《Abyssal Curse [Debt LitRPG]》 Chapter 1: Just a Barback A fist studded with rings slammed against Mischa¡¯s face, snapping his head sideways. His jaw cracked, shooting a tooth out of his mouth. Pain exploded and blood streamed down his chin. The DJ cut the jazzy house music. Screams from the club''s patrons replaced the bass while the dance lights continued to flash. One chorus ago, everyone had been having the time of their lives. Now they scattered in panic, finally realizing the place was being robbed. Not worth the pay to get beat up. Of course it¡¯s me who has to fight the giant, Mischa somehow registered through his panic. Raising scarred, spindly arms to block, Mischa braced for another hit. No luck¨Cthe large thief in the black suit delivered a brutal punch to his temple. His vision blurred, and right after a heavy knee connected with his gut. Doubled over from the pain, he gasped for air. ¡°Should¡¯ve let us take the money. It¡¯s not even yours. You¡¯re just the barback,¡± the thug sneered. Behind a nearby door, Mischa heard his boss yell and plead with another thief for his life. Where the fuck is Security? A deafening gunshot sounded next to their fight from behind the door. Glass bottles shattered, followed by a heavy thump. His boss''s begging stopped. They¡¯re going to fucking kill me! The crowd down the hall pressed each other desperately through the front door into the icy night. If Mischa could just get past the giant man kicking his ass, he could make it. Primal fear for his life made him think of something, anything, to fight back with. ¡°Oh, fuck.¡± the brute said, glancing at the door. The closed office door remained silent as Mischa shakily reached into his pocket for the corkscrew he always carried while working. No one ever ordered wine at the club. They came for the vodka bottles frozen in blocks of ice, plush red couches hidden in dark corners, and the burlesque show that ran until the early morning hours. Still, his boss had insisted he keep a corkscrew on hand, just in case. Mischa fumbled with the cutter on the corkscrew. Too slow. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± The man said in an annoyed tone. Mischa¡¯s head was ripped upwards as the man yanked his long, messy black hair. Another crunch, this time his nose. Pain erupted and his eyes watered as he was shoved hard. He stumbled backwards, crashed into the bathroom door and landed hard onto the wet, cold ground. Piss. I¡¯m going to die covered in piss. ¡°What did you do?!¡± the brute yelled at his accomplice, who had just come out of the office with a giant bag stuffed with cash. ¡°He pulled a gun! It¡¯s fine. Got the money. Security still out front?¡± Mischa recognized the voice that answered back at the giant from the hallway. The small man had trained Mischa on his first day two months ago. Ron. I hate that prick. ¡°You idiot, look,¡± the brute said, throwing the swinging bathroom door open. Ron¡¯s mousy face paled at seeing Mischa, bloodied and beaten on the floor. Mischa crab-walked backward until he hit the stall. The club¡¯s lights still flashed, casting their faces in darkness every other second in the hallway. ¡°Mischa? Shit! SHIT! He knows me. Knows your face, too!¡± Ron yelled, voice cracking as he glanced frantically towards the back door that led to the alley. ¡°Deal with it. We have to go. Now.¡± The large man said with finality. Ron hesitated for a moment, then walked into the bathroom. ¡°Ron, no. Please, don¡¯t do this,¡± Mischa begged, tears streaking his bloodied face as he pressed himself further back. Nowhere left to go. ¡°Sorry, Mischa, it¡¯s business.¡± Ron said flatly as he aimed the gun at Mischa¡¯s head. Mischa threw his hands in front of his body, desperate to shield himself. ¡°Don¡¯t! Please! I¡¯ll do anythi-¡± A flash of light, followed by another deafening pop of the gun. Mischa felt sudden pain between his eyes, and then, nothing. Like many before him, he died powerless. Endless, comfortable darkness swallowed Mischa. He felt the Abyss take him as it swallowed everything. His pain, his fear, even his thoughts. Yet, something lingered. A weight. A burden. Anything? An ancient voice whispered from the void. Mischa faded away.
¡°Mitch! Mitch! Wake up! Three hours till open! Limes, don¡¯t forget the limes this time! And the espresso sludge! Four bottles!¡± A fist banged on the thin door, rattling the frame, and a gruff voice shouted for someone named Mitch. Micha¡¯s back ached from the thin mattress beneath him, but at least it was warm. Adrenaline replaced grogginess and he leapt out of bed. His head smacked the low, slanted ceiling. Pain flared. Shit!This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Heart racing, Mischa looked around the small room like a trapped animal. It was barely the size of a broom closet. A bed was wedged in the corner, taking up most of the space. The small side table held an earpiece. A greasy window let in a trickle of light. One wall slanted sharply, connecting with the corner of the other. A pile of clothes sat on the floor. What is going on? I was just shot in the head. Why am I in an attic? ¡°Mitch? You good? You were making some right weird noises last night. Lot of¡­thumping about. Were you cryin¡¯? I know yer alone in there, what¡¯re ye doin¡¯?¡± the same voice asked again, this time concerned. Mischa¡¯s head snapped to the short wooden door, nerves still flared. Gulping, he spoke. ¡°Yeah, all good. Smacked my head is all. Stupid damned wall, gets in the way all the time,¡± he answered, startling himself. A deep bass trembled out of his throat; a voice much lower than he was used to. Looking down at his hands, his eyes widened. Rather than the sleek, feminine hands he was ashamed of, they were massive. Thick, calloused things. Turning them over, he stared at the knuckles, bulging and laced with fresh scars. When he clenched them, he felt strength surge through his arms. What the¡­? The voice outside laughed. A booming, warm laugh. ¡°Again? You gotta stop doing that, big guy. Let¡¯s go, we¡¯ve got to set up. And Robin¡¯s in one of his moods again!¡± Short, heavy footsteps tramped down the hallway, creaking the stairs as they descended. Hathgar. The name popped into Mischa¡¯s head, along with an image: a stocky dwarf with a wild grin and a fiery red beard that overwhelmed a round face. He was a fellow barback at Club Mythos, working while traveling the world. Very loud. They were friends. Hathgar owed him several rounds of drinks. As his mind raced, vague memories floated to the surface, like opening small drawers in his brain. It felt like rifling through someone else¡¯s things, familiar, yet alien. Shaking off confusion, Mischa glanced down at his body, noticing for the first time he was completely naked. The chest he was staring down at was huge. Freakishly muscular and covered in countless scars. Jesus, I¡¯m massive. What are those scars from? During his childhood, he had been underfed by his drunk of a father. His previous small frame had been the result of years of malnutrition, and had left him with spindly limbs and short stature. Now, he felt like he was an oversized, amateur bodybuilder. Carefully, so as not to smack his head, he rummaged through clothes that felt too large in his hands. Black t-shirts and black pants. Ripe from dried sweat. Holy shit! I¡¯ve been reborn into another barback! Mischa felt great. He could feel the strong muscles coiled under his skin. His breath came clearer than ever before as he took deep breaths from clean lungs. Slipping on the least smelly set of clothes, he took stock of his situation. Ok¡­not sitting in piss, covered in blood, definitely not dead. Ok, breathe. Roll with it. The pants were snug but comfortable against his trim waist. He didn¡¯t want to tug the t-shirt, which sat flush against his body. Usually, he would pull at it, slowly stretching it out through the day, hoping to hide his small frame that still held a paunch. Am I tall now? Is this Mitch guy a giant? He couldn¡¯t help himself, and flexed his arm muscles as he laced up the leather boots he found stashed under his mattress. Forearm muscles bulged, thick veins running across them like loose cables. Just how strong am I? As he finished his mental question, a window of text popped up in his mind. Mitchell Quarlette Age: 25 years?? Race: ? Unknown, ? Human Quests (Burdens)?? Credits Skills (Afflictions) Titles Afflictions? Burdens? Oh, that¡¯s fantastic. 25 years infinity? One half unknown? What am I? Mitch could feel that with a thought, he could easily dive deeper into any part of his Status Screen. Let¡¯s see what we¡¯re dealing with here. What¡¯s familiar? Money. Money is familiar. Titles? What are Titles? Your name is Mitch. One step at a time. Breathe. Don¡¯t even think about that flashing Quest screen that¡¯s called Burdens and has a skull next to it. Nope. Afflictions? No thank you. Mitch selected Titles first. Empty. Hmmm. He tentatively selected the Credits option with his mind. Credits Debts: -1,000,666* Assets: 27 Credits, 0 Souls*, 0 Flesh* Interest: -666/day Cashflow: 100/day (Barback Salary) Oh no! Crapload of debt! What is this place? Souls¡­? This is bad. This is very bad. It¡¯s got to be that Quest notification. His heart dropped as the earpiece on the table buzzed. A high-pitched voice screeched through, filling the small room with potent energy. ¡°Mitch! Bloody hell man, get your ass downstairs. Limes! Espresso, make it six bottles. Prep all the beluga vodka. All reso''s are canceled. We¡¯ve got a buyout tonight. Crae''s Agency. Bigguns. Oh yes, you and Hathgar circle the couches like last time.¡± Robin¡¯s nasally voice departed just as quickly as it spoke. Robin. Again, a name filled his mind. Robin was the eccentric owner of Club Mythos. A ghost with unusual Skills that made all parties he attended legendary. He rarely showed up before the guests arrived but always ensured everyone had the best time once he did. A good enough boss, though a bit unhinged. He does let me stay here for free. Decent guy. Another buzz. ¡°Oh, and I need you to grab a package. Mathilda¡¯s, one hour. Bring it to my office when you¡¯re back. Chop, chop!¡± Mathilda. She¡¯s nice. She¡¯s also a vampire. Dread Alley, first red door. The knowledge came immediately to him at mention of her name. Mitch sighed and walked to his small door. Feeling in his pockets, he pulled out a worn corkscrew and a slip of folded paper. He stared at the corkscrew, and then unfolded the handwritten note. I¡¯m sorry. The last guy left me a note as well. This body is now yours. So is the debt. The Abyss gives you power, but they will come for payment. He always collects what¡¯s owed. If you want to give up, you can. Or you can try to last longer than I did. Twelve years. His stomach clenched. He could feel it. A pull from the depths, like invisible hands tightening their grip. Twelve years? And you still failed? Why were you still a barback? What happened to you? Trembling, he opened the quest. Burden: Pay the Abyssal Debt The Abyss accepts all forms of payment. Status: Incomplete Active Debt: -1,000,666 Interest: 666/day Currency: Souls, Flesh, Credits Do you give up? He felt that he could say yes to the final question of the burden. One moment of weakness, and he would die, ending his own life with a simple affirmation. Oh. This is bad. This is really bad. But Mitch wasn¡¯t ready to just give in. Not that easily. He had already overcome so much in his life. Forged his persistence. Mathilda¡¯s. She must know something. Vampires always did, especially in this city. She¡¯d been here in Shadowreach for centuries. Maybe longer. The weird memories that filled his head said so. Mitch opened the small door. He had limes to cut, couches to move, and an appointment with a vampire. Chapter 2: Glass & Grimace ¡°So Pa¡¯ stares at me uncle¡¯s jarred eye, dead serious, and says, ¡®And that¡¯s why you ain¡¯t never trust an orc with a red ring!¡¯¡± Hathgar¡¯s booming laugh erupted, shaking the cob-web infested lamps that floated freely above. The dwarf shoved the last blood red couch into place. ¡°That bastard¡¯s antics do make me miss Stonehollow, still haven¡¯t done nothing with them weapons though,¡± Hathgar added in his gruff accent, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. Mitch silently polished glasses with a rag behind the bar, hands burning from cutting through hundreds of limes. He tried to focus on the simple task, but the weight of his one Affliction Skill cast a constant shadow over his mind. Curiosity had gotten the better of him earlier, and now he could feel the singular ¡®currency¡¯ sitting in his core. It was attached to the single Skill he discovered that he had. Abyssal Vault Level 1 Collect and store Souls, Flesh, and Credits within. A living account for your Abyssal Debt. Meet a Collector to transfer the sum. Settlement Amount: 1 Soul, 0 Credits, 0 Flesh 1 Soul? Whose? I have someone else''s soul inside of me? With the knowledge of his Skill came more unfurling memories about Skills in general. People were lucky to have one. Monstrously strong individuals had three or four, but they were exceedingly rare. All Skills had some sort of cost, but mana didn¡¯t exist in this world. Some people exhausted quickly with use, others depended on their life force, slowly withering away with each subsequent use. Many Skills simply recharged gradually, or had allotted uses that replenished and could grow with Skill levels. Couches ringed the dance floor. The painted black walls lined with empty, non-reflective frames seemed to observe the club in silence. Hathgar, ever the chatterbox, waved his muscular arms as he yapped about Crae¡¯s Agency¡¯s ridiculous booking requests. Mitch barely listened as he processed the news of his ability. ¡°Aye, I reckon if you¡¯ve got pockets deep as theirs, you can pay for any damned thing ye¡¯ want,¡± Hathgar grumbled, though his grin never left as he wiped down the bar. He eyed Mitch suspiciously, ¡°You alright, lad? I know yer the muscle and I''m the looks of the operation, but yer awful somber today, even with our buyout bonus.¡± Mitch flinched at Hathgar¡¯s question and forced a smile that felt more like a mask. I¡¯m already wearing someone else¡¯s skin. It is a mask. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good,¡± he lied, pushing the words out of his mouth. ¡°Just tired, didn¡¯t sleep well at all. Kept¡­uh¡­tossing and turning,¡± The corners of his mouth curved, but his eyes remained hollow as his anxiety began to get the better of him. Hathgar eyed him seriously, bearded grin disappearing, before he let out a deep chuckle. ¡°Aye, don¡¯t we all know that feeling, lad. Crae¡¯s lot might be particular, but we¡¯ll rake in a fortune tonight. Maybe I¡¯ll have enough for a decent keg of ale for us, none of that swill Robin serves!¡± He patted Mitch¡¯s arm roughly with a heavy hand, the warmth of his jovial friendship cutting through the fog. Maybe I am being a bit of a lug. It could have been worse, I could have been reborn into a worm. Yet Mitch¡¯s hands trembled on the dirty glass he cleaned with a dirtier cloth. The Abyssal Debt. The soul he carried in his core. He wasn¡¯t imagining it. It was there, locked away, sitting solemnly in a corner like a cowed animal. The cold reality settled in: he¡¯d been so sure that he could handle whatever came his way. Now, knowing the Soul was inside him, he wavered. What happens when the Collector comes to collect? His grip tightened on the glass, and with a sharp crack, it shattered in his hands. Pain surged through his palms as jagged shards dug into his skin. Blood welled, dripping and pooling on the surface of the bar. Mitch winced, but a strange sensation followed. The pain felt different. Fitting. Affliction Skill Gained Agony¡¯s Embrace Level 1 Pain is power. Harness every drop of suffering, turning agony into unrelenting strength. Your torment permanently fortifies your body and amplifies your strength. Hathgar rushed over on short legs, thick body almost knocking Mitch over. ¡°Damn it, lad! What¡¯re ye doing? Look at yer hands!¡± He wrapped Mitch¡¯s dripping hands tightly with dusty cloth. ¡°They be strong as hammers, take it easy.¡± Mitch stared at his wrapped palms, twisted thoughts making him grin wildly. A faint surge of power flickered through his veins, the wounds granting him permanent power. The thought turned his stomach, yet he couldn¡¯t shake it. I can use this. They have no idea how much I can take. Already died once, haven¡¯t I? Memories from his past life brushed his mind. The torment he had endured. How far he had already come. He laughed darkly, smiling genuinely at Hathgar for the first time. Hathgar paused, frowning slightly, before smiling again. ¡°Thanks, I¡¯ll manage. I need to head to Mathilda¡¯s anyway. Package for Robin. You know how he is,¡± ¡°Mmm,¡± Hathgar groaned, squinting at Mitch. ¡°Watch yer neck. Never liked vampires. Sneaky blokes, cordin¡¯ to me father.¡± Hathgar clapped him on the shoulder, his warmth helping pull Mitch back from the unsettling thoughts. ¡°Just be careful, lad. And Crae¡¯s crowd isn¡¯t easy, you¡¯ll need both hands tonight if we¡¯re going to keep up.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. He grinned, squeezing Mitch¡¯s arm before stepping back. ¡°Ye¡¯ve heard how they can be.¡± Mitch nodded, feeling the pulse of his throbbing hand, pain humming through his body. Settling in. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine, what¡¯s the big deal, anyways? How bad can they really be?¡± He answered, but his mind was elsewhere. He had a package to pick up. Mathilda¡¯s package. Need to learn all that I can. I need more than these half memories. Slipping away from the bar, he snatched up a small backpack, and walked towards the back alley exit. Robin¡¯s office stayed shut, as it always did. Somehow, he knew he had never been inside. Mitch needed to walk. Perhaps the cool night air would help clear his head. ¡°Hey! Ye didn¡¯t do the damned espresso! Yer leaving it to me again, eh?¡± Hathgar¡¯s warm timber echoed down the hallway. It was made by Robin to always feel overwhelmingly long. With each step, the idea that he could embrace the pain to grow stronger lingered. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you a beer after! You still owe me a bunch, by the way. Think of the espresso as the start of your payment plan!¡± Mitch shouted over his shoulder. It was the oddest feeling, to meet someone entirely new, yet feel like they had been friends forever. It¡¯s my body. My body has these memories. Not me. But I do really like him¡­ Pushing open the rusted metal door, Mitch hunched his large frame as he stepped into the cold, endless night of Shadowreach. The scent of garbage hit Mitch, forcing a grimace on his face as he stepped into the alley. Trash left to fester, weeks of rot piled up; Shadowreach had no sanitation crews, just the small crime lords who traded only in Credits or favors. Their rule was the only order the city knew. A fattened rat scurried over his boot, vanishing into the pile of filth it called home. As he stepped onto the main street, the city of endless night buzzed with life. Humans of all sizes alongside elves, orcs, and dwarves jostled for space along the narrow streets. Floating candles drifted lazily on their own currents, casting light and shadows across the looming, gothic architecture. Creepy. But cool. Mitch wished he had a collar to pull tighter, the cold nipping at his neck. Even with the bustling energy of the city around him, Shadowreach was forever frigid. The city was surrounded by the Depths on all sides, where earth cracked, leading to the underground cities, and further, the Abyss. Ok, these half memories are useful. I''m not totally clueless. But what goes on in the Abyss? Knowledge scratched at his mind, but wouldn¡¯t surface. His hand found the glass in his pocket, still warm. Out of the corner of his eye, he felt the stony glares of the enchanted, watching gargoyles that stood guard on their roof perches. Food stalls lined the cobblestone streets, run by all forms of life. The scent of roasting meat mingled with something that set Mitch¡¯s stomach on edge. A Ground Troll waved a skewer in his direction, but Mitch ignored it. My body knows that smell¡­grilled human flesh. He pushed his finger into the shard in his pocket, stabbing himself and sending a tiny, sharp pulse of power through him. It absorbed into his muscles, dark and alive, feeding on his self-inflicted wound. For years prior to his death, Mitch had worked through his self-harm tendencies. He had stopped, mostly, and made strides on working through his trauma. And now it¡¯s making me stronger in this new body. Morbid, man. Seriously morbid. It was how he dealt with the years of neglect and bullying. Mitch was accustomed to pain, and dark humor filled his mind at the process. Instead of hurting himself for a semblance of relief, the pain now permanently strengthened him. Down the street a Goblin peddled cursed relics, crooked fingers wrapped around a tarnished pendant that pulsed with dark energy. The crowd unconsciously steered clear, and Mitch could feel the circle of despair around the stall. ¡°Ho¡¯ there!¡± The vendor hissed, its hand fetid and black. ¡°Memory stone on a real Abyssal chain? Only used once, perfect for hiding things you¡¯d rather forget.¡± As Mitch moved on from the bustling stalls, the true rot of Shadowreach revealed itself. Grimlace addicts, bodies twisted and deformed in unnatural ways, huddled in corners or hobbled on ulcerated legs. Each Grimmer was easily identified by their permanent grimace and black eyes, no matter their race. Some stood frozen, mouths peeled back to show blackened teeth ruined by the smokable sludge of a drug. Others hunched with clenched, tight jaws; hollow eyes vacant. One twitching Grimmer clawed itself as Mitch passed, picking at her smiling lips, seeping blood onto her bare, thin chest. Mitch smelled the sweet rot of the drug that wafted off her ashen skin. This one¡¯s close. Too far gone. Any day now, pretty sure she¡¯ll lose what¡¯s left of herself. As Mitch approached Dread Alley, the floating candles thinned. A group of Grimmers huddled together near the final corner. Unlike many of the others, their grimaces were erratic. Black colored eyes darted around as they sensed something different about Mitch. These weren¡¯t new addicts. They were on the brink of losing all control of themselves. Passing, Mitch felt their eyes lock onto him. Wild, contorted expressions tracked his heavy steps. The soul in his core pulsed faintly. They smell it. They know my core is holding something valuable. The largest addict¡¯s remaining eyeball flickered with recognition, like he could sense what Mitch carried. He lunged forward towards Mitch, and his legs froze at the sudden confrontation. ¡°We know what you¡¯ve got, boy,¡± the skeletal man rasped, his voice broken from the harsh drug. ¡°It¡¯s inside, right there,¡± a too-long finger stabbed into his chest. ¡°They¡¯ll come soon ¡®nuff. No hiding from it.