Rael crouched atop the ruins of an old skyscraper, his shadowy blade resting across his knees. The city below was a sprawling maze of broken concrete and rusted steel, a graveyard of the old world. His newly acquired strength hummed in his veins, the bond with the Eclipse Fiend still fresh and raw, like an open wound that hadn't quite healed.
It had been hours since his confrontation with the Fiend. Though his body still ached from the trial, his mind was sharper than ever, buzzing with fragments of knowledge he hadn't possessed before. The Fiend had left something behind in him—a deeper understanding of the Anchor's power.
The rune on his hand pulsed faintly, a reminder of the bond. It felt alive, like a second heartbeat.
"Let them come," Rael murmured to himself again, testing the weight of the blade in his hand. The weapon no longer flickered between shadow and steel. It had stabilized, its dark surface gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
Below, movement caught his eye. A pack of Umbrals—twisted, blackened figures with glowing amber eyes—was prowling through the rubble, their long, clawed limbs scraping against the ground. They moved like wolves, their heads darting back and forth, searching for prey.
Rael felt a flicker of fear, but it was quickly drowned by the heat of determination. He wasn't the same scavenger he had been just hours ago. He could feel the power of the Anchor coursing through him, waiting to be unleashed.
"Three of them," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Not bad for a warm-up."
He stood and leapt from the building, landing with a muted thud on the rubble below. The sound was enough to draw the Umbrals' attention. Their heads snapped toward him, glowing eyes narrowing as low growls filled the air.
Rael raised his blade, the rune on his hand flaring as shadows curled around him like a living armor. "Come on," he said, his voice steady. "Let's see what you've got."
The first Umbral lunged, its claws slashing through the air. Rael sidestepped, the motion smooth and instinctive, and countered with a sweeping arc of his blade. The weapon cut cleanly through the creature's form, which dissolved into a cloud of black mist.
The other two Umbrals attacked simultaneously, coming at him from opposite sides. Rael spun, the shadows around him surging outward like tendrils, forcing one of the creatures back. The second managed to rake its claws across his arm, tearing through the makeshift leather he wore.
Rael hissed in pain, but the wound was shallow, and the Anchor's power flared in response. He focused on the rune, and the shadows around him coiled tighter, sharper.
With a sharp motion, he drove his blade into the ground. The shadows responded, erupting outward in a wave of dark spikes that impaled the remaining Umbrals. Their forms disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but silence.
Rael stood still for a moment, his breaths heavy but controlled. The shadows receded, sinking back into the blade and the rune on his hand.
"I could get used to this," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.
But the sound of clapping broke the quiet, and Rael's head snapped up.
"Well done," a voice said, smooth and mocking.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the faint moonlight. It was a man, dressed in a long, tattered coat, his hair slicked back. His eyes gleamed with a golden light, not unlike the Umbrals, but there was something else in them—intelligence, cruelty.
Rael instinctively raised his blade. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Relax. If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it already."
Rael didn't lower his weapon. "That's not an answer."
The stranger tilted his head, studying Rael like a predator sizing up its prey. "You're new to this, aren't you? The Anchor, the Fiend… you don't even know what you've gotten yourself into."
"Then why don't you tell me?" Rael said, his voice sharp.
The man smirked. "You're bold. I like that. But boldness won't get you far in this world, boy. Power will. And if you've got an Anchor, you'll need allies—or you'll be dead before the next moonrise."
Rael's grip tightened on his blade. He didn't trust this man, but he couldn't ignore the truth in his words. "What do you want from me?"
The man's smile widened. "Oh, it's not what I want. It's what you want. I've seen your kind before—desperate, lost, hungry for strength. You'll join the game sooner or later. The only question is whether you'll survive it."
Rael's jaw tightened. "What game?"
The man chuckled, turning away. "You'll find out soon enough. Just remember, boy: there's no such thing as freedom when you've got an Anchor. Only chains."
And with that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving Rael alone once more.
Rael stood there, the man's words echoing in his mind. He didn't understand everything yet, but one thing was clear: his fight was far from over.
He glanced at the rune on his hand, the glowing mark a constant reminder of the power—and the burden—he now carried.
"Chains, huh?" he muttered. "We'll see about that."