The darkness swallowed him whole.
Dexter barely had time to react before the void rushed in, suffocating, endless.
It wasn't just darkness. It was something deeper, heavier—pulling at his mind, wrapping around him like chains.
And then—
Light.
The scent of steel and sweat filled the air.
A golden sun hung in the sky, casting long shadows across the vast hunter's courtyard.
Dexter blinked.
He wasn't underground anymore.
The suffocating abyss was gone.
Instead—
He was standing in the center of the training grounds, his fingers wrapped around the hilt of a sword.
The stone beneath his feet felt solid. Real.
The murmurs of hunters-in-training filled the air, the familiar weight of their eyes on him as they gathered around the sparring ring.
And across from him—
Cain.
A younger Cain, barely nineteen, the same cocky smirk playing on his lips as he twirled his training sword in his grip.