Hollow Sun

Kael woke to cold metal biting his skin. The sensation was immediate, a sharp contrast against the lingering weight of exhaustion pulling at his body. His wrists were bound by reinforced cuffs. The coldness of the steel intensified the pain while it pressed tight enough to remind him that escape was out of the question. For now, a chain linked them to his ankles, forcing his posture rigid and straight. To make thing worse, his legs were drawn close in a position that made movement awkward and inefficient.

The room smelled of sterility and stale air, as if it had never known anything but silence and guilt. Slowly, his mind adjusted, threading back through fractured memories. The battle at Hollowshard Pass. The Hunter. The mission turned slaughter. Then, the system—the impossible, twisted system whispering quests and rewards into his mind like a cruel puppeteer.

Then, finally, the dream.

The floating island. The burning sun that wasn't Hollow. The shifting throne waiting to be claimed. The entity cloaked in shadows beyond darkness. The words it spoke, cryptic yet ringing with certainty:

"You have been chosen."

Kael exhaled, then took notes while steadying himself. His body oddly felt whole and unscathed, but his mind was fraying at the edges, like reality had splintered in ways that defied logic, and the weight of that realization seemed to pressed into his chest.

This wasn't just about survival. This was about why he had survived.

And as that thought came, a hiss of hydraulics sounded near the far wall to Kael's left. His head snapped up just as the door slid open. Two figures entered.

Serika Kurogane.

The Official.

"Good. You're woke."

Serika moved like a drawn blade. Her posture was straight, yet threatening in every step. Her uniform bore S-Class ranked insignia, and Kael could see it in her presence—the weight of authority, as well as the precision of someone who had mastered lethal patience. The moment she reached the end of the table where Kael sat, her gaze gaze fell onto him, for a moment that felt like an eternity, but she said nothing.

The man beside her was no different.

Kael had met many officers. Some held power through fear. Others through competence. But this man—this official—held power because he was power. He didn't need insignias or rank. He didn't need permission. He was the kind of man who shaped the world while others carried out his will. Kael had been in the presence of killers before. But this man didn't kill.

He decided who lived.

The official lowered himself into the chair across from Kael, casual and composed, in the way a man sits when he already knows the ending of the story.

As Kael remained silent, the official's gaze swept over him, slow and precise.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Tell me, Kael Solis… why are you still alive?"

Kael didn't answer. Because he didn't know. Because the truth was unraveling too fast, and he was still grasping at the threads. But mostly because the intended question felt more like a trap. In response to his silence, the official sighed, clearly, disappointed, but not surprised.

He reached into a small folder and slid a document across the table. Although, he thought to fight against it, Kael glanced down. What he saw was more than what he expected—his own face staring directly back at him.

At closer inspection, he could see that it was military incident report, stamped and finalized. There were bold, black letters at the top that read:

CRIMINAL PROFILE: KAEL SOLIS – TREASON & TERRORISM

"..."

Slowly, Kael lifted his gaze. The official watched him, almost as if he was waiting for something he expected. Kael but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes.

Satisfaction.

"You were already an outcast, weren't you?" The official's voice was smooth, effortless, like a man stating the obvious.

"The freak of Ash Canyon. The only survivor. It's perfect."

Kael's fingers twitched against the cuffs, but he remained silent as he let the man continue.

"No one will question it."

A slow smirk touched the official's lips. He leaned forward slightly, whispering to Kael as if he was sharing a secret with him.

"You see, Kael, it's not about whether you're guilty. It's about whether people are willing to believe you're not."

The smile that crept across his face was sickening. Then there was long moment of silence that stretched between them.

In that moment, Kael's heartbeat slowed. Because he knew what came next. They were going to bury him. However, not with a trial, nor with evidence, but with certainty.

It was a narrative so perfect, and so inevitable, that the truth wouldn't matter. And for the first time since waking, Kael felt something colder than the steel shackles that binded him settle into his bones.

Suddenly, the system chimed, it's familiar sound breaking through his intrusive thoughts.

"Ding!"

[New Quest: Break Free.]

Kael clenched his jaw.

"This again? Well, at least I don't have to kill anyone this time, right?... right?

The official tilted his head slightly, watching him. Studying Kael's strange behavior, finding his odd spaced-out expression suspicious. But he quickly dismisses thought, reaching into the folder again and producing another document.

Kael didn't recognize this one as the official slid it forward.

"These are your parents, no?"

Kael's pulse skipped. And there was a moment of stillness before the following words that came from the official's mouth shattered everything.

