## Chapter 15: Chains Against the Sky
The alleyway vanished behind Kelvin in a blur of cracked asphalt and overflowing dumpsters. He burst onto the main street, a current of pure terror and desperate purpose. The scene was chaos incarnate. Sirens wailed from gridlocked emergency vehicles. Civilians streamed away from the Ironwood District, faces etched with panic, clogging sidewalks and spilling onto the road. The air crackled with a strange, oppressive energy, carrying distant, guttural shrieks that raised the hairs on Kelvin's neck. The column of unnatural fog loomed over the familiar skyline, centered horrifyingly on the Collegiate campus.
*Elara. Inside that.*
His **Level 7 AGI** propelled him through the fleeing crowd, a darting shadow. He weaved, sidestepped, and occasionally shoved past slower-moving people, his focus laser-sharp on the distant fog. But the human tide was thick, a living wall of fear slowing him down. Precious seconds bled away with every obstruction. He saw the fear in their eyes, the confusion, the paralyzing shock. He understood it, but it was an anchor dragging him down.
**<< Estimated Time to Target: 7 minutes 42 seconds at current velocity >>** the **System** coldly calculated. Too long. Every second was a gamble on Elara's life, on the strength of the campus barriers against whatever had breached through.
A guttural roar, closer this time, echoed from a side street, met by screams. People surged away, creating a momentary pocket of space. Kelvin skidded to a halt, chest heaving. His eyes darted upwards, tracing the lines of the towering office buildings flanking the avenue. Unimpeded space. The answer slammed into him with visceral urgency.
*No time for the ground.*
The **Blood War Chains** coiled beneath his skin, responding to his desperate need, his surging **Bloodlust** now channeled into a singular, protective drive. He didn't hesitate. He didn't think about witnesses, about secrecy. There was only Elara.
Focusing his will, fueled by raw terror and the newly acquired **Chain Mastery**, he *willed* the chains forth. Twin torrents of liquid shadow and seething crimson erupted from his wrists. The hum wasn't just audible; it vibrated the air around him, a low, menacing thrum that cut through the ambient panic. People nearby flinched, eyes widening as the impossible weapons materialized – six feet of barbed, dark metal, veins of crimson light pulsing within.
"Wha–?!" a man stumbled back, pointing.
"Hunter?!" a woman shrieked, hope warring with terror.
Kelvin ignored them. He focused on a sturdy-looking gargoyle jutting from a building facade ten stories up. With a grunt of effort and a surge of MP, he *whipped* his right arm forward. The chain blurred, a streak of darkness and blood-light. The barbed tip struck true, biting deep into the stone with a sharp *CRACK-THUNK*.
Gasps rippled through the crowd nearest him. Before anyone could process, Kelvin *pulled*. The chain retracted violently, yanking him off his feet and skyward with terrifying force. His stomach lurched. Wind tore at his clothes and hair. The ground receded dizzyingly fast. Shouts of disbelief and fear echoed from below, faces upturned, mouths agape at the impossible sight.
He swung in a wide, uncontrolled arc towards the building. **Chain Mastery** flared, a cool counterpoint to the **Bloodlust**'s roar. He instinctively adjusted his grip, his body angle, channeling the momentum. At the apex of the swing, near the gargoyle, he *kicked* off the building's stone face, adding thrust. Simultaneously, he willed the *left* chain to lash out, seeking an anchor point further down the street – a sturdy communications array bolted to a rooftop.
*WHIP-THUNK!*
The second chain bit deep. He released the first chain, letting it dissolve back into his wrist just as the second chain snapped taut. Momentum carried him forward in a soaring, terrifying arc over the choked street below. He was flying. No, he was *falling with style*, propelled by chains of shadow and blood.
Screams followed him. Not just of fear from the breach now, but of sheer, unadulterated shock at the spectacle above. "Did you see that?!" "What IS he?!" "Is that a new Hunter tech?!" "Look out!"
He swung, released, lashed out again. Building to building. Gargoyle to ledge. Ventilation shaft to rooftop antenna. Each lunge consumed MP, each impact sent jolts through his arms, but **Chain Mastery** guided him, making the movements slightly less wild, slightly more controlled with each desperate swing. He was a dark comet arcing across the city skyline, trailing whispers of shadow and the deep, resonant hum of his chains. Below, traffic stood still, people pointed and shouted, phones were raised, capturing the impossible figure traversing the urban canyon towards the hellish fog.
**<< Estimated Time to Target: 3 minutes 18 seconds >>**
He pushed harder. The **Bloodlust** whispered of violence, of rending the things that threatened his sister, but he channeled it all into motion, into speed. The fog grew larger, denser. The shrieks from within were clearer now – alien, predatory. He saw flashes of movement within the murk: hulking shapes, skittering forms. The perimeter was a mess of abandoned cars, shattered storefronts, and police trying desperately to hold a ragged line with stun-staves and barrier projectors that flickered weakly against the encroaching unnatural atmosphere.
He spotted the Collegiate campus gates, partially crushed. The main administration building was just beyond, where the largest lecture halls were… where Elara was supposed to be. Hope warred with dread.
He swung one final time, aiming for the roof of a parking structure adjacent to the campus grounds. He released the chain too early, sacrificing grace for speed. He hit the gravel rooftop hard, tumbling, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. He rolled to his feet instantly, ignoring the scrapes, the burning in his shoulders, the dangerously low MP warning flashing in his vision.
He was here. The fog churned less than a hundred yards away, pressing against the reinforced walls of the lecture hall complex. The air tasted metallic, thick with ozone and something rotten. The sounds from within the fog were a cacophony of shrieks, crashes, and the desperate shouts of campus security.
The Forsaken Architect stood on the edge of the roof, the **Blood War Chains** retracting into his wrists, leaving only faint, pulsing warmth beneath his skin. Below him lay chaos. Before him lay the breach. And somewhere within that hellish fog was his sister.
The time for swinging was over. The time for blood had come. He vaulted the low wall of the parking structure, dropping towards the chaotic ground below, his eyes fixed on the churning green mist. The chains hummed in anticipation, ready to fulfill their purpose. Protect Elara. At any cost.