The days that followed blurred together in fire and smoke. Kaito's bond with Yù Lóng deepened, yet with every battle he waged against syndicate assassins and spies, something unnatural coursed through his veins.
When he cut down enemies, he did not feel flesh or bone — he felt the dragon's hunger gnawing through him, urging him to strike again, to burn until there was nothing left. His eyes sometimes flickered gold in the reflection of blood.
Takeshi, his sworn brother, watched him with unease.
"You no longer fight as a man, Kaito," Takeshi said one night. "You fight as though death itself carries your blade."
Kaito's jaw tightened. "Then perhaps death is what I have become."
Yù Lóng uncoiled beside them, her vast form half-hidden in the mist. "You burn brighter than mortals should. But beware, graveborn one… the brighter the flame, the sooner it consumes."
But Kaito only looked toward the horizon, where the capital city's lanterns glimmered like fireflies. His brother's betrayers were there. And no curse, no dragon, no warning would stop him.