The night did not feel like night.
The sky above the city was warped—clouds frozen in a slow spiral, moonlight stretched thin like cracked glass. Ari noticed it first from the balcony. The air hummed, not loudly, but with a pressure that pressed against the ears and chest, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Kael Ryven stood behind him, already dressed in his long dark coat.
"Close the door," Kael said calmly.
Ari didn't argue. He stepped inside, heart pounding. Mika and Lune were already awake, standing near the living room window. Their mother hovered close, worry etched deep into her face.
"It's happening again, isn't it?" she asked.
Kael nodded once. "A major rift. Bigger than the last three combined."
Lune swallowed. "In the city?"
"No," Kael replied. "Under it."
Silence followed.
Kael walked to the center of the room and knelt, pressing two fingers to the floor. The apartment lights flickered. For a moment, symbols shimmered across the tiles—ancient, sharp-edged runes that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
His expression darkened.
"They're not just opening a rift," he said. "They're anchoring it."
Mika clenched his fists. "Who?"
Kael stood.
"The Covenant of the Veil."
The name landed like a curse.
Ari had heard fragments before—whispers Kael thought they couldn't hear, half-spoken warnings, scars that never faded. This was the group Kael never talked about. The ones tied to his past.
"They're not hunters," Kael continued. "They're worshippers. They believe monsters are gods, and gods should rule."
Mother took a step closer. "What does that mean for us?"
Kael turned to her, his voice softer. "It means I won't be able to end this quietly."
The building shook.
A deep, distant sound echoed up from beneath the earth—like stone grinding against bone.
Lune gasped. "That didn't sound like a rift."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Because it isn't."
He reached behind him and pulled free something he had never shown them before.
A sword.
Not glowing. Not dramatic.
Just… heavy.
The blade was dark, almost absorbing light, its edge lined with faint crimson cracks like veins beneath skin. The hilt bore no ornament—only wear.
Ari felt his breath catch.
"That's not one of your normal weapons," Mika said.
Kael nodded. "No. This is the first."
He looked at all three of them.
"I need you to stay here."
Ari stepped forward immediately. "No."
Kael's gaze snapped to him.
"This is not a discussion."
"It is," Ari said, voice shaking but firm. "You said the rifts are getting closer. You said we'd have to learn. You don't get to lock us away now."
Mika stood beside Ari. Lune followed.
Their mother looked between them, fear and pride warring in her eyes.
Kael was silent for a long moment.
Then the floor cracked.
A thin, black line split the tiles, spreading like ink. Cold air poured upward, carrying the smell of ash and iron.
Kael cursed under his breath.
"Fine," he said. "But you do exactly what I say. No heroics. No chasing answers."
He placed a hand on the floor.
The apartment vanished.
They emerged into darkness.
Not underground darkness—but something deeper. The space around them felt hollowed out, like the inside of a colossal ribcage. Pillars of broken stone rose into nothingness. Red light pulsed from cracks in the ground, beating like a heart.
This was beneath the city.
Ari felt it immediately—the weight. The pressure of something ancient watching.
Mika whispered, "This place feels… wrong."
Kael stepped forward, sword resting against his shoulder. "This is an old battlefield. Long before cities."
A sound echoed.
Footsteps.
Dozens of figures emerged from the shadows, cloaked in black and bone-white masks carved into expressions of devotion and madness.
At their center stood a tall man with silver-threaded robes and eyes that glowed faintly violet.
"Kael Ryven," the man said warmly. "You came."
Kael's grip tightened. "Veyl."
Ari's heart sank.
"You know him," Ari said.
Kael didn't look away. "Unfortunately."
Veyl spread his arms. "You abandoned us. You turned your back on ascension. And now you hide behind children."
Mika bristled. "We're not—"
Kael raised a hand, stopping him.
"You opened a sealed ground," Kael said coldly. "You know what lies beneath."
Veyl smiled wider. "Yes. A god you refused to become."
The ground trembled.
A roar—deep, layered, impossible—rippled through the chamber. Something massive shifted below, its presence crushing.
Lune staggered, clutching her head. "Kael… I can feel it."
Kael's eyes widened. "You shouldn't be able to—"
Veyl laughed. "Ah. The bloodline awakens."
Kael snapped. "Do not speak about them."
Too late.
The ground split open.
Chains of glowing crimson shot upward, dragging with them a colossal shape—horned, armored in stone and flesh fused together, eyes burning like dying stars.
A god-beast.
Ari's knees nearly buckled.
"This," Veyl said reverently, "is what you sealed away. And tonight, we set it free."
Kael stepped forward, placing himself between the monster and the kids.
"No," he said quietly.
The air changed.
Kael's presence expanded—not violently, but absolutely. Symbols burned into the ground around him. His coat fluttered as if caught in a storm that didn't exist.
"This ends here," he said.
Veyl raised a hand. The cultists charged.
Kael moved.
Not fast.
Inevitable.
He cut once.
The sword didn't flash—it erased. The first line of cultists collapsed as if their existence had been sliced apart. Shockwaves rippled through the chamber.
Mika stared. "That's… not hunting."
"No," Lune whispered. "That's judgment."
The god-beast roared, straining against its chains.
Kael turned to the children briefly. His eyes were burning—not with rage, but resolve.
"This is the line I refused to cross," he said.
Then he stepped forward to meet a god.
And for the first time, Ari realized something terrifying.
Kael wasn't afraid of monsters.
He was afraid of what he had to become to stop them.