Arayn moved through Duskwatch’s waking streets. The first rays of the morning sun stretched lazily over rooftops, chasing away the night. Shadows still clung to the narrow alleys, reluctant to yield. The knights patrolled with tired eyes and drooping torches, their dogs straining at leashes, barking in restless bursts.

He stopped abruptly. A guard loomed ahead, standing idle near a weathered wooden post. Morning light softened his features, but the danger he posed was unyielding. Arayn’s hand tightened around [Cursed Fang]. The red fang felt alive, pulsing faintly, eager for destruction. He stepped forward, ready to satisfy its desire.

A single stroke. The guard fell. No sound escaped him, just the dull thud of his body meeting the ground. The fang glowed, satisfied.

[Five sacrifices required. Deadline: Five days.]

Arayn’s jaw clenched. He dismissed the window with a flick of his fingers and slipped into a narrow alley. The air here was cooler. Voices drifted toward him—commands barked, footsteps quickening, hounds snarling as they caught a faint scent. The hunt continued.

But Arayn was patient. He pressed his back against the rough stone wall, letting his thoughts settle. The city’s streets were a labyrinth, and he knew how to navigate them. He wasn’t their prey; they were his.

He waited, letting the sunlight inch closer, listening to the chaos swell in the distance. When the time was right, he would move. His smirk returned. The knights wouldn’t catch him today. They’d lose themselves in their own pursuit, and by the time they realized it, he’d already be gone.

Arayn’s gaze flicked upward, drawn by the sight of a crow perched above the alley. Its feathers were a matte black, nearly lost against the shadows, but its eyes—those eyes—shone with an eerie gleam. Within them, a faint pentagram flickered.

He extended a hand, whispering words taught to him by the Crimson Sun Cult. The incantation slipped from his tongue. The crow cocked its head, as if acknowledging the command.

It cawed once before taking flight. A streak of black against the dawning sky, the crow disappeared into the distance. Arayn’s lips curled into a smirk. Soon, others would come.

Turning away, he made his way back to the abandoned house. The moment his boots crossed the threshold, he felt it—the subtle shift in the air. There, on the floor, a swarm of rats had gathered, their formation twisted into a perfect pentagram. They remained still, their red eyes gleaming in unison, waiting for his next move.

These creatures were his father’s familiars. The old man scattered them across the Azrathar Continent. Spying tools. Messengers. Their means of disappearing, of appearing without warning. The Crimson Sun Cult relied on these familiars, and so too would he.

He stepped into the pentagram. The rats began to twitch, their eyes lighting up with a strange glow, as if responding to an unseen command.

In the next moment, the world around him seemed to shudder. His body dissolved, the sensation like being pulled apart and woven back together from the very fabric of shadow. It was a familiar, dizzying feeling. The teleportation had begun.

He embraced the darkness.

Arayn materialized in the Veil Chamber of the Infernal Bastion. The room lay in darkness, with only the faint glow of obsidian portals breaking the blackness. They pulsed slowly, casting long, shifting shadows that crawled across the walls. The cold marble floor, etched with ancient runes, seemed alive, twisting when he didn’t look directly at them.

High vaulted ceilings disappeared into the black void, swallowed by shadows. Columns rose like sentinels, stretching upward until they vanished into the gloom.

Alice stood in the far corner, arms crossed tightly, her stance radiating irritation. Her sharp gaze locked onto Arayn's.

"You’re late," she snapped. "The council’s patience is running thin."

Arayn walked past her without taking a single glance at her. "They’ll wait longer."

Alice said, "You plan to make them wait any longer?"

Arayn ignored her, his attention focused elsewhere. He shifted the conversation. "What about the things you promised?"

Alice huffed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. "Once you’ve done with them, go to the Hall of Whispers," she instructed.

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"If you keep complaining, I’ll make this take even longer."

Alice’s face twisted in frustration, and she pouted. "Hmph! Even though I’m your big sister, you never respect me," she grumbled. Despite her words, she clapped her hands, and robed figures emerged, pulling a dozen chained prisoners, their fearful eyes wide as they were ushered into the room.

Arayn, with an amused smirk, patted Alice’s head. "You’re wrong. I like that you’re always prepared."

Alice shoved his hand away from her head, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "So, what are you going to do with them?" she demanded.

Arayn didn’t flinch. He looked at her, his voice cool. "I’m going to take their lives. The cost of learning a new demonic ability." The prisoners trembled at his words. Arayn ignored them, his focus still on Alice. "What are their backgrounds?"

Alice raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Do you even care?"

He chuckled. "Not really." Arayn stepped in front of the prisoners, a cold smile curling on his lips. "But you should be grateful. Your lives will serve a purpose for me."

One of the prisoners, a broad-shouldered man, spoke with defiance. "You’re joking, right? I’m getting out of here. I’m going to live."

