Dice froze. His gaze fixed on the shadow looming in the doorway of the medical facility—his father, Knox, patriarch of the entire demon family. Something felt profoundly wrong. When Dice peered closer, squinting through the dim light, he noticed a purple shadow glinting in Knox's eyes, flickering like a dying flame struggling against encroaching darkness.
Knox walked closer, his footsteps deliberate and measured, each one resonating with an authority that had once commanded respect but now inspired only dread. When he finally stood close enough, he stared down at Dice, his face a mask of cold indifference. Not a trace of warmth, not a flicker of recognition—just emptiness. The father who had once taught him to harness his demonic abilities, who had shown rare moments of pride, was gone. "At least I still have emotion," Dice thought bitterly, feeling the familiar sting of abandonment. At least he could still feel the knot of fear tightening in his chest, constricting his breath.
Meanwhile, in Kylie's room, Sin decided to explore his surroundings. Curiosity gnawed at him, an insistent whisper that refused to be ignored as he slipped out into a vast hallway lined with hundreds upon hundreds of doors. The room he had just left bore the number 408 in tarnished brass, its surface dulled by time and neglect. He glanced at the neighboring doors: 407, 406, 425, and so on, their numbers seemingly random and chaotic, as if whoever had assigned them had long since abandoned any pretense of order.
Sin walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor in a rhythm that felt both lonely and ominous. He peered into the rooms as he passed, but heavy drapes covered every window in every doorway, concealing whatever—or whoever—lay beyond. The fabric seemed to absorb light itself, leaving him with nothing but his imagination and growing unease. A chill crept up his spine, the kind that came not from temperature but from the certainty that unseen eyes were watching him.
Meanwhile, in a graveyard not far from the secluded demon family mansion, something stirred beneath the earth. A body rose from the ground, dirt cascading from its shoulders. Then another clawed its way free. And another. They burst from their coffins, wood splintering and soil cascading as they stretched their stiff limbs and surveyed their surroundings with newfound purpose. Their eyes were black—not the purple-shadowed black of Knox's gaze, but pitch black, like staring into an endless void devoid of all light and hope. They moved with jerky, unnatural motions, as if remembering how their bodies once functioned.
In a faraway field, a man clawed his way up from beneath the ground, fingers breaking through packed earth. Edward. His once-pristine white clothing was now stained with dirt and blood, the fabric torn and filthy. His watch had vanished, likely lost somewhere in the darkness below. Puncture wounds dotted his body—remnants of the blood spikes that Sin, or rather the demon version of him, had inflicted back in Sin's room. But those wounds had already begun to heal, darkness itself sealing the torn flesh with unnatural efficiency. The damage the blood bamboo had caused was not gone, merely hidden beneath the surface, festering in ways that defied natural law.
Edward stretched his dead limbs, joints cracking like dry branches snapping in winter wind. The sound echoed across the empty field, a grotesque symphony of reanimation. Without hesitation, he began walking toward the demon mansion, driven by something he could no longer name—an imperative that bypassed thought and reason entirely.
Back in the mansion, in the middle of the hall, Sin received a notification from his system. Text appeared against a black background—definitely something involving the shadow. His pulse quickened as he began to read, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension flooding through him.
*You have gained a new bonded member. Bonded members: 2 out of 5.*
He hadn't noticed the "2 out of 5" when he'd gained his first bond, too overwhelmed by the strangeness of it all, but now the limitation was clear. Questions flooded his mind in a torrent he couldn't dam. Could he teleport to these bonds? Could they teleport to him? What did this connection truly mean? Were they slaves, allies, or something else entirely?
He clicked on the bonded section of his system, and a description materialized before his eyes, the words glowing faintly.
*Bonds are entities attached to you. They will follow your every command without question, although some bonded members retain their personalities from before they were bonded.*
The phrase "without question" sent a shiver through him. That kind of absolute obedience felt wrong, like a violation of free will that made his stomach turn. Sin wanted to read more, to understand the full implications and perhaps find some loophole that would preserve the autonomy of those bound to him, but before he could continue, another system message appeared.
*You have gained a new skill: Bond Teleportation. This skill allows the user to teleport to their bonded members or to the closest one in their area.*
*New skill: Summon. This skill allows you to summon all of your bonded entities that you have collected. 0 out of 5 summoned.*
Then the text shifted, correcting itself.
*0 out of 2 summoned. You have not summoned any of your bonded members.*
Sin stared at the words, his mind racing through the implications like a chess player calculating moves ahead. Two bonds. Two beings now tethered to him, bound by forces he barely understood and hadn't consciously chosen. The weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders like a physical burden, pressing down with an intensity that made his breath catch and his knees threaten to buckle.
What had he become?
The question echoed in his thoughts, unanswered and unsettling, reverberating through the hollow spaces of his identity. He had never sought power over others, never desired to hold lives in the balance like some tyrant from the stories his mother used to tell. Yet here he stood, connected to two souls through threads he couldn't see but could somehow feel pulsing beneath his skin, thrumming with a strange energy that was both foreign and disturbingly familiar. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying—a reminder that every choice he made now rippled outward, touching those bound to him in ways he couldn't predict or control.
His hands trembled slightly as he closed the system interface. The hallway suddenly felt smaller, more oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in to witness his transformation from ordinary person to something else entirely. Something darker. Something he wasn't sure he wanted to be.
Back in the field, Edward found another hollow nearby—a corpse with totally black eyes. Unlike normal zombies, they stood with fluid grace in their bodies. They weren't groaning or walking stiffly; in fact, they moved with remarkable fluidity, as if death had somehow refined rather than diminished their motor control. Edward, now a hollow himself, walked toward the other hollow, each step purposeful and measured. He felt the strange kinship of shared fate, the bond of those who had crossed the threshold between life and death and found themselves stranded in this twilight existence.
