Kai's boots felt heavier than the Blood Fang Sword as he walked back through the Iron Wolves' headquarters. Hours had passed since they had stumbled out of the black-flame tear. His clothes were still streaked with demon blood and soot. Every muscle ached, but it was the emptiness in the ranks that cut deepest.
Jiro's bunk was already bare.
Kai paused in the dim dormitory hallway, staring at the empty space where the young man's gear had been stacked just that morning. Someone had stripped the sheets, folded them neatly, and placed them on top of the bed frame. The hollow absence looked like a hole torn in the world.
A pair of boots and a worn cap sat on the floor at the foot of another bunk. They belonged to Kellen, who stood at the end of the row, his hand pressed against the concrete wall, his forehead resting on his forearm. His shoulders shook once, twice.
"You shouldn't blame yourself," Kai said quietly.
Kellen flinched and wiped at his face before he turned. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet.
"Easy for you to say. You're the one who saved everyone with your cursed blade." The bitter edge wasn't directed at Kai so much as the situation. "He was right beside me. I didn't even see that spike until it was through him."
Kai's hand tightened around the pendant hanging around his neck—the Lament Pendant they had dragged from the black-flame tear. Even now it radiated a chill, as if the very metal remembered Jiro's scream. He squeezed his fist until the edges dug into his palm.
"We all signed up for this," he replied, but the words felt hollow. He hadn't known Jiro well—none of them had time to build deep friendships in a world that could shatter any moment—but the young man's death replayed in his head on a loop. The look of shock. The spray of blood. The way his scream had echoed in the dark. "It wasn't your fault."
The necklace seemed to pulse once, as if agreeing or mocking him. Kai couldn't tell which.
They buried Jiro's ashes in the courtyard behind the warehouse that served as Iron Wolves' base. There were already three other small stone markers. Kai hadn't asked what names had been carved there.
Marcus spoke simple words about bravery and sacrifice. Luna whispered a prayer over the urn, her voice trembling but steady. Professor Zhao stood at the edge of the circle, his broad shoulders hunched in exhaustion, an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He hadn't slept either; dark circles rimmed his eyes. Scar appeared briefly from the shadows, his expression unreadable under the brim of his hat, and disappeared before anyone could speak to him.
When the ashes were scattered into the wind, the courtyard was silent save for the faint crackle of torches and the distant rumble of traffic. A faint drizzle began to fall, the first rain since the sky had been scarred.
Kai clutched the pendant so tightly the chain bit into the back of his neck.
The Blood Fang Sword hung across his back in its leather sheath, whispering occasionally to him with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. For once, Kai ignored it. Every time his mind tried to drift away, it ran back to the image of Jiro collapsing in a spray of crimson.
"He was younger than you," Luna said later, as they sat on a low wall outside, their breath fogging faintly in the cool evening air. She hugged her knees to her chest, her medic bag sitting unopened at her feet. Her braid was undone, dark strands falling around her face. "He only awakened last month. He used to talk about how he'd save up enough to move his mother out of the city."
Kai swallowed a lump.
"Why do we keep doing this?" he asked. "Why do we keep going into those hellholes, knowing any one of us could be next?"
"Because if we don't, we die anyway," Luna answered. "The dungeons don't stop opening because we ignore them. Monsters don't stop coming because we're scared. At least this way… there's a chance."
"And because of money." Scar's dry voice floated over from the shadows. He leaned against a rusted shipping container, arms folded. "Don't forget that part. Hunters still need credits to buy food and medicine. The Association pays for cores and loot. People fight because they have to. Doesn't matter if the items you drop are cursed or not."
Kai looked up. "What did you do before the system?"
Scar smiled without humor. "That's for another day, kid."
Professor Zhao stepped out of the headquarters doorway then, rubbing his temples.
"We can grieve and reminisce later," he said wearily. "Right now, we have to report to the City Hunter Association. They want statements about the unauthorized portal. Apparently some big shots are in town. If we don't show up, they'll send enforcement after us."
"Wonderful," Marcus muttered. He kicked a pebble across the courtyard. "As if we haven't had enough bureaucratic headaches."
