The room was quiet now, save for the sound of birds beginning to stir beyond the windows.

  Sunlight slipped through the edges of the curtains, casting golden slivers across the wooden floor.

  The air smelled of dried herbs and salt, faint traces of magic still humming from the ritual hours before.

  Kai stood, joints cracking as he moved to the small basin in the kitchen. He washed his hands in silence. The water ran red, then pink, swirling before vanishing down the drain. The scent of blood lingered. Dario’s blood.

  The healing had worked. For now.

  He reached for a clean towel, drying his hands with the kind of mechanical calm he’d mastered long ago. His mind drifted—back to Dario sleeping in the spare room, to the scars that hadn’t healed, the unspoken apologies that hung like ghosts between them.

  And then—

  His phone buzzed on the counter.

  The screen lit up.

  A message. From Bai.

  [Bai]: Kai. The Frangipani are here. They’re looking for me. They’re in the tourist market. Help!

  Kai stared at the words, heart suddenly slamming against his ribs. He read it again.

  And again.

  There was no hesitation. No calculation. His body moved before his mind caught up.

  He spun, and threw on his boots without tying them properly, his fingers already weaving a veil of concealment across his shoulders.

  By the time he stepped onto the porch, he was already gone—silent, shrouded, a shadow among trees.

  The quiet of morning shattered behind him.

  Kai was running.

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  The tourist market buzzed with late-morning life—too loud, too bright, too exposed.

  Colorful awnings rippled in the breeze, casting dancing shadows across stalls overflowing with satay skewers, handmade trinkets, paper talismans, and glittering jewelry. Glamours shimmered subtly in the air—just enough to lull tourists into a pleasant haze, masking the undercurrent of danger.

  But Kai felt it. Underneath it all—the wrongness.

  The shimmer of blood magic crawled across his skin like a swarm of insects, faint and vile. To everyone else, the market smelled like jasmine and roasted peanuts. To him, it smelled like danger.

  He moved like a ghost through the crowd, cloak brushing against ankles, his presence hidden by years of training and a veil charm woven into the seams of his hood. Familiar vendors glanced his way—those who knew better—and turned aside. No words. Just instinct. The hunter was loose, and something was about to bleed.

  Then he saw them.

  Three enforcers. Scarlet Frangipani.

  The tattoos were subtle but unmistakable—inked blossoms curling at the neck, vines trailing across wrists, barely visible beneath rolled sleeves and tourist-wear. But Kai didn’t need the ink to know them.

  He could feel them.

  Two loitered by a charm stall, playing casual. One, a sharp-eyed woman with a jaw like a knife, watched the crowd with predatory precision. The other, tall and lanky, wore a dark coat and fingered invisible runes in the air—his spellwork humming with blood-forged symbols.

  Their aura was thick with corruption—old blood magic, twisted and fermented.

  Then the third appeared.

  He stepped boldly into the open, dragging Bai by the wrist.

  Kai’s breath caught.

  Bai’s face was waxy with fear, sweat clinging to his temples. The blood sigil burned hot and angry on his forearm, like a spider made of fire crawling beneath his skin. It pulsed with urgency, veins around it flaring dark red as it fed on his panic.

  Tourists screamed.

  Chaos followed instantly.

  People surged away from the scene—mothers grabbing children, vendors diving to protect merchandise. Glamours faltered. A row of lanterns snapped from their lines and crashed to the ground, scattering sparks and shouts into the air.

  And Kai was already moving.

  He slipped through the gaps in the fleeing crowd with supernatural ease. His palm curled inward, blood heating, breath steady. A word—sharp and old—fell from his lips.

  His soulsword ignited in his hand.

  Crimson light flared down its length, the weapon coalescing from nothing, a blade of spirit-forged wrath. His bonded spirit surged forward inside him—Soldrinker, awake and hungry, eager to cut, to feed, to burn.

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  And just like that, the curse clawed back in.

  Fangs ached behind his lips. His heartbeat quickened, too sharp, too alive. The sword pulsed with hunger, whispering promises of ecstasy in violence.

  Kai held the line.

  He clenched the blade tighter.

  “Stop right there!” the sharp-eyed woman barked, eyes locking on him. Her posture was steady, but there was tension at her shoulders now.

  “We only want him. He belongs to us.”

  Kai didn’t stop walking until he stood ten paces from them. The blade in his hand glowed with restrained fury.

  “You’re disturbing the peace of Lazarus Island,” Kai said. His voice was low. Measured. Unmistakably dangerous. “There are rules here. This is your one chance to walk away.”

  The woman smiled thinly. “This is a legal collection. He owes us.”

  “Debt collection ends at contracts,” Kai said coldly. “Draining life essence? That's blood extortion. That’s prohibited. You want to test that line, go ahead. Just know I won’t miss.”

  The tall spellcaster snorted. “And you are?”

  Kai’s gaze sharpened.

  “I’m Kai.”

  The enforcer laughed. “Never heard of you.”

  “You will.”

  The woman moved first.

  A lash of dark magic snapped toward him—necrotic, sharp, and fast.

  Kai didn’t blink.

  His blade came up in a clean, elegant arc—cutting the spell in half.

  The energy scattered like ash on the wind.

  Fen Jie roared in his mind, electric and furious.

  His next breath came hot and ragged. The hunger spiked. He could feel the Blood Asura trying to take his body, drive him to slaughter. On the otehr side, the vampiric curse danced at the edge of his vision.

  Not now.

  He breathed through it—focused—and raised his free hand, fingers curling through the air as he spat another word of power.

  “Sleep.”

  The tall enforcer’s eyes rolled back. His knees buckled. He collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, thudding into the dust.

  Silence.

  The woman flinched.

  Kai stepped closer, blade angled down—but ready to rise.

  “Your move.”