"Oh? Is that not the look of denial? You thought they died in the Hollow War, yes? Like animals on a battlefield? Hah!"

The official shook his head slowly.

"No. They were not heroes, and they did not die as such. Those fools were executed. Like traitors they were."

Simultaneously, the world tilted, and Kael's vision blurred for half a second while his mind stalled as the weight of the words sank in.

'Executed? Like... traitors? No. No way... I refuse to believe this crap!'

Kael forced himself to breathe, however, the anger pulsing in his temples diminished his practiced discipline. Still, he pushed for it. To stay still. To not react. But inside, something split.

And the system whispered again.

[Complete Quest.]

[Failure Consequence: Death.]

[Reward: 12% Corruption.]

Kael bit his lip hard, drawing blood. Then, for the first time, Serika spoke.

Her voice was sharp, but restrained.

"Sir, we should reconsider—"

The official's gaze snapped toward her. Just for a second, but that was more than enough.

Serika held her ground.

Kael saw it. The flicker of disapproval. The hint of restrained objection. Clearly, she was at odds. The government was framing an innocent Chosen, and it seemd she hadn't been aware. But she also knew it didn't matter.

The official's expression barely shifted. Then, as smooth as ever, he turned back to Kael.

"It's funny, isn't it?" His tone was light, and seemingly amused as he continued. "How easily people believe the lie that they want to be true."

Kael breathed in slowly, finally realizing what the what the system has been trying to tell him.

Suddenly, his arms trembled against the restraints.

Serika was watching him.

The official was still smiling.

Then, the system's message flashed again.

[Quest Reward: 12% Corruption.]

Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, and finally spoke.

"You... you idiots should've kill me when you had the chance."

****

OUTSKIRTS

HOLLOWSHARD PASS

Rendrik stumbled.

His vision blurred for half a second, just long enough for the world to tilt. He gritted his teeth, shoving his boot against the uneven ground to steady himself. In that moment, it become clear. The warmth at his side wasn't just a wound anymore.

It was a problem.

His hand pressed against the torn fabric of his uniform. The pain was distant and dulled by adrenaline, but his body knew.

"Too much blood. Too much time."

Arvin caught the shift immediately.

"You good?"

Rendrik opened his mouth to answer—but nothing came out. His tongue had grown heavy. His lungs felt like they'd been squeezed into a smaller cage.

Arvin's gaze flickered down to his wound, where he saw the B-Class's blood seeping through the fabric of his unit's uniform.

"Shit," he muttered. "You're done."

Rendrik scowled.

"Like hell I am—"

But his knees buckled. Then, the ground came fast. Rendrik barely had the strength to slow his fall as he collapsed against the wreckage. His fingers clawed at the dirt, trying to push himself up, but the strength just wasn't there.

Arvin, without hesitation, was already moving. He grabbed Rendrik by the collar and hauled him into the shadows of a crumbling bunker wall, propping him against the remains of what used to be a support beam.

Rendrik growled, frustrated.

"I can still fight—"

"You can still bleed all over my boots," Arvin snapped, retrieving a loose cigarette from the inner pocket of his leather jacket, lighting it, then pulling until half ot the burningstick was ash before exhaling his next command. "Stay down."

Rendrik's breath came short and shallow. His skin felt colder. His vision narrowed at the edges, tunneling just slightly.

"Not good."

He forced himself to look at Arvin, then at the battlefield. The impossible Colossal Hollow loomed ahead, its body still shifting, somehow, still growing.

The transformation was complete now—it was now taller than any structure still standing, its skin a hardened, obsidian-like shell, and its mouth had grown large enough to swallow a man whole.

And then there were the others. The Lesser Hollows

They skittered forward in droves, drawn to their newly evolved leader. They had stopped acting like mindless scavengers anymore. Now, they moved with purpose.

A swarm. Or more like a legion.

Rendrik swallowed hard at the sight. Things had just gotten worse.

"Arvin."

But Arvin didn't look at him.

"Arvin!"

Still no response.

Soon it became clear, the older man wasn't looking at the horde. He wasn't even reaching for his weapons.

He was rolling his shoulders.

"What the hell?"

He racking his neck.

Loosening his stance.

Like he was about to go to work.

Rendrik couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Hey! What are you doing? You can't take them alone."

Arvin exhaled through his nose, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke, before finally responding.

"No choice."

"You need a plan."

"Got one."

Rendrik scowled.

"Oh, really? And what is it?"

Arvin flexed his fingers, and the smile that parted his lips was sent chills up Rendrik's spine.

"I hit them really hard, and they die."