Arayn’s eyes scanned them, noting the desperate flicker of hope in their gazes. He smirked. "Oh? So you still think you have a chance at life? Fine. I’ll give you a shot. If all of you can defeat me, I’ll let you go."

A bald man, voice shaking, asked, "Is that true?"

Arayn snapped, his patience gone. "You fool. Don’t make me repeat myself."

Alice stepped forward, raising her voice in protest. "That’s reckless. Sure, they’re prisoners, and we’ve crippled their circuits, but they’ve been powerful before. They know how to fight."

Arayn gestured to the robed members. "Unlock their chains."

Alice’s frustration spiked. "Do you even hear me? They might be crippled, but their power’s still around your level. They could still give you a fight."

Arayn flicked her head lightly, silencing her. "Quiet." The chains clattered to the floor as the prisoners were freed, and they laughed at him. One of them, an older man with a glint of defiance, spoke. "You can’t take back your words, young man."

Arayn smiled. "Of course not. And I know you can only use your physical strength now. So, I’ll limit myself to just one ability. This is my promise, as the owner of the Crimson Cult Sun."

Alice shot back, quick as a whip, "You’re not the owner yet."

A prisoner lunged at Arayn, swinging with all his might. Without hesitation, Arayn shoved Alice aside. His hand met the prisoner’s strike, deflecting it with ease. The force of the blow pushed him back, but he held his ground. Arayn countered, trading blows with the prisoner, but he quickly realized something—each of his attacks was blocked.

As more prisoners surged toward him, he took a step back, assessing the situation. He needed to end this quickly. Without warning, Arayn leaped back. A dark pulse of energy shot from his palm, and [Cursed Fang] whistled through the air, striking the man he’d been fighting head-on. The prisoner crumpled to the floor in a heap, lifeless.

The remaining prisoners hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. Arayn didn’t give them the luxury of a second's breath. He conjured three more [Cursed Fangs]. He hurled them at the prisoners charging him. The moment the fangs struck, they exploded in bursts of dark energy, reducing seven of the attackers to nothing but scattered ash and charred remnants.

Only four remained.

Arayn summoned two fangs, one in each hand, wielding them like twin blades. The remaining prisoners faltered, but the sight of the fangs only drove them further into the fray. They thought they could match him. At first, they did. But Arayn's weapons made all the difference. One by one, he took them down.

Two prisoners left.

Arayn threw one of the fangs, and it struck the second to last prisoner square in the chest. The man stumbled back, falling to the ground without a sound. Only one remained. A muscular behemoth, his size double Arayn’s own. The tall man raised his hand to block Arayn's final fang.

The fang hit his hand, but the man was strong—far stronger than Arayn had anticipated. He tried to shove the fang aside, but the moment he did, the fang exploded. The force of the blast tore through his arm, sending blood spraying in the air. The man let out a roar of pain, but he still stood, gritting his teeth against the agony.

He was alive, but just barely.

Arayn’s gaze remained fixed on the last prisoner. “You’ve shown great endurance,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Grakk,” the man rasped, his grin wide despite the state he was in.

Arayn’s eyes narrowed. "The cult has tortured you countless times. So why do you still have the will to live?"

Grakk’s grin stretched further, showing teeth stained with his own blood. “I love to kill,” he said, “The heat of their blood... when it runs through my hands.”

Alice interjected. “He’s killed many acolytes. That's why the cult has him locked away.”

Arayn’s gaze never left Grakk. “Do you think you can defeat me?”

Grakk met his eyes, unflinching. “No.”

A brief silence, then Grakk added, "But I’ll try. I’ll do my best to bleed you... to feel the warmth of your blood."

Arayn’s lips curled into a smirk. “Then come.”

Grakk lunged, a beast unleashed, but Arayn was prepared. Calm. His fingers flicked through the air, summoning the [Cursed Fang]. Dark energy twisted around it, thrumming with power. As Grakk’s charge brought him within reach, Arayn didn’t hesitate. With one swift motion, the fang pierced Grakk’s skull.

The prisoner’s eyes widened, but there was no pain. No victory. Only the cold, dark silence of death. His body crumpled, lifeless, before he could ever taste the blood he so craved.

[You have reached the limit of the requirement: 12/6 sacrifices.

You may choose one of the following effects for the ability "Cursed Fang":

Venomous Lash: Infuses "Cursed Fang" with a potent poison, causing the target to suffer continuous damage over time.

Cursed Wound: Inflicts a lingering curse on the target, weakening their abilities and reducing their resistance to future attacks.

Mana Reduction: Reduces the mana cost of "Cursed Fang" by 50%.

Searing Curse: Adds a burning effect to "Cursed Fang," causing additional fire damage to the target after the strike.]