The two scavengers stood frozen, their world narrowed to the blood-drenched figure standing amid a mountain of corpses.
The Deadzone was unnaturally still.
Only the faint hiss of the blight wind and the low, anxious hum of their idling engine filled the silence.
Kaisen stood motionless—serene, almost. A statue carved from violence. He looked human, they realized dimly, but that was where the resemblance ended.
An aura radiated from him—heavy, suffocating, pressing down on the soul in a way that was worse than the hunger of any Corrupted.
And his face was bare.
The Blight, which would have seared their lungs to ribbons without their breathers and turned them to corrupted, didn't touch him at all.
"Ron…" one scavenger whispered, voice breaking through the static of his comm. "Back away. Slowly. We're leaving."
Ron—the one with the scar—nodded, his eyes wide, the survival instinct of prey kicking in. They started inching backward, careful and quiet, praying the predator wouldn't notice.
"Hey."
The voice stopped them cold. Calm. Human. But heavy in a way that made their bones want to kneel.
Panic flared. The first scavenger jerked his rifle up. Ron raised a notched axe.
They knew it was pointless—the carnage around them said as much—but instinct screamed to act.
Kaisen stepped down from the corpse heap. Nirvhal dissolved back into shadow, vanishing from his hand. He raised both palms, open and empty.
"Relax. I just need a ride out of here. That's all."
The two men exchanged a single look. A wordless agreement passed between them. They'd give this monster anything he asked for—so long as it kept them alive.
---
Inside the rumbling armored vehicle, the air was tension and the smell was oil and fear.
The scavengers sat rigid in the front seats, eyes locked forward, pretending the presence behind them didn't exist.
Kaisen sat among crates of salvaged scrap and stolen weapons, his body swaying gently with each jolt of the uneven road. His gaze was distant—not seeing the truck, not seeing them. Just the endless, sterile glow of a chrome chamber echoing in his memory.
"Hey," Kaisen said suddenly.
Both men jolted, snapping their heads around, terror flashing in their eyes.
He blinked, then gave a faint, apologetic smile.
"Oh—sorry. Not you."
They turned back to the windshield, knuckles white around the steering wheel and rifle.
Ron muttered under his breath, the words nearly lost in the growl of the engine. "Shit… he's insane too."
Kaisen leaned back, resting his head against a crate. Then, a soft laugh echoed in his mind, faintly amused.
[You don't have to speak out loud.]
Kaisen sighed.
'Hmm… so you can hear my thoughts?' he asked silently. The mental voice felt strange, yet natural.
[Not all of them,] Iris replied, her tone crisp and teasing. [Only the ones you want me to.]
'Who are you, Iris? Why are you in my head?'
[Who am I? That's… complicated.] A pause, as though she was weighing the answer. Then her tone softened. [But I guess you mean who I am in a way that matters to you.]
'Yeah.'
[Simplest answer? I'm a summon—kind of.]
'Kind of?'
[Eros and I come from an old lineage. Our ancestors fought beside the Godslayer and forged a soul contract—one that bound our bloodlines to his will.] Her tone darkened, reverent. [A will that now belongs to you.]
Kaisen leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The pieces slid into place. 'So… I'm like your boss.'
[That's one way to put it,] she said with a small, audible smirk. [But i guess yeah, you're like my boss.]
'And this contract—it's what lets us talk like this?'
[You guessed right. I can communicate — and see through your eyes — from the Expanse, while you're out there in…]
She hesitated, her perception seeming to sweep through his senses, taking in the grimy truck, the two terrified men, the blighted landscape outside the window.
[Where even are you?]
'Earth.'
Silence. Then a burst of laughter, bright and melodic.
[Seriously? That low-ranked dustball? The Godslayer's heir, from there? Unbelievable. No offense.]
'None taken, I'm no planet patriot,' Kaisen replied dryly. 'You're right. It's a shithole.'
Iris laughed again, soft and genuine. For the first time in a while, his mind felt… less empty.
The vehicle hit a deep rut, jolting violently. Dan, the driver, glanced nervously over his shoulder. "Sir, we're out of the Deadzone. Any place you'd like to go?"
[I'll leave you to it, "boss",] Iris said suddenly, her voice fading. [Talk later.]
He could almost picture her smirk before the link cut.
"Yeah," he murmured.
The mental silence that followed felt heavier than he expected.
Kaisen leaned forward, resting a hand on the back of the passenger seat. "Take me to the Awakened Institute. I was part of the last trainee assessment. Maybe I can still get my Awakened card."
Ron shot a look at Dan, then back at Kaisen through the mirror. His scar twisted as he frowned. "Last assessment? That was three months ago."
"Three…" Kaisen frowned. Time in that chamber hadn't felt real. He remembered dying and waking, over and over—days or minutes, it hadn't mattered. "...months?"
'I thought time didn't move… or maybe it just moved slower?'
Dan shook his head. "If you were in that batch, you're probably listed as dead. Off the registry. If you want another card, you'll have to start over. Register as a trainee. Go through the whole process again."
Kaisen scoffed. "No way in hell I'm doing that."
He turned toward the window, watching the ruins blur past. He had no money, no place to stay. But he needed that card—if he had one he could join a faction, gain acces to rifts, to soul energy, to strength.
"I need that card to join a faction," Kai sighed.
Ron caught his gaze in the mirror again. There was something calculating in it this time. "Hey, sir. Maybe I can help with that."
Kaisen raised a brow. "Yeah?"
Ron's voice steadied, his tone shifting from fear to cautious opportunity.
"You ever think about becoming a mercenary Awakened?"