The Hunter Association's main office occupied the top floors of a skyscraper that had once housed a bank. Metal detectors and armed guards stood at the front entrance. Kai, Luna, Marcus and Scar ascended in a service elevator that groaned under the weight of their gear. The fluorescent lights buzzed. The smell of disinfectant hung heavy in the air.
"Try not to mention the demon fingers," Scar whispered before the elevator doors opened. "Or the pendant. Or any cursed items we don't absolutely have to. The less they know, the better. They'll either confiscate everything or put a target on our backs."
The Association lobby was a slab of marble and glass. A huge holographic display on one wall showed a map of the city dotted with glowing red points—active dungeons. Men and women in tactical gear bustled through with paperwork and weapons cases. A receptionist directed them to a conference room where two people waited: a man in a sharp dark suit with the Association emblem pinned to his lapel and a woman wearing an A-rank hunter badge across her chest.
The woman exuded strength. Muscles knotted under her leather jacket. A longsword hung across her back. She assessed the group with piercing eyes that seemed to weigh them like scales.
"I am Lia Zhang, senior liaison for the City Hunter Association," the man announced. "This is Hunter Zhao Rong. She will be sitting in on your statements. Sit down."
They sat at a long table under harsh overhead lights. Kai shifted, feeling the Blood Fang Sword bump against the chair.
"From what we've been told," Lia said, folding his hands neatly, "your team interfered with an ongoing investigation and entered a tear without authorization. You triggered a defensive response from an entity far above your rank and nearly caused a citywide catastrophe. You then extracted a number of illicit items whose nature is under review. One member of your party died."
He said Jiro died like it was a statistic.
Marcus' jaw clenched. "That tear was going to destabilize whether we went in or not. There was no time to wait for your investigators. We saved lives by containing it."
"Debatable," Lia replied. "The existence of that tear was classified. How did you even find it?"
Everyone glanced at Kai.
He swallowed. "We heard it."
Lia raised an eyebrow. "You heard… the tear."
"It was screaming." Kai's voice cracked despite himself. The memory of that low, hungry wail still made his hair stand on end. "And the whispers didn't stop until we closed it."
Hunter Zhao Rong leaned forward, interest flickering for the first time. "Whispers?"
Kai realized his mistake too late. He opened his mouth, closed it again.
Scar stepped in smoothly. "He means the ambient frequency of the tear. Certain tears emit high-pitched sounds that can trigger auditory hallucinations. It's in your own Association manuals. Maybe you should read them, Lia."
Lia's nostrils flared. He turned to Hunter Zhao, silently asking her to pick up where he left off. The woman studied Kai with eyes sharp enough to cut.
"You're the curse carrier," she said.
Kai felt the Blood Fang Sword twitch in its sheath.
"His skill is known to us," Professor Zhao put in quickly. "Kai has an anomalous drop rate. He has been extremely cautious. Every cursed item he obtains, he brings to me for analysis. We have processes. There is no reason to categorize him as a threat."
Hunter Zhao's gaze softened fractionally. "We are not labeling him anything yet. We are monitoring. The Association's priority is public safety. Too many unregulated cursed items end up on the black market."
Her eyes flicked briefly to Scar. He smiled without his teeth.
"We will require you to submit the items you retrieved for testing," Lia said. "Failure to comply will result in license suspension."
"What if we refuse?" Marcus asked, daring him.
"Then you will be arrested for obstruction," Lia replied.
Kai's hand slipped to the pendant beneath his shirt. It was cold as ice, like a tiny dead weight near his heart. He thought of Jiro's scream, the way the pendant had dropped from the demon's corpse, the way its gem pulsed faintly with blue light at night. If the Association took it, if they studied it—would they even tell them what it did? Would they lock it away until someone else decided to use it?
"We will bring the items tomorrow," Professor Zhao lied smoothly. "Right now, our people are exhausted and injured. We lost a team member. We need rest. You will have your items. Please show us the door."
Lia looked like he wanted to argue. Hunter Zhao raised a hand.
"Let them go for now. We will expect those items by noon tomorrow. And we will be watching."
Outside the skyscraper, the rain had picked up, turning the neon signs into smears of color on the wet pavement. Traffic splashed along puddled roads. Kai exhaled once, deeply, as if he'd been holding his breath for the entire meeting.
