The river's icy current dragged Jin deeper, the glowing eyes swelling into a monstrous silhouette. Gills slithered open along its eel-like body, revealing rows of serrated teeth that glimmered like cursed silver. The voice reverberated through the water, bypassing Jin's ears to claw directly into his mind:
"You reek of their brand… the ones who chain what should never be caged."
Jin's lungs burned. The brand flared, its crimson sigils cutting through the murk. "Let me devour it," it hissed, hungry.
"No," Jin thought, clawing toward the surface.
The creature's laughter stirred the current. "You will drown, little thief. Or you will bargain."
A scaled tendril lashed out, wrapping Jin's torso. Images flooded his mind:
A black tower where mages forged brands from chained deities.
Kaelon, younger and trembling, offering the creature's egg to the tower in exchange for power.
The brand—a shard of the same entity now crushing Jin's ribs.
"Free me," the leviathan demanded, "and I will gut your enemies."
The brand snarled, "Lies. It wants your flesh, not freedom."
Jin's vision dimmed. "What… choice… do I have?"
In the Obsidian Citadel, Senior Mage Kaelon paced before a circular table of iridescent stone. The other High Arbiters watched, their masks glinting coldly.
"A prisoner breached Blackstone," sneered Arbiter Veyra, her voice like shattering glass. "Your incompetence stains us all."
Kaelon's fist slammed the table, frost spreading. "He's no prisoner—he's a relic! The Frozen Mountain's last heir carries a Primordial Brand. If the other cities learn we lost him—"
"They'll raze us to ash," interrupted Arbiter Rael, stroking a raven perched on his shoulder. "So? Your solution?"
Kaelon activated a projection crystal. Jin's face—gaunt, bloodied, but alive—hovered above the table. "A bounty. 50,000 gold crowns. Alive. His brand must be recovered."
Veyra laughed. "Alive? Send the Iron Hounds. Let them drag back his corpse."
"No," Kaelon growled. "The brand dies with him. We need it intact."
Rael's raven croaked. "And if he's fled to the Ghastlight Marshes? Even your Hounds won't tread there."
"Then we hire Scourges," Kaelon said.
A beat of silence.
Veyra leaned forward. "The mercenary who butchered Duskhaven? You'd unleash that monster?"
Kaelon's smile was thin. "She's already en route."
By dawn, posters plastered every city gate:
"WANTED: THE HOLLOWED MAN
50,000 GOLD CROWNS
Alive. Unharmed.
Last seen near the Crimson Sewers.
Caution: Armed with void-touched sorcery."
Beneath the text was Jin's face, rendered in unnerving detail—his scarred cheek, the brand's sigils, even the desperation in his eyes.
In the slums, bounty hunters sharpened blades and whispered prayers:
Grym the Flayer, who skinned his targets to sell as parchment.
The Twins of Vora, assassins who shared a single soul across two bodies.
Scourge, a figure shrouded in rumors of razed cities and unnatural longevity.
Jin burst through the river's surface, gasping. The leviathan's tendril had vanished, but its voice lingered:
"Find my egg in the Black Tower. Shatter it… or I'll feast on your corpse when the hunters come."
The brand seethed. "It lies. The tower is a grave."
Jin dragged himself ashore, vomiting river water and blood. The brand's energy had reignited, but darker now—a bruise-like purple instead of crimson.
"What did you do?" he rasped.
"What I must," the brand replied. "The leviathan's touch… changes things."
A low howl echoed in the distance. Not wolves. Hounds.
Grym the Flayer found him first.
"Pretty scars," the hulking hunter grinned, uncoiling a whip studded with human teeth. "They'll fetch a fine price."
Jin's shadow-arm lashed out on instinct, but the brand's new energy crackled wildly, missing Grym by inches.
"Oho! Rattled, are we?" Grym chuckled, advancing. "I'll keep you alive… mostly."
Jin stumbled back, his heel catching on a root. Grym's whip snapped, slicing his cheek—
—and a dagger sprouted from the hunter's throat.
"Apologies," purred a woman's voice. "But this one's mine."
Scourge stepped from the shadows, her armor forged from jagged black crystal. Grym's corpse collapsed as she yanked her blade free.
"Hello, Jin Mu-ryong," she said, tilting her head. "Let's see if you're worth the gold."
The brand hissed a warning—"Run."—but Scourge moved faster. Her dagger pinned Jin's shadow-arm to a tree, the black crystal searing through flesh and void-energy alike.
"You've been busy," she murmured, pressing a gauntleted hand to his brand. "But I wonder… what happens if I squeeze?"
Jin screamed as the world dissolved into agony—and the leviathan's laughter echoed in the depths of his mind.
Scourge's dagger seared through Jin's shadow-arm, pinning it to the gnarled oak. The black crystal in her gauntlet pulsed, leeching the void-energy from his brand like a parasite. Jin's scream tore through the forest, raw and guttural, as Scourge leaned closer, her breath cold against his ear.
