Noxhaven had stopped pretending to be alive.
For the first time in years, even the city's noise felt wrong — too quiet where it should've been busy, too crowded where it should've been still. Something had shifted. The Harvest wasn't whispered anymore; it was being spoken, painted on walls, carved into pavements, whispered by children in alleyways.
Everywhere Suichi Kamane looked, the same phrase followed him:
"The Dawn Will Rise in Blood."
It appeared overnight, on billboards, broken buses, even across police barricades. A message, a warning — and a declaration. Hollow Dawn wasn't hiding anymore. They were announcing their arrival.
---
The morning started with a body.
The rain hadn't stopped for three days, and yet the crowd gathered at the center of East Market ignored it. Reporters screamed questions, flashes went off like lightning, and Suichi stood behind the police tape, staring at what had been left behind.
A man hung from a traffic light, suspended by red cloths tied in ceremonial knots. His chest had been carved with a symbol — a spiral intersected by three sharp lines. Blood still dripped, mixing with the rain and flowing into the sewers. The spiral wasn't random. It was the Dawn's Mark, the sign of a new ritual phase.
Detective Haruto arrived moments later, soaked, exhausted, his voice low. "Third one this week. And the same phrase carved into the wall."
Suichi glanced up. On the brick wall behind the body, painted in thick, black letters:
"He Watched and Still the Harvest Grew."
The city had become a canvas for madness.
---
The forensic team worked fast, but Suichi's mind was elsewhere. The cuts, the knots, the messages — all followed a ritual pattern. The victims weren't chosen at random. Each had been connected to city planning, surveillance systems, or information control — people who could influence what the public saw or heard.
"They're dismantling trust," Suichi muttered under his breath.
Haruto frowned. "You mean…?"
"Hollow Dawn's not killing for sacrifice anymore," Suichi said. "They're killing for control. To take over the city's eyes and ears."
He turned, scanning the crowd. Faces blurred into one another — journalists, civilians, officers — but among them, Suichi spotted something that froze him mid-step:
A figure, standing still, completely motionless amidst chaos. Dressed in black, face hidden by a hood. For a split second, Suichi saw a glint — the faint reflection of a mask.
Then the figure was gone.
---
By nightfall, news channels were flooded with theories.
Terrorist groups, mass psychosis, ancient urban cults — everyone had a story, but none of them were close to the truth. Suichi watched from his apartment as the anchor's voice echoed through the static of the TV:
> "Authorities are unable to confirm whether the series of killings are connected. However, witnesses describe seeing masked individuals near several crime scenes…"
Aya sat on the couch, hugging her knees, eyes distant. "They're controlling everything, aren't they?"
Suichi didn't answer immediately. He could see it — the pattern spreading like veins through the city. Fear wasn't an outcome; it was the ritual itself.
"They want Noxhaven to turn on itself," he said finally. "They want people to feel watched, unsafe, desperate. That's how they grow."
"And the police?" she asked.
Suichi gave a grim smile. "Half of them already belong to Hollow Dawn. The rest are too scared to act."
---
At midnight, Suichi received another untraceable message:
"You've seen the first Dawn. The next rises with screams."
Attached was a video — grainy, static-filled — showing a crowd in a subway tunnel. A masked man stood at the center, chanting in a language Suichi couldn't recognize. Then the lights went out. When they came back on, the floor was soaked in blood.
The file cut out.
Coordinates followed.
Aya moved closer. "You're not going there alone."
"I can't risk you getting caught again," he said sharply.
"And you can't fight them without help," she shot back.
Her voice trembled, but her resolve didn't. Suichi sighed. She wasn't wrong. The city was collapsing under its own paranoia. Even if he wanted to fight alone, Hollow Dawn had already made her a part of their story.
They left before dawn.
---
The subway was abandoned when they arrived. The air was damp, filled with the metallic scent of rust and decay. The walls bore the same markings — spirals, hands, and phrases written in a mix of English, Sanskrit, and symbols Suichi couldn't identify.
