A few days had passed since Bren's grueling, secret training with Sergeant McEvoy.
The changes were undeniable.
His once-lean frame had thickened with muscle, shoulders broader, posture upright and composed. His every movement now carried a quiet weight, like a predator moving just below the calm surface. His hair, once golden and messy, had turned pitch-black, the strands falling in sharp, controlled angles like ink-streaked armour. No trace of the sun-touched boy remained. His voice had deepened too—gravel-edged and calm, each word carrying deliberate intent.
And his eyes… once soft, light blue. Now, they shimmered darker, a muted navy ringed with subtle violet flecks that pulsed faintly like embers behind frosted glass. Even in shadow, they glowed—faint, but always watching.
But for all the strength he'd gained, one thing hadn't changed.
The presence inside.
Nythor hadn't grown weaker. If anything, the demon's whispers had grown bolder, slithering through his mind with confidence.
Sometimes, it was hard to tell which thoughts were his.
"Well, haven't you grown strong, little vessel? But not strong enough..."
He silenced the voice with a practised effort.
Bren stepped out of the secluded cabin, uniform crisp, steps measured. He'd tailored it himself to accommodate his new frame, tighter at the chest and looser at the shoulders. The morning air was sharp, laced with frost and silence. The birds didn't sing here anymore.
His hand hovered by his chest for a moment, fingers brushing against the place where the pulsing heart wasn't his.
"What are they going to think of me?"
He hadn't seen the squad since the limbo incident.
He walked toward the training hall. His boots echoed in the long corridor, each step steady but heavy like he carried something more than his own weight.
As he pushed open the door, the noise inside cut off like a blade through breath.
Conversations halted. Eyes turned.
Kovan's jaw dropped. "Is that... Bren?"
He smirked, masking the storm in his chest. "What, don't recognise me without the bruises?"
Kovan laughed nervously, stepping closer. "Did you swallow a demon or something?"
"If only you knew." He thought as he smirked.
Leia's sharp eyes narrowed, her tone suspicious. "He's not the same reckless idiot who ran headfirst into trouble. That much is clear."
Myla remained quiet, but her eyes traced over him—slow, searching. Like she was looking for someone who wasn't there anymore.
"Just some extra training," Bren said casually, forcing the words through a throat that wanted to say nothing at all. "You'd recognise me if I spoke, right?"
Kovan chuckled, but there was an edge to it now. "Barely. You look like you aged ten years and have been through bench-press nightmares."
Leia rolled her eyes, but her voice held tension. "Hope that muscle isn't just for show."
Inside, Bren forced himself to breathe. Steady. Controlled. He couldn't let Nythor bleed through... not here.
"They'll fear you eventually. It's written in their eyes already."
Nythor's voice stirred, followed by a harsh chuckle.
Before Bren could answer—internally or aloud—Sergeant McEvoy stepped in, boots sharp against the polished floor.
His presence cut the room in half.
"Listen up," McEvoy said. "Portals—rifts between our world and theirs are opening with increased frequency. Squad Twelve, you're being deployed to investigate a new tear near the outer forest perimeter. Intelligence suggests a B-Grade demon may already be active."
Kovan cracked his knuckles. "Finally. Real work."
McEvoy's sharp eyes landed on Bren. "You ready for this, rookie?"
Bren nodded once. "I am."
And he meant it.
He was more than ready.
The portal shimmered ahead of them, a twisting vertical tear in the air, crackling with violet energy and dark mana. It pulsed like a wound in the fabric of reality.
Bren stepped through first and staggered.
The corrupted mana surged around him like heat from a furnace. The stench of sulfur and wet ash choked his lungs. His skin prickled. The world felt wrong—like reality had been unstitched.
Shadows curled unnaturally around the trees, and the leaves themselves looked brittle and blackened, their veins glowing faint red like dried blood.
"Ahh... it's home, isn't it?" Nythor whispered.
Nythor's voice bled through.
"You feel it too. The energy here sings to us."
The trees twisted around them like warped bones. Fog clung to their boots and crawled along the undergrowth. There was no wind. No sound. Not even birdsong.
Then, a tremor.
The demon appeared—hunched, sinewy, grotesque.
It towered over them, at least twelve feet tall, covered in a black bone-like plating riddled with barbed tendrils. Its six glowing red eyes blinked independently, burning with hunger.
