The first clash was not steel against steel, but soul against soul.
The Master's chains swept down like a storm-tide, devouring torchlight, devouring sound. The great hall became a furnace of shrieking iron, hunters crying out as the weight of the Oath dragged them to their knees. Some fought against it, teeth bared, beasts howling. Others surrendered, bowing, their eyes empty as husks.
Ethan stood in the center of the maelstrom, Shadowfang roaring at his side, golden fire meeting the flood. Lyra's serpent blazed crimson coils, striking at every lash that neared them. Together, the three of them carved a circle of defiance in the heart of the storm.
But the Master was endless.
Every chain broken became two. Every lash burned away returned thrice as heavy. And behind the faceless mask, his voice thundered like a judgment older than time.
"You are bound, Ethan Vale. You are mine. The Guild is eternal."
Ethan staggered under the onslaught, blood streaking down his arms, his breath torn raw. Shadowfang pressed closer, their bond flaring, but even that golden fire flickered against the ocean of chains.
Lyra's voice cut through the chaos, fierce and steady. "Don't listen! You carry something he cannot control. That's why he fears you!"
The words lit a spark in him, though every bone screamed with pain. He remembered the Shackleborn, the searing weight of its corrupted power fusing with his mark. He remembered the hunters who had raised their blades, not for the Guild, but for freedom.
And he remembered the oath he had refused.
"I am not yours," Ethan roared, raising his blade. "And the Guild dies tonight!"
---
The hall erupted into civil war.
Hunters turned on each other, beasts colliding with screams and flame. The Overseers struck with fury, unleashing chains that tore through the rebels, dragging them writhing to the floor. But more hunters rose, severing the binds with their own blades, crying Ethan's name like a battle-hymn.
The floor split as the Master advanced, chains surging like rivers of molten steel. He did not fight like a man—he was the Oath itself, given flesh and will. Every strike was compulsion, every lash a command to kneel.
And still Ethan stood.
Shadowfang's fire became a storm, the beast's roar shaking the rafters. Their bond blazed brighter than the chains, stronger than the Oath. Lyra fought at Ethan's side, her serpent tearing steel apart, her blade flashing arcs of flame. But the tide pressed harder with each heartbeat.
Then came betrayal.
From the rebel ranks, a voice rang out—a familiar hunter, one who had once whispered Ethan's name with hope. His eyes now gleamed with sickly light, chains wrapped tight around his arms like bracelets.
"Forgive me," he gasped, and then he turned his beast against them.
The hall shook as his wolf, massive and armored in iron links, slammed into Shadowfang. Golden fire clashed against blackened steel, beast against beast, each blow shattering stone. Ethan cried out, torn between rage and despair.
The Master's voice slithered through the chaos. "They will all betray you. The chains are eternal."
Ethan's chest burned as the wolf's fangs tore across Shadowfang's side. The beast howled, fire sputtering. Pain lanced through their bond, nearly dropping Ethan to his knees.
Lyra darted forward, intercepting the wolf with her serpent, buying them a heartbeat. "Focus, Ethan! The chains aren't eternal if you break them!"
He forced breath into his lungs, vision swimming. Not eternal. Break them. The words carved through the fog of agony.
And then he saw it—the truth.
The Master's power wasn't infinite. The chains weren't endless. They fed on oaths, on submission, on every bowed head in the hall. Each hunter who yielded made the Master stronger. Each hunter who resisted made him weaker.
That was the key.
Ethan's eyes blazed, a fierce grin splitting his bloodied face. He raised his voice above the storm, a roar that carried across the fractured hall.
"Hunters! Look at him! He cannot bind us without our surrender. Break your chains! Stand, damn you, STAND!"
The words slammed through the air like a blade.
And hunters answered.
One by one, some tore their beasts free, blades slashing at the chains that bound them. Others rose, trembling, faces twisted with fury as they turned against the Overseers. For every hunter who stood, the Master faltered. The sea of chains quivered, their weight diminishing.
The faceless mask tilted, voice rising with rage. "Silence!"
But it was too late.
The spark had caught flame.
---
Shadowfang roared, golden fire surging with renewed fury, throwing the wolf aside in a blast of heat. Ethan's blade gleamed with that same fire, each strike shattering links that had once been unbreakable. Lyra fought like a storm, her serpent constricting around an Overseer, crushing steel and bone alike.
The Master staggered. For the first time, his advance slowed.
"You…" The voice faltered, distorted, as though the chains themselves trembled. "You are unmaking the Oath."
Ethan strode forward, every step burning with defiance. "No. I'm remaking it."
He lifted his sword, flame entwined with Shadowfang's essence, and brought it down in a cleaving arc.
The ground split.
Chains screamed, snapping like glass, the sound echoing across the hall and beyond, through every bond that tethered hunter to Guild. For a heartbeat, every soul felt it—the fracture, the shattering, the taste of freedom sharp and terrifying.
And the Master of Chains staggered to one knee.
Gasps erupted. Overseers recoiled, their power faltering. Beasts howled in wild defiance, no longer shackled by unseen bonds. Hunters looked to Ethan—not as servant, not as enemy, but as something else entirely.
The Master's mask tilted up, voice a hiss of venom. "This is not victory. This is ruin. You have doomed them all."
Ethan's chest heaved, his blade blazing with golden fire. He met that faceless gaze without flinching.
"Then let ruin come. But it will be ours, not yours."
---
The hall collapsed into chaos.
Some hunters fled, terrified of freedom. Others fought harder, desperate to tear down the Guild that had bound them. Overseers unleashed their full wrath, their chains no longer a command but a weapon wielded in fury.
And through it all, Ethan knew one truth.
This was no longer a battle for survival. It was the beginning of a war.
A war to decide not only who would command the hunters—but whether they would ever be commanded again.
---
Chapter End.
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