The fortress shook as the alarm echoed again.
Arin was already moving.
The moment he stepped onto the outer wall, heat slammed into his face. Flames crawled across shattered stone, bodies littered the ground—both human and demon. The night sky pulsed red as if the world itself was bleeding.
"Hold the eastern breach!" someone shouted.
A demon leapt over the wall—four arms, bone-blades growing from its elbows.
Arin didn't think.
Chakra surged through his body, flooding his muscles. His sword hummed as he coated the blade, the edge glowing faint blue.
He slashed.
The demon's arms fell before it could scream.
Arin froze.
That was faster than before.
Stronger.
Rudra landed beside him, staff cracking a second demon's skull in one clean strike. He glanced at Arin, eyes sharp.
"You felt it, didn't you?"
Arin nodded. "It moved on its own."
Rudra didn't smile. "That's the danger."
More demons poured through the breach—lesser ones first, feral and reckless, testing defenses. Hunters formed lines, chakra flaring as they reinforced armor, weapons, even their skin.
Arin moved with them, cutting down demon after demon.
And with every kill—
Something inside him stirred.
Not rage.
Recognition.
A massive shadow descended from the smoke.
The battlefield went quiet.
It was tall, robed in blackened flesh, its face hidden behind a horned mask etched with ancient symbols. Chains of crimson energy dragged behind it like living things.
The demon's head turned.
Straight toward Arin.
"So this is the bridge," it said calmly.
Rudra stiffened. "High demon."
The demon stepped forward, ignoring everyone else.
"You reek of borrowed blood," it continued. "Tell me, human—does it whisper yet?"
Arin raised his sword, chakra flaring defensively. "I don't listen to demons."
The demon laughed softly.
"That's a lie."
In a blink, it moved.
Arin barely blocked. The impact sent him skidding backward, stone cracking beneath his feet. His arms screamed in pain.
The demon tilted its head. "Still holding back. Why?"
Rudra attacked from the side, staff glowing with sealing marks. The demon caught it with one hand—then released Rudra with a violent throw.
"Teacher!" Arin shouted.
Something snapped.
The markings on Arin's arm burned.
Chakra exploded outward—not blue this time, but darkened at the edges, pulsing with something older.
The demon's laughter stopped.
"Oh," it murmured. "There you are."
Arin moved.
Too fast.
His blade tore through the demon's chest, chakra ripping flesh apart like paper. The demon staggered, shocked—not by pain, but by recognition.
"That aura…" it whispered. "You're connected to her."
Arin pressed the blade to its throat.
"Who started the ritual?"
The demon smiled even as it bled.
"You'll meet him soon," it said. "He wants to see if you break."
The demon's body suddenly cracked—symbols flaring as it self-destructed into ash.
The battlefield fell silent again.
Hunters stared at Arin.
Rudra rose slowly, eyes filled with something unreadable.
"That wasn't your power," he said quietly.
Arin looked at his hands. The dark chakra faded—but the warmth remained.
"I know," Arin replied.
Far away, in a demon citadel carved beneath the earth, a figure watched the battle through a pool of blood.
The Demon King leaned forward.
"He didn't break," he said.
He smiled.
To be continue...