¡± The other Grimmers cackled, their laughter sharp and hollow as they returned back to their huddled state. To smoke more Grimlace. Mitch¡¯s heart raced as he scurried off, half expecting the Grimmers to follow. Hungry eyes burned into his back, but they stayed together, mingling in their filth. Laughing, they whispered to each other in nonsensical sentences only they understood. Finally arriving at his destination, his pace faltered as his reflection caught his eye on Mathilda¡¯s polished red door. The first time he was able to see his new body. A tall, muscular figure stared back at him. Broad-shouldered and towering. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. Long, wavy hair the color of white frost parted across his forehead, framing his face. Dark, endless red irises stared back. He waved, and the stranger reflected in the door copied him. This body didn¡¯t belong to him, yet here it was, mimicking his every move. That¡¯s me? He wasn¡¯t sure if the reflection staring back at him was a dream or a nightmare. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. He saw a body that could break bone and crush souls. It wasn¡¯t his body. Not really. This new body might be his now, but it didn¡¯t feel like it. Not yet. I am fricken jacked, though. Holy shit. Unable to help himself, Mitch flexed and posed. There was something like pride that bubbled within him. His whole life, he had been picked on, but now, he had the body he wished he had. The body he always wanted. His fists clenched at his sides, the ache from the broken glass wounds throbbed, helping to ground him back to his new reality. The pain felt real, at least. Not like the skin he now wore. Shivering, he raised a giant fist and knocked three times, just like Mathilda asked of old friends. Chapter 3: Old Friends Red candles glowed on tightly packed shelves. Smoke curled out and wrapped around Mitch¡¯s body as he entered the small shop. With a faint thud, the door closed itself behind him, cutting off the outside world. His body immediately recognized the scents, spreading blossoming warmth through his chest. Musk, paper glue, and the faint smell of flowers knocked him slightly off kilter. It¡¯s as if my body knows this place. An ornate desk and purple high-backed chair sat empty directly in front of him. The shop looked unattended, which sent a surprising pang of disappointment through Mitch. What is going on? Why is my body reacting like this? Who is¡­no, who was she to me? Looking around, he inspected the cramped space. Jars of all sizes sat pressed together on one shelf. Their contents were unknowable to him, and they were thankfully sealed shut. Relics, large and small, lay haphazardly on shelves, organized in some pattern only understood by their current owner. Bones studded with gems, softly vibrating bracelets, and fanciful weapons were easily identifiable. Others¡­well, Mitch could only wonder what they were supposed to be. Twisted amalgamations of flesh and potent dark energy. At least I think that¡¯s flesh¡­ ¡°Mitchell, you¡¯re late, as usual,¡± a husky, teasing feminine voice whispered in his ear, turning him towards the door. The air shifted, dimming the available light, and when Mitch turned back, Mathilda was seated in the purple chair behind the desk. Long, jet-black hair framed her milk-white face. She appeared to be a gorgeous woman in her late twenties. Perfect, save for the fine silver lines tracing her pale skin. It was cracked like marble, barely visible, but unmistakable upon closer inspection. The marks of an ancient, pure-blooded vampire. Damn. Crazy hot. Sheesh. He couldn¡¯t help the thought as he felt himself check out the vampire. ¡°Hello, newcomer.¡± She smiled at him, revealing her surgically sharp fangs. Shock and fear pulsed within him. She knows. How does she know? Before he could respond, she leaned forward and spoke softly. ¡°Careful now, your thoughts betray you. Many creatures bound to the Abyss have such Skills, mine is just particularly potent.¡± Her lavender perfume drifted towards him. Heat stirred low in his stomach, unwelcome and undeniable, his body reacting in ways he couldn¡¯t control. It called out to her. My body is reacting far too quickly for this to be normal. This must be a Skill. ¡°How¡­Who are you to me? My body knows you,¡± he said, fear gripping firmly to his spine, mixing with physical longing. Raising a manicured finger, she wagged it at him as if he were a mere boy. ¡°Not quite the man you once were, isn¡¯t that right?¡± Her voice dripped with faux sincerity. A strange force pulsed between them, freezing him and thickening the air as she carried on. ¡°A bullied boy, a family disavowed. Taking it for years, never standing up for yourself once. I¡¯ll bet a part of you even misses it. The beatings from your father with that dog leash. The taste of dirt and laughing schoolmates. At least they noticed you, then.¡± The words stabbed at him, more painful than they should be from a stranger. Mitch¡¯s throat constricted. A sharp ache built behind his ribs. Rage surged beneath the surface, each breath rough. Clenching his fists, he felt the glass wounds tear anew, mixing with the raw ache of old hurts barely healed. How does she know about my past? ¡°Get the hell out of my head,¡± he growled. But his body remained locked in fear by the door. All his life, he would fight, but only if backed into a corner. A result of never being as big as anyone else. ¡°You think you can handle what¡¯s coming? After soiling your pajamas in anticipation of a drunk fathers¡¯ beatings? I can¡¯t believe you made it this far without ending it all already, even before you were brought here,¡± she mocked him as the air pressed harder. Humiliation, shame, anger, and fear shoved any rational thought aside. Gentler, she spoke. ¡°Cast it aside, Mitchell. You need to. Lock it away.¡± Why is she saying this, if my body recognizes her as friendly? Confusion mixed in, and he tried to calm his hammering heart and whirling head of dark emotions. Breathe. In¡­out. Don¡¯t let it consume you. Affliction Skill Gained Devoid Level 1Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Lock away undesired emotions and thoughts. Feel only what you wish. All emotions and thoughts must be addressed eventually. The new Affliction Skill rushed into him, settling inside like a false drawer. Mitch took as much of the shame, anger, and fear of his past and pressed it into his Devoid Skill. A torrent of relief washed over him as much, but not all, of the emotions squeezed into the small box within him. With a final shove, he slammed the door shut. Rationality returned. Her dark laugh garnered his attention, ¡°You¡¯re welcome. With thoughts as loud as yours, I had to be a bit more¡­forceful. I¡¯m sorry, but it was necessary. I can still hear them, but I am¡­special.¡± Special? ¡°Did you do that for the others? How many of us?¡± The question came out like mud from Mitch, the stark reality of his circumstance bubbling forth from the absence of emotions. ¡°Some, but not all. Each had different Skills, but there are some¡­similarities. The Abyss marks each of you differently. All have shattered under its weight.¡± She stated, her voice steady but filled with sorrow. ¡°What am I supposed to do? If you know of the Abyssal debt, you must know something. Anything.¡± His voice came out strained. ¡°Answers I cannot give you,¡± Mathilda¡¯s lips twitched, a flash of something. Pain, perhaps, or regret. She lowered her gaze from meeting his own, tracing the fine silver lines along her palm. ¡°I¡¯m¡­bound. Just like you, Mitchell. Bound by a pact older than this ancient city. There are certain things a vampire cannot reveal, as the pacts bind us. They hold my tongue as they hold your fate.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it then? Figure it out, or die like the others? Kill myself?¡± His voice cracked. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to kill and collect souls? Thieve until I¡¯m caught? For a debt I don¡¯t even understand. Face the Collector? I need something!¡± ¡°Collectors. That much I can say,¡± meeting his gaze again, she leaned back in her chair. ¡°And this. Just a word of advice,¡± the candlelight reflected off her eyes as she continued. ¡°Remember, one must always go forward. The way is never paved by going around. That I can say, as it¡¯s general advice.¡± I¡¯m supposed to embrace what¡¯s happening to me? Is that what she means? Mitch¡¯s eyes fell to the cuff pendant around her neck. His body stirred with recognition, but the knowledge danced just out of reach, behind a locked drawer. Straining, he could almost taste it. But no matter how hard he reached, the memory slipped through his fingers, fading like a forgotten song. ¡°Thank you for helping me with the Skill,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can repay you for that.¡± ¡°Polite, too.¡± she said coyly. ¡°The last one was much too sulky. One can only hope you don¡¯t squander your time like him. As for payment¡­hmm,¡± she tapped her finger on her black lips, thinking. Is she toying with me? Mathila¡¯s serious face peeled back in a viscous smile, eyes gleaming in the low candlelight. Without a word, she gracefully reached below her desk and withdrew a small black box, wrapped in silver chains that glimmered in the flickering candlelight. The chains were far too heavy for such a small object. She placed it on the desk before him, the weight of its presence unsettling. ¡°This,¡± she said in a pleased tone, ¡°is for Robin. He will know what to do with it, and Crae¡¯s lot will be more than satisfied. Its delivery is payment enough.¡± Mitch glanced at the black box, eyes narrowing. ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡± She smiled, sharp and secretive. Mitch¡¯s pulse quickened, something magnetic drawing him toward her, a warmth spreading through his chest. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know, yet. Just that it¡¯s enough to keep their curiosity sated.¡± It¡¯s like my body has a mind of its own, separate from me. I know she¡¯s attractive, but this is something different. He reached for the box, but before he could grasp it, Mathilda¡¯s hand shot out, gripping his wrist lightly, yet with strength that startled him. His skin prickled under her touch. ¡°Before you leave,¡± she said, ¡°I have something for you. A token.¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes met hers, wariness creeping in. After years of torment in his previous life, he had pushed people away. He liked her, and felt a semblance of trust for what she¡¯d already done, but his hackles were still raised at the idea of another gift. Never trust those that are too giving. She let go of his wrist and opened a small drawer, producing a thin, silver key on a chain. Polished metal, shimmering like moonlight, and engraved with swirling patterns. She placed it in front of him. ¡°This key,¡± Mathilda said, her voice serious now, ¡°will open a door. One day, I hope you will find that door, and when you do, this will let you in.¡± Her eyes met his, unwavering. ¡°But you must promise me something.¡± ¡°What kind of promise?¡± He asked gruffly, uncertainty gnawing. ¡°A favor,¡± she said, leaning back in her plush chair, her eyes shining with intensity. ¡°When the time comes, I will call upon you, and you will answer. No questions asked.¡± Mitch stared at the key lying there, the weight of the deal pressing at him. He felt the pull of the unknown, same as the Abyss that ran through his veins. For some reason that he couldn¡¯t explain, he wanted to accept. Maybe it was his body¡¯s familiarity, maybe it was her Skills, maybe it was the clawing desperation he felt for some form of control over his circumstance. Nodding slowly, he picked up the key, turning it over in his bleeding fingertips. ¡°Alright,¡± he answered gruffly. ¡°I¡¯ll work with you. But don¡¯t mistake me for the last one, or anyone else. You might think you know me, but I¡¯m nothing like them. Push me, and you¡¯ll find out what happens when you corner someone with nothing to lose.¡± Mathilda¡¯s lips curved into a wicked, knowing smile, her eyes glinting with something that may have been respect or amusement. ¡°Come for me, will you?¡± she chuckled softly, a jolt to his core. ¡°Perhaps¡­ things will be different this time.¡± Her laughter was soft, but the weight of it lingered. Leaning forward, her marble-cracked fingers traced over the silver key before retracting, brushing his bloody, wrag-covered palm in some unspoken agreement. Quest: Open the Sealed Door Use the Key on the Door. Answer Mathilda¡¯s Call. Status: Incomplete Mitch¡¯s grip tightened on the small key before slipping it over his head and tucking it under his black t-shirt. Many questions remained, but he¡¯d be damned if he let the Abyss or anyone else fully dictate his fate. Even a seemingly concerned vampire. He picked up the black box, the weight of the chains heavier than expected. It took him another moment to place Crae¡¯s party favor in his pack. A final look at Mathilda, something deep within him took her in, melancholic for her touch. Turning to leave, he stopped at the door, a question stabbing at his mind. Without looking back, he asked in a rough voice, ¡°Whose soul is in my core?¡± Thick silence pressed. He thought she might ignore the question, but then Mathilda¡¯s measured and cool voice drifted through her shop. ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± she replied sadly. ¡°And when you do, Mitchell, I hope you¡¯ll carry the same resolve you do now.¡± Without answering, he pushed open her red door and stepped out into the oppressive cold of Shadowreach. Crae¡¯s Agency would be arriving at Club Mythos shortly. He needed to get moving. Chapter 4: First Collection Mitch was lost in thought, walking back to the club when the sound of cackles snapped him out of it. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a handful of mutilated Grimmer forms quickly gaining. A pit grew in his stomach. I know that type of laugh. They¡¯re coming for me. ¡°Where¡¯d you go, pretty boy? Did she take your brain before or after your balls?¡± The same broken voice that had accosted him before Mathilda¡¯s had returned. Sighing, Mitch turned to face the group. He stood a head taller than the leader. Emaciated bodies huddled behind the gangly man, faces twisted in self-satisfied grimaces. Despite wearing ragged, filthy clothing, Mitch could smell the stench of Grimlace over the man¡¯s body odor. ¡°What do you want? I don¡¯t have any money for you,¡± Mitch grumbled. ¡°Hehe, we don¡¯t want just any old stinking Credits,¡± the leader smiled widely, revealing rotten, blackened teeth. His cronies giggled. Mitch¡¯s stomach fell deeper as he felt a tension build in his chest. The thin man pointed and the pressure increased sharply. Sweat beaded on his forehead. ¡°We only want the good stuff, even if the market is down.¡± Another Skill. What¡¯s that pressure against my chest? ¡°Dew it bawth,¡± one Grimmer slurred, his missing lip twisting his words. The group shuffled ahead in excitement. ¡°They¡¯th madesth you a Collector now. Dew it!¡± Oh, fuck me. The lead Grimmer, no¨Ca Collector¨Ccurled his finger and unfathomable pain exploded in Mitch¡¯s chest. He felt something rip out of him. White glowing tendrils flowed out from his chest and into the man¡¯s palm. The Soul cried out faintly as it left his core, its wails rising above Mitch¡¯s own scream. Burden Updated Burden: Pay the Abyssal Debt Status: Incomplete Active Debt: -1,000,666 -> -1,000,166 Currency: Souls, Flesh, Credits Thank you for your payment. Visit a Collector to make another. Do you give up? Unimaginable pain overcame him, and he collapsed in a heap onto the street, tears streaking down his face. The howling laughter of the Grimmers filled his ears as the internal pain continued to climb. Dirty feet began to stomp him. He felt a rib crack, his grunt only increasing his attackers ferocity. Worse still, his mind began to betray him. It began to show him the life of someone else. Trying to shove the emotions that began to flood him into his Devoid Skill proved impossible. The happy memories of someone else''s life overtook his mind as he was forced to watch a life that wasn¡¯t his as he was kicked at and stomped by the gang. A father throwing his young daughter up in the air, giggles filling the small apartment they shared together. A fresh start. Flipping and handing her a crispy grilled cheese. Bigger now, a rainy view from the bleachers, watching her crush a lobbed baseball, the crowd cheering. The joy at her coming home after reading over unpaid bills. Clapping when she won her grade 8 Art award, and English to boot. Endless happy memories filled him with joy as the Grimmers continued their attack. The memories turned darker and came faster. Doctor¡¯s office, she was almost a woman now. Her ready smile trying to hide her fear. Watching her favorite childhood movie and eating pizza. The call. Tears, so many tears. Her defiant face at her first treatment. Bills unpaid, forgotten. Endless nights in the hospital. Holding her hand for the last time. Tears. Bottles everywhere. The rope in the bathroom. Begging that he¡¯d do anything to No One. Nothing. Unfurling a tattered note in a trash filled alley. Stumbling into Club Mythos. No. No, this isn¡¯t mine. A final, brutal kick to his temple knocked him back to the present. Even Grimlace fueled addicts grew tired eventually. They backed up, giggling and smacking eachother in victory, leaving him bloodied and raw on the ground. Mitch stared up at the starry sky. All he felt was rage. He took one deep breath, rib tweaking, and hoisted himself up to face the Grimmers. Fuck these people. Affliction Skill Upgraded Agony¡¯s Embrace Level 2(+1) Pain is power. Harness every drop of suffering, turning agony into unrelenting strength. Your torment permanently fortifies your body and amplifies your strength. Strength surged through him, feeding on his pain. ¡°Five hunnit credits for a Soul, phewie, the market really has turned.¡± the leader mocked him, panting from the beating he¡¯d just delivered. Rage continued to climb as Mitch measured the group. Rather than try to hide the emotion with his Skill, he decided to bring the fight to his opponents. For the first time in his existence. One must always go forward, she said. You want me to embrace the Abyss? Mitch leapt, his powerful body exploding forward towards the group. The lead Grimmer¡¯s reaction was far too slow to stop what was coming. Throwing a wild haymaker, Mitch¡¯s fist connected with blackened teeth. Instantly the addict Collector dropped at his feet. Knocked out. Mitch and the surrounding enemies stood in shock. Raising his fist, Mitch pulled out a tooth that had lodged itself in his knuckle. Another scar to add to his collection. Ah, that¡¯s how I got those. The remaining Grimmers bolted. Mitch grinned and took off after them, muscular legs propelling him forward far faster than he thought possible. The power surged through him, making his body feel lighter, quicker¨Clike a predator closing in on its prey. He grabbed a lagging one roughly by the shoulder, digging fingers deep into his flesh.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I can get used to this strength. He howled in agony as Mitch yanked him back, his grip effortlessly tearing into his thin skin and muscle. Blood squirted as he spun him around. With newfound power flooding into his veins, he grabbed him by the waist and hoisted his entire body above his head in one fluid motion. His muscles flexed as he hurled the Grimmer with all his might toward the fleeing backs of the others. The impact sent the group scattering to the ground. Nice. One Grimmer escaped the chaos and bolted down an alley. Mitch walked slowly towards the fallen group, who were slowly picking themselves up. The largest two looked at him with panicked eyes as he delivered a full kick to the face of the thrown addict. He yelped as he was flipped onto his back. Mitch let the rage wash over him as he stood above the man and lifted his boot. He paused, the other addicts watching him in terrified silence. The man beneath him whimpered, hands outreached, trying to shield his face. This is it. Am I going all in? The Abyss pulsed through his heart, mingling with the rage roaring within him. Yes. His boot slammed down with a sickening crunch. The skull caved, blood and brain matter splattering the cobblestones. Mitch froze, guilt and triumph warring within him. Something had prodded him before the decision to stomp, pushing him over the edge. Did I just kill him because I wanted to? Or was it the Abyss pushing me? Before he could decide, pain lanced through his back as the fallen leader he had previously knocked out drove a knife into him. Mitch stumbled, blood leaking into his shirt. He whipped around, fury blazing. The remaining Grimlace addicts scattered, leaving their boss behind. Anger flowed into Mitch as he slowly walked towards the Collector. The gaunt man¡¯s face was still locked in a permanent grimace. His eyes bulged as if he were a trapped animal, waving a blood soaked blade at Mitch while backing up. ¡°Who made you a Collector?¡± Mitch¡¯s voice was ice. ¡°Not telling. They¡¯ll do worse than just kill me.¡± The Grimmer Collector sneered, backing up further. ¡°Then why work for them? Just for more Grimlace?¡± Mitch shifted, positioning himself so the addict¡¯s escape route ended at the brick wall. ¡°Heh, Grimlace digs in deep, pulls you down while making it feel damn good,¡± the addict chuckled as his back hit the wall. Instead of fear, his grimace stretched into a grotesque smile. ¡°Get deep enough, you¡¯re rewarded. Like me,¡± he tapped the blade against his chest. ¡°Made me a Collector. I can feel ''em in here,¡± he rasped through his laughter. ¡°Screaming, for where they¡¯re going.¡± The man¡¯s laugh started soft but quickly grew unhinged. Mitch stepped forward, disgusted. He slammed a fist into the Grimmer¡¯s face. Once. Hard. The addict barely flinched, his laughter swelling. ¡°Who do you Collect for? Where are you taking that Soul?