He moved cautiously, flashlight scanning ahead. Aya followed, whispering, "What are we even looking for?"
"A pattern," he replied. "They always leave something behind. Something they want me to see."
They reached the central platform — the spot from the video. The floor was scrubbed clean, almost too clean. Only one symbol remained, drawn faintly in chalk: a crescent intersecting the spiral.
Suichi froze. He'd seen that symbol once before — in his mother's old journal, before the case that destroyed his family.
Aya saw his expression. "What is it?"
"My parents investigated a cult years ago," Suichi said quietly. "Before Hollow Dawn had a name. Before Noxhaven swallowed it."
His voice grew colder. "This isn't new. It's just… resurfaced."
---
As they turned to leave, a faint hum filled the air — low, rhythmic, mechanical. The old loudspeakers on the walls flickered to life, broadcasting a distorted voice:
> "The city watches. The city feeds. The Dawn is not coming. It is here."
Aya gripped Suichi's arm, terrified. The lights flickered violently. Shadows stretched across the walls, merging and splitting like living things. Suichi pulled her close and moved quickly toward the exit — but the path ahead was blocked. Figures emerged from the tunnels, their masks identical: hollow-eyed, black-veined, mouths sealed shut with red thread.
Hollow Dawn had found them.
The fight was brutal and fast.
Suichi fired twice, the gunshots deafening in the narrow tunnel. Aya ducked behind a pillar as one of the masked attackers lunged with a jagged blade. Suichi countered, slamming the man into the concrete wall. Another came from behind — silent, inhumanly fast. Suichi barely dodged, grabbing a metal rod from the floor and swinging hard.
The rod connected with the man's mask — it cracked, revealing pale, scarred skin underneath. The attacker screamed, collapsing.
More figures emerged. Ten, maybe twelve. They moved in unison, chanting lowly, their voices blending into a haunting rhythm.
Aya shouted over the chaos, "Suichi, the lights!"
He shot the nearest control box. Sparks erupted, plunging the tunnel into darkness. The chanting stopped. Silence swallowed the air — then footsteps, retreating into the shadows.
When the lights flickered back, the attackers were gone.
Only blood stains remained, and a single message smeared across the wall:
"You are walking the path of your blood."
Suichi stood frozen, staring at the words. The connection between Hollow Dawn and his family — between the present and the past — had just been confirmed.
---
Back at the apartment, Aya treated his wounds silently. The city outside glowed faintly, the rain now more like mist. The news had already reported new killings — two journalists, one politician. The Dawn was rising, just as they'd promised.
Aya broke the silence. "You said your parents investigated a cult. Was it them?"
Suichi didn't look at her. "If it wasn't Hollow Dawn, it was their predecessor. Whatever name they used before, they had the same beliefs, the same rituals. They call themselves keepers of rebirth. The Harvest is their cleansing."
He leaned back, exhausted. "And now they've made it personal again."
Aya hesitated. "Do you think the masked man is connected to your parents?"
Suichi looked out the window. A figure stood across the street — motionless, watching, as always. He blinked, and it was gone.
"Yes," he said softly. "I think he's the one who killed them."
---
At dawn, Suichi pinned new photographs on his board.
Victims, crime scenes, symbols, maps — all connected by red strings. Noxhaven wasn't just a city anymore; it was an organism infected by something ancient and deliberate. Hollow Dawn was growing stronger because the city allowed it — through corruption, apathy, and fear.
But Suichi wasn't the same detective anymore. The city had stripped him of everything except resolve. And now, he wasn't just investigating Hollow Dawn — he was declaring war.
Aya came up beside him. "What now?"
He picked up his coat, eyes burning with quiet fury. "Now we show them that the Dawn bleeds too."
The camera feed from a nearby street corner flickered, capturing the two figures leaving the apartment. In the background, just for a moment, a shape moved — a tall man in a black coat, half-shadow, half-reflection. Watching. Waiting.
The Harvest had begun its second phase.
And Noxhaven itself had become the altar.