Night thickened over the Desolation Crater.
The wind cut through the dead land like a sharpened blade, carrying the metallic scent of old blood and burnt stone. The moon—still a deep, unsettling crimson—hung low over the wasteland like a wound refusing to close.
Kairo staggered behind the old man, vision swimming.
His chains were gone, but their ghostly marks burned into his wrists and ankles like fresh brands. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the power slithering under his skin.
Sometimes he felt it shift.Sometimes it whispered.Sometimes it scraped against his bones like a creature trying to claw its way out.
The old man noticed every flinch.
"You keep holding it in like that, you'll blow yourself apart," he muttered.
Kairo exhaled shakily."What… is this power?"
"Not now," the old man said without turning. "You don't tell a child what monster sits in his ribs before making sure he won't die hearing it."
Kairo wasn't sure if that made him feel better.
The Shack
They stopped before a small hut patched together with scrap metal, broken temple stones, and the bones of beasts Kairo couldn't even name. Smoke curled from a pipe on the roof.
It looked impossible—wrong—like something stitched together by a madman who refused to die.
Kairo stared."You… live here?"
The old man snorted."Live? No. This is where I survive. There's a big difference."
He shoved open the creaking door.
Kairo stepped inside.
The place was dim, lit only by glowing stones embedded in the walls. Jars of herbs, broken weapons, shattered armor plates, and preserved… things… lined the shelves.
One bed.
One chair.
No comfort.
The old man pushed Kairo toward the bed."Sit."
Kairo sat—not from obedience, but because his legs simply gave out.
The old man rummaged through shelves. Kairo felt his eyes droop—
A sharp, bitter smell snapped him awake.
The old man pressed a steaming bowl into his hands."Drink."
Kairo hesitated.
The man rolled his eye."Boy, if I wanted you dead, I'd use something quicker."
Fair.
Kairo drank.
Pain seared down his throat like molten iron, but the warmth spread through his limbs, forcing back the cold, writhing power inside him.
He gasped."What is this?"
The old man grinned."Ingredients I can't name without you throwing up."
Kairo almost choked.
The old man sat across from him, arms folded.
"Since you're not dying anymore… let's talk about the thing inside you."
The Truth He Wasn't Ready For
The old man leaned forward.
"Boy. Name?"
"…Kairo."
"Hmph. Figures."
Kairo blinked. "What does that mean?"
"Means only someone cursed with misery ends up with a name that dramatic."
Kairo frowned."Are you—insulting me?"
"Probably."
He tapped Kairo's glowing veins.
"That power in you isn't human. It isn't beast. Isn't divine. It's older."
Kairo's heartbeat quickened."Older… than gods?"
The old man's gaze sharpened.
"Older than the idea of gods."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Good. Means you still have some sanity left."
Kairo clenched his fists."Then what is it?"
The old man's voice turned grave.
"What do you know of the First Darkness?"
Kairo shook his head."Nothing."
"Good. No one should."
Silence filled the room.
Then he said quietly:
"That power in your veins… is residue of the First Darkness. Primordial. Forbidden. A remnant of something the gods tried to erase from existence."
Kairo's breath caught."Why me?"
The old man sighed."Everyone asks that. No one gets an answer."
Kairo stared at the veins pulsing under his skin—blue twisting into black, black flickering like void.
"So… I'm dangerous."
"Dangerous?" The old man scoffed. "Boy, if you lose control, you won't destroy this crater."
He pointed to the sky.
"You'll scorch the heavens."
Kairo's blood froze.
The Cracks Form
Pain twisted through Kairo's body—violent, sharp, ripping.
He fell forward, choking, veins glowing wildly—blue dripping into black, black bleeding into nothingness.
The old man moved fast.
"Focus, boy!"
"I—can't—" Kairo gasped.
The power surged, clawing, screeching, tearing at his ribs.
He felt like he was fracturing.
The old man slammed his palm against Kairo's back.
THUMP.
A pulse of energy shot through him.His glow dimmed—just barely—but enough to breathe.
Kairo collapsed, trembling.
The old man leaned back, wiping sweat.
"…You're a walking disaster."
Kairo wheezed."I'm… sorry."
"Don't apologize to me," the old man barked. "Apologize to the world when you accidentally blow it up."
Kairo stared at him, exhausted."…Why help me?"
The old man didn't answer right away.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low.
"When I was young, a boy with eyes like yours begged me for help."His tone hardened."I walked away."
Kairo's chest tightened."What happened to him?"
The old man didn't lift his head.
"He wiped a city off the map."
Silence settled like a weight.
Kairo whispered,"So you're helping me so it doesn't happen again?"
"No."
Kairo looked at him, confused.
"I'm helping you," the old man said softly, "because that boy deserved better. And so do you."
Something unfamiliar stirred in Kairo's chest—warm, fragile, terrifying.
Not trust.Not safety.
Just… warmth.
Outside — The Hunters Arrive
Far away, armored boots crushed ash.
Rhelos and his squad stood at the edge of the crater, their holy armor glowing faint gold.
Rhelos's bracer flashed:
ANOMALY TRAIL DETECTEDSTATUS: RECENTTHREAT LEVEL: EXTREMEPROCEED WITH CAUTION
Rhelos stared at the glowing footprints leading away from the collapsed dungeon.
He gripped his spear tighter.
"The boy lived…"
A priest whispered behind him, voice shaking:"Sir Rhelos… is it even wise to hunt something like him?"
Rhelos didn't respond.
He remembered the boy's terrified eyes.The way he bled.The way he trembled.
He didn't look like a monster.
But orders were orders.
Rhelos raised his spear."We move. Stay sharp."
His squad nodded.
Behind them, holy symbols flickered ominously—as though preparing for war.
Back in the Shack — A Choice
Kairo finally managed to breathe normally.
The old man stood and raised two fingers.
"You have two paths, boy."
Kairo looked up.
"One: run. Hide. Pray the gods never find you."
"Two: learn control. Embrace the thing inside you. Become something this world fears too much to touch."
Kairo swallowed hard."What would you choose?"
The old man chuckled."Doesn't matter."
He leaned forward.
"What matters is what someone who's been chained, betrayed, and thrown to monsters chooses."
Memories slammed into Kairo—
The shed.The chains.The hunters.Astra's fear.Rhelos's cold stare.The dungeon.The screams.The darkness answering him.
His fists slowly clenched.
"I don't want to run."
The old man nodded.
"And I don't want to be hunted."
Another nod.
"And I don't want to be used."
A grin formed.
Kairo inhaled—steady, icy, unshaken.
"I want to survive.I want answers.I want strength."
He met the old man's gaze.
"I choose the second path."
The old man smiled faintly.
"Good."
He tapped his staff on the floor.
"Then I'll teach you how to become something this world can never chain again."
At that exact moment—
The shack walls trembled.
A second tremor followed.
Then a third.
Both of them froze.
Kairo whispered,"…What was that?"
The old man's expression darkened.
"They found us."