¡± Mitch growled , striking again, harder. The Grimmer¡¯s laugh only deepened, bloody spit spraying from his broken mouth. Rage boiled in Mitch as he delivered yet another punch¨Ccrack¨Cthe man¡¯s cheekbone shattered as he toppled to the ground. The laughter grew louder. Mitch climbed on top of the writhing man, his fist crashing full force into his nose.The addict¡¯s head bounced off the cobblestones. ¡°They¡¯re coming with me, you fucking idiot.¡± The Grimmer wheezed, laughter choking into a bloody howl as Mitch continued to pummel his face. Rage boiled over, a burning need to stop this madness, to pull the souls back from whatever torment they were fated for. They were trapped within the body of the Collector. Trapped, just like me. But maybe not lost. He reached for his Abyssal Vault and his mind surged as he tried to pull them back. The Skill felt his call and answered, feeding off his desperation. Affliction Skill Upgraded Abyssal Vault Level 2 Collect, Siphon, and store Souls, Flesh, and Credits within. A living account for your Abyssal Debt. Meet a Collector to transfer the sum. Settlement Amount: 0 Souls, 0 Credits, 0 Flesh It wasn¡¯t enough. He felt the souls trapped within the gurgling and giggling Grimmer beneath him as his fists continue to reign terror into the bloody mess of a face. He paused his beating, and pulled harder, muscles straining. But the souls stayed bound, clutched within the Grimmer¡¯s twisted body. Gurgling, the addict laughed weakly through his shattered teeth. ¡°You want ¡®em? Gonna have to pry ¡®em from my corpse.¡± Mitch¡¯s blood ran cold. ¡°If you say so.¡± His deep voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. His body moved before his mind could catch up, bloodied fists tightening. With a roar, he delivered a massive punch. His knuckles met the Grimmer¡¯s face with a sickening crack. The laughter finally stopped. For a moment, everything was still. Then, Mitch felt it. The rush of cool energy surging towards his Abyssal Vault, drinking in what it craved. The addict¡¯s body began to wither, flesh twisting and shrinking, as his Skill swallowed not only his flesh, but the many souls the Collector had trapped inside him. Tendrils, white and black, surged from the crumpled body into Mitch¡¯s chest. Abyssal Vault Settlement Amount: 13(+13) Souls, 0 Credits, 1(+1) Flesh A flood of raw, dark energy hit Mitch like a rising wave. Each soul fed into his Abyssal Vault, not overwhelming, but strong enough to feel. Instead of the full chaos he expected, he felt most of them settle, thankful captives under his control. Some scratched and pounded, desperate for escape, but most felt almost relieved. A hole still remained on his back, and his knuckles were split. Yet, as the Souls and Flesh merged into his core, a subtle strength coursed through him. Muscles tightened, veins thrummed with new power. His flexed and a sense of renewed vigor radiated through him. They¡¯re not just currency¡­Why am I stronger from them? Mitch looked down at the husk that had been the Grimmer. His gaze flicked to the other he¡¯d killed earlier, lying a few feet away. Might as well, he thought grimly. No sense in letting it go to waste. His Abyssal Debt updated. Active Debt: -1,000,166 -> -1,000,666 Do you give up? Fat fucking chance. He walked over and siphoned the small body of the brainless Grimmer. Settlement Amount: 13 Souls, 0 Credits, 2(+1) Flesh As his Abyssal Vault absorbed the flesh, he felt the increase, but noticed only a singular flesh had been added. His brow furrowed in confusion. That soul should have been there. Where do the Souls go if they¡¯re not collected? Chapter 5: Whats in the Box? The dark elvish woman in the previously empty frame winked at Mitch and continued her sensual dance to the beat of the gothic house music. The bass reverberated through the floor. She gyrated into the neighboring frame, where a man covered in featureless black armor silently stared out at the wild crowd. Most frames held someone or something, he wasn¡¯t sure what all of them were. They either partied behind thin glass or engaged in other adult physical activities. Mitch watched them curiously as he cleared the back table. The scent of spiced incense barely masked the stench of sweat and leather. He made sure to prick his finger with a broken glass, sending a small jolt of power through him. There must be a few hundred frames, and they all contain someone¡­Was she stabbed in the chest? Did I see that? ¡°Glasses! Need glasses! Mitch, grab a Nightswart Absinthe bottle from the cellar, now! The good one in the back!¡± Robin¡¯s high pitched voice screamed into his earpiece. Crae¡¯s Agency proved tough to push through. All members carried sinister weapons openly, and few were the polite type. Giant orcs wore bulky armor and drank dark liquor from the bottle. Elven members sported black leathers and knowing eyes. Mitch even spotted a shirtless zombie with a giant greatsword strapped to his back. The gray man¡¯s nod was the friendliest he received as Mitch salmoned his big body through the crowd. The tray of glasses he balanced above the crowd teetered as people drunkenly danced and partied around him. Working the busy buyout helped keep Mitch¡¯s mind off of everything, and he was happy to feel semi-normal while working his shift, even if the crowd was different. Pretty normal, minus the different races and friendly monsters. Too busy to think about the Souls and Flesh I¡¯m¡­uh¡­holding. ¡°Oy! Leave me damn bloody nipples alone, ye¡¯ stinking animal,¡± Hathgar¡¯s voice cut through the mayhem. Looking over, he spotted his short friend holding two giant ice blocks above his head while an aged cat-featured beastkin woman held his nipple between clawed fingers. ¡°Oh, Hathy, you know me, just playing,¡± the woman said while laughing, giving him a twist before releasing him. ¡°Here, have this.¡± ¡°Gah! Don¡¯t transfer me twenty Credits,¡± Hathgar turned and shuffled away, deeper into the crowd towards a table that held the requested ¡®food¡¯. Disgusting. Above the crowd, Mitch spotted a platter piled high with Boneclaw Slurry, a gelatinous stew that quivered unsettlingly from the bass. Bits of indeterminate meat floated alongside mushy bones. Round the slop were potato chips covered in green slime. A sour, metallic tang filled the air from the food, mingling with the pervasive scent of body odor, smoke, and alcohol. Mitch¡¯s stomach turned looking at it. Nixie had explained that it was meant to ¡®challenge¡¯ the senses. Or punish them¡­ Thankfully, Hathgar had stowed simple grilled meat for them at their barback station in the back. Fighting and killing Grimlace addicts had made him surprisingly ravenous. ¡°That was a long time ago, Larya! Leave it!¡± Mitch grinned at Hathgar¡¯s insulted tone as he rounded the bar. Finally, he was able to drop his tray off with the barmaids. ¡°Thanks,¡± Nixie shot Mitch a smile as she began to help him load glasses into the washer. ¡°Need these. Fucking Craes drink like fish, specially that bitch,¡± she grumbled as she focussed on the task. Mitch was still in shock about her. He knew people like her existed from his body''s memories, but his mind was still playing catch up. He stole looks at the thick stitches that held her together. She was a thick bodied Patchling, knitted together from various human body parts, reanimated, and given a fresh life. All of Club Mythos¡¯s barmaidens were Robin¡¯s creations. For the most part, the girls loved him for it and were viciously loyal. He only makes women though. Bit creepy. ¡°Can¡¯t believe she would even show face here after screwing us over. She¡¯s a Scrapling alright. Something ain¡¯t right with all of them, I¡¯ll tell you that.¡± The slur cut sharply out of Nixie¡¯s threaded-on lips. ¡°Who? And you shouldn¡¯t use that word, Nix.¡± Mitch glanced from the bar, scanning the crowd for another Patchling. They were hard to pick out unless you could spot their stitches. ¡°One yellow eye. There,¡± Nixie nodded towards the cellar, where a small woman danced alone. Drink in hand, she swayed to the music in the small circle that surrounded her. ¡°Sable¡¯s off. Always was. It¡¯s what happens when too many different bodies are used.¡± ¡°Sable? Isn¡¯t she high up in Crae¡¯s? She¡¯s a Patchling?¡± He pretended to know. How a stitched together body managed to descend into the Depths to fight and loot was beyond him. He assumed they were fragile. ¡°Ditched us, and never looked back. Her own sisters,¡± she spat on the bar floor, shaking her head. ¡°Still need that Nightswart Absinthe, can you go grab it? They want it for their ¡®game¡¯.¡± Mitch pushed his way through the rough crowd to get to the cellar. He had yet to see Crae, as the man hadn¡¯t made his entrance yet. For how late it was in the evening, Mitch assumed that the man wouldn¡¯t show at all. From the inherited memories, Mitch knew that Crae¡¯s Agency was rich and apparently paid extremely well. Descending the Depths, trading with subterranean merchants, and clearing endless Abyssal Spawn surges was the main business. The magic and often cursed loot they plundered from the deeper Depths was just what they were most well known for.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Sable¡¯s eyes measured Mitch as he wedged through the last of the crowd. Standing in front of the doorway of the cellar, she looked immediately annoyed. Squaring up with the newcomer in her space, one yellow eye and one red eye took in his size before realizing he was just the club¡¯s barback. She relaxed and went back to dancing. Mitch struggled to not stare at the black thread covered by ringlets of blonde hair that cut diagonally on her neck. Without that, she might just be pretty. ¡°¡®Scuse me, just need to get a bottle from there.¡± He croaked in his service voice, embarrassed that he needed to get past her. ¡°Mind yourself, big man. Get away from her or I¡¯ll make you get away.¡± An orc in the circle grunted, eyeing him. Mitch met his eyes, and realized that the orc was the only one in the entire club that matched his size. ¡°Relax, Warrick. This one is just getting a bottle for us. Absinthe, yeah?¡± Her gravelly voice and casual tone surprised him. Flashing him a small smile, she moved out of the way so that he could pass. Mitch thanked her and approached the cellar door. A loud voice boomed out from waist height, ¡°Bit big for a bloody barback. The size of him. What in the depths has he been eating?¡± Glancing, Mitch saw the speaker was a dwarf, shorter than even Hathgar. The man¡¯s wild black beard covered most of the plate armor and face, but not the giant axe strapped to his back. Mitch crouched at the entrance of the cellar, reaching for the bottle of Nightswart Absinthe, his hands working on autopilot as his body knew exactly where to find it. Just as he started to stand, he realized the dwarf was still talking about him. ¡°Bit of a waste, innit? Someone that size running your bottles, Sable?¡± The dwarf¡¯s rough voice made it sound harsh. Mitch let the words roll off his back. If anything, he felt a strange pride at someone commenting on how large he was. That¡¯s right, I am massive. He straightened from the cellar, bottle of glowing Nightswart Absinthe in hand, the dwarf¡¯s words swelling him. His gaze flicked to Sable, who swayed to the beat. Her eyes assessed him with a slight smirk. ¡°Just because he¡¯s big, doesn¡¯t mean he can fight,¡± she said coolly, as if that settled the matter. Mitch clenched his jaw, keeping his expression neutral. A tension built inside of him. Fighting back wasn¡¯t something he had been great at in his old life¨Cbut he was different now. The Grimmers he¡¯d dealt with proved that. The Souls pulsed within him, dark, powerful, and waiting. Could I fight actual warriors? Can I really do what I think I have to? Those souls, they weren¡¯t just for collecting or currency. They were for something more. Granting him power and strength. He felt their battle cry thrum within him. Over the last few hours, the scratching souls that had previously wanted to escape had settled. As if they liked being within his core. The dwarf¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts. ¡°Heh, I¡¯d like to see him try. What¡¯s the point of being so bloody large if you¡¯re not going to use it, eh?¡± Warrick chuckled darkly from the side, sizing Mitch up with a sharp gaze. ¡°Aye. Urgar¡¯s got a point. What¡¯s the point of life if you ain¡¯t damn well fighting?¡± Mitch tensed but kept quiet, focussing on his breathing. The souls inside his vault stirred, feeling the beginnings of a confrontation. Hohoho, it is definitely more fun fighting when you¡¯re this big. Sable waved a hand dismissively, though her eyes lingered on Mitch for a moment longer than they should have. ¡°There¡¯ll be plenty of fighting soon enough, boys,¡± she said with a sly smile. ¡°Once everyone sees what¡¯s up for grabs, you¡¯ll get all the brawls you want.¡± Before Mitch could question what she meant, the atmosphere shifted. The dim lights flickered once, and a cold shiver slithered through the room. Robin had finally arrived. He didn¡¯t walk. He simply glided onto the dance floor, his form drifting effortlessly through the air. Robin flashed the crowd his easy too-wide smile that glowed, a gesture he knew would draw everyone¡¯s eyes. A handsome man in his mid-thirties with slicked-back black hair and mixed features. Wrapped in a shimmering blue suit, his figure blurred at the edges, as if his ghostly form couldn¡¯t anchor itself to reality. To his credit, he didn¡¯t need solid form to command the room. The house music pulsed in sync with his arrival. Robin was interesting enough to draw eyes. But what drew everyone¡¯s attention was the black box he carried in his hands. Thick silver chains wrapped around it. Despite having an ethereal form and hands, Robin held Mathilda¡¯s party favor forward for all to see. And then Mitch felt it. An invisible force swept through the club. There had been no notification, no build up. Robin had activated a Skill. The moment it surged through the room, everything sharpened. The air felt heavier, the lights brighter, and the sounds of the house music thumped within Mitch¡¯s body. Robin¡¯s Skill would open people up, turning up the dial of their emotions to the maximum. Oh, that¡¯s fun. The Souls within him stirred relentlessly, responding to the power within the air. Everyone watched as Robin tapped the chains, which unraveled themselves and clattered to the floor. Robin raised the black box above his head, relishing the anticipation in the room. Mitch¡¯s eyes were locked onto the box as well. Something in me craves what¡¯s inside. ¡°Now, now¡­¡± Robin¡¯s high-pitched voice cut through like silk. ¡°No need for any impatience, my friends.¡± With a flourish, he lifted the lid of the black box. The room tensed further. Then it shot out¨Csmall, black, fast as lightning. A one-eyed, dark entity, trailing smoke as it zipped through the crowd. It blurred in a streak of shadow. Its single glowing eye blinked as it suddenly stopped and hovered mid air, its body swirling with dark tendrils. The crowd gasped, awestruck. Robin¡¯s voice cut through the murmur. ¡°This,¡± he announced, his tone playing to the eager crowd, ¡°is one of the rarest specimens ever recovered from the Abyss. A Shadowshroud, still alive.¡± He floated above them, eyes gleaming in the ghostly light. ¡°Courtesy of Crae, and myself. One of the only Abyssal creatures that can be bound to anyone. A living, growing protector.¡± I want it. I need it. The room buzzed with excitement, but Mitch barely registered it. The Souls inside him screamed, clawing at his insides. Urging him forward. To fight for this floating creature. Robin¡¯s gaze flicked to Mitch, and for a split second, their eyes met. ¡°Only one of you walks away with it,¡± he said, almost laughing. ¡°Do ensure it is you.¡± Mitch¡¯s hands balled into fists, his chest tight with need. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but the pull was undeniable. I have to win this. Time to put this body to use. Sable strode forward onto the cleared dance floor to stand next to Robin. ¡°You know the rules,¡± she declared with authority, her one yellow eye glinting. ¡°One on one, until there¡¯s a victor. No weapons. No armor. No Active Skills,¡± she let the crowd hang in anticipation before shouting in her gravelly voice, ¡°Bear Pits!¡± The crowd erupted, cheering with excitement and bloodlust. Then they started chanting. ¡°Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves!¡± Chapter 6: Bear Pits ¡°Two men enter, one man leaves,¡± the crowd chanted as Layra, the beastkin woman with feline grace, faced off against the polite zombie man. ¡°Two men enter, one man leaves!¡± The chorus of voices reached a crescendo as the undead moved quicker than Mitch expected, wrapping himself around the cat woman¡¯s back like a clamp. She threw herself forward, twisting midair with the zombie still clinging on.They crashed onto the floor, her weight smashing him beneath. The crunch of the undead ribs made the crowd cheer. His arms loosed, and Layra slithered out, wrapping her own furry legs efficiently around the man¡¯s head. The zombie scrambled frantically, his rotting fingers clawing at her thighs. She seized one decaying arm and yanked back. Bone cracked and pushed through gray skin as she threw her hips upwards. The man screamed but didn¡¯t relent, scratching at her thick arm. Mitch watched her squeeze his head with all her might, but the undead didn¡¯t need to breathe. ¡°Enough!¡± Sable¡¯s voice cut through the chaos as she rushed onto the dancefloor, now a makeshift arena pit. ¡°Layra, you win. Let him go before he¡¯s done for good.¡± The cat woman gave his broken arm one final, savage pull, tearing more flesh from bone, before standing to cheers. She flicked her tail in satisfaction and joined the crowd. Hathgar used to see HER?! From the sidelines of the circle, Mitch watched with rapt attention. Now that the real fun had begun, his barbacking duties had slowed to a crawl. The fights had been quick and brutal. Most losers were knocked out, but Mitch had witnessed countless arm and ankle breaks, even a beheading by bare hands that ended with a gnome¡¯s rolling skull cackling like a madman as his accomplices struggled to stitch it back onto his body that kept running away. Now that the chaff had been handedly dealt with, the fights were ramping up. Only a few undefeated winners remained. Crae¡¯s Agency swigged from bottles and cheered the spectacle. Fighters opted for a sip of Nightswart Absinthe before their bouts, the glowing liquid fueling their ferocity. The prize¨Cthe Shadowshroud¨Chovered above. Dark tendrils flailed as it watched. Robin¡¯s skill elevated everyone¡¯s primal battle lust. Sable waited patiently for the chatter to die down. ¡°Warrick, you¡¯re up. Choose your opponent. Someone undefeated.¡± The crowd hushed as Warrick, the giant orc that hung around Sable, took a ground-shaking step into the circle. The orc stood confidently, green-skinned and almost seven feet tall. His bottom tusks were shined to a polish. His eyes, sharp and predatory, scanned the crowd. He lingered on Layra, but a grin split his face as his gaze landed on Mitch. Raising a muscled arm, he pointed straight at him with a bent finger. ¡°You,¡± Warrick growled, his voice rumbling like thunder. ¡°Time for the big barback to show us what he¡¯s made of.¡± Mitch¡¯s gut clenched in a mix of nervousness and excitement. He hesitated a moment, but before he could register anyone¡¯s reaction, he stepped forward. Laughter from Warrick''s challenge filled the club around him. They think it¡¯s funny? Anger rose in Mitch from their laughter. He was tired of being pushed around. Now, with a body like his, he wanted to test it out. Hathgar shouted behind him about something, but Mitch couldn¡¯t hear him above the ruckus. The Souls within him buzzed with dark anticipation and urged him forward. This is it. Time to see what I can really do. As Mitch stepped into the ring, the crowd¡¯s laughter shifted. Laughter morphed into a chant. ¡°Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves!¡± Over the noise, Hathgar¡¯s voice rose above in desperation. ¡°Mitch, you don¡¯t know how to fight!¡± So what? Warrick let out a guttural roar and charged. Mitch squared up, his heart pounding. For a split second, he caught Robin¡¯s wink from above. Then the orc was on him, barreling forward like a stinking freight train. Mitch braced, feet digging in, bones jarring as Warrick crashed full-force into in a tackle attempt. He twisted and slammed an elbow down onto Warrick¡¯s back. The orc barely flinched, but Mitch felt something ignite inside him. A spark kindling into a flame. This wasn¡¯t a stumbling Grimmer. This was a real fight. This is pretty fun.