The world was not what it used to be.
Ever since the Great Catastrophe—the descent of the Shackle Spell—humanity had been walking a thin line between survival and extinction. The skies, once a brilliant blue, were now choked with endless grey. The air was heavy, thick with the constant hum of atmospheric processors.
Inside a dimly lit, sterile cell, Levi sat motionless, his gaze hollow as he stared at the cold metal walls. His thoughts were a tangled mess, but one truth loomed above all else—he was about to die.
Just two weeks had passed since his sixteenth birthday, and now, here he was, awaiting his turn to face the inevitable. The First Shackle. The thought alone sent a violent shudder down his spine.
The Shackle Spell had cursed humanity in ways no one could understand. It marked its victims indiscriminately, turning their hair into unnatural shades—blue, white, green, or something else entirely. Fever followed, then dizziness, and finally, on the fourth day, the victim would vanish. In their place, a monster would appear—a twisted, nightmarish being known as the Defiled.
Levi had first noticed it three days ago. The brown in his hair had faded, strand by strand, until nothing remained but a stark, snowy white. The fever followed soon after, then the dizziness, the creeping sense of dread. He knew what came next. Everyone did.
That was why he had surrendered himself to the government.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hall. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Levi's pulse quickened.
The heavy metal door slid open with a hiss. A squad of soldiers in sleek black armor filed in, their movements precise and mechanical. At the front stood their leader—a tall, imposing man with a face carved from stone.
"Levi," the officer said. "It's time. Follow me."
Levi didn't move. He didn't speak. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms.
What was the point of resisting?
The Shackle Spell was a death sentence. He was only delaying the inevitable.
The officer's gaze lingered on him, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Pity? Resignation? Maybe both. As they walked down the long, narrow hallway, the man spoke.
"Listen, kid. I won't sugarcoat it." His voice was rough, edged with exhaustion. "You're from the slums. No training, no preparation. The moment you step into the Otherworld, you're done for."
Levi didn't respond.
"The ones from the cities—the children of the rich? They've been trained since birth to survive the First Shackle." The officer exhaled sharply. "But you? You're just another statistic."
The words cut deep.
But Levi had no argument.
Because they were true.
They entered a dimly lit chamber where twelve others stood waiting. Boys and girls, each marked by the Shackle Spell. Some trembled, others sobbed quietly. None of them spoke.
A low hum filled the room, the sound of distant machinery working tirelessly to keep the city alive.
The officer surveyed the group, his expression unreadable. "All of you are infected. All of you will be transported to the Otherworld soon." He paused. "Our job is to hold back the Defiled that will appear in your place until the Shackled Warriors arrive to kill them."
Levi's stomach twisted.
Every day, more people were marked. More vanished. More Defiled roamed the cities, slipping through the cracks, slaughtering indiscriminately.
The government urged the newly infected—the Fettered—to turn themselves in, but many refused. Those who hid only made things worse. Without containment, Defiled emerged in the streets, overwhelming defenses, tearing through civilians before the Shackled could intervene.
Even now, no Shackled Warrior was here. Protocol demanded at least one be stationed at every First Shackle site. But there weren't enough of them. Not anymore.
The silence was suffocating.
Someone sobbed. A quiet, fragile sound that barely broke through the heavy air.
Levi exhaled slowly. His body felt weak. His vision blurred at the edges. His knees buckled, and the last thing he saw was the cold, unfeeling faces of the soldiers surrounding him.
Then—
Darkness.
His body collapsed, his white hair fanning out around him. And then, in the blink of an eye—
He was gone.
The soldiers stood frozen, rifles still trained on the empty space where he had fallen. But they knew.
Levi had been transported.
To another world. Another realm. The place where all Fettered were sent.
And in his place, a nightmare would soon take shape.
A Defiled.
The officer exhaled, gripping his weapon tighter. His men shifted uneasily, bracing for what was to come. Their bullets would do little against the monster that was about to appear.
And this was just the beginning.
The officer's voice was grim as he muttered under his breath.
"Today's gonna be a long day."