Contract of the Damned

Arc 1: The Hunter’s Awakening

The Blood Siren was gone—but not defeated.

She left something behind.

A sigil, burned into the ground where her feet had hovered. A swirling mark of black fire and bone. Dain stared at it, chest still heaving, the echo of her scream rattling in his skull.

Veyne knelt beside it. “This is bad. That was a Summoning Brand. She wasn’t here by accident.”

Dain’s jaw clenched. “She was waiting for someone.”

“Or preparing for something.”

The moment they stepped away, the sigil flared—then crumbled to ash.

But the damage was done.

By nightfall, they reached an abandoned watchtower. The stone walls were cracked and moss-ridden, but it was shelter. The flames inside flickered low as Dain unwrapped the parchment from his satchel.

The Hellforged Contract.

His curse. His bond.

The pages were stitched from demonhide. Every line of it pulsed with a sickly, reddish glow. Written in blood and infernal tongue, yet Dain could read every word.

Each page told a story. Of power… and price.

The contract had chosen him. Or rather, it had bound itself to him the night his village burned, when he bled out beside the corpses of his kin. A voice from the dark whispered then—

“Vengeance or oblivion, boy. Sign with your soul.”

And he did.

The first clause bound him to the Chains of Noxus—sentient weapons from Hell’s deepest vaults. Powerful. But hungry.

The second was the bounty system. With every demon slain, Dain's lifespan extended. With every target hunted, a piece of his humanity was spared.

But the third clause…

That was the one he feared.

Fail to feed the chains for seven nights, and your soul will be claimed.

No forgiveness. No escape.

Veyne watched silently as Dain traced the last clause.

“You ever think about ending it?” he asked softly.

Dain’s eyes didn’t leave the parchment. “Every day.”

Veyne nodded. “Then why don’t you?”

Dain closed the contract. “Because I want to know who did this to me. Who summoned the first demon. Who orchestrated the massacre.”

He tightened his grip. “And when I find them… I’ll feed them to the chains piece by piece.”

Suddenly, the candlelight dimmed.

A knock.

Three times.

They froze.

No one should’ve known they were here. No one alive, anyway.

Dain rose, weapon drawn. Veyne took the back door. The knock came again—three dull thuds, deliberate.

He opened the door.

No one.

Just wind.

And a letter nailed to the outside.

Black envelope. Marked with a clawed seal.

Dain ripped it open.

Inside: a bounty notice.

“Target: Calder the Hollow. Rank: Crimson Demon. Location: Shroudbury Ruins. Time Limit: 3 Days.”

But what chilled him was the final line.

“Issued by: The Architect.”

Dain’s heart stopped.

The Architect… the name whispered in demon circles. A master of contracts. A forger of pacts. A being said to control the balance between life and damnation.

If he was sending targets personally—

This was no longer a hunt.

It was a war.