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Growing up, the only thing that allowed Mitch to keep pushing forward through all the abuse was the ability he had developed. He was able to think clearly while in dangerous situations, a result of dissociation to endure the pain and humiliation. They pushed off each other, circling warily. The Souls raged within him, feeding his movements. Warrick feigned a fist, then threw a sweeping kick at Mitch¡¯s head. He swerved and countered, slamming a fist into the orc¡¯s gut. Warrick took the hit and swung¨Ca vicious hook that Mitch dodged by a breath. The giant fist cut the air, inches from breaking his face. Instinct took over. Memories from his body surged through him, guiding his moves. He felt deadly as he delivered a left jab, then a right cross. Warrick and Mitch exchanged brutal hits, each landing heavily. Mitch snapped a kick to Warrick¡¯s ribs, connecting shin bone with tensed muscle. The orc stumbled back, shook himself like a bull, and lunged again with blazing eyes. Warrick swung wide. Mitch raised an arm to block, but the hidden cross came fast. It smashed into his shoulder. Pain flared, sharp and hot, but he pivoted, and slammed a knee into Warick¡¯s side. Something cracked. The orc barely grunted, countering with a front kick that sent Mitch flying back. His spine jolted against an unforgiving wall of flesh that circled him. The impact fueled him. Agony¡¯s Embrace pulsed within, his Skill feeding on the pain. Power coursed through his veins, his body hardening just a touch more with each blow. This is what I needed. Just the right tool to fight back. He felt the call of the instinctual, brutal battle. The Souls he harbored, his Skill, his desire to fight back¨Call of it urged him on, driving him to dominate. He¡¯d never felt this alive, save for the first time he was murdered. The memories of how to fight from his body melded with the rage of his own soul, making each strike more deliberate. Warrick loomed above him. Mitch was ready. He sprang forward, low and fast. His uppercut connected with Warrick¡¯s jaw, sending the orc reeling. He followed up with a relentless series of blows¨Cpunches, elbows, knees¨Ca seamless combo, delivered by his new body. Each strike was more brutal than the last, driving Warrick back. The crowd¡¯s roars became a distant hum. Mitch pressed the attack, fists flying with a speed and precision that stunned onlookers. He was a blur of rage and retribution. Every punch landed harder, especially when he felt a knuckle break. Warrick staggered, his green skin slick with sweat and black blood. Mitch could feel the Souls within him urge him on again, impatient. He threw a sharp elbow into the orc¡¯s temple as a finisher. The orc gasped in pain, stumbling but refusing to fall. Mitch¡¯s eyes narrowed. With a sweeping leg kick¨Cup and down in a question mark¨Chis boot slammed into Warrick¡¯s neck. The orc finally crumpled to the ground. The crowd erupted, but Mitch wasn¡¯t finished. He leapt onto him, raining blows onto the orcs blocky face. The world around him blurred, fading into the background as he continued his bone crushing punches. Think you¡¯re going to pick on me? Make fun of me? The Souls within him screamed, mixing with his own shouts, a symphony of violence and release. Suddenly, he felt himself yanked back, thrown off balance. A weight had slammed into him from the side. Mitch sprawled, blinking away the haze, and realized that Urgar, the black-bearded dwarf, had tackled him. The dwarf¡¯s laughter filled his ears as reality snapped back into focus. ¡°Alright, alright, big man. I take it back,¡± Urgar chuckled, hauling Mitch to his feet with surprising strength. ¡°Seems like ye¡¯ can fight after all.¡± Mitch steadied himself, chest heaving. His fists throbbed and screamed in protest, blood trickling from split knuckles. He looked down at Warrick¡¯s motionless form. The orc¡¯s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. A bloody, broken mess on the floor. The crowd was roaring, but Mitch could barely hear them. His own pulse hammered in his ears, and the Souls within him vibrated with dark energy. Bit too much. Shit. Hathgar stared at him from across the circle, wide-eyed, like he¡¯d just seen a ghost. Mitch¡¯s gaze found Robin hovering above, clapping his ghostly hands with a mischievous grin. ¡°Well done!¡± Robin shouted over the crowd. ¡°Our barback, just full of surprises!¡± Layra stepped forward into the arena, tail flicking with excitement. Her eyes locked onto Mitch, a predatory hunger gleaming. ¡°My turn,¡± she purred, pointing to her next opponent. ¡°Let¡¯s keep this party going.¡± Before Layra could take another step, Sable strode forward. The crowd''s clamor hushed instantly as she placed a firm hand on Mitch¡¯s shoulder. Her multi-colored eyes inspected him. The split knuckles, the blood smeared across his skin. A crease formed between her brows, a flicker of concern that vanished as quickly as it appeared. She pulled the bottle from her side. Uncorking the glowing Nightswart Absinthe, she held it out to him. ¡°Take a swig,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll need it.¡± Mitch took the bottle, his fingers brushing against hers. Warm. He was surprised by the heat of her touch. Despite her Patchling nature, her skin felt human. Alive and real. He hesitated a moment, meeting her gaze. Then, tipping it backwards, he swallowed a deep mouthful. It burned all the way down. Sloshing heat settled in his stomach, then a fiery warmth spread through his veins. Nightswart Absinthe. Liquid battlelust, as they call it. His blood felt like it was boiling, his muscles surging. Every sense sharpened further. The roar of the crowd, the scent of flesh and musk. He turned back to the circle, eyes locking onto Layra. Her predatory gaze made his heart pound. The fear that flickered earlier was gone, consumed by the Absinthe¡¯s potent effects. A grin spread across his face. Whatever came next, he was ready for it. The crowd began to chant once more. ¡°Two men enter, one man leaves! Two men enter, one man leaves!¡± Layra¡¯s muscles coiled. In a flash, she launched herself at him, a blur of fur and claws. Without realizing it, Mitch had begun to feel more comfortable in the body he inhabited. Chapter 7: New Friends Mitch grunted at his bleeding shoulder but swung a brutal hook, smashing into Layra¡¯s nose with his torn fist. She yowled as blood streamed down her face. The crowd¡¯s roar was a distant echo; all that mattered was the fierce dance of the fight between them. So far, their fight had lasted much longer. They had traded hard blows and countless slashes. Mitch finally noticed her ferocity faltering. Layra¡¯s tail lashed angrily as she circled him. Desperation fueled her attacks, but she pressed on. Mitch delivered a swift kick to her ribs; she retaliated with a wild swipe, her claws digging deep into his side. He lurched back, clutching his side where Layra¡¯s claws had torn through flesh. Blood leaked from the deep gashes, seeping between his fingers. Mitch grinned through the pain. Layra kept her distance from him with a broken nose, and one eye swollen shut. The crowd roared as they took in the mess he¡¯d made of her and the raw wounds slashed across his body. Affliction Skill Upgraded Agony¡¯s Embrace Level 3(+1) Pain is power. Harness every drop of suffering, turning agony into unrelenting strength. Your torment permanently fortifies your body and amplifies your strength. + Consume Souls or Flesh to heal your Body He felt the Absinthe blaze through him. Wicked power surging as the upgrade hit. His muscles flexed harder, drawing strength from the agony. The open wounds pulsed in rhythm with his hammering heart as they leaked, but he held back, remembering the rules. No active Skills allowed in the pit. Actually disgusting, but very useful. Just need to finish this psycho. Layra hesitated, her stance shifting as she eyed him. He could see the doubt flicker in her gaze. She darted forward, claws swiping wide. But he was ready. Her swing met air as he dodged and countered, driving a brutal fist into her ribs, followed up with a knee. She doubled over, gasping, and stumbled back. The crowd¡¯s cheers pounded in his ears. Mitch tensed, ready to surge forward to finish Layra off with a crushing blow. He loaded his fist, ready to break her face apart. She raised a trembling hand, signaling him to stop. After ten long minutes, she had finally given up. He froze, heart still thundering in his chest, knuckles itching to land another blow. Her eyes held a flicker of fear, and he realized he¡¯d been ready to tear her apart. Mitch took a shaky step back. The battle-lust from the Absinthe simmered, no longer boiling within. Layra lowered her hand, breathing hard, tail wrapping around her legs as she slumped to her knees. Sable entered the ring, eyes calculating and stride precise. She looked at Mitch with an appraising glint, as if she was sizing up a new tool. The crowd cheered, but her attention never wavered from him. He felt her assessing, her cold gaze measuring his potential for whatever plans she had in mind. Sable¡¯s raised voice cut off the noise. ¡°Does anyone else want to challenge him?¡± The roar of approval rose, but no one moved. One by one they looked away, avoiding his gaze. Only Hathgar¡¯s eyes locked onto his. There was something strange in his friend¡¯s expression. As if he were seeing Mitch for the first time, bewilderment mixed with a touch of fear. That¡¯s how I looked at people I was afraid of¡­ Sable smirked at him. In that moment, Mitch felt the weight of his own power, and the unsettling realization of what he¡¯d almost done. He¡¯d been ready to kill her. To let the rage consume him completely. He shook himself, trying to chase away the chill running down the spine alongside the warm blood of his open wounds. Sable¡¯s voice pierced through the tension. ¡°No one else wants to step up?¡± She glanced around at the crowd, but none stepped up. ¡°Then the Shadowshroud is yours, Mitch.¡± Her words cut through the air, igniting the crowd anew. The souls within him trashed in celebration. The one-eyed Shadowshroud hovered above. Shadows curled from its whirling tentacles like smoke, tasting the air around it. Sable held up a hand, silencing the crowd. ¡°However,¡± she continued, her yellow eye gleaming, ¡°you can only claim it if you¡¯re willing to join Crae¡¯s Agency. Those are the rules. We do not provide rewards to outsiders.¡± The challenge hung heavily in the air. Mitch¡¯s gaze lifted to Robin, who hovered above. Robin gave a quick nod and a wink, signaling his approval. Did you set this up?Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Mitch exhaled, steadying himself. The Souls in his core reached toward the Shadowshroud, raw desire pushing him forward. He couldn¡¯t back down now. Their push, along with his own desire, helped him along. Peeling off his torn barback shirt, Mitch tossed it aside. His scarred chest heaved and was smeared with blood from Layra¡¯s attacks. Every cut throbbed as his breath calmed. Always forward, and never around, right Mathilda? Mitch reached into himself, calling on his new addition from Agony¡¯s Embrace. The Skill flared to life, and Mitch felt its morbid capability. It was an easy thing to pull flesh from his Abyssal Vault. He drew the flesh within his core out and then across his wounds. Fresh scars were added to his already covered body. As his flesh knit together, he felt a deep, hollow tug at his soul. The payment was made in someone else¡¯s flesh. Flesh consumed for his strength. It left a rotten taste in his mouth, a reminder that he¡¯d taken something that once belonged to another. Yes, the flesh he used to heal himself had been from Grimmers trying to torture him and abuse him, but that hardly made a difference in his mind. Settlement Amount: 13 Souls, 0 Credits, 0(-2) Flesh This is just one more scar. I need to be stronger than this if I¡¯m going to make it. Push past it. The crowd had fallen silent, staring at him with wide eyes as Mitch realized everyone was staring at him. A murmur of disbelief swept through the space. The zombie man that had lost to Layra waved his torn, rotting arm about, cackling with laughter. ¡°How nice would that be, eh?¡± the zombie man exclaimed as he gestured with his flopping arm at Mitch¡¯s healed but scarred body. Mitch glanced at Sable, a frown tugging at his brow. ¡°Is healing that rare?¡± he asked casually, his tone trying to mask his curiosity. Sable¡¯s eyes weighed him. ¡°Almost unheard of. You don¡¯t see it often, if ever,¡± she replied, leaning in to guard her question. ¡°What exactly are you using to heal? There is always a very heavy cost, and I didn¡¯t sense anything.¡± Mitch didn¡¯t answer. He only met her gaze with a hard stare, unwilling to reveal his secrets. Unease wormed over her face, but she seemed to let it go, simply nodding once as if filing the information away. ¡°Not my business, anyways.¡± she said with finality, gesturing to the writhing monster floating above. The murmurs continued as people spoke in low tones, and Mitch felt suddenly like a specimen being watched. If healing was that rare, he must ensure he guarded his secret. If they knew what I was using to heal, would they still be amazed? Crae¡¯s was known in Shadowreach to have a marked hatred of Abyssal magic. They despised it so much, killing Abyssal monsters and looting the Depths was their main business. Yes. Yes they would. Alright, that secret is staying with me. Mitch extended a hand toward the Shadowshroud, brushing his fingers against its tendrils. They twisted and coiled around him, binding to his skin. Slowly at first, then all at once, the Shadowshroud molded to his frame, forming a tight, black shirt that felt like part of him. There was a hunger there, radiating from it. Latent power waited to be fed with flesh. Mitch felt it tickling the back of his mind, growling like a hungry animal. Uhh¡­I can hear this thing in my mind. Can it hear me? The Shadowshroud grumbled back, acknowledging his question. It slotted against his mind like an old pitbull. Friendly to him, but spiteful to others. Yes. Definitely can hear my thoughts. Before he could fully take on the significance of what he¡¯d taken on, a heavy hand clapped him on the back. Mitch staggered under the weight but stayed upright. Turning, he looked down on Urgar¡¯s toothless smile and unashamedly dirty black beard. ¡°Welcome to the club, lad!¡± Urgar said, laugh booming out, bouncing off the walls of the club. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you had it in you. Guess we was wrong. A real bloody fighter. Handsome too! Not as handsome as me, but¡­¡± The dwarf winked at him. Mitch grunted and smiled in response. There was a sense of camaraderie in the dwarf¡¯s tone, which instantly disarmed him. Sable watched him closely. ¡°Meet me at the Agency hall tomorrow,¡± she said, with no room for argument in her voice. ¡°You¡¯ll meet Crae. You¡¯ve got potential. We¡¯ll make sure it isn¡¯t wasted.¡± Robin hovered above, clapping his hands with a grin that sent another chill down Mitch¡¯s back. ¡°Just full of surprises, as I always said.¡± The crowd surged around him, cheering and celebrating his victory. But Mitch felt distant, separated from the revelry. Searching the crowd, he looked for a familiar face amongst the chaos of everything. But Hathgar was nowhere to be found. The realization left a hollow ache in his chest. Did I cross a line tonight? He looked scared of me¡­Does he know? The Shadowshroud clung to him, alive and pulsing, and the Souls within him relaxed, sated and calm. His old life seemed so distant now. It had been but a day, and he already felt like a completely different person. The body that was now his made him feel powerful, but it was still settling within him that he wasn¡¯t a spindly, ugly guy with no family. Under the glow of the club lights, Mitch felt the pull of something darker. A force he wasn¡¯t sure he could resist. The weight of his choices pressed down on him, the Shadowshroud pulsing against his skin, and the Souls within him throbbing with a new hunger. He wasn¡¯t just a survivor anymore; he was becoming something else. Something that both terrified and thrilled him. Amid it all, all he wanted was to hear Hathgar¡¯s friendly voice again. Chapter 8: Parting Words Mitch wandered through the narrow alleys of the Dwarven District, the night with Crae¡¯s Agency still buzzing through him. Here, the usual grime of Shadowreach kept away. The floating candles moved cautiously together high above. No Grimmers dared to prowl the streets, as dwarves held their ground, and any fool who brought trouble found themselves swiftly dealt with. The Dwarven District was one of the few corners left in the city where they held sway as a race. Stout stone buildings pressed together, standing together as a testament to their refusal to bend. Smoke, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of strong ale filled the air. Yet even with the high population of boisterous dwarves, the cold tendrils of Shadowreach¡¯s atmosphere still managed to hang, pressing the dwarves into their warm, cramped bars. Mitch¡¯s brushing memories tugged him forward, drawing him to the bar he and Hathgar often favored: The Broken Pickaxe. It was their spot to drink together for years, Mitch¡¯s memories told him. A place where dwarves laughed and drank as if the walls weren¡¯t slowly crumbling around them. He stepped inside, stooping through the low door. The familiar scent of sour ale and roasting meat immediately hit him. The room was dim, the low ceiling painted yellow with years of smoke, while rough-tables bore the marks of countless scuffles and games. Dwarves sat together, drinking and playing their favored game, Stakes. The clatter of the game¡¯s tokens being shuffled mingled with the chatter. In the back corner, Mitch spotted Hathgar, slouched over a small personal keg with a tankard in hand, alone at a table. He started to make his way over, careful not to knock over any dwarves. Roasted suckling pig was the fare, and Mitch¡¯s stomach grumbled from the scent. Walking through the small tavern, he spared a glance at the only other non-dwarf in the space. A half-orc sat alone, engrossed in filling out a worn notebook. The half-orc¡¯s red ring caught Mitch¡¯s eye for just a second before he passed by on his way to Hathgar. The man paid him no mind, fully engrossed in his task. The Souls within him recoiled from the man as he passed. Hmm¡­ Reaching the table, Hathgar glanced up with a scowl that softened quickly. ¡°Took ye¡¯ long enough,¡± he muttered, gesturing for Mitch to sit. Mitch settled onto the bench across from Hathgar, his grin a touch too wide. ¡°You didn¡¯t wait for me? Losing your manners. Had me clean the entire club after by myself. That slop they ate? Actually tasted pretty good,¡± he teased, leaning back as if it were back to simpler times. Hathgar scoffed, but his eyes held a glint of the old friendly humor and alcohol. ¡°Manners? Ye¡¯ know me better ¡®en that, lad. Figured ye¡¯d catch up on yer own time.¡± The dwarf eyed the Shadowshroud clinging to Mitch¡¯s frame, his face hardening. ¡°Got that shadow thing hanging on ye now, eh? That¡¯ll pull ye in faster than anything else.¡± Mitch glanced down at the barely visible black tendrils curling around his shirt. It appeared to be a simple black t-shirt to the untrained eye, and unease filled Mitch as he wondered if other¡¯s noticed. How do I take this thing off? Can I take it off? It seemed dormant, but he could feel its weight in his mind, waiting to be fed. ¡°Can¡¯t be a barback forever, Hathgar. Getting nowhere cleaning tables and running errands for Robin. Plus, this Shadowshroud, it¡¯s not a big deal,¡± he replied, attempting confidence. ¡°Aye, that¡¯s what they all say,¡± Hathgar muttered, shaking his head and bushy beard as he took a deep swig from his oversized wooden tankard. He looked Mitch over, his gaze sharp. ¡°Ye should be right careful, Mitch. Powers like that? Abyssal born ones? Bah,¡± Hathgar pointed with his chunky short finger at the twisting black shirt. ¡°Bad news. Dwarves don¡¯t go right messing with soul magic no more. Not if they got any sense. We¡¯ve been trying to rid ourselves of it for years now. Even banned it outright in Stonehollow.¡± Mitch chuckled, trying to lighten his mood. ¡°Soul magic? You make it sound like I¡¯ve got a full demon strapped to me.¡± Hathgar didn¡¯t laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t need an army to do the damage a good soul weapon can, ye¡¯ know that. Ye¡¯ve heard the stories. It¡¯s no weapon, but it sure is soul magic.¡± Another deep swig from the tankard, Hathgar poured himself another cup out of the keg on the table, and then one for Mitch. He took a deep drink, savoring the cold, sour ale. The dwarf continued as Mitch consumed his cup in deep gulps. ¡°Dwarves like me, we¡¯re done with that nasty business.¡± Hathgar downed his glass, wiping his bushy red beard with the back of his hand. ¡°I¡¯m leaving Shadowreach. Too much Abyss and soul magic here for my liking. Almost more¡¯n there was back when the Masked Lord tried topplin¡¯ the Abyss. Ain¡¯t bloody possible to beat the Abyss. How ye''re supposed to kill hell itself?¡± Mitch straightened, surprise flickering across his face. Masked Lord? Toppling the Abyss? What happened to the Masked Lord? ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Mitch asked Hathgar sadly. His one friend in the city. Someone his body told him he could trust, was going. It still stung brutally. In the short while he had known the dwarf, he could see why his body considered him a true friend. ¡°Aye. Stonehollow¡¯s calling me back. Have been for a while now,¡± Hathgar leaned in, his voice a low slurring rumble over the clatter of the tavern. ¡°Locking it back down soon. Hasn¡¯t been done since that damned Masked Lord lost a hundred years ago or so. Foul mess, that.¡± Mitch¡¯s heart hammered from Hathgar¡¯s words. This was new information, and an opportunity to understand the world around him. Hathgar¡¯s slurred words let him know his friend was already drunk. Mitch felt momentarily bad about tricking his friend, but pushed forward. I¡¯m sorry, Hathgar. I need to wear the mask for now. ¡°The Masked Lord hit Stonehollow? I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Mitch asked, feigning knowledge and leaning forward to match Hathgar¡¯s energy. Reaching, he scooped up his own wooden tankard next to their shared small keg, and poured himself another cup of ale. The amber liquor was crisp, sour, and satisfying in his empty stomach. Hathgar looked incredulously back at Mitch, waving his hand emphatically. ¡°Hit Stonehollow? No boy, I swear you city folk know nothing,¡± the dwarf took a deep gulp, finishing his own drink, refilling it before continuing. ¡°The Masked Lord came to our rescue. People get the damned story wrong all the time, that¡¯s how far the Abyss has infected it all,¡± another deep swallow, Hathgar¡¯s body growing more animated and his face flushed from his drunkenness. ¡°Side by side, he and my father and all my clan fought back the damned horde from the Abyss,¡± Hathar pounded his fist onto his chest, spilling ale onto the table. ¡°Killed so many cursed Abyssal Spawn, it raised my family to a real force in Stonehollow,¡± a proud glint filled Hathgar¡¯s eyes as he spoke about his father. Mitch felt the worm of envy begin to crawl in him at the pride his friend displayed about his parent. The deep swallow of ale helped, but not by much. ¡°Led the dwarves to fight them back and helped seal Stonehollow tight, can ye¡¯ believe that? Helped dwarves seal up the stone at the base of Stonehollow? Dwarves needing help with stone?¡± Hathgar laughed at the idea as he finished another cup. The dwarf snatched Mitch¡¯s empty tankard, and filled it up first, handing it back before attending to his own. This drunk, and he¡¯s filling my cup before his. While I¡¯m sitting here lying to his face about who I am. Mitch felt terrible about what he was doing. He tried to do right by people. Yet here he was, pulling information out of someone who trusted him. ¡°Then why do you need to go back? If Stonehollow is secure¡­what¡¯s going on?