Chapter 36 – The Immortal Hunt
The twilight plains stretched endlessly before Rin, a desolate stretch of land where the sky bled in muted shades of violet and gold. The horizon, fractured by jagged hills and towering monoliths, was an open wound in the world—an expanse where life and death seemed to blur, suspended in the eternal limbo between the dying light and the encroaching darkness.
Rin stood at the edge of the plains, his eyes narrowed against the wind that swept through the emptiness, carrying with it the scent of decay. His heart pulsed with the rhythm of his Death Core, a constant reminder of his path—a path where every step was one of destruction, of endings. Yet, in this place, it felt different. The air was thick with an oppressive weight, a presence that had been stalking him ever since he crossed into the twilight.
He could feel them before he saw them—the Black Immortals. They were approaching, their arrival as inevitable as the coming night.
The Twelve Cloaked Ones.
Immortals bound to the realm by an ancient curse, their purpose clear: to erase any "meaningful" death that threatened to disrupt the natural order. Their task was simple, yet cruel. To preserve the cycle of life and death, they had been tasked with eliminating those who might rise against the heavens—those like Rin, the Endborne anomaly, the one who defied the very nature of mortality.
Rin's fingers tightened around Ny'xuan, the sentient dagger forged from death, feeling the familiar hum of energy coursing through its bone structure. The weapon, an extension of his will, throbbed with a hunger to feed on the lives of the immortals who sought to destroy him. He had already encountered the cold cruelty of these beings, but this would be different. They were not here to fight with strength or brute force—they were here to tear apart his soul.
And he would not allow them to succeed.
The first of the Cloaked Ones appeared on the horizon, riding atop a black steed with eyes that gleamed like molten silver. The figure was cloaked in shadow, its face obscured by a dark veil, but Rin could feel the weight of its gaze—cold, unfeeling, and ancient. Behind it, the other eleven emerged, each astride a similarly dark mount, their cloaks billowing like storm clouds. Their presence was a singular, terrifying force, and Rin's skin crawled with the undeniable sense that the hunt had begun.
The lead Cloaked One raised a hand, and the others followed suit. A ripple of energy passed through the air, thickening it with a palpable tension. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath.