The Demon Realm did not welcome intruders.
It tested them.
Arin followed Kaalith across the black-glass plains as the land reshaped itself with every step. Towers rose like jagged teeth from the ground, streets forming without pattern, architecture bending as if alive.
"This place changes," Arin said, keeping his chakra wrapped tightly around his body.
Kaalith nodded. "The realm reflects intent. Fear creates labyrinths. Resolve creates roads."
Arin didn't like that.
They entered the city.
It wasn't chaos—no, it was order taken to cruelty. Markets lined with cages instead of stalls. Demons traded blood vials, bones, sealed memories. Chains hung from buildings like decorations.
Arin's markings burned.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
A group of lesser demons noticed him. Whispers spread instantly.
"Link…"
"Human vessel…"
"Demon-blooded…"
One demon stepped forward, baring jagged teeth. "Does he bleed red?"
Arin's hand moved.
Chakra flared.
The demon froze mid-step, crushed by invisible pressure.
Kaalith raised a finger. "Easy. This is not a battlefield."
Arin released the pressure reluctantly. The demon fled.
"You enjoy provoking reactions," Arin said.
"I enjoy observing truth," Kaalith replied. "And yours is loud."
They reached a massive gate forged from fused bones and black metal. Symbols burned across its surface.
"The Court of Chains," Kaalith announced. "Where Links are judged."
Arin's pulse quickened.
Before the gates opened, Kaalith stopped him.
"One last courtesy," he said. "Inside, lies are punished. Denial is considered a lie."
Arin met his gaze. "I don't deny what I am."
Kaalith smiled. "Good answer."
The gates opened.
Inside was a circular hall so vast Arin couldn't see the ceiling. Chains descended endlessly, each connected to a floating platform. On them sat demons of varying forms—lords, executioners, archivists.
At the center—
A smaller platform.
Empty.
"That's for you," Kaalith said.
Arin stepped onto it.
The chains reacted instantly, tightening around the platform, glowing crimson.
A voice echoed from everywhere.
"ARIN. LINKED ONE."
The pressure was immense.
"STATE YOUR PURPOSE."
Arin clenched his fists. "I'm here to take back my sister."
Murmurs rippled through the court.
"BOLD."
"FOOLISH."
"EXPECTED."
Another voice spoke—colder, sharper.
"AND WHAT WILL YOU GIVE IN RETURN?"
Arin didn't answer immediately.
He felt it then.
Her presence.
Close.
Behind a veil.
Alive.
"I'll give whatever you want," he said finally. "Except my will."
Silence.
Then laughter—deep, layered, ancient.
"YOU OFFER A FRACTION," the voice boomed.
"FOR A CORE."
A chain dropped suddenly—wrapping around Arin's arm.
Pain exploded.
Visions flooded his mind—worlds burning, Links falling, demon kings rising through human vessels.
"THIS IS YOUR FUTURE," the voice said.
"UNLESS YOU ACCEPT OUR BARGAIN."
The chain tightened.
Kaalith watched closely.
"What bargain?" Arin growled.
The chains paused.
"DRINK THE BLOOD OF THE DEMON KING," the court intoned.
"BECOME OUR VESSEL."
"RECLAIM THE ANCHOR."
Arin's breathing grew ragged.
He remembered Rudra's words.
If you drink again, you stop being my student.
The chains pulled harder.
Then—
A soft voice cut through the pressure.
"Stop."
The chains froze.
From the shadows stepped a figure Arin hadn't expected.
A woman in dark armor, eyes glowing crimson—but her face…
Human.
She looked at Arin with familiarity.
And sadness.
"Don't listen to them," she said. "They lied to me too."
Arin stared.
"You're… a Link?"
She nodded.
"And if you choose wrong," she whispered,
"you'll become exactly what I am."
The court fell silent.
Even Kaalith looked surprised.
The woman met Arin's gaze.
"My name is Nyra," she said.
"And I'm what happens when the chain wins."
To be continue...