¡± Mitch pried, drinking his fill of the ale. Thankfully, the dwarves around them were engrossed in their own drinks and stories, and didn¡¯t seem to be listening. ¡°Aye, well that¡¯s the thing, ain¡¯t it?¡± Hathgar swayed in his chair and pointed at Mitch. ¡°Powerful as he was, the Masked Lord and his army lost. Killed by the Abyss in the end,¡± the dwarf sucked his teeth. ¡°He destroyed a lot of ¡®em, that¡¯s for sure. But not all of ¡®em. It¡¯s still here, ain¡¯t it? You see it everywhere. Look at your damned shirt.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Mitch¡¯s mind whirled. The Masked Lord had tried to eradicate the Abyss. Hell itself, that broke through earth and cast its minions forth. It seemed an impossible task, but the memories that floated to him at Hathgar¡¯s story seemed to confirm it. What Hathgar told him was true. Why am I in debt to the Abyss then? What does this body have to do with it? ¡°If he lost, then why aren¡¯t the Abyss and its monsters here? Above ground and everywhere?¡± Mitch asked, his knuckles white from the vice grip around the empty tankard. He hadn¡¯t even remembered downing the cup. Good ale. The Abyss had called him, or had it? When it probed him to stomp the Grimmer¡¯s head in, when he had been fighting Layra and wanted to kill her. He was tied to it, by his debt, and clearly by his power. Twisted claws from below hooked into his very being. Was that the Abyss? Or was that me? Am I turning into a monster just because I¡¯m powerful now? ¡°Just because ye¡¯ cut out an infection, doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s gone, does it? Not if ye¡¯ don¡¯t get the root.¡± Hathgar mused, nodding at Mitch. ¡°Aye, it was many a good year when the Abyss wasn¡¯t reaching. Now? Look around, man.¡± The dwarf paused, staring into his drink. ¡°Things have only gotten worse since he lost. Abyss stretching too far, again. Bad days are comin¡¯, I reckon.¡± Mitch absorbed the weight of Hathgar¡¯s words. Anger rose within him from the situation he had been forced into. For his friend leaving him. Anger that felt a part of him, but much deeper and more brutal than he was accustomed to. This was his body¡¯s doing. He pushed it into his Devoid box, feeling the building wrath subside. ¡°So¡­you¡¯re heading back out of fear? For a hole to hide in? Back to your family?¡± Hathgar snorted. ¡°Hide? No. To live. Stonehollow¡¯s different than those other dwarven holdouts. She ain¡¯t underground. Carved out of a damned iron filled mountain. It¡¯s one of the last damn places where we live without worryin¡¯ what¡¯s going to creep in from the dark,¡± his eyes glinted as he thought of his home. ¡°Gorgeous place, warm too. Even though it¡¯s all stone and steel, we always made sure to keep it warm,¡± the dwarf looked up at Mitch and smiled pridefully. ¡°Wish ye would visit, lad. Couldn¡¯t wear that blasted thing, but, I think ye¡¯d like it just fine. Beautiful plump ladies, cold ale, steel, and meat. That¡¯s what I want. That¡¯s what I need.¡± Mitch was taken aback. Hathgar had completely missed Mitch¡¯s anger, focussed only on the comfort of a safe home and simple pleasures. Envy rose again, and Mitch forced as much of the dark emotion into Devoid as he could. He doesn¡¯t mean anything bad by it. He just can¡¯t live surrounded by hell. Still invited me to his home. As far as his half memories of their friendship went, Hathgar hadn¡¯t invited him to Stonehollow once. He poured himself another beer from the keg, the liquor¡¯s warmth spreading throughout him. Regardless of his emotions, Mitch knew he needed to be better than a petulant child. If that¡¯s what his friend wanted, then he should be all the more happy for him. ¡°Thought dwarves don¡¯t let in outsiders?¡± Mitch asked, trying to keep his voice curious and not bitter. ¡°Aye, no outsiders,¡± Hathgar said, a grin breaking his red face under his wild, fiery beard. ¡°Me n¡¯ you though? You ain¡¯t no outsider, Mitch. We both know at this point we¡¯re brothers.¡± The dwarf''s heavy hand clapped Mitch¡¯s scar covered shoulder. Instantly Hathgar¡¯s face changed, friendliness switching to disgust as he yanked his hand back from the Shadowshroud that he wore. Mitch was forced to watch as his friend spit on his hand and wipe it on the floor to cleanse himself. It made him feel filthy. If his friend didn¡¯t want to touch Abyssal objects, what would others think? Did I make the wrong choice? ¡°Don¡¯t think nothing of it. Just don¡¯t like to touch nothing Abyssal born. Bad luck, me ¡®ma says,¡± Hathgar sucked his teeth, before he leaned back, measuring Mitch with a stare. ¡°I got something for ye¡¯. If yer going to be working with Crae¡¯s, ye¡¯ should have it. Supposed to sell or get rid of the bloody thing, anyways. Whole no soul magic thing, and all that.¡± Hathgar leaned down, swaying but keeping his balance, and pulled a battered case from under the table. The wood was scuffed and ancient, but the expertly crafted hinges gleamed. Hathgar hefted it onto their table, and pushed it towards him. Mitch felt the power humming within. His Shadowshroud, and the Souls within him pulled towards the case. ¡°One of the last ones, that.¡± Hathgar said as Mitch opened the case. The hinges didn¡¯t creak at all. Obviously dwarven crafted, Mitch¡¯s memories told him. He opened the case, staring at the dark metal sword within. A brutal weapon, two handed, heavy and serrated. It pulsed faintly in the light. The Souls within him stirred, reaching for it on their own. ¡°One of the last Soul Weapons my clan had,¡± Hathgar¡¯s eyes softened. ¡°Take it. A gift, if ye¡¯d call it that. Can¡¯t have a friend without proper dwarven steel. I also can¡¯t keep the damned thing.¡± The sword called out to Mitch, its intricate black metal humming faintly. ¡°But know what yer holdin¡¯. That sword¡¯s seen more death than I care to think on. And it ain¡¯t just metal¨Cit¡¯s built for a soul. One of the last from the Masked Lord¡¯s rebellion. When he fell, well, this here was one of the few things we recovered from his army.¡± Mitch gripped the hilt, feeling its cold weight. The sword felt empty. A hollow vessel waiting to be filled. As if on cue, the Souls within him stirred, sensing the vacancy and jostling for a chance to latch themselves into the metal. Mitch could feel them stretching, clamoring to occupy the large blade. But Mitch held them back, flaring his Abyssal Vault and tightening his grip. Something in him recoiled at the thought of letting just a regular Soul into the weapon, even though it felt like the sword was meant for this. For now, he kept it as it was. A silent, heavy presence by his side. ¡°Thank you, Hathgar.¡± Mitch gave him a small smile, but his mind was already elsewhere. Mitch knew he shouldn¡¯t be thinking of power right now, but he couldn¡¯t help himself. Like everyone always does, Mitch found himself thinking about his own standing. No one escaped it¨Cthe constant calculation of how to turn every tool, every drop of power, to their own advantage. Are there Souls that are more powerful than others?... ¡°Be careful with it,¡± Hathgar warned. ¡°And remember, soul magic¡¯s a path ye can¡¯t take back. Once ye start, there¡¯s no going back. If yer goin¡¯ to the Abyss with Crae¡¯s Agency, be ready. Yer a good lad. Don¡¯t let this city make ye¡¯ forget that.¡± I had to do Soul Magic. I didn¡¯t have any choice. Ice ran through Mitch¡¯s veins as he nodded. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he replied, more to himself than to his friend. ¡°It¡¯s¡­a lot, you know? Being here, doing this. I can¡¯t turn back now. There¡¯s something calling me forward, even if I don¡¯t fully understand it.¡± Again, he tightened his grip on the soul sword, as if he could draw strength from an empty vessel. ¡°I don¡¯t know what this place is turning me into, but I¡¯ll make sure I stay true. I¡¯ll do what needs doing, Hathgar, but I won¡¯t forget who I am. Or what you¡¯ve done for me.¡± They sat in silence. The weight of Hathgar¡¯s words and story was heavy between them. Mitch forced a grin, raising his drink. ¡°Enough of the heavy talk,¡± he said, clinking his cup against Hathgar¡¯s. ¡°One more drink, like the old days.¡± The words felt hollow to Mitch as he said them. Memories that weren¡¯t his making him crave their old camaraderie. Hathgar chuckled, the sound rough and deep. ¡°Aye, yer right. One more round, then I¡¯m off.¡± Mitch listened to Hathgar¡¯s stories of famous dwarves, busty ladies, and battles won. Their conversation eased back into the familiar banter of old times. I need memories of my own. But he could sense Hathgar¡¯s restlessness, a subtle impatience as he cast a glance around the bar. With the keg almost dry, Hathgar leaned back and sighed. ¡°Aye, lad, it¡¯s time. Stonehollow calls, and I can¡¯t keep her waiting any longer.¡± Mitch nodded, gripping the soul sword at his side. ¡°Take care of yourself, Hathgar.¡± Hathgar went to clap him on the shoulder, but stopped himself to avoid touching the Shadowshroud. Instead, he gave Mitch a wry grin. ¡°This one¡¯s on you, lad.¡± With that, he stood, gave Mitch a final nod, and tramped out of the door. Mitch watched Hathgar go, an empty feeling settling in his chest, regardless of the souls that mingled within him. Even though Mitch was new to this world, his body, bound to distant memories, recognized Hathgar as a shining light in the darkness of Shadowreach. He hadn¡¯t known Hathgar long, but he already knew he¡¯d miss him. There was a simple truth in the dwarf¡¯s presence, something solid in a world that felt anything but. The notification from his debt slapped him right back to his reality. Credits Debts: -1,000,666* -> -1,001,332* Assets: 127 Credits, 0 Souls*, 0 Flesh* Interest: -666/day Cashflow: 100/day (Barback Salary) Guess it¡¯s tomorrow. Really? I only had like twelve hours of the first day. After transferring credits to the grouchy dwarf behind the bar, Mitch glanced back toward the spot where the half-orc had been sitting, hunched over his notebook. But the man was gone. Just an empty seat, the red ring no longer glinting in the dim light. Mitch frowned. Something about the man had rubbed him the wrong way, and now the Souls within him bristled, their hackles raised, as if sensing a predator. Weird. Hmm¡­ He turned and stepped into the chill of the Dwarven District. The weight of the empty blade at his side felt right, comfortable even. There was something about its hollow presence that clicked with him, like it was meant to be that way for now. He glanced over his shoulder once more, the unease lingering. Hope Hathgar makes it home alright. In the quiet night, Mitch kept his own company, the souls and the silent sword beside him. Chapter 9: Welcome, Now Go Delve As it turned out, Mitch discovered that he could remove the Shadowshroud, but it would kill the creature. The knowledge had been transmitted directly into his mind, a low, rumbling growl of warning that translated to understanding from the Shadowshroud during his cold shower that morning. Rather than clinging to him like a second skin, the Shadowshroud had shuddered from the water. It coiled itself up his back and shifted from the spray, as if terrified of being cleansed. Now, it rested against his body, reshaping itself into a form that resembled a simple black shirt, but with a subtle, living presence. Mitch felt it waiting and watching. Mitch adjusted the soul sword strapped across his back. It was a heavy presence that people steered clear of as he weaved through the heart of Shadowreach. The conversation with Robin lingered, offering him a place to stay in the attic whenever he wanted in exchange for small relics he might uncover. It was yet another rare gesture of kindness in this brutal city. Why does he want a few relics so badly? Are they really that valuable? The city center buzzed with activity. Vendors shouted their cheap wares, and the occasional crier preached about the Abyss¡¯s growing threat. Cultists gathered at the edges, hooded faces chanting praises to unknown powers. Grimmers huddled in available corners, swapping stolen goods for Grimlace and eyeing the crowds for more rooks to rob. Mitch moved past them as they glowered at his presence. It¡¯s like they all know. Is it the Grimlace letting them know of the souls? Hoping none of them were Collectors, Mitch moved swiftly past, his muscles tense beneath the Shadowshroud. He wasn¡¯t looking for a fight, especially not here in front of the crowd. His gaze swept over the street, and he realized just how much more he was able to see now. A result of his new body. It felt strange¨Cunnerving, even¨Cto stand taller than everyone. Shadowy figures knelt at the entrances of churches, their low chants reverberating off the black stone, feeding the permanent darkness that clung to the city. His attention flicked to the towering spires clawing at the starlit sky. Many of the buildings leaned precariously, their metal finishes trembling in the cold wind. Even with his new perspective, the architecture felt suffocating, as if the stone and metal sought to close in on the crowds. He approached Crae¡¯s Agency, one of the few places in Shadowreach reputed for its ¡®nobility¡¯. Mitch¡¯s memories told him that most of the city¡¯s citizens saw them as the best bulwark against the ever reaching Abyss. For years, they had beaten back underground hordes at the Front and protected the Depths and Shadowreach''s inhabitants. This created a universal respect for the Agency throughout the city. It also resulted in unimaginable prosperity for its most successful members and Crae himself. The building Crae¡¯s had built in the city square stood like a fortress, stone walls reinforced with wrought iron bands. Black roof tiles gleamed under the floating candles from above, and it had already been claimed by a flock of crows, waiting for the next meal to fall. In a city like Shadowreach, Crae¡¯s left their front door wide open. A quiet, unmistakable display of power. Above the birds, stone gargoyles shifted, their cold, disdainful eyes tracking Mitch. Wings of soot stained granite twitched, talons scraping against the roof tiles as they watched him approach. Entering the grand archway, Mitch felt a sense of relief wash over him. The hall exuded both wealth and violence. Finally, surrounded by people who despise the Abyss as much as I do. No lurking threats, no Collectors. Just fighters. The air inside was thick with the scent of steel, sweat, and the faint undercurrent of burning incense. It stretched out longer than he expected, lined with polished red marble that shined beneath the torchlight. Tapestries depicting gruesome battles against Abyssal monstrosities hung heavy on the walls. Dozens of people moved about the hall. Elves, orcs, humans, gnomes, all walked purposefully. Their voices were low, conversations murmured beneath the constant clink of armor and weaponry. Eyes tracked him as he walked past. The ceiling arched high overhead, giving the space a cavernous feel. Mitch caught sight of an elf spinning a glowing scythe with effortless precision. Nearby, a gnome launched black spikes from her hand into a wooden dummy, the wood sizzling and melting under her attack. Strong spirits hung in the air, overpowering the underlying stench of dried blood. His heart quickened at the sight of the casually powerful army around him, their presence a chorus of strength. It felt like stepping into the very heart of violence and command. If there was a place to be in Shadowreach, this is it. You are extremely strong. You¡¯re no longer a skinny snot. Urgar spotted him first, hobbling up on short legs and grinning wickedly through his black beard. ¡°Ah, if it isn¡¯t the newest tough guy!¡± he boomed, pounding the metal plate he wore with a fist. Grizzled veterans from the nearby tables paused their conversations to size Mitch up. He felt their weighing stares as they took in his height and obvious muscles. Mitch gave Urgar a nod, a grin creeping onto his face. ¡°Glad to see I made an impression,¡± he replied, matching Urgar¡¯s energy with a firm clasp on the dwarf¡¯s shoulder. He took a step forward, feeling the eyes of the other members staring into him, measuring his mettle before he¡¯d spoken a word. It was strange, still. He knew this body was formidable, but it still felt like wearing armor that didn¡¯t quite fit. He wasn¡¯t just accepting the role of a warrior; he was forcing it. Wearing his body as a mask. But here, among warriors at least, it didn¡¯t feel as much of an act. Maybe, just maybe, this place would make it real. Act the part to be the part. ¡°Looks like a good crew,¡± Mitch said, letting his gaze drift across the hall. He kept his voice steady, even though the sheer presence of so many hardened fighters had him on edge. His muscles felt tight, not from exertion but from trying to project an air of calm confidence. Most of the real heavy-hitters must have skipped the party last night. ¡°Thanks for having me, but¡­figure I¡¯ll fit right in,¡± he added, though to his ears, it sounded rehearsed. ¡°You¡¯d better,¡± a voice rumbled nearby. Turning, Mitch saw Warrick, bruised and bandaged, but thankfully grinning. The giant green orc lumbered over and extended a hand. ¡°Can¡¯t say I minded that beating you gave me. Means you¡¯ve got some fight in you. Good to have you. And that nasty thing.¡± Warrick added with a nod toward the swirling black t-shirt Mitch wore. The Shadowshroud clung to him like it was waiting, its presence always a whisper in the back of his mind. Mitch shook his hand, trying to ignore the wave of discomfort. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect you to be so friendly, after last night.¡± Barely survived yesterday, and now I¡¯m pretending to be one of them.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He didn¡¯t feel like a fighter. He was just wearing the part. But here, among people who were born into violence, he had no choice but to act the part. The orc shrugged, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. ¡°Only fools hold grudges that aren¡¯t worth holding. Besides,¡± he added with a glint in his eye, ¡°you¡¯re on our squad, and there¡¯s always the next round.¡± Warrick clapped him on the shoulder, and led him further into the hall. ¡°Come on. Sable¡¯s waiting. You¡¯ve passed your first trial by making it through the front door, but there¡¯s plenty left to prove if you want to walk with Crae¡¯s.¡± Crossing the giant hall, Mitch noticed more of the ritualistic details that hinted at the agency¡¯s reputation. Members sat sharpening weapons with expressions that spoke of long brutal night work. A hulking half-giant at a corner table was wiping blood off a massive war axe, while a trio of humans pointed at a battered map, plotting. Sable waited at the far end of the hall, leaning casually against a stone pillar. The same appraising look measured Mitch. ¡°Good to see you made it,¡± she said in her gravely voice from her stitched together throat. ¡°Crae¡¯s been expecting you. Let¡¯s move.¡± Mitch¡¯s sharp eyes caught the tension in the way her fingers tapped against her leg. He¡¯d seen that before, though not often from someone as steady as her. She looked calm, almost indifferent to him, but something about her posture gave her away¨Ctoo controlled, too deliberate. She¡¯s nervous. Just like me, in a way. She¡¯s wearing the mask of cold control, I¡¯m wearing the mask of an overzealous newbie. Doing a better job than I am of it. She turned, and led them up a spiraled wrought iron staircase. The air grew warmer, and the hall¡¯s noise faded to a distant hum. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she didn¡¯t respond. Mitch caught the briefest glance, a flick of her stitched together throat, before she focused on the stairs. Sable arrived at a heavy iron door and turned to face him. The door was reinforced with Abyssal bones carved with intricate symbols. Mitch felt a subtle vibration from the bones, as if they were testing him. After a moment, they seemed to accept him, their tension easing in silent acknowledgement. Can they all feel that? Creepy. ¡°Stay sharp.¡± She said, giving him a small smirk that left him open-mouthed, and pushed open the door. Ok, she is pretty. Don¡¯t be weird, Mitch. The room was both grand, and stark. Black candles floated around the ceiling, casting shadows over the shelved walls holding all manner of relics. A rich red carpet stretched back to a carved desk. Behind the desk, a figure rose from his chair. He was a full orc, imposing and broad-shouldered, taller than even Mitch with a thick, powerful bulk. Gray patches mottled his green skin, and obviously dyed blond hair hung over his face, shrouding piercing black eyes. Crae didn¡¯t bother with armor. Instead, he wore a simple black coat that emphasized the layers of fat covering his muscles. ¡°Welcome,¡± Crae said, his voice surprisingly smooth and high pitched. ¡°You¡¯re the one that put Warrick in his place.¡± Warrick grunted, and Crae¡¯s mouth quirked into a half-smile, revealing golden teeth around his chipped left tusk. ¡°Impressive.¡± Mitch inclined his head, heart hammering. ¡°Just did what I had to. Figured it¡¯d be a quick way to get noticed. Not many chances here in Shadowreach.¡± Yeah, just a local kid who needs a chance. He¡¯ll like that. Crae¡¯s eyes shifted to Sable, his tone softening. ¡°I¡¯ve brought you up through this, Sable. Trained you. Now¡¯s your time to show me what you can do with a squad of your own. If you do well¡­you know what I¡¯ve promised you,¡± Her jaw tightened. ¡°You¡¯ll get results.¡± Her voice was steady, but Mitch noticed the pressure she felt. ¡°I¡¯d better,¡± Crae replied, voice laden with expectation. He let the moment hang in the air before turning back to Mitch. Crae met Mitch¡¯s eyes, holding his gaze. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly made us notice your potential. But strength alone isn¡¯t enough for our line of work. We¡¯re not just here to fight. We¡¯re here to beat the Abyss back. And to make a hell of a living doing it.¡± He stepped around the desk. ¡°You¡¯re new here, so I¡¯ll give you a bit of advice. The Agency isn¡¯t just a place for the strong. It¡¯s a place for the smart. You can¡¯t just muscle your way through everything.¡± He stopped in front of Mitch, crossing his arms. ¡°If you want to walk with us, you¡¯ll need to prove that you can handle more than just a fight. We always deliver, no matter the cost.