Chapter 5: The Guild That Hunts the Dead
The sky over Tokyo was a dull slate of ash and neon, the sun a distant myth hidden behind layers of smog and mana-irradiated clouds. Kairo stood on the rooftop of a ten-story apartment block in Sector 17, wind slicing past his face as he stared out across the jagged skyline.
Below, the city pulsed—endless traffic, glowing signage, the hum of mana-reactors, and somewhere in the distance, the low groan of a breached rift.
But Kairo's focus wasn't on the rifts today.
It was on them.
[Observer Trace: Confirmed]Guild Signature: Eclipse | Subdivision: Specter DivisionProfile: Class S Operatives – Specializing in Rogue Hunter Elimination, Echo Trackers, and Forbidden Tech RetrievalProximity Alert: 2km and closing
"They're not just watching anymore," Kairo muttered.
They were coming.
Hours earlier, he had returned to his safehouse only to find the entire floor scrubbed clean. No scent, no trace mana, no signs of forced entry—just emptiness.
And a note.
Scrawled in neat, machine-like handwriting:
"You echo louder than you realize. Meet us in the Hollow."—Eclipse
He knew the Hollow. Everyone in the undercity did. It was a myth, a ghost zone beneath Tokyo's crumbled subway levels. Said to be the place where Hunters went when they crossed lines that couldn't be uncrossed.
The problem?
You didn't go to the Hollow.
You got taken.
So the invitation was... not a choice.
The descent began with a single elevator hidden inside an abandoned ramen shop. A mana-encoded coin—left in the dueling pit locker by an anonymous source—slotted into the coin return.
A hiss of steam. A click.
The elevator dropped.
No buttons. No music. Just silence and the mechanical rumble of descending hundreds of meters below the city.
When the doors opened, darkness greeted him.
A long corridor stretched out, lit by flickering blue torches infused with soulfire. The walls were not built—they were grown. Fleshy vines of something unnatural pulsed faintly, like veins filled with dim light.
He stepped forward.
They were waiting.
Four figures.
Each cloaked in different shades of black—like living shadows stitched into armor. Masks covered their faces, all marked with the Eclipse sigil: a crescent moon devouring the sun.
One stepped forward, taller than the rest.
A woman.
"Name," she said. Her voice was synthetic, like it echoed through a machine filter.
"Kairo Tanaka."
"Echo Protocol," she said, tone unreadable. "Type: Adaptive. Signature: Non-regulated. Origin: Unknown."
"You've done your homework."
"Not enough. That's why you're here."
Kairo crossed his arms. "And what do you want? A warning? A job? Or just an execution?"
Another of the cloaked ones laughed softly. "Cocky."
The woman ignored him.
"We offer recruitment."
Kairo blinked. "Recruitment?"
"You're a loose thread in a world that hates questions. Most Hunters fear Echo wielders. We do not. We use them."
Kairo felt a chill crawl down his spine. This wasn't just a job offer. It was a deal with something much bigger. Much older. A guild built around secrets and control.
He stepped forward. "And if I refuse?"
"You don't."
Behind her, another mask lit up.
[Specter 03 – Authorization: Trial Combat]
Without warning, a ripple of mana burst from the figure. The room twisted—walls turned into shadow, the floor became an ocean of moving glass.
They were in a realm-shift.
"Prove your worth," the voice said. "Survive."
Kairo's instincts flared. He called his system.
[Echo Protocol: Active][Level: 3] | Link Slots: 2/5Skills: Shadowstep (2x), Void Claws, Mana Assimilation, Combat Instincts]New Trait: Foresight Glimpse (Passive – Chance to Predict Movement)
Kairo leapt just in time as a blade of compressed shadow ripped through where his chest had been. The masked figure moved like smoke—flickering in and out of view, slashing with a curved weapon that hummed like it was alive.
He rolled, summoned Void Claws, and struck.
Parried.
Their blades met in a spray of mana sparks. Kairo ducked low and activated Shadowstep, appearing behind the Specter—only to find them already waiting for him.
A punch to the gut sent him flying.
He skidded back, coughing blood. The realm around him shimmered, distorting like a dream trying to remember itself.
Then the whispers began.
"You're not ready.""Too slow.""Too human."
The Specter blurred toward him again.
This time, Kairo didn't move.
He waited.
As the blade came down, Kairo snapped his hand forward, channeling every drop of mana into Mana Assimilation—but not to absorb.
To redirect.
The moment the blade connected, he twisted, reversing the mana stream, sending it lancing back up the weapon like lightning.
The Specter staggered.
Kairo struck.
Void Claws carved a clean slash across the Specter's mask. Cracks splintered across it. Light poured from within.
The realm shattered.
They were back in the Hollow.
The Specter knelt, breathing hard. Kairo stood over him.
The leader nodded.
"Accepted."
They didn't say anything else. No ceremony. No contract.
Just a tattoo of shimmering ink burned into Kairo's arm—marking him as a Shadow Initiate.
An unofficial member of the Eclipse Guild's Specter Division.
No ID. No records. No backup.
Just eyes in the dark, watching every move.
As he left the Hollow, ascending through the elevator shaft back into the chaos of Tokyo's streets, Kairo understood something deeper:
He wasn't the only one who had changed.
The world was changing with him.
And it was waking up fast.