"I am alive," Edward said, his voice deepened by whatever transformation had occurred within him. The words felt both true and false simultaneously—he existed, certainly, but was this truly life? "I want revenge on the people who killed me, on the person who killed me." The memory of Sin's face flashed through his mind, igniting a cold fury that burned without warmth. "I know you do too. If we team up, if we gather all our brethren, then we can get revenge on everyone who killed us." His words carried conviction born of purpose, the only thing that seemed to anchor him to this new existence.
The other hollow stared at Edward, processing his words with an intelligence that belied its undead state. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding.
"Do you accept my deal, fellow hollow?" Edward continued, extending his hand in a gesture that felt both human and utterly alien.
The hollow raised its hand and connected it with Edward's. The deal was set, sealed with a grip that felt like ice and iron combined. Two souls bound by vengeance, united in their determination to make the living pay for their deaths.
Back in the demon hall, Sin took a deep breath, steeling himself for what came next. "All right," he said to the empty corridor, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried the summon skill, focusing his will on the two bonds he'd acquired. The air shimmered, reality bending around him as he summoned both of his new spawns.
Both Dice and Knox appeared beside him, materializing from shadow and darkness. Dice looked at Sin and recoiled internally, but his body remained perfectly still, frozen in place by the bond that now controlled him. His face betrayed a flicker of shock through the enforced calmness, eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before the mask returned.
*Wait, is that the same guy who nearly killed me?* Dice's thoughts raced frantically. *Is that the same guy who infected me and brought me and Father here? Are we going to die?* His mind surged desperately for an escape route, but even if he wanted to flee, his body wouldn't let him. His body was willed to Sin, and so was Knox's. The realization hit him like a physical blow—he was no longer his own master.
Before Dice could even attempt anything, both Knox and he looked at Sin with synchronized precision. Dice spoke without meaning to, his body forcing the words from his lips against his will. Knox also spoke with equal precision, their voices eerily harmonized.
"What would you like us to do, Master?"
Dice was shocked by his own words. He was calling the person who had killed him his master? This had to be some type of joke, some cruel trick of fate. The word tasted like ash in his mouth, bitter and wrong, yet he couldn't stop himself from speaking it. His pride, his dignity, his very sense of self—all of it crumbled beneath the weight of this unnatural servitude.
"Just stay put and tell me if anyone comes, no matter who it is," Sin said, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty that suggested he was as uncomfortable with this arrangement as Dice felt. The young man's discomfort was palpable, radiating from him in waves that Dice could almost taste.
"I think, if you will it, you can call me to your presence whenever you need me," Dice heard himself say, the information flowing from him as if the bond itself was teaching Sin how to use these powers. The betrayal of his own body stung worse than any physical wound.
"I'll be leaving to look around the place soon," Sin said, then walked off, leaving his two spawns in the middle of the hallway, just staring into space like abandoned puppets whose strings had gone slack.
A few hours ago, when Sin was being controlled by his demon and had shot the energy beam that absorbed Knox, the energy had been pure shadow—not in a solid state. Because of the properties of shadow, the darkness had begun to spread throughout Knox's body, transforming him into a shadow-infected being, a spawn. Becoming shadow-infected meant automatic teleportation to the nearest spawn, which at that time had been Dice, the only one available. The process had been instantaneous and irreversible, binding father and son together in this new, terrible existence.
They both stood there in the middle of the hallway, not doing anything, their minds trapped in bodies that no longer belonged to them. Dice felt the weight of eternity pressing down on him—how long would they stand here? Hours? Days? Until Sin remembered them and issued new commands? The uncertainty was its own special torture, a psychological prison that complemented the physical one.
Edward walked through the field with his fellow hollow. The hollow had given Edward his name: Sam. Edward didn't know how Sam had died, but the question hung between them, unspoken until curiosity overcame caution.
"So how'd you die?" Sam asked, looking at Edward with those pitch-black eyes that reflected nothing.
"Some person killed me with blood spikes and a blood bamboo stick which impaled me, killing me on the spot when it went through my brain tissue," Edward said, the memory still fresh despite his death. He could still feel the phantom sensation of that final, terrible moment—the spike piercing through his skull, the brief flash of agony before darkness claimed him.
"I died from being murdered too," Sam just nodded, processing this information with the strange detachment of the undead. "Yours is more dramatic than mine, though."
The two hollows eventually exited the field and began to explore the surrounding area, the streets that bordered the demon territory. They walked in different directions, each covering more ground, planning to meet up again once they'd scouted the area. Their movements were coordinated without words, as if death had granted them some form of telepathic understanding.
Their goal was clear: they would collect every hollow and every new hollow to form an army. Then they would wreak havoc on humanity. Those who had been killed would now become the killers.
Edward paused at the edge of the demon mansion's outer wall, his black eyes fixed on the towering structure. Somewhere inside, Sin remained unaware of what was coming. Somewhere inside, the person who had killed him walked freely, oblivious to the army of the dead gathering in the shadows.
"Soon," Edward whispered to the darkness, his voice carrying across the empty street like a promise. "Very soon."
Behind him, more figures emerged from the ground. One by one, they rose—ten, twenty, fifty hollows clawing their way back to the surface. Their eyes blazed with the same pitch-black void, their movements synchronized with unnatural precision. They didn't groan or stumble. They simply stood, waiting for Edward's command, an army of the vengeful dead ready to descend upon the living.
And inside the mansion, Sin felt a sudden chill race down his spine—a premonition he couldn't name but couldn't ignore. Something was coming. Something terrible was about to begin.
The shadows around him seemed to pulse with warning, but he didn't yet understand what they were trying to tell him.
He would soon enough.