  She hesitated. One foot shifted back. Her hands trembled slightly—magic still flickering at her fingertips, but without conviction.

  Instead, he rushed to Bai—who had collapsed against a food cart, breathing hard, blood sigil still pulsing.

  “Don’t move,” Kai said, crouching. His hand hovered just above the sigil.

  Bai nodded, lips trembling.

  Kai whispered another word—one he hated, one that tasted like ash—and pushed healing warmth into the mark. The sigil shrank, flickered—

  Then burned out, curling into blackened skin.

  Bai sobbed in relief.

  In a shard of broken mirror, Kai caught a flicker of his reflection—eyes shadowed, fangs beginning to show.

  And then it vanished.

  The curse was stirring again.

  Around him, the market had descended into chaos—stalls overturned, glamours faltering, tourists running in panic. The scent of burnt incense and blood magic lingered in the air like a warning.

  Then a voice cut through—deep, commanding, unmistakable.

  “Everybody stand down.”

  Kai turned, blade still glowing fiercely in his hand.

  A figure stepped confidently onto the street—tall, precise, his uniform immaculate despite the humidity. A silver lion medallion glowed faintly at his chest, unmistakably Ninth Precinct. Beside him, Dario stood silent, his expression unreadable, eyes immediately searching Kai’s face.

  Kai and Alex’s gazes locked.

  For a heartbeat, the chaos around them faded. Kai felt an electric jolt, a strange familiarity that made his pulse quicken. Alex’s carefully controlled expression flickered briefly with surprise and recognition before settling back into cool professionalism.

  “Ninth Precinct jurisdiction,” Alex announced firmly. “Inspector Alex Lim.”

  Beside him, Dario raised his hand, swiftly weaving silvery-blue ribbons of containment magic. The energy encircled the three Frangipani enforcers, snapping firmly into place and sealing them within a glowing circle.

  “You three—stay exactly where you are,” Alex ordered sharply. The Frangipani woman hissed but didn’t dare challenge the Ninth Precinct’s authority.

  Alex stepped toward Kai, his gaze wary, his voice edged with suspicion. “You’re interfering in an official investigation.”

  Kai’s smirk was faint yet unmistakable. “The Ninth Precinct has no jurisdiction on Lazarus Island.”

  Before Alex could respond, Dario stepped forward smoothly, placing himself deliberately between them. His voice was calm yet carried an undercurrent of urgency.

  “Kai, Alex is an ally. Right now, we need your help.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow, clearly processing this unexpected intervention. He finally spoke, his tone slightly softer. “So, you’re Kai. I’ve heard a lot about your expertise in necromancy.”

  Kai’s expression shifted subtly, becoming cautious. “Then you already know I’m a resident here. Neutral ground.”

  Alex’s voice was steady, probing. “If Lazarus Island is neutral, why is the Scarlet Frangipani openly collecting blood debts here? Aren’t you responsible for your own security?”

  Kai motioned toward Bai, who remained slumped against a pole, trembling, the blood sigil still glowing faintly on his wrist. “They’re after Bai. He took a bloodbound loan. I broke the sigil weeks ago. This is their retaliation.”

  Kai crossed to Bai quickly, murmuring a soft incantation. The sigil flared briefly, then dissolved into harmless motes of light. Bai exhaled shakily, collapsing in relief.

  Alex watched carefully, assessing the situation. “Blood magic is illegal. Debt collection isn’t. Why step in?”

  Kai looked up, voice firm. “Because Bai asked for help. Innocent people were caught in the crossfire.”

  Alex’s gaze sharpened, tone dropping lower. “Residents here usually avoid trouble. Why get involved now?”

  Kai hesitated, his voice quieter yet resolute. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding.”

  Silence hung thickly between them. Dario glanced between Kai and Alex, his own tension palpable.

  Finally, Alex spoke again, his voice hardening. “I’ll need your full cooperation.”

  Kai’s eyebrow arched slightly, defiant yet intrigued. “Is that a request?”

  Alex leaned slightly forward, his voice a carefully modulated threat softened by professional courtesy. “It’s a polite warning.”

  Kai chuckled softly, surrendering the tension with a small, controlled gesture. He sheathed Blood Asura, its red glow vanishing into nothingness. “Fine. I’ll cooperate.”

  Alex straightened, professionalism restored. “Good. We have work to do.” He turned back toward the captured Frangipani enforcers, his wand raised threateningly. “You three, back to the Precinct. Resist, and I won’t be gentle.”

  The Frangipani woman shot Kai a venomous glare. “You’ve made a powerful enemy.”

  Kai’s voice was calm yet fierce. “Then we finally agree on something.”

  “Kai,” Alex called, his tone calm but resolute, “you’re coming with us.”

  Kai nodded, stepping forward willingly. As he passed Dario, their shoulders brushed lightly. An electric jolt surged through Kai, sharp and undeniable, sending warmth racing up his spine. Dario froze momentarily, eyes widening slightly in surprise, recognition, and something deeper—something guarded yet profoundly real.

  Their gazes locked for a heartbeat. The tension between them was charged, heavy with unspoken words, unresolved pasts, and uncertain futures. Dario’s carefully maintained composure flickered, revealing vulnerability he rarely allowed.

  Kai held his gaze steadily, silently acknowledging the dangerous familiarity between them. Neither trust nor friendship defined the moment—but something compelling and potentially explosive lingered beneath.

  Behind them, Alex’s expression hardened once more, professional mask back in place. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, touched by subtle caution. “After you.”

  Kai nodded again, stepping confidently into the swirling light of the waiting portal. Magic wrapped coolly around him, pulling him toward the Ninth Precinct.

  Alex and Dario followed closely—far closer than necessary. Their proximity spoke volumes: about alliances, complications, and the shared uncertainty of what lay ahead.