The whetstone made a dry, rhythmic sound against the steel. Kerry sat on the edge of his cot, the scrape of the stone the only thing filling the room while the rest of the world slept. His movements were slow, deliberate.
He wasn't looking for a perfect edge, this sword was cheap iron, and it would never be perfect but he needed to do something with his hands. The air in the room felt thick, like the moments before a storm breaks.
Outside, the dawn was a bruised purple. The quiet didn't last long. Soon, the muffled shouts of the elementalists drifted through the stone walls. They were out there, sparking fire and venting lightning, waking up their blood for the hunt. Kerry looked toward the window, thinking of Claude. The boy wasn't in the yard. He wasn't in the hall.
Probably still under the covers, Kerry thought. He didn't know Claude was currently shivering in the Principal's office, breath held, fingers trailing through desk drawers in the dark. Claude was looking for Serik's phone, desperate to pay the ransom for his own safety. But the office was empty of anything but paper and ink. The Principal had taken the device home, a trap Claude hadn't seen coming.
"Where is it…" Claude's whisper was a jagged thing. He didn't find it. He only found the cold realization that he'd be stepping into the forest with Serik's anger hanging over his head.
While the students prepped, the air deep beneath the academy remained frozen.
Behind an iron door that groaned with the weight of centuries, the Seven Great Lords sat. The cavern was carved from black rock, the ceiling lost in shadow. Kael sat among them, a statue in a circle of living myths.
Bryce, a senior master, walked into the center of the chamber. The sound of his boots seemed offensive in such a silent place. He bowed, his spine a stiff curve.
"Lords of Obsidian. The first-year hunt begins at the bell. I ask for the blessing."
Lord Xavren moved, his robes shifting like sand. His voice didn't come from his throat; it seemed to vibrate out of the stone.
"The wild is the wild, Bryce. We have set the guards, but the earth does not always obey. They have my blessing."
"Our souls lead them," another added, a voice like dry leaves. "Go."
Above ground, the bell finally hit.
The courtyard was a mess of colored cloaks and the smell of oiled leather. The elder stood atop the central statue, looking down at the teenagers with a face that had seen too many hunts and too few survivors.
"Form up! By element!"
Kerry moved into the small, awkward line of the Nulls. There were only four of them.
They stood like an afterthought while the seventeen fire and lightning users formed a dense, confident block nearby.
"Seventeen in the primary unit," the elder barked. "You move as one. Nulls, you fill the gaps. Don't look for help. In the forest, you are responsible for your own skin. One mistake, and the beasts won't just kill you—they'll kill the person next to you."
Claude scrambled into the line just as the count finished, his face pale, his tunic rumpled. Kerry let out a breath he'd been holding since he woke up. He didn't ask questions. There wasn't time.
"Disperse."
The groups moved. The "Flames" unit, including Kerry and Claude, headed for the deep forest. The transition from the academy's stone to the forest's rot was immediate. The trees were massive, their canopy so thick it turned the morning back into twilight. The air tasted of damp earth and old blood.
"Stay tight," the leader said, his hand on a blade that glowed with a faint, internal heat.
Serik drifted back, his eyes catching Claude's. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. The threat was there, crackling in the air between them.
Then, the forest stopped breathing. The rustle of leaves died. A low, vibrating growl rolled through the underbrush, a sound that felt like it was coming from everywhere at once.
"Up there," someone hissed.
On a thick limb above them, a wolf stood.
But it wasn't a wolf. Its fur was black as coal, but beneath the skin, veins of glowing magma pulsed like a heartbeat. Smoke curled from its jowls with every breath. An Ember Fang.
"It can blur," the leader warned, his voice tight. "Watch the cinders."
The beast didn't charge. It dissolved. A cloud of glowing orange sparks hung in the air for a fraction of a second, and then the wolf was behind Claude. It moved with a silent, predatory grace, claws out.
"Claude!"
Kerry didn't think. He didn't have a system to tell him his agility or his strength. He just moved. He slammed into Claude's side, shoving him into the dirt. The weight of the wolf hit Kerry instead.
The claws were hot. They didn't just cut; they seared. Kerry felt the skin of his arm tear open, the heat of the beast's veins burning into his wound. He hit the ground, blood slicking the moss.
The leader's sword flashed, a single, clean arc of steel. The wolf turned to ash before it could howl.
"Kerry! God, Kerry!" Claude was on him, tearing at his own sleeve to bind the gash.
"You saved me. You actually…"
"Quiet," Kerry moved his jaw, forcing himself up. The pain was a dull, thudding thing now.
"They're coming."
Three more Ember Fangs stepped out of the shadows. Then five. Then eight. They didn't hunt like animals; they hunted like soldiers.
They didn't confrontation head-on. They flickered into cinders and reappeared in the center of the formation, tearing at throats and limbs before the students could even turn.
The screaming started. It was a jagged, high-pitched sound that the forest seemed to swallow greedily.
Serik was fast, but the cinders were faster. A wolf appeared in his blind spot. A jaw clamped down, a claw swiped, and Serik's head hit the forest floor before his body even knew it was dead. Out of seventeen, only eight were still standing. The ground was a map of red and black ash.
Claude was backed against a tree, his sword shaking in hands that had forgotten how to grip. A wolf lunged, jaws locking onto Claude's leg. It began to drag him back into the dark.
"Kerry! Help!"
Kerry lunged. He didn't feel the fatigue or the sting in his arm. He brought his dull blade down with everything he had. The steel found the wolf's neck. The creature didn't bleed; it crumbled into grey dust. Kerry's first kill.
"Watch out!" Claude's voice was a frantic peak.
Kerry turned, but he was a second too late.
The heat hit his chest first. Then the weight. The claws tore through his tunic and into his ribs, opening him up like a piece of parchment. He didn't scream. The air was gone. He hit the soil, the cold of the damp earth meeting the heat of his blood.
The world went grey. Then black.
He drifted. There was no pain anymore, just a profound, weightless silence. No body. No breath. Just a spark in a void that stretched forever.
Then, a sound. It wasn't a voice, but a vibration that resonated through the center of his soul. It was cold. It was ancient.
[System initializing…]
[Soul Reconstruction in Progress.]
[Necromancer System has chosen host #001 — Kerry.]
A surge of ice flooded the void.
[Welcome to the realm of the dead.]
[You are no longer among the living.]
[You are the one who commands them.]
In the darkness, Kerry saw his own soul. It was bound in heavy, rusted chains, each link etched with glowing, forbidden sigils. One by one, they began to groan. They shattered, the sound echoing like thunder in the silence.
[Soul Bound: Necromancer System Activated.]
[First Directive: Rise.]