¡± Mitch held his gaze, feeling an edged respect and wariness for Crae. This was a man who had seen the true depths and returned. Someone who had learned both ends of the game. No matter the cost. Driven and intense, but a good ally if I play this right. ¡°I¡¯m just happy for the opportunity to really fight against the Abyss,¡± Mitch replied deeply, showing Craw what he wanted to see. ¡°I¡¯m ready to make a difference.¡± Crae¡¯s eyes sharpened. ¡°We¡¯ve had our eye on a very particular relic. Its guardian has no mercy, and all of our preliminary teams never returned. It¡¯s said to be a dagger forged from shadows. Apparently, it''s tied directly to the deepest pit of the Abyss. Retrieve it, and bring it back here. Don¡¯t worry, your new friends will be joining you.¡± Mitch felt a thrill of excitement and dread. ¡°Understood,¡± he said, feeling the weight of the soul sword at his back, and the many others stashed away inside of him. ¡°We¡¯ll bring it back.¡± ¡°That¡¯s bloody right we will. Be the first group in fifty odd years to defeat an Abyssal Tramp. First real outing as a group too!¡± Urgar¡¯s voice swelled from beside him. Crae gave a nod of approval, assessing Mitch one final time. ¡°Good. Sable will give you the specifics. You all leave tonight.¡± He offered his meaty hand, and Mitch shook it. There was unmistakable strength there, and also something odd. Something dark that felt oddly familiar. The Souls recoiled from the man. Hmmm¡­What is that? Mitch wondered, his gut twisting with a feeling he couldn¡¯t shake. Or am I just imagining it? If Crae noticed as well, there was no sign. ¡°Welcome to Crae¡¯s Agency, Mitch,¡± the orc said, releasing his hand and giving him a greasy smile. ¡°I have a feeling you¡¯ll do well here.¡± As he left the room with his new squad, Mitch couldn¡¯t shake the sense that Crae was testing him in more than just one way. A meaty palm smacked his back. ¡°First day and already throwing you into the Abyss,¡± Warrick teased, winking at him through a swollen eye. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Urgar and I will make sure you live through it.¡± Urgar fell into step beside Mitch. ¡°Good to see ya leading us down there, Sable. Always done right by us¨Cno reason this¡¯ll be different.¡± Mitch glanced at Sable, expecting some kind of reassurance. She gave him a cold smile. ¡°Not different, but just us, no big team. They¡¯re not wrong, Mitch. Don¡¯t expect hand-holding, everyone here earns their place, but we¡¯ve got your back if you¡¯ve got ours.¡± She offered him a flat smile before continuing down. ¡°Let¡¯s go, we need to plan,¡± She said over her shoulder. Mitch couldn¡¯t help but admire her figure from behind. Tight black leathers clinging to her athletic form. Looking back at them, a slight panic filled him as her multi-colored eyes almost caught him staring. Be cool, man. ¡°We don¡¯t need flashy speeches to do what¡¯s expected,¡± Sable said, glancing over her shoulder at Mitch and the others. ¡°You¡¯ve all seen what the Abyss can do. It doesn¡¯t wait for us to hesitate.¡± Her multicolored eyes locked with Mitch¡¯s for a moment, her tone firm but quiet. ¡°So, don¡¯t.¡± Quest: Retrieve the Shadow Dagger Retrieve the Shadow Dagger with aid from your comrades. Status: Incomplete Reward: A hint at the location of the Sealed Door Chapter 10: Undercity Leaving Shadowreach for the Depths felt like peeling back a layer of grime to find another, more disgusting layer just beneath it. The squad¨CSable, Warrick, Urgar, and their newest member, Mitch¨Ctrudged past the uninhabited outskirts of the city. While Shadowreach was dangerous, living without the safety of numbers was a deathwish. Brilliant stars from the permanent night sky lit the muddy path beneath their feet. The glowing spires and distant candles of Shadowreach faded as they neared one of the main shafts leading below. These shafts were ancient, their origins whispered to Mitch through half-forgotten memories. They descended through the cracked crust of the earth, diving straight down where the Abyss had once broken through generations ago, belching forth hellspawn. A great maw of jagged metal loomed before them, and even before stepping inside, Mitch could feel the weight of the earth pressing down from all sides. The rusted metal elevator shuddered to life. It creaking loudly as it descended. Bent beams groaned, and the grated floor felt uneven beneath Mitch¡¯s boots. Chains rattled overhead, pulling them down, slow and heavy. The starlight above vanished, replaced by sickly green glow from enchanted stones flickering weakly from the walls. Shadows leapt and twisted across burnt stone, the flickering light casting everything in sharp, jagged shapes. The air was damp, thick, and pressed from all sides. No one spoke. Just the clank of metal and the groan of the cage. Mitch¡¯s nerves tensed with each jolt. But the deeper they went, the more familiar it all felt. It tugged at something within him. Like the darkness was calling. Feels like coming home¡­ With a final bang of metal on rock, the elevator stopped, and the oppressive air of the Depths enveloped them. Tight rock corridors stretched out in every direction, barely wide enough for two to walk side by side. The only light came from small, dim glowstones embedded in the walls at irregular intervals, casting a pale greenish hue over everything. Shadows clung to the jagged surfaces like living things, making it hard to tell where the darkness ended and the rock began. Everywhere, thralls toiled. Hollow eyes fixed on nothing as they followed various orders. Some hefted heavy bags into carts that moved on their own accord. Others chipped away at walls with relentless persistence, carving new tunnels into unknown directions. These weren¡¯t people. Not anymore. Just failing bodies forced to continue eternal work. Their bosses, hidden necromancers, managed them like machinery, and hid themselves away from prying eyes. Sable scowled at the thralls with a look of pure contempt. ¡°It¡¯s disgusting,¡± she spat, her voice dripping with venom as she led the way down the corridor. Mitch didn¡¯t ask, but his memories allowed him to understand enough. As a Patchling, she was also a creation, but she had a will, and a mind. It was well known, however, that Patchlings did not possess a soul. Their bodies, stitched together from so many parts, couldn¡¯t anchor one. You couldn¡¯t just force any old soul into a patchwork of flesh. It would tear itself apart. Sable¡¯s shoulders stiffened as they passed a thrall dragging a heavy sack. The dim green light caught the faintest twitch in her jaw, there and gone in a heartbeat. She didn¡¯t look back. A pang of empathy washed over Mitch as they wound through the narrow black-stone passages. To exist without a soul¡­what kind of existence was that? Sable steered them towards the habitable part of the underground. The Front, where Abyssal monsters were forever beaten back by mercenaries, was not their target. A rotation of Crae''s were there as a permanent fixture. Fighting until they had their fill of guts and money. Grimmers lurked in the corners, barely visible as they scavenged in the shadows. In the glowstone''s weak light, their eyes gleamed with wicked malice, scuttling like rats, their hunger more unhinged down here. Most of all, their gaze lingered on Mitch, watching him with unsettling intensity. Without warning, a man appeared from the shadows, his face hidden beneath a tattered shroud. He blocked their path, his hand lifting to point straight at Mitch. ¡°Pay up, boy,¡± the ghastly voice demanded. Collectors?! Down here too? Mitch froze as pressure built in his chest. The Collector began his casting, and Mitch felt the souls inside him thrashing, fighting to stay anchored. They clawed at the walls of his core. Sable moved faster than the Collector¡¯s skill. Toward the man in the dim light, she flicked her hand. Thin metal wires shot from her fingers, glinting in the green glow as they spiraled toward the Collector. In an instant, they wrapped around him, coiling like a serpent. The Collector thrashed, his casting interrupted, as the wires bit into his flesh. His guttural scream pierced the air, but the wires only tightened, sinking deeper with each twist of Sable¡¯s wrist. Blood flowed, staining his robes as the wires dug into muscle, then wrapped around bone. Mitch stood frozen, breathless. Is this what her Skill is? Holy shit. He felt an odd mix of awe and discomfort watching her work. There was something ruthless and effortless about it, like she wasn¡¯t even trying. She¡¯s done this before. Too many times to count. It wasn¡¯t fear he felt¡ªnot quite. But her cold efficiency left him questioning just how far he¡¯d have to go to keep up. With a final twist, the wires sliced clean through, and the Collector crumpled to the ground in a heap of tissue and cloth. Sable brushed her hands together, winked at him, and stepped over the remains. ¡°Looked like you needed a hand,¡± she said as continued down the winding passageway. Mitch opened his mouth to say something, but Urgar waved him off and tramped after their leader. ¡°Spare the thanks, lad. Ain¡¯t the first, and won¡¯t be the last.¡± Mitch exhaled, his chest tight. What the hell have I gotten myself into? These are the Skills that people can have? Warrick, silent and stoic as usual, grunted behind him, deep voice echoing off the walls. ¡°Move on. It¡¯ll be worse as we get deeper.¡± That¡¯s it. I¡¯ll just kill every Collector. Dark humor filled him as he was left staring at the remains of the Collector. Mitch thought about the possibilities. If I just get so strong that no Collector can face me, what happens with my Abyssal Debt? Agony¡¯s Embrace permanently enhances my strength, and I also get stronger from having souls in my core¡­Just how strong do the Collectors get?Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. His team moved on without him. Mitch used Abyssal Vault to siphon off the flesh and soul. The Shadowshroud growled low in his mind, like a hungry pitbull tugging at its leash. He could feel its demand, its desire to feed. Not now, he thought, pushing back against its urge. It huffed in frustration, but settled, waiting for its chance. Soon, Mitch promised it. Settlement Amount: 14(+1) Souls, 0 Credits, 1(+1) Flesh The black tendril of the soul slotted into his core, along with the flesh. A hum of power radiated through his body from the gain. The mingling souls roared in approval, demanding more. Shaking the eerie feeling he just couldn¡¯t get used to, Mitch continued on with his new squad. Through the cramped corridors, Mitch sensed that eyes still watched. Veterans stared out from their small shops carved into stone. Citizens of the Depths avoided bodily contact with anyone with practiced ease, but he caught many side-eyed glances at him. Extreme wariness filled the air as non-thralled miners slumped back to their pitch black dwellings after back breaking work. Urgar broke the silence. ¡°Can¡¯t blame ¡®em for staring. Not every day they see a fresh face walking down here.¡± His grin gleamed in the dim light. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lad. They¡¯ll like you better once they think you¡¯ve survived a few days.¡± Sable snorted. ¡°That¡¯s optimistic.¡± Mitch grunted, shaking his head in fake bluster he wanted to project. ¡°It¡¯s not me I¡¯m worried about.¡± Warrick¡¯s low rumble cut through. ¡°Keep moving. The faster we¡¯re out of sight, the less we tempt anyone stupid enough to try something.¡± Finally, they approached a small inn carved into the stone, its doorway low and unassuming. A weathered wooden sign hung from the cave¡¯s roof. They had arrived at the Carved Cave Inn. Mitch felt the shift as soon as he slinked through the small wooden door after Warrick. The air here was different. A rough warmth compared to the cold, black corridors outside. The inn was carved into the jagged, dark rock of the Depths, but the walls told a story. Hand-drawn sketches covered every surface, battles against the Abyss sketched in white-chalk lines. Crude, but powerful. Each stroke dedicated to the violence of the past, a reminder of what lurked beneath. The murmurs inside were low but constant. Gruff miners with soot-streaked faces leaned over their drinks while cloaked figures slouched in corners. Despite the rough crowd, there was a strange sense of belonging here. The warmth wasn¡¯t from traditional fire; instead, a perpetually burning face flickered from the fireplace with closed eyes. The innkeeper behind the bar was a grizzled old man with a scarred face and gray ashen skin. As the group approached the bar, the man straightened up, wiping his hands on a stained cloth. Examining the newcomers, his gaze settled on Mitch, eyes widening with an odd recognition. The innkeeper¡¯s mouth parted slightly, and he gave a subtle, respectful bow. ¡°Welcome,¡± he murmured, his tone cautious and eyes never left Mitch¡¯s hair. Sable paid for their lodgings by transferring the man credits with a wave of her hand over the innkeepers, her expression impassive as ever. Looking around the bar, Mitch noticed some older patrons stealing glances at him, their eyes lingering on his white hair. It seemed to draw attention like a beacon for some, even more than the giant sword strapped to his back. He followed Urgar and Warrick further inside, stepping past clusters of scarred patrons huddled in conversation. The three men settled at a table with their drinks. Mitch drank a stout ale alongside Urgar, Warrick opted for a pink fruity liquor in a dainty glass. He decided not to comment on the large orc¡¯s choice. ¡°Where¡¯d Sable go?¡± Mitch asked the duo, noticing that their leader had disappeared. Warrick snorted, taking a quick sip from his tiny cup. ¡°Sable? She keeps to herself. Always has, always will.¡± He leaned in closer, entire fist wrapping around his glass. ¡°And trust me, you¡¯d be smart to let her. Girl¡¯s got her own demons. Don¡¯t think anything funny with that one.¡± The giant orc sipped his pink drink, smacking his lips at its taste. ¡°Mmmm. Delicious.¡± Urgar grinned, tossing back his own drink before leaning forward conspiratorially. ¡°Aye, lad. Sable¡¯s not one to cross. She¡¯s good to have on your side in a fight, but beyond that, best to leave ¡®er be.¡± He tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, nervous energy leaving his body as he eyed the other patrons. ¡°¡¯Sides, don¡¯t need to be pokin¡¯ your nose in places it don¡¯t belong, eh? Gotten me into more trouble than I care to tell,¡± Urgar gave him a wink to let him know he was mostly joking. Mitch leaned back, letting the low murmur of voices and the clink of steel tankards wash over him. He had been a loner before being murdered and thrust into this new body. Sitting amongst a group, surrounded by the hardened types and the gritty hum of life in the Depths, he felt something unexpected settling over him¨Ccomfort. The Depths were a far cry from the open sky and sprawl of Shadowreach, but somehow, in this cold, brutal place he felt like he could fit in. It was a place where he could lose himself in the chaos of battle and forge ahead, proving himself. A place where power mattered above all else. Or so he hoped. As Warrick and Urgar fell into their own conversation, Mitch excused himself and made his way to his room. The narrow hallway was almost too small for his shoulders, and the faint light cast by the glowstones flickered. The door was low, forcing Mitch to duck as he stepped inside. It was a tight fit, barely wide enough for his shoulders to pass through. He pushed it open with a creak, the hinges groaning in protest. The sound reminded him of his friend now gone, Hathgar. Nothing dwarven made would ever creak. The room was as small as the entrance, with no windows, just solid rock walls that seemed to press in from all sides. A single faint glowstone embedded in the ceiling cast a weak, ghostly light over the cramped space. Mitch dropped his backpack to the floor. It held his only possessions: a canteen, an extra pair of black pants, and a shard of broken glass. Here goes nothing. On the small, lumpy bed, a folded piece of paper caught his eye. He crossed the room in a single step, and scooped it up. Unfolding the note, he read the message scrawled in the jagged script. The old blood remembers, and will answer when called. Mitch¡¯s heart pounded, a chill running down his spine. He wasn¡¯t sure who left the note or what it meant, but something about the message resonated deep within him. The Souls in his core pounded in his ears. Riled by the message, they awoke a part of him he hadn¡¯t yet discovered. As if on cue, a surge of cold power flowed through him, and the souls within him shifted, listening to him. A flicker of control bloomed in his chest, twisting, coiling, ready to spring forth and assert itself. The sensation settled deep inside him like a dark promise. The notification hit, filling him in on what had just happened. Affliction Skill Gained Dominion of Shadows Level 1 Exert control over lesser Abyssal beings. True obedience must be granted willingly. Usage of this Skill may attract the attention of beings from the Abyss. Mitch closed his eyes, focussing on the strange sensation. For a moment, he felt the weight of the Depths bearing down upon him. His very being demanded obedience from the shadows below, and if he was reading the skill correctly, those he influenced had to accept his leadership willingly for the best effect. This wasn¡¯t just strength; it was authority. An influence that made the Souls within him sit up with their backs straight, as if he called upon them to do his bidding. Looks like the Souls within me have already accepted it¡­What am I becoming? Sinking into his bed, Mitch ran his fingers over the words. The instinct and choices he made had led him here. To this moment. The Collectors would keep coming, and he had to do something, anything other than let them torture him with no retribution. This, however, added something deeper. Connected to the strange memories and the power he now wielded. The Depths and his own gut had called him here, and he would answer. As Mitch layed back on the bed, staring at the flickering glowstone above him, a grim determination settled over him. He would no longer flinch from the Collectors. Tomorrow, he would fight harder, dive deeper, and uncover the secrets buried in the earth. Time to get to work. Mitch thought over everything that he had to do as he reached for a small item in his backpack. He pulled out the glass shard and stabbed his palm slowly, shooting tiny bumps of power into himself with Agony¡¯s Embrace. Kill the Collectors. Save the souls. Grow stronger. Find the knife. Unlock the door. End whoever started this. But it wasn¡¯t just about him anymore. Warrick and Urgar¡ªrough as they were¡ªhad his back in a fight. And Sable? She¡¯d already saved his life once. If he wanted to survive, it wasn¡¯t enough to grow strong for himself. He¡¯d need to keep them alive too. His palm dripped blood onto the rough sheets as he planned. The Depths and the Abyss had much to teach, and he was ready to learn. Chapter 11: Deeper Into the Depths The morning started with a greasy breakfast at the inn. Roasted mystery meat, tough and oily, alongside unleavened bread. No one spoke much. It was a meal meant for survival, not comfort. Mitch chewed slowly, his thoughts descending deeper about what was to come. The crew''s obvious nerves had him on edge. As did his notification. Credits Debts: -1,001,332* -> -1,001,998* Assets: 127 Credits, 0 Souls*, 0 Flesh* Interest: -666/day Cashflow: 0/day Urgar belched loudly and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ¡°A meal to remember, eh?¡± He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but the nervousness in his voice didn¡¯t escape Mitch. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving, time to see what the rookie can do,¡± Sabe said, smirking at Mitch and adjusting her light gear. ¡°Time to go down.¡± The team gathered their belongings and headed out, deeper into the Depths. The carved path wound downward, steeper and darker with every step. Narrow passageways that seemed to swallow them whole. The glowstones embedded into the walls grew dimmer, casting long shadows over uneven ground. There were no more shops, no more inhabitants. The paths were carved out long ago, left rough and jagged by tools and claws. The deeper they went, the more the atmosphere shifted from dark to sinister. Mitch heard his footsteps echo through the rocky corridors, no longer packed with thralls and miners¨Cjust empty tunnels where the weight of the Depths pressed down from every side. Stone walls dripped, and the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and rot. Sable led the way, her footfalls silent. Mitch followed close, Warrick just behind him. Urgar trailed, his shorter legs forcing him to keep up in a steady jog. As they descended, Mitch couldn¡¯t help but feel excitement. The deeper the squad ventured, the colder it became. Damp air clung to their skin, and the sound of their footsteps were replaced by a low, distant groan, as if the earth and rock itself was whining in protest around them. Something about pushing forward ignited his heart. Now this is real adventuring. Into the unknown! But that spark of excitement flickered against the heavier truth pressing in around him. The Depths weren¡¯t just dark¡ªthey were suffocating. The kind of place that swallowed people whole, leaving nothing but whispers behind. Was he ready for this? For the kind of strength it would take to keep moving forward? He rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to keep stride with Sable. Focus. Fear won¡¯t help here. ¡°Remember, Mitch,¡± Sable repeated over her shoulder. She had reminded him several times throughout the morning of each Skill of the squad. It was starting to get annoying. He may be big, but Mitch was pretty sure he wasn¡¯t an imbecile. ¡°Urgar has a berserker Skill. Warrick phases. I shoot metal wires and control them. You heal and¡­,¡± She paused, glancing at him briefly. For a split second, Mitch caught the hesitation in her eyes. ¡°...hit really hard,¡± she finished with a smirk. ¡°Yeah, he does.¡± Warrick muttered and Urgar laughed at the remark. Sable exhaled quietly, her smirk settling into a more confident expression as she continued leading the way. Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if she was reassuring herself or them, but she didn¡¯t break stride. ¡°This is it,¡± Sable announced, leading the group with sure, confident strides. ¡°The point where the Depths and the Abyss start to intersect. Eyes open, everyone.