The squad didn't wait.
Kovan's twin axes ignited with electric runes as he charged. "Let's dance, ugly!"
Myla leapt back, her glowing bow appearing mid-air. Arrows of condensed golden light fired in rapid succession. "Pin it down before it moves!"
Leia blurred, teleporting forward in sharp jolts of white light, her daggers slashing into the demon's joints.
Bren stood still, his heart pounding.
Then instinct took over. His hand moved to summon his Hunter weapon.
A pulse of deep magic rippled from his palm, and reality cracked.
With a flash, a massive obsidian blade slammed into his palm. The hilt twisted like polished bone, and the edge was etched with glowing violet sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. The metal thrummed in his grip, alive.
He froze.
"What is this?"
The sword wasn't summoned, it was called. Like it had been waiting.
The runes shifted and flared. The weapon vibrated in his grasp.
Nythor's Sword.
"Yes. Mine and now yours. Use it."
Kovan's eyes widened. "Where the hell did that come from?!"
"I... I don't know," Bren said, breath hitching.
Myla inched closer, narrowing her eyes. "That glow… it's not like ours."
Leia's voice was flat, but her tone cut like frost. "Blue and white are angelic and what hunters use. That… that's neither angelic or demonic."
Bren's grip tightened. The sword pulsed again, warm and cold at once. Familiar.
And then the demon moved.
It roared, sound shattering tree limbs and shaking the ground—and charged.
"MOVE!" Myla shouted.
Kovan lunged, axes clashing against the demon's clawed arm. He blocked the strike but was hurled back, skidding through dirt.
Leia danced around the beast, her daggers slicing through its plating, leaving marks that glowed then faded.
"Cover left!" she called. "Bren—flank it!"
Bren obeyed.
He dashed forward, faster than he should've. His body moved like lightning and shadow had fused. The sword felt weightless in his grip. As he brought it down, it carved through the demon's armoured limb, severing it in a single blow.
The sword screamed as it struck, unleashing a ripple of violet-black lightning.
The demon staggered, shrieking.
"Damn," Kovan muttered. "He is packing heat."
Myla unleashed another volley of arrows. "Watch the tendrils!"
Then... pain.
A sharp spike exploded in Bren's skull. He stumbled. His heartbeat matched the sword's pulsing rhythm.
"Let me in!" Nythor's voice growled. "You're wasting power. Give me control—just for a second."
His right eye burned.
He gasped, then screamed.
A flash of blackness devoured the right side of his vision. His eye turned pitch-black, sclera and all, with a flicker of burning violet at the centre.
Leia spun toward him. "Bren! Your eye!"
"I'm... fine," he growled. "Not now, Nythor."
The demon lunged, sensing weakness.
Bren roared, raising the sword.
A burst of energy exploded—dark magic laced with glowing Hunter runes. It slammed into the demon's chest, sending it hurtling back.
[System Notification]
[Level Up!]
Strength +12 | Agility +8 | Mana +15
[New Skill Unlocked: Shadow Slash — Channel demonic energy to deal massive AoE damage.]
The world snapped back into clarity. Normal.
His eye slowly faded to it original navy blue.
The demon trembled, injured.
Kovan whooped. "You just unlocked your anime arc, didn't you?" he laughed.
Leia said nothing, but her eyes were unreadable, cold and calculating.
Bren didn't respond.
The demon made slight movement then, Bren charged again.
This time, the sword didn't hesitate. It hungered.
With a clean, vicious slash shadow-infused lightning cracked through the demon's core.
It collapsed, shrieking as its body dissolved into formless black ash.
[System Notification]
[B-Grade Demon Defeated.]
[EXP Gained: +1,250]
[Soul Fragment Absorbed.]
[Corruption Resistance: +3%]
[Warning: Demonic Link Strengthened.]
The silence afterward was deafening.
Leia spoke first, voice low. "That wasn't normal."
"No," Myla whispered. "It wasn't."
Bren didn't look at them. Couldn't.
As they stepped back through the portal, the lingering presence beneath his skin pulsed like a second heartbeat.
The sword didn't vanish. It receded. Like a predator waiting for the next hunt.
And deep in his mind, Nythor's laughter echoed softly.
"You're learning, little vessel." he hissed. "But this power... is still only a taste."
Bren's hands trembled.
Then slowly, he made them still.
The real battle hadn't even begun.