The journey back from the Hall of Chains felt longer than the way in.
Not in distance.
But in weight.
Each step Yor took echoed with something deeper—like his body no longer moved alone. Something inside him shifted… coiled… waited.
The mark on his chest pulsed gently, invisible beneath his clothes but impossible to ignore. Not pain. Not warmth.
Awareness.
As if the world could now see him in a way it hadn't before.
---
When Yor emerged from the stone path, the altar behind him sealed shut without a sound—its symbols dull and lifeless, as if exhausted.
The storm outside had passed. The sky above Sector 13 was still dim and rust-colored, but the air felt sharper—like the world was holding its breath.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
He had to return. She was still waiting.
---
By nightfall, Yor slipped into the outskirts of the Sector. Patrol drones scanned the alleyways, but their lights flickered oddly when they neared him. One even buzzed, blinked red, and shut down mid-air.
Yor stared at it, heart pounding.
It wasn't coincidence.
Something in him disrupted technology.
Or maybe… reality.
---
His home came into view—small, rusting walls, the roof patched with scavenged metal plates. Inside, his mother lay sleeping on the floor next to his sister, keeping a damp cloth on her forehead.
The girl's breathing was shallow.
Her skin pale.
But she was alive.
Yor knelt beside her, brushing her hair from her face.
> "Just a little longer," he whispered. "I'll fix this… I swear."
---
Suddenly, the mark on his chest glowed faintly.
Yor froze.
A warmth poured from him—not hot, not burning—but deep. It flowed from his chest to his fingers, and into the air around his sister.
Her body tensed.
Then relaxed.
Color returned to her cheeks.
The machines monitoring her vitals blinked green.
Yor's breath caught.
He hadn't meant to heal her.
He hadn't even tried.
But his blood had responded to his will.
---
The next morning, the house was filled with a quiet warmth. His mother didn't know what had changed—but she wept when she saw her daughter sit up and ask for water.
Yor only smiled.
He didn't tell them what had happened underground.
Not yet.
How could he?
How do you tell someone their son is a key to a chained god-king buried beneath the world?
---
The peace didn't last long.
That same evening, the sector alarms wailed—shrill, urgent.
Outside, the skies cracked.
A monster—unlike any seen before—descended from above the clouds. Massive. Winged. Its body glowed with fractured energy, as if reality itself bent around it.
But it wasn't attacking randomly.
It was searching.
For something.
For someone.
---
Yor's mark burned.
And the monster's head snapped toward his direction—across the entire city.
> "It senses me," Yor whispered.
The sentinel's words echoed in his memory:
> "When the final chain breaks—only you can decide what rises from the ashes."
But this wasn't the final chain.
This was the world responding to his awakening.
This was the beginning of the hunt.
---
Military mechs rose from the city walls, plasma cannons aimed skyward. Hunters from elite sectors arrived by airship, shouting commands.
But Yor could see it.
They weren't prepared.
This monster wasn't just strong.
It was sentient.
Its eyes… held purpose.
Its claws… held memory.
> "It's one of them," Yor muttered.
> "One of the First King's guardians…"
---
Yor knew he couldn't hide.
Not anymore.
The monster would tear Sector 13 apart looking for him.
He stood up, fists clenched, mark glowing beneath his shirt.
And for the first time—
He stepped forward not as a helpless outcast…
But as the echo of a king.
---
High above, the monster let out a thunderous roar.
The clouds split open.
And Yor launched himself into the storm.
---