¡± Mitch felt the tension increase as the dark, rocky corridor widened into a massive chamber. The air was still, and veins of sickly green light ran through the stone, casting a glow over the open space. It was clearly an abandoned mining site, long forgotten. The tracks of old mine carts snaked through the stone like scars. Some led to offshoot passageways, some led to gaping chasms in the ground. The chasms were bottomless black pits. Either leading to other sites, or descending endlessly. Urgar gave a low whistle, leaning over the edge of one of the holes. His voice echoed down into the abyss. ¡°Always wondered¡­how can these pits really be bottomless? There has to be a bottom somewhere, right?¡± His tone was light, but Mitch caught the uneasy glance he gave the endless drop. ¡°Careful,¡± Warrick grunted behind them. Mitch had pressed right up to the edge, and was staring down into the black hole. He stepped back, not even realizing that he had gotten so close, Warrick¡¯s voice snapping him back to what he was doing. ¡°You fall, you don¡¯t come back.¡± Mitch didn¡¯t respond, but his muscles tensed as they continued. His eyes flicked back to the pit as they continued, unable to keep his eyes off of them. The silence was oppressive. Only interrupted by the groans of the rock, improperly mined and buckling slowly. Something had Mitch¡¯s hackles standing, but he couldn¡¯t say what. He scanned the shadowy corners of the chamber. Some shadows played tricks on the eye, flickering in and out as if the darkness itself was watching them As they approached a corridor, Mitch spotted something get up from what he thought was a dark crevice in the wall. A man¨Cno, not quite a man anymore¨Cstumbled out of the shadows. Thin and gaunt, his body was a twisted, hunched form. But something was wrong with him. His skin was missing in chunks, replaced with black splotches that pulsed faintly. Like an infection that spread beneath the surface. His metal armor had been torn and fused into flesh in places, jagged pieces of rust digging into him. A curled and blackened right arm twitched at his side, overlarge and swollen. His movements were erratic. Twitchy, as though he was trying to fight something inside him. He muttered under his breath, incoherent. Raw words slipping through cracked, bloodless lips. ¡°They took them¡­they took all of them¡­,¡± His voice was raw, hoarse from what seemed like years of madness. ¡°But not me¡­No, not me.¡± He dragged his feet as he shuffled forward, his eyes wide and unblinking. Within a twenty foot perimeter of the squad, his head jerked up. Suddenly, those listless eyes were fully aware as they locked onto the group. Sable tensed, her hand creeping upwards as she prepared a shot of metal wiring. ¡°The Abyss has taken him,¡± she said in a low voice. ¡°We should¨C¡± The man¡¯s twitching stopped abruptly as something inside him snapped audibly. Mitch smelt foul rot permeating the air. His head tilted sharply to the side as the man¡¯s cracked lips split into a toothless smile. ¡°You¡¯ll never find it,¡± he rasped, staring at Sable with a twisted grin. ¡°You¡¯ll never find what you seek, little Scrapling. It¡¯s already theirs¡­they don¡¯t need your body to have their fun.¡± His gaze then snapped to Mitch, something predatory and dark as bones cracked in the man, seeking to flex themselves. The dark sparkled in his eyes, his face distorted as dried skin split on his cheeks. ¡°And you¡­¡± His voice dipped to a cruel whisper. ¡°You should know your place.¡± The change happened in an instant.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The man¡¯s body convulsed violently, bones cracking further and shifting beneath weathered skin. His limbs elongated grotesquely, spindly and covered in black spots, like a disease. His rusted armor split, fusing completely with his flesh. It stretched and tore as his muscles bulged unnaturally. His skin and face split open. Revealing raw, oozing flesh beneath. Mitch watched the glint of metal spiraling towards the Abyssal Man, and wrap around his torso. Sable had launched her Skill. He was enraptured by the transformation, his battle senses firing at their enemy. The Shadowshroud pulled him forward, and the Souls in his chest screamed at him to charge. She fired another measure of metal again, this time at the man¡¯s legs. Squeezing her hand, the metal dug into the man¡¯s flesh, and reached bone. But what use is slicing flesh of the damned? ¡°Urgar, get at him!¡± Sable yelled, only to be interrupted as the man continued to transform. A guttural growl escaped his throat as his face contorted, warping into something with too-large a mouth. His once human features were gone. Replaced by a jagged, tooth-filled maw that roared. The ground shook from the sound, the scent of putrid meat filling the unmoving air. As the scream ended, Mitch heard something. Patters in the background. Hundreds of small steps that quickly approached. From the pit, from the passageways. From the depths of the pits around them, the faint sounds of claws scraping against stone began to echo. ¡°What¡¯s that¡­¡± Urgar¡¯s voice trembled as he backed away from the monster, wide eyed and fearful. ¡°Urgar, stop running circles and charge already! Forgeheart¡¯s not just for show, you coward!¡±¡± Sable yelled again as she fired another metal strand towards the monster. This one caught the approaching monster by the wrist, and the remaining steel wrapped around a rock spiking out of the ground. Mitch wanted to rush forward. To fight this hellspawn. His heart pounded in symphony along the roars of the Souls within him. They wanted him to take it head on. Gazing down into a pit, he saw them. Dark shapes moved below, crawling up the walls with terrifying speed. The man¨Cno, the monster¨Cthrew back its head and roared, tearing Sable¡¯s wire with his newly formed teeth. Sable looked back at the group angrily, before firing another metal wire towards him. She yelled for Urgar to charge the monster again, but the dwarf faltered. His black beard whipped the air as Urgar glanced frantically at the edges of the room, towards the sounds of the approaching horde. Mitch had had enough of Urgar¡¯s cowardice. With a ring, he ripped his empty Soul Sword from the scabbard against his back, and held it in front of him towards the monster. Fear melted away. It was replaced by the cold detachment of his Devoid Skill as he shoved unwanted emotions into it. It was like cutting the tether to everything human. No hesitation, no doubt. Only focus. Intoxicating clarity surged through him, but Mitch knew the cost. He couldn¡¯t push his emotions down forever. When they came back, they would come with a reckoning. If Urgar didn¡¯t get his act together, they¡¯d all be overrun. Mitch couldn¡¯t let that happen¡ªnot here, not like this. When the upgrade hit, he grinned darkly and continued on. He felt like nothing could stop him in his state. Affliction Skill Upgraded Devoid Level 2 Lock away undesired emotions and thoughts. Feel only what you wish. + Your drive demands sacrifices. All emotions and thoughts must be addressed eventually. ¡°Mitch! No!¡± Sable and Warrick both shouted behind him as he took off. No? Such fear. Mitch¡¯s muscles tensed as he propelled himself forward, feet pounding against the rough stone floor. His eyes locked onto the monster¡¯s grotesque body, disgust forming in his mind as every step brought him closer towards his prize¨Cit¡¯s twisted trapped arm. The souls inside him roared in unison. Mitch¡¯s legs coiled, launching him into the air. He soared and swung. The blade met no resistance as it was thrown forward by his powerful arm. It cut cleanly through flesh and bone, severing the limb in a shower of blood. The creature¡¯s howl split the air. A scream of pure agony that emboldened his battlelust. His body''s memories clearly included fighting with a sword. Knew it. Thank you body. Before he could land, the monster¡¯s remaining arm slammed into his chest with bone-crushing force. The wind left his body as Mitch felt ribs crack, the impact sending him flying across the chamber. ¡°Warrick! Distract it, anything!¡± Sable¡¯s voice was sharp, commanding over the chaos. Mitch¡¯s flight ended abruptly as he slammed into something cold. The tight mass of a Grimmer. Their first guest had arrived. Mitch picked himself up off the body that smelled sweet from Grimlace. Its legs were broken from his impact, and Mitch pried himself away from its reaching hands. Its face was twisted in a mockery of life. Its body was frail, and its shattered legs scrambled desperately beneath it, cracking further as it reached for him. The impact left him winded, but his Agony¡¯s Embrace surged in response to the pain. He felt his body harden, the energy coursing through him. Mitch gritted his teeth, and without hesitation, brought his sword down, slicing cleanly through the creature¡¯s neck. Its gurgling cut off as the Grimmer¡¯s head rolled. The scrambling body slumped. His chest ached, but the pain only fueled him. There were more footsteps approaching, he could hear them down the tunnel. Turning around, he spotted the fight with the monster ensuing. Warrick phased in and out between spaces. His massive frame appeared and disappeared like a ghost around the thrashing monster. Each time he appeared, he struck with spiked knuckle dusters, driving them into the creature¡¯s bulging flesh. At least someone knows that they¡¯re doing. Sable stayed further back, trying to pin down the monster with her wires. But the beast howled and fought, its rage overpowering their attacks. Mitch wiped blood from his face and turned toward the growing sounds. Scraping of hands, feet meeting rock. The gurgles and chittering of Grimmers turned to frothing monsters. People turned into animals. They were coming straight for them, and Mitch felt the fire in his belly from the thought. They would be here any moment. The one he had slain had just been early. Mitch noticed Urgar. The dwarf wasn¡¯t joining the fight. Instead, he was running in frantic circles around the chamber, his head darting left and right, searching for any way out. He stumbled toward one passage, only to freeze and recoil as the sound of scraping painted panic on his face. ¡°Grimmers¡­¡± Mitch heard the dwarf over all the noise. Urgar had backed into a wall, his eyes darting between the encroaching darkness and the fight. ¡°We¡¯re surrounded! They¡¯re everywhere!¡± Mitch¡¯s mind raced as he stared into the darkness, where hundreds of malformed people clawed their way up from the pits. Grimmers, rushing in from every corner, scuttling like insects. Broken bodies dragging themselves towards him with terrifying speed. His Devoid skill made him smirk. If this thing is infected by the Abyss and it¡¯s calling Grimmers¡­Mitch¡¯s thoughts flickered, cold humor filling him. Are all Grimmers Abyssal beings? Mitch shook off the distraction of Urgar yelling. ¡°We¡¯re not going to make it! We can¡¯t fight them all¡± The dwarf yelled, as Sable and Warrick took the monstrous man head on. No time to waste. Mitch flexed his Abyssal Vault, a mental tug pulling flesh and soul from the Grimmer he had slain. Drawing its power into his own. Settlement Amount: 15(+1) Souls, 0 Credits, 2(+1) Flesh Pulling a single flesh out, and spreading it through his body, his wounds knit back together. Ribs solidified from fragments as strength surged back into him. The hum of power throbbed in his veins, the Souls howling at the approaching horde. Settlement Amount: 15(+1) Souls, 0 Credits, 1(-1) Flesh There¡¯s going to be a lot of bodies here. Plenty of souls to harvest. The Shadowshroud growled. A deep, hungry grumble at the back of his mind. It tugged at him again, demanding to be let loose. Not yet. You¡¯ll get yours, boy. The ground trembled beneath him as the Grimmers scuttled closer, their twisted forms clawing up the stone walls of the pit. Mitch tightened his grip on the Soul Sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the green light. Let them come. The first wave of Grimmers had finally arrived. It was time to test his mettle. ¡°Any time you¡¯re done staring, rookie! Care to actually help before we''re all Grimmer food?¡± Sable yelled at Mitch, Urgar forgotten. This was the beginning. The Abyss had never met someone like him. And soon, it would learn. Mitch launched himself at the horde coming from the nearest tunnel. Chapter 12: Burning Cold The first Grimmer lunged, slashing a knife through the air. Mitch¡¯s body moved on instinct¨Chis body¡¯s memories serving him well. He sidestepped the attack and swung his Soul Sword in a brutal arc, cleaving cleanly through the creature¡¯s neck. Its body collapsed, head rolling. But more followed, rushing over their fallen kin like hungry insects. Every strike was precise, deliberate. His blade cut through bodies of underfed Grimmers with his unnatural strength, the Souls within him screaming for more as bodies piled around him. The Shadowshroud¡¯s hunger was growing as it growled in the back of his mind, but so was his fury. Trapped in the tunnel with him, this wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a slaughter. The stream of rushing Grimmers didn¡¯t stand a chance. He didn''t want to use his Dominion of Shadows Skill, which allowed him to assert control over lesser Abyssal beings. Even if it worked on Grimmers, he wanted to test himself now and the Skill later, rather than in the heat of battle. Mitch¡¯s body hardened with every blow he took, pain amplifying his strength. Before long, he was covered in open wounds from the teeth and knives of the surrounding horde. Instead of faltering, he started to get a feel for his Affliction Skills. Every slice he took only fueled his body, and his battle rhythm. He drove his sword into one Grimmer¡¯s chest, siphoning the flesh and souls of the fallen addicts that clogged the tunnel he fought within. The fresh, black colored souls were sequestered into his core to mingle with the others. Flesh was applied to his body using his Agony''s Embrace, healing the gaping wounds from the hits he did take, while the bodies withered and then cracked beneath his feet. As he siphoned more and more bodies around him, a path back to the cavern opened. He leapt at it to get back to his squad. The horde of Grimmers hurled their bodies forward, rushing after him. Mitch flicked away the notification that blocked his vision. Affliction Skill Upgraded Abyssal Vault Level 3 Collect, Siphon, and store Souls, Flesh, and Credits within. A living account for your Abyssal Debt. Meet a Collector to transfer the sum. Settlement Amount: 36(+21) Souls, 0 Credits, 31(+21) Flesh Back in the cavern, Mitch saw that the horde of Grimmers had piled into the open space. The pits spewed more out, their bodies twisted, faces held in a permanent grimace, and eyes filled with malice. Mitch¡¯s muscles burned, his chest heaved, but he didn¡¯t stop moving. Warrick was phasing in and out of existence, his spiked gauntlets slamming into Grimmers with lethal precision. Each time he appeared, another enemy was brained by his fists. Sable¡¯s wires gleamed in the dim light, trapping the Abyssal infected man on the ground as she tried to lash as many Grimmers together as possible. Her dagger ripped the throats of any that got too close. The transformed man thrashed on the ground, howling against his restraints. But Urgar had cracked. ¡°Too many! Too many!¡± Urgar¡¯s voice was shrill as he pressed against a wall. His eyes were wide with terror. The dwarf was stumbling around as he searched for an escape. ¡°We¡¯re going to die!¡± Mitch saw the fear in his eyes, the breaking point. All human emotion had been pressed into his Devoid Skill. He saw a liability¨Ca weakness. And in Mitch¡¯s current state, he couldn¡¯t afford weaknesses. The squad needed Urgar to ignite his berserker skill. A cold, calculated decision formed in his mind. He kicked off and ran towards Urgar. The horde of Grimmers swarmed between them, bodies piling on top of each other as they lunged for Mitch. He swung his sword in savage arcs, cutting down the twisted people in front of him. As he ran, he siphoned the fallen bodies and souls within him. Blood splattered across his face as each swing severed limbs, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming. He slashed, stabbed, and swung. Slicing bone and splitting bodies apart. A larger Grimmer, saggy and hulkling, lunged at him from the side. Its short sword swiped across Mitch¡¯s torso, slashing deep into his ribs. Pain seared as he felt the muscle split open. Thankfully, Agony¡¯s Embrace responded, feeding power into him as he twisted his sword into the large Grimmers chest and out its back. With a shoulder check, he shoved the Grimmer off. The injury burned, blood soaking his body, but the Shadowshroud refused to take any of its owner''s flesh in. It clung to him, growling to be let out, almost angry that it didn¡¯t provide more protection. For now, it was immaterial blackness that merely shrouded Mitch, melding back into the shape of a shirt regardless of the slashes it took. Mitch clenched his jaw and reached into the Abyssal Vault as he ran. Flesh flowed into the deep wound, knitting the torn skin and bone back together. Finally, he reached Urgar. The dwarf was still pressed against the wall. Surrounded by Grimmers, paralyzed by fear.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Without a lick of hesitation, Mitch grabbed the dwarf by his metal collar and shoved him forward into the horde. ¡°Now or never, Urgar,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice was ice to his own ears, the absence of emotions from his Devoid Skill leeching all feeling. For a brief second, as he finished the shove, a piece of guilt clawed at the edges of his mind. Devoid swallowed it whole, leaving only cold certainty. The horde swallowed Urgar in seconds, their twisted limbs reaching and beginning to tear apart the dwarf¡¯s armor. Panic flashed in Urgar¡¯s eyes, but before the Grimmers could crack his metal shell of plate, a primal roar erupted from the dwarf¡¯s throat. A wave of fiery energy burst out from Urgar¡¯s body, igniting the air around him. His berserk Skill, Forgeheart, flared to life. The immediately surrounding Grimmers were lit ablaze as Urgar¡¯s skill engulfed them. Burnt meat filled the air, sending smoke billowing. Urgar¡¯s muscles swelled, veins glowing with molten heat as his axe ignited in searing flames. With a furious swing, he screamed and cleaved through the Grimmers that surrounded him, his body a whirlwind of steel and fire. See? It was a good idea. The horde pressed into him, his body taking lashes, but Urgar¡¯s rage only intensified. He cut down Grimmers with a fiery vengeance, blood leaking onto the floor. His axe left scorched bodies and severed limbs in its wake. Mitch stepped back, eyes cold and calculating as he watched the dwarf tear through the horde. Urgar was taking a lot of damage from the onslaught, but ignored it in his berserker state. Flames roared higher, incinerating them as his axe swung in wide, lethal arcs. Warrick phased into existence besides Mitch. The orc¡¯s spiked gauntlets were covered in viscera, dripping blood. He glanced at the carnage, then at Mitch, his voice a deep, rumbling judgment. ¡°That was cold.¡± Mitch¡¯s face was emotionless, guilt subjugated into his Devoid lockbox. ¡°He wasn¡¯t going to make it without a push.¡± Warrick stared at him for a moment, judging, before grunting and phasing out again. The orc''s judgement hung in the air as Urgar¡¯s flames raged on. Even though Urgar¡¯s fighting was endless, and he was covered in wounds, Mitch had a feeling the dwarf would be fine. Mostly. It worked, didn¡¯t it? Mitch turned, spotting Sable across the cavern. She had the mutated Abyssal-infected man pinned to the ground. Her metal wires coiled tightly around him, trapping him like a beast, but unable to kill him outright. Her face was tight with concentration, body straining against the man¡¯s thrashing. Mitch rushed over, leaping across the cavern as the horde thinned. The Grimmers were being cut down by Urgar¡¯s fiery wrath and Warrick¡¯s fists. As Mitch approached, the infected man¡¯s glowing eyes locked onto him, a sinister grin twisting his mutated face. ¡°Welcome back, boy,¡± the monster rasped, his voice dark and distorted. Mitch¡¯s grip tightened on the hilt of his Soul Sword, but instead of striking the monster down, he knelt besides the thrashing, mutated man. He leaned in close, cold eyes studying the writhing mass of flesh and metal. ¡°Tell me,¡± Mitch growled, his voice low and dangerous, ¡°Why am I tied to the Abyss? Why me?¡± The monster¡¯s eyes flickered, a dark grin spreading across its grotesque face, but it didn¡¯t answer. Mitch pressed the blade against the creature¡¯s chest, pushing it down until it screamed. He twisted the blade, feeling corrupted flesh yield beneath the dwarven steel. The Souls inside Mitch howled in excitement, feeding off the pain radiating from the creature. But the monster only barked back a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s all you have? You think what you do is worse than the Abyss and its methods?¡± it moaned through ragged breaths, its voice filled with madness. Mitch pressed harder, grinding the blade into its chest. ¡°Why do I have this debt?¡± The monster¡¯s laugh turned into a choking gasp as black blood bubbled forth from its mouth. But it still refused to answer. Its eyes shined with knowledge, lips curling into a taunting grin even in the face of death. ¡°Answer me.¡± Mitch¡¯s voice was ice. Sable, still holding the wires taut, glared at Mitch, her expression having shifted from grim determination to fear. The calm exterior she had built around herself faltered as she watched him toy with the monster. It was clear the creature wouldn¡¯t speak, and Mitch¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°If you won¡¯t answer, then you¡¯re no use to me,¡± he hissed. Without another word, he raised his sword high and brought it down in a powerful arc. The Soul Sword sliced effortlessly through wire, flesh, and bone. Mutated head severed in one swift stroke. Everything was still. Bodies littered the ground, blood soaking cracked stone. Sable¡¯s multi-colored eyes lingered on Mitch. She had seen something in him. Something dark, and detached. She didn¡¯t speak as she let the wires she had cast loosen. Warrick¡¯s deep voice cut through the stillness. ¡°Guys! Urgar¡¯s down!