Dawn crept through the grimy window like a reluctant thief.
Pale gray light bled into the sparse apartment, washing the rust-stained walls in the color of old bones. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, disturbed only by the slow rise and fall of Xia Ying's breathing.
He woke without alarm.
He always did.
Two lifetimes of vigilance had honed his body into a precise instrument—stirring the moment light touched the horizon, neither early nor late.
Perfectly measured.
Yet something was different now.
The air itself felt… charged.
A low, humming resonance pulsed from deep within his soul—the **Stable Terror Core** anchored there like a second heart.
His muscles felt denser, heavier—not sluggish, but laden with coiled force.
Even the shadows in the corners lingered a fraction longer than they should, reluctant to retreat from him.
As if recognizing their sovereign.
Xia Ying sat up slowly.
He flexed his fingers.
At a thought—
Sleek black tendrils uncoiled from his palms.
**Shadow Tendrils.**
They flowed like liquid night, silent and precise, slithering across the room toward the table. One curled around the handle of the rebar knife with almost affectionate care before retracting, placing it neatly into his waiting grasp.
Stronger than last night.
More obedient.
He dismissed the tendrils, then tested the second grant.
A chill rippled outward.
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
In the far corner, the **Juvenile Phantom** materialized.
An ethereal child in tattered orphanage garb.
Hollow eye sockets wept slow trails of inky tears. Its body drifted like smoke caught between worlds, limbs twitching faintly as if remembering pain.
It did not attack.
It hovered.
Silent.
Radiating bone-deep cold that prickled Xia Ying's skin.
Not harm.
Presence.
The room itself seemed to hold its breath.
He dismissed it with a flick of will.
The phantom dissolved into mist, leaving frost crawling across the glass.
"Exquisite," he murmured.
Raw dominion.
Unbound… for now.
But unbound power invited chains.
---
In his previous life, revealing brilliance too early earned poison in wine.
Here, exposing a **Divine Dominion** would be far worse.
The **Dread Legion** would descend like vultures—binding contracts demanding harvest shares, implanting monitors to track terror yields.
Secret syndicates would hunt him for dissection.
Divine sovereignty was not admired.
It was harvested.
"No," he murmured.
"Concealment first."
He focused inward.
The crimson interface surfaced.
---
**[Dominion: Nightmare Sovereign — Divine Rank]**
---
He nudged it instinctively.
The Dominion responded like a living thing—shimmering, folding truth beneath illusion.
He layered suppression over it.
Veil upon veil.
The display flickered.
---
**[Dominion: Lord of Nightmares — Rare Rank]**
---
He nodded.
Acceptable.
Rare Dominions drew envy, recruitment offers…
…but not immediate annihilation.
---
Breakfast was ration bars and recycled water—tasteless, functional.
He dressed plainly:
Threadbare jacket.
Scuffed boots.
Knife hidden in his sleeve.
Blend with the masses.
Today was mandatory.
**Registration.**
All newly Branded had forty-eight hours to report.
Failure meant rogue designation.
Rogues were hunted.
Harvested legally.
---
Outside, fog smothered the streets.
BrandNew Haven stirred uneasily—hab-block workers shuffling toward shifts, vendors hawking Rift-scavenged relics beneath Legion holograms.
> **SERVE HUMANITY — MASTER YOUR HUNGER**
Fragments of conversation drifted through the mist:
"Another pull last night. Kid from Block 9 didn't come back."
"Legion sealed a Rank 3 Rift yesterday. Lost two harvesters… but the yield was insane."
Fear laced every voice.
Constant.
Ambient.
The Curse had reshaped society into two classes:
Branded harvesters…
…and those praying to delay the mark.
---
The tram was overcrowded.
Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder as the city unfolded beyond fog-streaked glass:
Slum districts scarred by old Rift breaches.
Barricades thickening toward the fortified core.
Checkpoint scanners hummed, sweeping passengers for stabilized essence cores.
No one spoke loudly near them.
The **Nightmare Registration Bureau** soon loomed into view.
A monolithic fortress of warded concrete and black steel.
Crimson terror scanners glowed above the gates.
Wardens in heavy Legion armor patrolled with essence rifles slung across their backs.
The queue stretched far into the street.
Newly Branded waited—some supported by family, others utterly alone.
Xia Ying joined the line.
Time to observe the banquet.
---
Hours crawled beneath a gray sky.
Fresh Branded milled nervously—most eighteen like him.
Some boasted loudly, flexing common Dominions:
Sparks flickering across fingertips.
Minor strength bursts cracking pavement.
Others were hollow—eyes vacant after traumatic first realms.
Medics wheeled past catatonic failures.
Essence partially dissolved.
Minds permanently shattered.
Speakers looped overhead:
> "Registration ensures stability and contribution. Unregistered Branded are rogues—hunted without mercy."
Legion propaganda posters dominated the plaza:
Smiling harvesters sealing Rifts.
Slogans promising:
**Shared Feasts — Shared Sovereignty**
Xia Ying cataloged everything calmly.
A nervous girl ahead clutched a glowing pendant—healer-type essence.
Potentially useful.
An arrogant youth behind him bragged about his **Blade Sovereign** Dominion.
Weak posturing.
Easy prey later.
Even suppressed, Xia Ying's aura leaked faint traces.
People nearby shifted uneasily—unexplained chills crawling their spines.
