Chapter 2: The Invitation
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Part 1: Rats and Royals
Gearhold City was a monument to contradiction—half smoke-stained cathedral, half ticking time bomb. Elias had grown used to the stink of oil and sin in the air. That didn't mean he liked it. The gears above the cathedral plaza clanked endlessly, old brass arms turning like some blind god's clockwork heart.
Elias sat at a rusted food stall, chewing on something that claimed to be meat. Jax was across from him, sipping rustbrew like it wasn't a war crime in liquid form.
"You look like shit," Jax said. "Did the demon whisper sweet nothings again or did you get dumped by a ghost this time?"
"Both. Root-demon told me I'm probably carrying a soul-bomb inside me. And I think Vael'zir might be my demonic god-daddy."
Jax choked on his brew. "Holy shit. That's... weirdly on brand for you."
Elias tossed the rest of the meat to a passing rat with wings. "Did you get the invite?"
Jax pulled out a folded brass card from his coat. "'The House of Sun and Steel invites you to the Hunter Conclave.' Real fancy, considering they tried to arrest me for pissing on a noble fountain."
"Guess you left a lasting impression."
Before Jax could respond, a tall figure in radiant armor stomped toward them. A golden sun emblazoned his chestplate, almost blinding in the morning light.
"Praise the Sun God!" he bellowed.
Elias winced. "Fuckin' hell. It's Ser Calem."
The holy knight clapped a gauntlet on Elias' shoulder. "I felt the darkness tremble yesterday. You fought a seed-bearer, didn't you?"
"Fought, exploded, and got emotionally traumatized."
"A righteous deed! The light shines brighter upon the brave. Come, the Sun God watches."
Elias stared. "Does he also watch when I take a shit?"
Jax snorted rustbrew out his nose.
The Conclave was held in the Skyward Spire—a twisting tower of brass and bone that floated two hundred feet above Gearhold. Elevators powered by chained elementals carried Hunters up like livestock.
Elias hated the place. It smelled of incense and politics.
Inside, the great hall was filled with Hunters of every kind. Weapon-souls, mind-benders, elemental freaks, and the musclebound Physicals who could punch tanks in half. Each wore their class proudly, marked by glowing threads woven into their coats.
Elias wore none. Just his beat-up coat, bloodstains, and bags under his eyes.
A cloaked official stepped forward. "Hunter Elias Black. The Conclave recognizes your recent service in neutralizing a demonic seed."
Murmurs followed. Elias sighed. "I didn't neutralize it. I just blew up a root and probably made a cursed forest cry."
Another voice spoke, one oily and smug: "Oh, but you did impress the wrong people."
Elias turned. Standing near the brass altar was a man in a velvet suit, flanked by mercenaries with demon-forged blades. His cane glinted with obsidian.
"Baron Kellen Drast," Jax muttered. "Owner of half the black markets. Signed a demon pact with something worse than Vael'zir."
"Charming," Elias said. "He got that cane from Hell's Etsy store?"
Drast smiled. "I look forward to buying your corpse, Hunter Black."
Elias gave a lazy salute. "Line forms behind the eldritch tree that tried to eat me."
The room chuckled, but beneath it, tensions boiled. Something darker was moving beneath Gearhold, and every Hunter knew it.
Later that night, Elias walked alone through Old Mechanus, a district built over the bones of an ancient war machine. Pipes hissed like angry snakes. He stopped when he felt it—the air shivered.
A claw tore from the brick wall. A demon stepped out, low-ranked but vicious—a skinner-class with razored arms and no face, just a grin.
Elias raised his revolver. "You ain't pretty enough to be a jump scare."
The demon hissed and charged. Elias ducked, rolled, and fired—but the bullets barely slowed it. It slammed into him, claws ripping across his coat.
Vael'zir's voice growled in his skull. "Let me in. Just a whisper. A flicker of my flame.""
Elias resisted. "Fuck off. I'm not turning into Hell's candle."
He drew his soulgear. The red glow surged. The demon paused—then screeched, recognizing the mark.
"Bad move," Elias said.
He sliced, and the weapon surged—glowing with Vael'zir's power. It burned the demon to ash in a scream of agony.
Elias collapsed, breathing hard. Behind him, the wall shifted.
Another root.
A whisper: "Soon, vessel... the bloom begins..."
Elias spat blood and laughed. "Bring it, you wooden bastard. I got fire to spare."