Far above the poisoned skies of Gaeth-9, nestled within the obsidian throne-spires of the Kargal Empire’s Sector Command, the stars themselves seemed to tremble.

The detection arrays buzzed with a quiet, unnatural frequency. Red lights blinked across a dozen tactical holograms. Inside the glass womb of the monitoring chamber, silence fell like a blade.

Then the pulse came again.

Divine-class signature.
Unfiltered. Raw. No encryption. No synthetic masking.

The AI cores screamed warnings in ten languages, and still, none of the operators moved.

High Marshal Verik Drae stepped into the chamber, his long coat of reinforced mesh dragging behind him like a war banner. He was not a man known for superstition. He believed in chain of command, orbital supremacy, and the careful eradication of rebellion.

But this…

“Report.” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

A Binder in ceremonial black—a living conduit of restricted code, mind tethered to ancient psychic protocols—bowed low. His face was marked with circular sigils, his voice distorted by the binding implants at his throat.

“The signal came from Gaeth-9, Lord Marshal. Unshielded. Full spectrum. We confirmed—twice.”

“Nature?”

The Binder hesitated. A flicker of internal conflict ran across the tendrils coiling from his skull-port.

“It’s… not of this cycle.”

Verik’s eyes narrowed.

“Speak plainly.”

The Binder exhaled, the faint scent of ozone clinging to his breath.

“Blood-aligned. Pre-Imperial resonance. Echoes of divine memory across multiple strata. We’ve matched fragments to the Yel’Korr archives—the ones sealed after the War of Binding.”

That drew stillness even from the automata.

Verik turned his head, slowly. “You’re saying a relic of the Old Pantheon just woke up… on a slave-world?”

The Binder nodded once. “The temple was buried. Forgotten. It must have been dormant since before the Empire's rise. We believe someone—or something—has begun an Apostle Binding.”

Verik clenched his gauntleted hand. Not out of fear. Out of anticipation.

“Seal the planet,” he said coldly. “No transports. No signals. Any unauthorized extraction vessels are to be eliminated. I want a hunter legion ready within the hour.”

“Yes, Marshal.”

He turned to leave, then paused. “And send a message to the Watchers of the Void Gate. Let them know the silence is broken.”

The Binder stiffened. “They’ll want proof.”

Verik’s eyes gleamed with cybernetic light. “Then give them the pulse scan. Every second of it. No edits. If this is truly a god awakening beneath our feet, the Empire doesn’t just need containment.”

He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle into the cold steel around them.

“It needs to know if the old nightmares… are beginning again.”

Back on Gaeth-9, the forest had begun to rot.

Kiro moved through it with purpose now. No longer afraid. No longer just surviving. The Blood God System flowed through him like molten glass—his senses sharpened, his reflexes faster, his will like forged iron.

But more than that, the world was changing.

Wherever he stepped, the air grew heavier. Shadows lengthened. The flora twisted, reacting to the old power returning to the soil. The other survivors—those still being hunted—had felt it too. He could see it in their eyes, in the way they flinched from him now.

One had called him a demon. Another had tried to beg.

Kiro had let him live.

He didn’t kill for pleasure. Not like the nobles. Not like the games.

But when he did, the System welcomed it. Fed on it. Grew stronger.

Now, in the ruins of an overgrown shrine, half-sunken into mud and time, he found it.

It wasn’t a blade in the traditional sense. More like a bone-forged fang, pulsing with a dull, reddish glow. Tendrils of bloodroot curled around its hilt, and its edge dripped a viscous black ichor that hissed where it touched the ground.

The System whispered:

You have received a Blood Relic: [Blood Venom]

Weapon Class: Symbiotic Blade
Effect: Corrosive wounds; parasitic energy siphon
Bonded status: Active
Warning: Prolonged use may alter host biology

When he wrapped his fingers around it, the weapon responded like it had been waiting.

His veins flared with red light, and the blade pulsed once, sinking into his palm, feeding. Not pain—just… connection. It felt right. Like breathing for the first time.

Kiro turned the blade in his hand, testing the balance. Blood Venom shimmered in the dark, whispering through his thoughts.

A hum came at the edge of his awareness.

They come.

He rose slowly. The Blood God no longer needed to speak in full sentences. Kiro understood.

Above, the sky cracked with the distant roar of a dropship breaching low orbit.

The hunters were coming.

But this time… they weren’t chasing prey.

They were walking into a god’s domain.

And they didn’t even know it.