Chapter 3: THE DARK PRICE
The world around Kaito was a blur of shifting shadows and faint, cold winds. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.
He stood over the corpse of the Dire Fangwolf, its once fierce eyes now empty and lifeless. The satisfaction of victory was fleeting, quickly replaced by the dread that hung heavy in the air.
[Soul Integrity: 87%]
He glanced at the flashing stat again. It had dropped again. The price of survival—of using his newfound power—was clear. His soul was being consumed, piece by piece, every time he relied on Phantom Step.
Kaito's chest tightened at the thought. How long could he keep using it before there was nothing left of him? The question gnawed at him like a constant, insidious whisper.
The second Dire Fangwolf hadn't attacked immediately after its companion's death, and Kaito couldn't help but notice the strange stillness in the air. The silence was unnatural—eerie, even. The faint rustling of the leaves above was the only sound that filled the oppressive void.
[Warning: Unknown Presence Detected.]
Kaito's body stiffened at the message that flickered into his vision. His grip on the sword tightened, his senses on high alert. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He wasn't alone. Something—or someone—was watching him.
Suddenly, a chill ran through him, deeper than the cold that had been creeping in since his revival. It wasn't the wolves or the environment—it was something far older, something far darker, that made his skin crawl.
The shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally, growing thicker as if reaching out to him. He took a slow, measured breath, trying to steady himself.
Kaito felt the urge to turn around, to look at whatever had crept into the Hollow. But the moment he did, his instincts screamed at him to run.