"Where is the leviathan's egg?" she hissed, twisting the dagger. "Speak, and I'll make your death quick."
The brand's voice, warped and metallic, erupted from Jin's throat: "You will burn."
Scourge recoiled as Jin's shadow-arm melted free of the dagger, its form shifting into a serpentine tendril of liquid void. It lashed out, striking her chestplate. The black crystal cracked, and she staggered, her eyes widening.
"Interesting," she spat. "But not enough."
She unsheathed a second dagger, its edge glowing with anti-magic runes. Jin's vision blurred—the brand's power was consuming him, its purple-black veins spreading across his chest like cracks in glass.
The fight became a whirlwind of steel and shadows:
Scourge's Precision: Every strike aimed to maim, not kill—a slash to Jin's thigh to cripple, a jab to his shoulder to disarm.
Jin's Desperation: His shadow-arm morphed wildly—claws, whips, even a crude shield—but each form flickered, unstable.
The Brand's Hunger: With every clash, it siphoned fragments of Jin's memories. A flash of his mother's smile dissolved mid-swing. The scent of plum blossoms from his childhood sect faded as he dodged.
"Stop holding back!" the brand roared. "Let me feast!"
Jin's hand shot out, seizing Scourge's wrist. The brand surged, and her dagger melted into slag. She hissed, retreating into the treeline.
"You're a fool," she called. "That thing will eat you alive."
Jin collapsed, his vision swimming. The last thing he saw was the brand's tendrils curling around his eyes.
Darkness.
Then—memories, bright and fragile, flickering like dying stars:
His mother's lullaby, her voice soft as she braided his hair.
Elder Rin's first lesson, guiding his sword with patient hands.
Tae, the sect's youngest disciple, pressing a plum blossom into his palm.
One by one, the brand ate them.
"No!" Jin screamed into the void. "Not her! Not them!"
The brand's laughter was a blade. "Sentiment weakens you. I need a king, not a beggar."
The memories twisted—Lian's smile became a sneer. Elder Xue's hands grew claws. His mother's lullaby warped into the Emperor's execution decree.
"See the truth," the brand crooned. "They betrayed you. All of them."
Jin's screams faded.
He woke to the stench of charred flesh.
Bodies surrounded him—Iron Hounds, their armor melted into their skin. Grym the Flayer's whip lay severed, his throat torn out. Scourge was gone, but her dagger protruded from a tree, its anti-magic runes dark.
The brand purred, "You fought well. For a puppet."
Jin's hands trembled. He reached for a memory—his mother's face—but found only static.
"What did you do?" he whispered.
"What you couldn't," the brand said. "I made you strong."
Jin ran.
The woods were a labyrinth of twisted oaks, their branches clawing at his robes. The brand's energy guided him, its whispers colder now:
"Left. The marsh reeks of pursuers. Right. A wolf's den—let them feast on the Hounds."
He stumbled into a clearing, moonlight filtering through the canopy. His reflection in a stagnant pool made him flinch—his eyes were voids, the brand's sigils etched into his irises.
"What am I becoming?"
"What you were meant to be," the brand replied.
A twig snapped. Jin spun, shadow-arm flaring—but it was just a deer, its eyes wide with primal fear.
A twig snapped. Jin spun, shadow-arm flaring—but it was just a deer, its eyes wide with primal fear.
"See?" the brand laughed. "Even beasts recognize their king."
They found him at dawn.
Not Iron Hounds—Scourge's pack. Three mercenaries, their faces hidden behind obsidian masks, blades humming with cursed energy.
"Kaelon wants you breathing," the leader growled. "Doesn't mean you need lungs."
The fight was brutal, a blur of blood and shadows:
First Mercenary: Jin shattered his sword with a whip of void-energy, the shards embedding in his throat.
Second: Her dagger found his ribs, but the brand pulled her into his shadow, dissolving her screams.
Third: He fled, but Jin's claws severed his spine.
When it ended, Jin stood panting, the clearing littered with corpses. The brand glowed, satisfied.
"More," it demanded. "More fear. More power."
Exhaustion finally claimed him at the forest's edge.
He collapsed against a moss-crusted boulder, his breath ragged. The brand's energy had healed his wounds, but his mind felt hollow—a vault robbed of its treasures.
"Why?" he asked the darkness.
"To survive," the brand said. "To rule."
Jin's fist struck the boulder. "I didn't ask for this!"
"No," the brand agreed. "But you'll learn to crave it."
As dusk fell, Jin heard it—a child's laughter.
Deep in the woods, a girl no older than ten stood amid a circle of mushrooms, her hands glowing with familiar violet energy.
"Hello, Jin Mu-ryong," she said, her voice echoing with the brand's timbre. "I've been waiting."
Behind her, the trees parted, revealing a path to a black-stone tower—its pinnacle pierced by a shard of glowing void.
The brand recoiled. "No… It's here."
The girl smiled. "Come. Let's unmake what they made."