"That could have gone worse," Marcus said, shaking water off his hair.
"They'll be on our backs now," Scar muttered. "Expect tails. Maybe listening devices."
"We were always going to get attention," Professor Zhao replied, lighting his cigarette finally. Smoke curled up around the brim of his hat. "It's the nature of anomalies. The question is what we do next."
Kai thought of the whispers. Of the sword. Of the pendant. Of the way the demon fingers had twitched when they cut them off. He felt like he was carrying a dozen ticking bombs.
As if reading his mind, Scar fell into step beside him.
"You know those things aren't going to stay asleep forever," the older man said, voice low. "You keep feeding that sword, it's going to want more. And that pendant? I've seen trinkets like that eat their owners from the inside out."
"What am I supposed to do? Throw them away? Give them to the Association so they can test them on convicts?" Kai snapped.
Scar shrugged. "I don't know. Not my curse. Not my choice. All I can say is, the more you take, the more it takes from you. Remember that."
Kai shivered despite the warm rain.
When they arrived back at the Iron Wolves' headquarters, a small courier waited inside. He was a teenager dressed in a raincoat too big for him, holding a sealed envelope.
"Kai Ren?" the boy asked.
"Yes."
"This is for you. The man said it was urgent."
Kai took the envelope warily. It was thick vellum, sealed with a crimson wax emblem he didn't recognize—an eye with three pupils. He broke the seal. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a neat, flowing hand.
> *There is a book you need to read. Meet me at the south branch of the Grand Library at midnight. Come alone. Do not tell your guild. — Professor Zhao*
Kai frowned. He turned to look at Professor Zhao, but the older man was at the other end of the room, lighting another cigarette and listening to Marcus rant. The letter was obviously not from him; someone was using his name, or perhaps Professor Zhao had chosen an anonymous courier to avoid being overheard.
"What's wrong?" Luna asked, peering at the letter.
"Nothing," Kai lied, folding it and slipping it into his pocket. "Just a bill."
*Hungry,* the Blood Fang Sword whispered against his spine, the voice taking on a wheedling note. *Feed me.*
"No," he murmured under his breath. "Not now."
*The pendant mourns, the sword hungers, the boy bleeds,* another voice whispered faintly from somewhere near the pendant. Kai's skin crawled. He clamped his hand over the chain to keep it from moving.
Rain hammered down. Thunder rolled low in the distance like a warning.
That night, just before midnight, Kai slipped out of the dormitory. Marcus snored softly in his bunk. Luna had given him a mild sedative disguised as tea, and he'd drunk it without question. Scar was nowhere to be seen—probably off conducting his own business. Professor Zhao's room was dark. The headquarters seemed to sleep.
Kai pulled on a hooded jacket and slung his sword across his back. He tucked the pendant under his shirt. He left his other cursed items locked in the footlocker at the foot of his bunk. One weight at a time, he told himself. Just one.
The city streets were slick with rain and mostly deserted. Only the occasional patrol vehicle rolled by, its blue lights flashing silently. Kai kept to the shadows, making his way toward the Grand Library's south branch, an old stone building that had survived the first dungeon surge because some unknown hunter had cleared the monsters on its roof. It smelled of wet stone and ink.
As he approached the library's side entrance, a figure detached itself from the shadows near the steps. It was tall, cloaked, its face hidden by a hood. Blue-white eyes glowed faintly beneath the shadowed cowl.
"You came," the figure said, voice rasping like pages turning. "Good. There is much to discuss."
"Who are you?" Kai asked, hand hovering near his sword.
The figure raised one long-fingered hand. "Names have power. Call me Librarian. I am the keeper of certain records. Records about curses. About the one you carry. About the thing on the other side of that black-flame tear.
"What do you want from me?"
"To warn you," the Librarian replied. "And to show you what waits at the end of your path if you continue. Follow me, if you dare."
They turned and slipped into the library through a hidden side door.
Kai hesitated only a moment. He thought of the letter, of the Professor's name, of the whispers and the weight of loss pressing down on his shoulders.
He stepped through the door after the Librarian.
It closed behind him with a soft snick, leaving the night and the rain outside.
*More* the sword hissed, excitement lacing its tone.