¡± Mitch turned, his attention shifting to where Urgar¡¯s form lay atop a pile of slain Grimmer bodies. The dwarf¡¯s berserker rage had finally ceased, the Skill sputtering out. He panted heavily, his body covered in slashes and burns. Some part of Mitch was happy that Urgar had survived, but the unnatural coldness of Devoid won. He will live. Good. Sable rushed past him, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and urgency. ¡°You cold bastard¡­¡± she muttered under her breath. Barely audible, but Mitch caught it. She knelt beside Urgar, pressing sewn together hands against burned skin, her focus entirely on the dwarf. ¡°Urgar, stay with me,¡± Sable''s voice cracked as she pulled a vial from her pouch, applying the liquid to the worst of his wounds. Mitch took a breath, then looked down at the decapitated body at his feet. The hunger that tickled his brain, the pull of the Shadowshroud, demanded its prize. It gnawed at him, begging to be let loose. Mitch closed his eyes, and prodded the Shadowshroud to feast. A savage howl, like a starved dog, rang out in the cavern. The clinical emotion Mitch felt kept his eyes locked onto the process. Chapter 13: Clean Up Crew The Shadowshroud peeled itself from his body, forming into a writhing mass of inky tendrils. One thin, black ribbon remained latched onto Mitch¡¯s body, always keeping a permanent connection like an implanted dog leash. He could feel it, tugging at where his liver was. It stuck to him, permanently connected to his body. It stopped for a moment in the air, a single large, pupil-less eye forming at the center of its small mass. Wiggling erratically in the air, it floated amongst reaching tendrils, staring at the flesh it was about to consume. Taking its time, the tendrils spread out, twitching in anticipation before diving into the mutilated corpse. Giant black pom pom with an eyeball. Add a healthy splash of demon. Like a hungry dog, the Shadowshroud zipped toward the Abyssal-infected man and latched onto it, eye first. Mitch could see a tiny, razor-tooth mouth latch onto the cursed flesh and begin to gnaw. Sickening sounds filled the air as the shroud ate the flesh. It wasn¡¯t quick or clean; it was messy, tearing muscle from bone, making squelching noises as it feasted. The sight of it would have made anyone nauseous, but Mitch just stood there. Emotionless and watching the disgusting display in morbid curiosity. He bent down and reached out with his Abyssal Vault, claiming the soul before it was lost. The body might be the Shadowshroud''s, but the monster¡¯s soul was his. Settlement Amount: 37(+1) Souls, 0 Credits, 28 Flesh The soul flowed out of the monster¡¯s body like a twisted black bolt, frenzied and chaotic as it funneled into Mitch¡¯s core. It was smaller than the others, and felt damaged, yet far more vicious. The Souls already imprisoned within, even the Grimmer souls, roared in unison, trying to subdue their new violent roommate. He gritted his teeth as he finally let himself feel his strength surging. The damage he had sustained from the fight had knit itself permanently into his body. Urgar groaned, coming to as he sat up behind Mitch, battered and bloodied from his berserk fueled fight. He wiped soot and blood from his face with the back of his hand and grimaced as he caught sight of the bodies he lay upon. The dwarf¡¯s eyes cleared and settled on Mitch, ¡°Ugh,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Thank ye, you cold bastard. I knew I had it in me.¡± Urgar¡¯s face split into a small grin. Mitch stood there, watching the Shadowshroud devour the corpse. He glanced over his shoulder at Urgar, his expression unchanging. ¡°You were breaking, Urgar,¡± Mitch replied coldly, though his voice held no malice¨Cjust fact. ¡°You needed to be pushed.¡± Urgar raised an eyebrow, his grin faltering for a moment before he let out a bark of laughter. ¡°Aye, that I did. Still,¡± he winced, rubbing his side, ¡°could¡¯ve given me more warning.¡± Mith didn¡¯t respond. His focus was drawn back to the Shadowshroud, still gnawing messily at the Abyssal-infected body. Urgar followed his gaze, watching the writhing black mass with a mix of fascination and disgust. ¡°That thing¡­¡± the dwarf muttered, ¡°needs a name.¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes lingered on the shadowy tendrils, still latched onto him like a vicious pet tethered to its master. It had begun to morph as it fed, tendrils twisting and coiling. Its shape grew more defined. The vague form of a tiny hound emerged from the black mass. It gnawed furiously at the corpse with its tooth-filled muzzle. The disgusting sounds continued, as the Shadowshroud tore into the remaining flesh. Bone cracked and splintered beneath its relentless hunger. Slowly, it started to drag itself back towards Mitch, exhausted but satisfied from its feeding. He could feel it grumbling happily in his mind. Definitely dog-like. ¡°Rex,¡± Mitch said as the Shroud latched back onto him, its tendrils wrapping around his torse once more. It clung to his body, thicker now, the material stretching down his arms like a long-sleeved swirling black shirt. Rex was a weight against his skin. He was heavier and much more substantial than before. Are you going to keep getting stronger the more you¡¯re fed, Rex? Mitch felt Rex send affirmation to his mind. Urgar chuckled through a wince of pain. ¡°Rex. A fitting name for a beast like that.¡± But Mitch¡¯s mind wasn¡¯t at ease any longer. The cracks in his Devoid began to grow wider, and the weight of what he had done¨Cthrowing Urgar into the fray without hesitation¨Cchipped at him. He felt the guilt seeping in, despite the cold indifference that had shielded him during the battle. He looked frantically at Urgar, who was still recovering, his body scorched and scarred. And Sable¡­her glare was hard to ignore. ¡°Back with us? You threw him into that mess like a sheep for slaughter,¡± she snapped coldly, her voice cutting through the moment. She glared daggers at Mitch as she applied ointment to Urgar¡¯s burns. Warrick stood off to the side, looking troubled. ¡°Do you even realize what you did?¡± Mitch¡¯s real emotions flickered through the cracks in Devoid. He had treated Urgar like a disposable pawn. A tool for survival. It hadn''t bothered him at the time, but now, the weight of it felt unbearable. Mitch closed his eyes, feeling the souls within him shift. Restless. Wanting to push forward again. Who am I becoming? Is this what I have to do to beat this? Swallowing hard, Mitch felt the cold indifference of Devoid cracking further. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. ¡°Urgar, I¨C¡± he started, his voice low and strained, but Sable cut him off with a sharp glare.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare apologize,¡± she hissed, her multi-colored eyes blazing. She pulled away from tending to Urgar, her movements rough and agitated. ¡°You used him like he was nothing. Like a tool.¡± Mitch¡¯s gaze dropped, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to explain himself, to justify what he had done, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. The certainty he¡¯d felt during the battle was slipping away. Sable shook her head in disgust, turning her back on him as she stomped away. ¡°Just clean up your mess, barback,¡± she spat over her shoulder, her tone venomous. ¡°It¡¯s what you know best, anyways.¡± Warrick¡¯s face was unreadable, his posture tense as he watched. Mitch stepped closed to Urgar, ignoring the way his chest tightened. ¡°Can you stand?¡± he asked quietly, tone regretful. Urgar winced, but managed a half-smile, ¡°Aye, I¡¯ll live. Seen worse, believe it or not.¡± He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a pained wheeze. Mitch bent down, carefully lifting the battered dwarf off the pile of Grimmer bodies. Urgar was much heavier than he expected. Warrick, standing a few paces away, spoke with a gruff calmness that belief the tension in his gaze. ¡°You know,¡± he said, voice measured, ¡°there¡¯s more than one kind of beast in this place.¡± His eyes flickered to Mitch. ¡°And not all of them try to kill you. Right away, at least.¡± Mitch felt a flush of anger at Warrick¡¯s words, but he swallowed it. I deserved that. Deserve worse. ¡°We need to keep moving,¡± Sable said sharply, voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. She had already moved ahead, scanning the darkened passageways with impatience. ¡°Can Urgar walk?¡± The dwarf, on his feet with Mitch¡¯s help, gave a weary nod. ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± he said, as he leaned heavily on Mitch. ¡°Worked out, didn''t it?¡± His smile was weak, but looked genuine. Mitch nodded back, but it felt hollow. ¡°Good,¡± Sable said, her tone clipped. ¡°Then let¡¯s go. We¡¯re wasting time.¡± She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing as they locked onto Mitch. ¡°And while you¡¯re at it¡­clean up the bodies, like the beast you seem to want to be. You made this mess¡­at least deal with it.¡± Mitch¡¯s jaw clenched, a flare of anger sparking in his chest, but he bit back a retort. The squad walked ahead, Urgar leaning on Warrick, as he knelt in front of the piles of bodies. She was right, in a way. He had chosen his path, for better or worse. The notification from Devoid upgraded settled the matter. Affliction Skill Upgraded Devoid Level 3 Lock away undesired emotions and thoughts. Feel only what you wish. + Your sacrifices are rewarded with power. All emotions and thoughts must be addressed eventually. Rewarded with power?... I¡¯m rewarded? They are? As he siphoned the remaining flesh into his Abyssal Vault, most of the bodies were empty¨Cno souls left to claim. Only twisted ruined shells. ¡°Most of them are gone,¡± he muttered to himself, but it was loud enough for Warrick to hear. The orc¡¯s expression softened, understanding coming over his face as he saw Mitch siphon flesh. Settlement Amount: 37 Souls, 0 Credits, 109(+81) Flesh His body felt stronger, heavier the weight of his Afflictions growing. From that fight alone, he knew he had gained serious strength from Agony¡¯s Embrace, and the strength from the collected souls. He was surprised that he hadn¡¯t received another upgrade for Abyssal Vault as well. From the cavern fight, he had gained two levels in Devoid, and just one in Abyssal Vault. He wondered and hoped he would receive more, as well as for the right opportunity to test his Dominion of Shadows. The fact that Rex was well fed and upgraded was welcome, but Mitch still wanted more. I need something that¡¯s more explosive. How do I get more Skills? Once he was finished siphoning the flesh of the fallen Grimmers around him, he followed the squad into the tunnel they traveled down. They discussed which way to travel down the splitting passageway. Sable¡¯s gaze was cold as he approached, but she said nothing more. ¡°Which way?¡± Mitch asked, his voice level. ¡°Forward,¡± she answered tersely, nodding to the path ahead. Warrick opened his mouth, likely to suggest retreating, but she raised a hand to stop him. ¡°We can¡¯t go back,¡± Sable said firmly, though her voice carried an edge of strain. ¡°Not yet. We¡¯re sitting targets here. If more Grimmers come, we¡¯re dead. And if we turn back now, we¡¯ll leave with nothing to show for the fight, no results, no progress¡ªjust a beaten-up dwarf and a bigger mess waiting for us. Crae will lose it.¡± Warrick folded his arms, frowning. ¡°And what happens if Urgar doesn¡¯t hold up?¡± ¡°We move forward until we know,¡± Sable replied, her gaze flicking to Urgar¡¯s battered form. Her voice softened, just slightly, as she added, ¡°If he can¡¯t keep going, we¡¯ll reassess. But for now, we keep going. We find a better position. Something we can work with. You know I¡¯m right.¡± The dwarf groaned from his spot, waving weakly. ¡°I¡¯m not dead yet,¡± he muttered, his words slurred. ¡°I¡¯ll walk. Just¡­might need a hand.¡± Sable¡¯s lips pressed. Her exhaustion showed in the slump of her shoulders, but her tone stayed resolute. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll get to the next point, regroup, and make the call then. Standing here arguing isn¡¯t going to fix anything.¡± She turned away, brushing past Mitch as she gestured for the group to follow. ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather stay here and take bets on how long it takes for the next swarm to find us.¡± Her steps were brisk, her back straight, though Mitch noticed the twitch of her hands. The leader mask was still in place, but cracks were beginning to show. Deeper into the Depths and Abyss they traveled. Mitch found it strange that she was determined to go forward, even with Urgar injured. Mitch and Warrick switched out aiding Urgar limp along. The orc was a silent presence amidst the shadows. As they moved, the echoes of their footsteps stretched endlessly. Mitch¡¯s mind whirled with the consequences of his actions. Rex, now fully settled after his meal, sat on Mitch¡¯s torso like a long sleeve shirt. The beast let out a satisfied hum in the back of his mind at his meal, but to Mitch, it felt as if he relished the tension. Mitch knew one thing, despite his guilt. Whatever lay ahead, he couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate. Not anymore. In the distance, Mitch could hear the groaning of rocks, and something else. A light scratching sound wound its way towards them as they traveled on. At first, he wasn¡¯t sure if he was hearing ghosts or if his mind was playing tricks on him. The sound persisted as they traveled deeper. Something about the noise rubbed Mitch the wrong way, setting him on edge. ¡°Is that someone scribbling on parchment?¡± Warrick asked, gazing down the tunnel. Chapter 14: Soul & Steal The sound and feeling of repeating bumps woke him to a world of pain. Everything hurt, and Hathgar whimpered from his broken nose that screamed in pain as he tried to get a good breath in. His body felt like it had been beaten for hours, and then beaten some more. Every inch of him was bruised through. His labored heartbeat pounded in his head, which was already filled with a splitting headache. He lay in a heap on top of something cold. He shivered, even though he could barely move. The air around him bit into his skin. Hadn¡¯t he been wearing clothes? Where the fook are me clothes? His eyes were swollen shut, and he could barely see around him. Green light filtered into his vision as he tried to make out his surroundings. He was moving. Lying on something. Was someone pushing him on a trolley? All he heard was his own heartbeat pulsing in his head and the constant clunking of the floor beams beneath him. Where the bloody fook am I? He had been walking out of Shadowreach, starting his long trek back to Stonehollow. Someone¡­no¡­something had stepped into his path. There had been a fight. They were so strong. Hathgar had blacked out, after thinking he was going to die. His only fighting Skill, Steel Skin, handed down for generations amongst his clan, had been useless when met with such power. Had to be born a son of the fookin¡¯ head a¡¯ blacksmithing. The trolley jolted, and Hathgar felt the world shake around him. He moaned softly, the sound barely a whisper. The cold surface under him felt like death itself, draining what little strength he had remaining. Hathgar¡¯s broken body twitched, but nothing more. ¡°Ah, finally awake, are we?¡± A thick, greasy voice broke through the sound of the trolley. The voice was amused, almost playful. Hathgar¡¯s head lolled to the side, but his vision remained blurred. All he could make out was a hulking figure. A fat slob of a man with small features, wearing what appeared to be a butcher¡¯s apron stained with blood. The piggish face leaned in and Hathgar smelled his rancid breath, almost making him gag. ¡°Good stock. You¡¯ll last longer than most, then.¡± Hathgar moaned, trying to shift. The pain he felt over every inch held him prisoner on the trolley. The butcher snorted, straightening up and continuing to push Hathgar down the dimly lit passageway. ¡°You don¡¯t need to talk, little dwarf,¡± he jeered. ¡°Not that it¡¯ll matter, anyways.¡± The trolley came to a halt with a final clunk. Hathgar was shoved off, body hitting the ground hard. Pain seared through him as his broken body hurt from supporting its own weight. The cold stone made him shiver even more violently. ¡°Pile? Or right away?¡± the butcher asked, stepping back. Hathgar could hear his labored breathing as he moved, but another sound made him shudder¨Ca sickening dragging noise. Flesh being scraped across stone. As Hathgar¡¯s swollen eyes opened again, he saw it. A heap of bodies. Broken and beaten people of all races, some gasping in pain, others eerily still. The stench of blood, shit, and rot filled the air. His heart sank as he was dragged. His battered body scraped across the jagged rock by a much thinner figure that had appeared. This one was tall, unnaturally so, as if his limbs had been stretched. His fingers were bony, and his face was a mask of calm, clinical detachment. The man hummed quietly to himself as he dragged Hathgar¡¯s near-lifeless form towards a spot on the floor. Each pull sent waves of pain through Hathgar¡¯s body, stone and something else digging into his wounds. The unmistakable scent of ammonia and urine filled his senses. Are those teeth on the floor? And a lot of piss. ¡°Right away, this is a good one,¡± the thin man rasped, more to himself than to the butcher. ¡°Strong. Should hold up nicely.¡± Hathgar¡¯s vision blurred as he was left on the floor. His mind reeled from the pain. He tried to speak, but only a strained moan came out. He could barely move from the pain. The tall man laughed, his voice a soft, eerie chuckle. Hathgar¡¯s vision focused just enough to see, and caught sight of the other captures.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Around him there were more people. Elves, humans, dwarves, orcs. All floating. But they were surrounded by pulsating bubbles of dark purple energy. They screamed silently, their mouths open in agony, but no sound reached him. They were frail, withered, and sleepless. Countless lacerations covered their bodies, slowly leaking down and pooling. Trapped at the bottom of the purple pods. Hathgar¡¯s heart dropped as he saw glass jars floating next to the pods. The jars were filled with orbed light. Each prisoner¡¯s was a different color. Some shone brilliant white, most were tainted with inky soot. A similarly colored tendril trailed out, straight through the glass, and then through the pods. Each leash was connected to the prisoner¡¯s sternum, straight through their skin into flesh. Black sludge speckled the strings, like festering, rotting sludge. Fook me. Bloody soul magics. It appeared that Hathgar was next. ¡°What¡­what is this?¡± Hathgar croaked through broken teeth, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°What do you want with me?¡± The tall man didn¡¯t answer, just smiled and hummed as he set a knife near a pod that held an elf. Then, he stepped back, and Hathgar saw another man, a half-orc. A red ring glinted in the sickly light on the man¡¯s finger. Hathgar immediately saw it, and the notebook he carried. Red ring. Go fookin¡¯ figure. He stood there, watching the pods with prisoners with cold, detached, terrifying calmness. ¡°You won¡¯t be heard, dwarf,¡± the man said, his voice measured and clinical. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do. No one is coming. You¡¯re here,¡± he gestured in the cramped room filled with silently screaming prisoners, ¡°for as long as you last.¡± Hathar tried to struggle, but his body wouldn¡¯t budge. His mind swirled in panic, but the half-orc continued, his tone unemotional. ¡°We don¡¯t need you alive, not for long anyways. If you don¡¯t last that long, well¡­let¡¯s just say I¡¯ll make a note of it here.¡± The man with the ring leaned closer, his dark eyes boring into Hathgar¡¯s. ¡°And when your soul is finally released into the lower depths of the Abyss, what waits for you there will make this¡­¡± he gestured to the other tortured captives, ¡°seem merciful.¡± Hathgar¡¯s heart raced, the fear rising in his chest.. His body remained limp and weak. ¡°What¡­are you doing here? Why?¡± he choked out. The ringed man didn¡¯t answer. He merely gestured to the thin, tall man, who grinned wickedly as he pulled out a small black knife from his robes. He leaned forward and pricked it into Hathgar¡¯s sternum, the blade slicing easily through his skin. Pain exploded through Hathgar¡¯s body as the man began to carve, but it wasn¡¯t just physical pain. It was deeper. The man¡¯s long fingers bored into the cut, and with a sickening tug, Hathgar felt something being pulled from within him. His soul. A glowing, brilliant white tendril of Hathgar¡¯s soul emerged, pulsating, and the tall man¡¯s yellow eyes gleamed with excitement. ¡°Perfect for Grimlace,¡± he whispered, his voice trembling with delight. Hathgar screamed, but it was cut off by a choking gasp as the tall man placed his soul into a black glass jar. With a toss, the jar floated next to Hathgar. His vision swam, the pain unbearable, but through the haze, he saw the elf across from him. Her body was covered in cuts, her soul tendril leaking black sludge. With a thin knife, the man scraped the black sludge off of her soul tendril, collecting it like a prize. The woman¡¯s screams were refreshed anew, but no sound passed through her energy cage. ¡°Perfect, have fun,¡± the tall man attending to him said as he pulled his hand back. The man with the ring waved his hand, and the same bubble of Abyssal energy surrounded Hathgar. He was forced to a hover. The outside world was cut off. Hathgar only heard his labored breathing as he was forced to watch the other prisoner¡¯s pain. The tall man walked off, onto his other subjects. The man with the ring watched him for one moment, and then opened his notebook and left, immediately taking notes. Then the cutting began. From nowhere, Hathgar felt small cuts lacerate his body. He couldn¡¯t tell if the cuts were real, or if the pain was implanted into his mind. Fiery scratches he could feel everywhere. He screamed in his pod, but kept a fragment of his mind. I''m fooked. Hathgar¡¯s Steel Skin, the pride of his clan, did nothing to protect him as the invisible knives carved into him again and again. The pain was unlike anything he¡¯d ever felt. His body was on fire, and his mind was tearing at the edges. Every nerve screamed in agony. Hathgar grasped the shreds of sanity he felt, and focused on a single thought. I will not give into fooking soul magic. In the darkness of his pain, he felt something stir. His Steel Skin might be useless to this magic, but something began to shift. Through the torture, