The axe was already falling.
Cold rain CRASHED against the execution platform in the Grand Plaza, turning stone to ink-black slick. Thousands had gathered to witness the traitor's end. Nobles lounged beneath silk awnings, sipping spiced wine as if watching theater. Commoners packed the mud below, snarling for a bloodshed they believed holy.
Kael Voss knelt at the center of the spectacle, wrists shackled behind him with silver chains etched in holy runes. Every touch of the metal burned—a divine reminder from the Church of the Eternal Light.
Abyssal-tainted.
Heretic.
Monster.
Kin-killer.
Well… they weren't entirely wrong.
Rain plastered his long black hair to his face, dripping like wet ink. One eye was swollen shut from the inquisitor's "methods." The other—silver-gray, cold, unnervingly calm—watched the executioner's blade descend.
No fear.
No regret.
Just a small, hollow amusement.
So this is how House Voss ends, he mused. Not in glory. Not in battle. Just… beheaded by a drunk in a mask.
The crowd roared as the axe reached its apex.
Then the world SPLIT.
KRRR-AAAAAACK—!!
A sound like a thousand shattering mirrors detonated through the plaza. The sky above the cathedral tore open, revealing a wound of absolute black. No stars. No clouds. Just a depthless void that stabbed pain behind the eyes. Violet lightning spidered across the rift. Something ancient—something starving—stared back.
A Rift.
Screams erupted. Guards dropped their halberds. The executioner froze mid-swing as piss streamed down his leg.
Kael laughed.
A low, broken sound, coppery with blood.
CHNK—SSSHH!
The silver chains exploded into molten fragments.
Blackness poured from the Rift like liquid smoke, streaming straight for him. It struck his chest, SLAMMED through skin, and raced through his veins like wildfire. His vision inverted—the world drained of color until only hunger remained.
The shadows beneath the platform stirred.
They rose.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of inky hands erupted from stone, clawing for warmth, for movement, for life. They moved with purpose.
With his purpose.
"G-gaaah—!"
The executioner's scream cut short as a shadow tendril punched through his jaw and out the back of his skull. The axe clattered to the platform.
Guards vanished beneath churning darkness. Lanterns snuffed out like dying stars. Nobles shrieked as black fingers coiled around their throats and dragged them from balconies into the abyss.
Kael pushed himself to standing. Rain hissed where it touched the obsidian veins crawling up his neck like living runes.
A voice—pressure, not sound—echoed in the hollow of his skull.
Feed.
He clenched his fists. Shadows wrapped around his arms like pet serpents.
"No," he murmured. "Not yet."
The nearest shadow-hand twitched. Then—
It lunged at his heart.
"—gh!!"
Agony detonated through him. The Hunger didn't obey permission. His left hand dissolved into writhing black mist.
Not like this…
He slammed the dissolving palm into the platform.
BOOOOOOM—!!
A perfect ring of annihilating shadow blasted outward. Stone vaporized. Bodies shredded. A ten-meter crater yawned where the platform had been.
Silence followed. Only rain remained.
Shattered corpses littered the plaza. Blood and rain formed rivers of black.
Kael stood at the center, chest heaving. His left arm had reformed, but the dark veins now traced up his jaw. His surviving eye glowed faint amethyst.
Above, the Rift narrowed, disinterested—its offering delivered.
A church bell tolled once.
CLONG—
followed by a wet CRUNCH and silence.
Kael stared at the molten remnants of holy silver at his feet.
"Some seal," he muttered.
Shadows curled eagerly at his fingertips.
Hungry.
Heavy footsteps approached—iron boots on wet stone.
A woman's voice, rough and wickedly amused, cut through the rain.
"Well, shit. Looks like the pretty boy's finally awake."
Kael turned.
Chained to a massive iron cross at the far edge of the ruins—forgotten in the chaos—was a woman bound in black iron links so tight blood seeped through. Wild white hair streaked with shadow framed a feral grin. Her crimson eyes glowed with lunatic delight.
She bared too many sharp teeth.
"Name's Veyra. And you, shadow boy, just broke my favorite toy."
KRAK.
One of her chains snapped.
KRRNNNCH—
Another.
The shadows around Kael quivered, thrilled at the promise of carnage.
He smiled for the first time in months—a sharp, dangerous thing.
"Then let's go find you some new ones."
Far beneath the cathedral, something old awakened and opened unseen eyes.
The Hunger had chosen its first vessel.
And it was only just beginning.