But he had no idea…
how he would return.
Chapter 8 – The Cult's Shadow
A foggy morning…
The sky was a dull, metallic gray, and in the silence, a heavy tension lingered.
Inside the car, the carrier leaned against the steering wheel, eyes lost beyond the misted windshield. In the passenger seat, the marked girl slept quietly. The crash had left its mark on her face bruises and cuts but her breathing was steady. She was alive.
The carrier narrowed his eyes, watching the military base nestled in the valley below. It was built against the side of a mountain, surrounded by fences and watchtowers. To the untrained eye, it looked like a typical military outpost but in the carrier's mind, the task had already revealed its true nature.
This was no ordinary base.
This was the heart of a hidden darkness.
Tension stirred inside him something he never would've sensed before the mask.
But now… everything cast a shadow into his eyes.
He cracked the door open.
Cold mountain air hit his face.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and within, the whisper of the first sealed soul returned:
"He's there… the rotten vein inside the cult…
Cut him out."
The carrier opened his eyes.
And the resolve within him had become… routine.
Observing the Base
They waited for hours, unmoving.
The girl eventually woke, glancing quietly toward the carrier.
She wanted to ask something but the look on his face swallowed her words.
The carrier silently pointed toward the valley below.
As if to say: Look.
The base had come alive.
Armored vehicles. Uniformed men. Checkpoints.
But look closely some of the uniforms weren't standard issue.
Something was off.
Down by the mountainside shacks, crates were being unloaded. Black bags. Marked containers.
One box was briefly opened.
The girl squinted, whispering:
"Guns…"
The carrier nodded.
But it wasn't just weapons. Some crates bore medical symbols but their contents said otherwise.
Drugs. Genetic material. Experimental injectors.
And then…
A man emerged.
Harsh features. Clean shave. Cold, commanding eyes.
There were rank symbols on his uniform, but the carrier knew this man wasn't a soldier.
He was one of the cult's six leaders.
And now…
It was his time.
Plan or Instinct?
Staring at the man, the carrier felt something was off.
This wasn't just another target.
He was surrounded by layers of protection. Every move was calculated, observed.
Getting in wouldn't be about force.
It would require a spark. Panic. A trap.
The girl looked at him, worried:
"You can't do this alone."
The carrier turned to her.
For the first time, something fragile flickered in his eyes.
But only for a moment.
"I'm not alone," he said.
"There are twelve souls inside me now. I walk with their whispers."
The Task's Shadow
As night fell, the carrier opened the car's trunk.
From it, he pulled out an old weapon.
Not a gun.
It looked like a ritual axe ancient, crude, symbolic.
The girl stared at it, stunned.
"Is that from hell too?"
He didn't answer.
He just nodded.
As he gripped the weapon, the mask's influence bloomed across his face.
His eyes darkened.
His skin paled.
Veins surfaced beneath the flesh.
He was ready.
The carrier stepped into the night.
As he moved into the forest surrounding the base, the silence felt familiar comforting.
The shadows were his allies now.
And tonight…
A leader would die.
A soul would be sealed.
And Shadowseal would take one step closer.
The demon was smiling.