For one long second, the world held its breath. The Sacrificers knelt beneath the red moon, their heads lowered, their bodies trembling—not in fear… In obedience. To him. The air itself felt heavier, charged, wrong. Even the Marshal stepped back half a pace, gripping the Thrice-Seal Rod with white knuckles. Jin’s smile faded. Mei Lin clutched Alex’s limp body, struggling to keep him upright. Then— The red moon flickered. Once. Twice. Like an eye blinking. A slow, thunderous hum rolled across the sky, vibrating through bone and street. Jin whispered, voice trembling despite the smirk he tried to keep: “…He heard you.” --- 1. The Arbiter Awakens The red moon split. Not physically. A vertical tear appeared across its surface—thin, faint, like someone dragging a knife across silk. Inside the tear— Darkness moved. Not shadow. Not smoke. A silhouette. Massive. Curved. Sitting on a throne of nothing. The Arbiter. The judge of Vessels. The watcher of sacrifices.

District 11 was too quiet. Not calm. Not safe. Quiet in the wrong way. The kind of quiet that made your skin tighten at the back of your neck. Alex, Mei Lin, and Jin stepped off the broken main road and crossed into the district’s boundary—a cracked stone arch with half the name missing: “Q__et Quarter.” The missing letters didn’t matter. The silence did. No wind. No footsteps. No distant sirens. Not even the sound of distant monsters. Just air. Still and heavy. Like a closed room that hadn’t been opened in years. Mei Lin pulled her coat tighter around her. “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “You’re not supposed to,” Jin said, flicking a pebble onto the street. It bounced twice— tok — tok — Then stopped. Stopped completely. The pebble didn’t roll. Didn’t settle. It froze where it landed. Mei Lin’s breath hitched. Alex exhaled sharply. “This entire district… it’s under a field.” “Not Domain energy,” Jin added. “Not a haunt. Something different.” Alex crou

Darkness swallowed the chamber. Not the soft kind. The thick, suffocating kind that presses against your ribs. Only one thing glowed— Alex’s hand. The Soul Burn crawled up his arm like molten cracks trying to break free. Mei Lin gripped his wrist. Her voice trembled. “Alex—look at me. Stay here. Stay with me.” Alex forced his breath steady. The Oracle’s visions still burned behind his eyes. Two futures. Two impossible roads. Both ending in blood. Jin exhaled softly, brushing glass dust off his shoulders. “Well,” he said, “that was delightful.” Mei Lin glared at him. “You think this is a joke?” “This world is a joke,” Jin replied, stepping toward the dark mirror-walls, “and we’re the punchline.” Before Mei Lin could retort, the Oracle’s voice returned— Not loud. Not theatrical. Quiet. Inside their heads. “The choice is bound. The Tower will show the path. Only the Vessel may choose.” Alex stiffened. “Why only me?” “Because only you carry the stolen thread.”

The Guardian struck again. Chains whipped across the chamber like metal serpents, smashing into pillars and stone. Sparks rained in the dark. The sound was brutal—steel screaming against ancient runes. Alex staggered back, the glow in his hand pulsing violently. His breath came short, sharp, too fast. Mei Lin saw it first— the way his fingers curled inward, like invisible hooks were digging into his bones. “His burn is spreading—Alex, STOP!” she cried. But Alex wasn’t in control anymore. The Soul Burn surged like a fever tearing through every nerve. His vision fractured in gold. Heat coiled up his arm, over his shoulder, crawling toward his neck like it wanted his entire body. The Guardian pointed a chained finger at him. “VESSEL OF THE RED PATH. YOU. WILL. BREAK.” The chains shot forward— And Jin moved. It wasn’t fast. It was instant. One second he stood by the cracked mirror; the next he was mid-air, coat splitting open as silver rings on his

The world went quiet. Too quiet. Not the silence after battle, not exhaustion— but a hollow stillness that felt wrong, like the air itself was holding its breath. Alex lay half-conscious in Mei Lin’s arms, his heartbeat weak but steady. Jin crouched nearby, staring at Alex’s fading glow with a face that tried to look calm… and failed. Then— The tower trembled. A low, deep groan rolled through the stones, making the entire chamber vibrate. Dust drifted from the ceiling in thin lines. Jin’s head snapped up. “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no—he didn’t. He couldn’t have—” Mei Lin held Alex tighter. “What’s happening?” Jin didn’t answer the question. He answered the fear. “He drew the Arbiter’s attention.” Mei Lin froze. “The… what?” Jin didn’t get another word out. Because the lights went out. All of them. The torches. The runes. The cracks in the walls. Even the ambient glow of the Soul Burn inside Alex— Everything died. Darkness swallowed the chamber like ink flood