---
Finally—
His turn.
The booth was a sealed glass enclosure.
A clerk sat within, impassive.
"ID. Palm scan."
Xia Ying complied.
A crimson beam swept across his hand, interfacing with his essence core.
The public display above the booth bloomed to life.
Transparent by design.
---
**[Subject: Xia Ying]**
**[Dominion: Lord of Nightmares — Rare Rank]**
**[Flaw: Redacted (Stable)]**
**[First Realm: Flawless Conquest]**
---
Gasps rippled through the line.
Rare on debut?
Envy.
Awe.
The blade boy behind him fell silent instantly.
Even the clerk's boredom cracked.
"High potential," she muttered. "Proceed to waiting hall for examiner."
---
The waiting hall was sterile.
Metal benches.
Mirrored walls.
Suppression fields humming invisibly.
Plainclothes figures lingered—guild scouts eyeing rares like merchants inspecting livestock.
His number flashed.
**Room 14.**
---
The chamber was colder than the hall.
White walls.
A restraint chair bolted to the floor.
Terror suppression generators lined the ceiling.
A one-way mirror dominated the far wall.
Intimidation architecture.
The door hissed open.
The examiner entered.
Mid-thirties.
Broad-shouldered.
Scarred jaw.
Legion uniform bearing Realm 5 insignia.
His Dominion presence pressed heavily—an intimidation type.
Nameplate:
**Warden Harlan Voss — Dread Warden**
He sat opposite Xia Ying, folder thick with data.
Eyes hard.
"Xia Ying," he said. "Flawless first realm. Rare Dominion. Hab-rat rising high."
Condescension.
A standard dominance tactic.
Xia Ying met his gaze evenly.
"Thank you, Warden."
---
Interrogation began.
Realm scenario.
Harvest yield.
Flaw depth.
Xia Ying answered selectively—truth trimmed, Divine aspects buried.
Then—
"Family?" Voss asked.
"None."
A faint smile tugged at the Warden's lips.
"Independence dies fast. Rifts escalate. Solo harvesters starve… or dissolve."
The air darkened.
Voss released his aura.
Shadows lengthened unnaturally.
Whispers seeped into the room:
*Failure…*
*Abyss…*
*Alone…*
Visions clawed at peripheral sight—comrades dissolving, essence scattering into void.
A pressure tactic.
Most Branded cracked here.
Signed Legion contracts for "guided feasts."
Voss leaned forward.
"Join the Legion. Stable harvests. Realm 7 advancement guaranteed."
The dread intensified.
But Xia Ying felt only mild amusement.
His Title blunted the pressure.
His Dominion translated fear into nourishment.
A crude hammer.
Predictable.
He studied Voss instead.
Sweat at the temple.
Micro-hesitation when mentioning advancement.
Flaw tell.
Fear of stagnation.
Failed missions.
Ah.
There it was.
---
He locked eyes with the Warden.
And pushed back.
Not forcefully.
Subtly.
His nascent Dominion grasped the shape of Voss's dread instinctively.
He invited it forward.
Voss faltered.
Eyes widening.
A vision surged in his mind—
A Rank 4 Rift.
Squad pinned.
Horrors dissolving comrades one by one.
Voss hiding.
Listening to the last soldier scream his name.
He survived.
Filed it as "tactical retreat."
But promotions stalled.
Superiors whispered.
Failure clung like rot.
The vision amplified.
Dead comrades clawed from darkness.
Accusing.
Reaching.
Voss paled.
Breath hitching.
Hands trembling.
Raw terror erupted.
Xia Ying felt it flood into him—
Rich.
Potent.
Intoxicating.
His Flaw purred in satisfaction.
Shadows writhed along the walls.
The interface pinged.
---
**[Active Ability Unlocked: Terror Feedback — Directed Pulse]**
**Description:**
*Project tailored dread into a target mind. Harvest scales with fear depth.*
---
Voss recoiled, aura collapsing chaotically.
"You… what abyss did you—"
Authority shattered.
Xia Ying smiled politely.
Predator beneath courtesy.
"I prefer independence for now, Warden."
Voss stamped the file hastily.
"Independent status granted. High potential."
He stood abruptly.
"Evaluation concluded."
He fled the room under pretense of procedure.
---
Back in the hall, murmurs spread.
Voss's shaken state had been noticed.
Xia Ying stepped into a side restroom.
He tested the new ability lightly.
A pulse toward the mirror.
Shadows deepened.
His reflection's eyes briefly became voids.
He chuckled softly.
**Their dread is dominion.**
Already richer.
---
At the exit desk, he received his Branded ID chip—
Tracker embedded.
Harvest taxes linked.
As he turned to leave, a man approached discreetly.
Mid-twenties.
Sharp gaze.
Subtle guild insignia.
"Veiled Nightmare," he introduced quietly. "Scout division."
He handed Xia Ying an encrypted contact card.
"You handled Voss cleanly. He doesn't rattle easy."
A faint smile.
"We value sovereign types. No heavy chains."
Xia Ying accepted the card.
"Perhaps."
The scout melted back into the crowd instantly.
---
Outside, fog swallowed the Bureau once more.
But this time—
He felt eyes on his back.
Legion surveillance?
Guild interest?
Perhaps both.
Xia Ying walked on, unhurried.
A faint smile curving his lips.
"The harvest widens…"
"…Let them come."