The air in the tunnel didn't just feel stagnant; it felt dead.
I stood in a combat crouch, my boots sliding slightly on the damp gravel of the subway tracks. My knuckles were white, the cheap bandages fraying as I gripped a rusted iron pipe I'd scavenged from the debris. It was a pathetic excuse for a weapon, but it was all I had between me and the six-eyed nightmare circling me.
The Shadow Stalker didn't blink. It moved with a sickening, liquid grace, its paws making no sound on the concrete. Then, it took three slow steps backward, retreating into the thickest shadows of the tunnel.
I held my breath, the rusted pipe trembling in my hand. "Is it... leaving?"
I lowered the pipe an inch, a brief, treacherous flash of relief washing over me. But then, my "Basement Instinct"—the sensory edge I'd honed through years of lightless training—screamed a warning. My skin prickled. The air didn't feel lighter; it felt pressurized.
The beast wasn't retreating because it was scared. It was loading.
"No," I whispered, my voice cracking. "It's a predator."
The Stalker's claws dug into the concrete, gouging deep furrows into the track. BOOM.
The beast lunged with a sonic crack. I didn't see a movement; I saw a blur of obsidian fur and rows of serrated teeth. I tried to bring the pipe up, but I was moveing through molasses compared to a B-Rank hunter.
The impact was absolute.
I was slammed into the tunnel wall with the force of a freight train. The sound of my ribs cracking was sickening—a wet, splintering noise that echoed in the silence of the station. I hit the floor hard, the rusted pipe clattering away into the darkness, useless.
I lay in the dirt, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. I tried to push myself up, to crawl, to do anything, but my arms gave out like wet paper.
The Stalker didn't rush. It walked up to me slowly, savoring the scent of my fear. It placed a massive, clawed paw on my chest, pinning me to the gravel. The weight was immense. Its hot, rotten breath filled my lungs, smelling of old graves and stagnant magic.
"I... can't... move," I choked out.
The beast opened its secondary jaws over my face. This was it. The "Zero-Link" was going to die in a hole, and nobody would even know why.
No. Not like this. "Not like this," I wheezed, blood bubbling in my throat. "I swore to her. I told Mom I'd protect Hana if it's the last thing I do... but look at me. An E-Rank nobody dying in a hole. Why is the world so full of bullshit?!"
As my vision began to dim and the edges of the world frayed, the colors bled out. The tunnel turned to a cold, sterile grayscale. Time slowed to a crawl. The Stalker's snapping jaws hung suspended inches from my eyes.
Then, a sliverish-blue window glitched into existence, hovering in the stagnant air.
[SYSTEM INTEGRATION] Host: Kuro Yami Potential: Vessel to the Shadow Lord
[WARNING: DECLINATION WILL RESULT IN CARDIAC FAILURE IN 2.004 SECONDS]
ACCEPT? [YES] [NO]
I stared at the word Vessel. I didn't care about the title. I didn't care about the "Shadow Lord" or what it meant for my humanity. I only saw the timer ticking down. Two seconds.
"Yes..." I forced the words through the blood. "I accept!"
A blinding white light erupted from the center of my chest. It wasn't warm; it was violent. It swallowed the beast, the tunnel, and the darkness whole, erasing everything I knew in a flash of pure, terrifying potential.
I woke up to the smell of antiseptic and the hum of high-tier medical equipment.
My eyes snapped open, my hand instinctively reaching for the chest where the Stalker's claws had been. There was no pain. No broken ribs. Just the soft white sheets of a private room.
"Shhh... don't move," a voice said. "You're going to be fine."
I turned my head. Hana was sitting in a designer chair by the bed. She looked exhausted, her eyes red, but the violet aura around her was so dense it made the nearby monitors glitch and flicker.
"Hana? How did I... get here?"
"A scouting team found you in the Line 4 subway," she said, her voice tight. "You were unconscious and covered in scars. I used my authority to bring in the High-Healers. They fixed you. You'll be ready before we leave for the Academy."
I looked at my hands. They were clean. The scars from the basement, the burns from the tunnel—all gone. But as I closed my eyes, I felt it. A strange, cold hum beneath my skin. A silent void that hadn't been there before.
The hospital doors opened later that afternoon as a matte-black luxury sedan pulled up to the entrance. Uncle Baek was at the wheel, his expression unreadable, radiating the status of the Yami name. We were a broken family, but the wealth mother had left behind ensured we moved through the world in silence and steel.
Back at the estate, the halls were quiet. I headed for my room, desperate to be alone with the "Shadow Lord" inside me, but Hana stepped in my way. Even though she was shorter, her S-Rank presence was suffocating, her aura flaring like a warning.
"So... you're just going to sleep?" she asked.
"I'm tired, Hana. It's been a long day."
"Tell me what happened in the subway," she demanded, her eyes narrowing. "And Kuro? I want the truth."
I looked at her. I saw the sister I had to protect, and the prodigy who could level this entire estate if she lost control. I remembered the blue screen. The 2-second timer.
"I don't fully know myself," I said, my "Bored Face" mask snapping into place perfectly. "One minute I was walking, the next I was on the floor with a monster over me. I had to... accept something to survive."
Hana studied me for a long, uncomfortable silence, looking for the lie. She found nothing.
"Fine," she said, stepping aside. "Go to sleep. You'll need the energy for tomorrow afternoon."
"Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?"
"The Entrance Test."
I nodded absently and shut my bedroom door, leaning my back against the wood. I wasn't thinking about the test or the Academy. I was thinking about the cold, infinite void in my chest.
The contract was signed. Now, I just had to pay the price.