The Gate devoured me.
Not in the physical sense—but in the kind that strips you bare, peels off your skin, your armor, your lies. Inside, I was nothing. No System pings. No minimap. No flashy quest text. Just the endless dark and a soft hum, like the universe itself was holding its breath.
I stood at the heart of the dungeon.
Stone pillars twisted toward a ceiling I couldn't see. Hanging roots glowed faint blue like veins beneath translucent skin. Pools of shadow quivered on the ground, as if afraid of me. Or what stood behind me.
I didn't turn around. I'd learned that much.
Whatever this place was, it wasn't registered in any Guild database. The mission details were vague—"clear low-tier anomaly; threat level green"—but that was before the Gate morphed. Before the world cracked like glass.
I was alone. Again.
But I'd asked for this.
Earlier that morning, Arlen had stood in the apartment doorway, arms crossed, chewing on the end of a mismatched glove.
"You're going into that freak Gate alone?"
I shoved a sandwich into my pocket and slung my ragged duffle over my shoulder. "Solo clear equals triple payout. And I'm behind on rent."
"You're always behind on rent."
I glanced at him. Arlen's sharp tongue was as predictable as sunrise, but under the sarcasm was worry.
He grabbed my arm. Not hard, just enough to halt my momentum.
"Cris… Don't be a dumbass. These things—they're changing. Last week's Gate melted a steel bunker. Melted it."
I pulled away, softer than I expected of myself. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't hear them?"
He went quiet.
Sometimes, silence is louder than anger. Louder than grief. Louder than the sound of a family that used to be whole.
"You're the only idiot I know who'd solo a mission the day after coughing up blood."
"It's not about bravery, Arlen. It's about surviving."
He flinched like that hit deeper than it should've. He always hated that I didn't believe in 'living.' Not really. Not anymore.
I reached for the door, then paused. "If I don't come back—"
"You will."
"you'll watch out for Mom and Ellie?"
His laugh was dry and humorless. "Like I don't already."
Back in the Gate, my breath fogged the air despite the heat.
I gripped my dagger tighter. The cheap handle was wrapped in worn leather, torn in places where my hand naturally rested. It wasn't much. But it had cut through things that should've been uncuttable.
A whisper slithered across the stone.
Not alone… Not alone…
I turned. Finally. Because I couldn't not.
And saw them.
Shadows. Plural.
But they weren't attacking. They watched. Flickered. Glitched in and out of focus like bad memories.
They looked like the monsters I'd killed.
No
They were the monsters I'd killed.
One of them… its jaw shattered, limbs distorted, still dragging a bent iron blade through the gravel—was the boss from my first Gate. The one that nearly gutted me when I was still a Level 1 coward with a fake license and a death wish.
Another wore the charred armor of a flamebound knight. Its visor cracked, leaking smoke.
"What… the hell is this?"
My System chimed for the first time in hours.
[Echo Core Absorption Complete]
[Shadow Entity Available for Binding]
[Would you like to consume this Echo? Y/N]
"What the—what Echo?!" I shouted.
[Echo: Mournblade Commander – Corrupted Rank]
[Warning: Binding may trigger untested conditions]
I stood frozen.
Then something inside me shifted.
It wasn't pain. Not quite. More like… gravity. A pressure pulling inward, into my core.
I clicked 'Yes.'
The creature convulsed—then burst like black mist. Threads of shadow shot toward my chest and embedded themselves in my heart like needles. I collapsed.
When I woke, time had passed.
My body wasn't broken anymore.
The gash across my ribs? Gone.
The fractured arm? Whole again.
But something else was new.
Standing beside me—silent, still, kneeling—was the Mournblade Commander. Not as it was in life, but as a silent, whispering black outline. Its eyes flickered with pale blue light.
And it obeyed me.
No words were spoken. No commands given.
But I knew.
This… this was mine.
Back in the real world, Arlen paced the sidewalk outside the Hunter Registry. His breath clouded the evening air as he checked his holo again.
"No updates. No logout. Damn it, Cris."
He kicked the building wall and slumped down beside it. The city moved on around him. Neon signs flickered. Guild trucks zoomed past. But he stayed.
An hour passed. Two.
A small brown paper bag lay untouched in his hand—Crispin's favorite meat buns.
"Stupid," he muttered. "Should've gone with him. Should've said something else. Anything."
And then his holo blinked.
[Gate Clearance Complete]
[Status: Survivor: 1 – Awaiting Extraction]
Arlen bolted upright.
He ran.
I emerged from the Gate just as the cleanup squad arrived.
They stared.
I must've looked like a demon. My shirt burned, eyes glowing faint, and a trail of black mist curling from behind me like a cape made of soot.
"Crispin?" Arlen's voice cracked.
I turned.
He stood a few feet away, wild-eyed, fists clenched.
"You… you're alive."
I tried to speak. Couldn't.
So I just nodded.
And he walked up, shoved me, then pulled me into a hug so tight it almost hurt more than the dungeon.
"Don't do that again, man."
"…I'll try."
He stepped back, eyes scanning me. "You look like you fought hell."
"I think I did."
"What did you find in there?"
I looked over his shoulder—at the flicker of shadow standing silently by the Gate's edge.
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure.
But something had changed.
And it wasn't done yet.