Greyreach wasn't quiet often.
But tonight… it was silent.
The usual clamor of sparring, Soulvein surges, market haggling, and underground fighting pits had died. Smoke still drifted through the air. Lights flickered. But the people had vanished indoors, behind reinforced doors and rune-sealed windows.
Kael felt it the moment he woke. Like something sharp had crept under his skin while he slept. His Void Vein pulsed once—slow and steady. Not a warning.
A countdown.
⸻
Lira was already waiting by the door of the hostel when Kael stepped into the street. She had her hood up, cloak drawn tight, and that same shortblade at her hip. The way her eyes scanned the alley told Kael everything.
Something was coming.
"What is it?" he asked.
She didn't look at him. "You ever heard of a Soul Debt?"
"No."
"You will."
⸻
They moved fast through Greyreach's winding side alleys. No one followed. No one tried to stop them. Even the usual pickpockets had vanished.
Kael tightened his gloves. "What's going on?"
"There's a Collector in the city."
Kael frowned. "Like bounty hunter?"
Lira's eyes were hard. "Worse. A sanctioned Spiral Collector. They don't take contracts. They take what's owed."
"Owed to who?"
"To the Spiral."
Kael's fists clenched. "I didn't sign any debt."
Lira gave him a sideways glance. "Doesn't matter. When you flared your Void Vein… the Spiral took notice. Every unbalanced Soulvein leaves behind echoes. Chaos. Imbalance."
Kael muttered, "So they send someone to clean up?"
"They send someone to balance the ledger."
⸻
They reached the center square near the broken Soulforge. A crowd had gathered — quiet, tense, watching something.
Kael pushed through.
At the center of the plaza, surrounded by cracked stone and blood trails, stood a figure.
He wore a long coat stitched with threads of soulwire and chain-link plates. His face was covered by a blank, featureless white mask. Only one thing moved — a glowing scale, hovering above his left shoulder, tilting back and forth.
One side held a pulsing red orb.
The other side… was empty.
Kael's Soulvein shuddered.
Lira whispered, "That's him."
The Collector raised one hand.
And pointed.
At Kael.
⸻
The crowd stepped back.
Lira drew her blade.
Kael swallowed hard. "Why now?"
"He doesn't come for people. He comes for weight," she said. "You tipped the balance."
"I didn't ask for any of this."
The Collector tilted his head. A whisper crawled from beneath the mask.
"You exist. That's enough."
Kael stepped forward. "You want me?"
The Collector said nothing.
But the red orb on the scale pulsed brighter.
Kael gritted his teeth. "Then come take me."
⸻
The air cracked.
One moment the Collector stood still.
The next, he was inches from Kael, arm outstretched.
Kael blocked instinctively—Void Vein surging.
Soul Mode Phase One: Threadsense – ACTIVATED.
Everything slowed.
Kael saw threads of motion flicker around the Collector—lines of incoming strikes, soulweight, pressure changes.
He dodged left, flipped backward, and launched a pulse of Void toward the ground. A burst of shadow exploded beneath his feet, launching him backward to gain distance.
The Collector didn't flinch.
Instead, the scale shifted.
The empty side began to fill with black light.
"What the hell does that mean?" Kael shouted.
Lira joined him, carving a Soulglyph into the ground. "It means the more you fight… the more you owe."
⸻
The battle broke out in full.
Kael dashed forward, fists wreathed in Void pulse. Lira attacked from the right, her blade slicing clean glyph arcs into the air.
The Collector moved like liquid death. Every strike redirected. Every pulse of energy consumed. His coat fluttered like wings made of silence. His strikes didn't just hit—they cut Kael's momentum short. Like he was being punished for existing.
Kael hit the ground hard after a counter. Blood dripped from his mouth.
Lira shouted something—he couldn't hear it.
The Collector raised a hand.
The scale began to turn inward.
Kael's chest burned.
A vision overtook him—
Chains wrapped around his heart.
Whispers in the dark:
"Debt unpaid. Void unchecked. Balance… broken."
⸻
He screamed.
The Void erupted.
Phase One cracked.
A new line opened down his arm — like a fissure in glass. But the pain didn't crush him.
This time… he guided it.
Soul Mode: Phase Two – THREAD RAZE
Black glyphs pulsed down his forearm.
The air around him bent.
The threads became weapons.
⸻
Kael moved like shadow incarnate, darting between angles of pressure only he could read. Every motion sliced soul-threads from the Collector's limbs—not physical damage, but spiritual disruption.
The Collector stumbled.
Lira seized the moment.
She launched her strongest Flame Arc — a triple glyph strike designed to overload soul-defenses.
It hit.
Hard.
The Collector's coat burned. His mask cracked.
The scale faltered.
Kael stood panting, vision blurred.
The Collector dropped to one knee.
For the first time… he breathed.
A hollow, raspy gasp escaped the mask.
"You… are not ready," he said.
Then his body began to dissolve.
The scale crumbled into ash.
His voice echoed one last time:
"But you will be."
⸻
The plaza fell into silence.
Then murmurs.
Kael dropped to one knee.
Lira rushed to his side.
"Are you hurt?"
"No," he said.
But his arm wouldn't stop shaking.
"I touched the Spiral," he whispered.
Lira looked pale. "That wasn't just a Collector."
Kael looked up. "What was he?"
She whispered: "A Writhed."
⸻
They returned to the hostel under cover of dusk.
Kael didn't speak.
He stared at his hands.
Something had changed again.
Inside him.
Not power.
Not technique.
But weight.
He'd killed something that wasn't meant to die.
And now… something else would come looking.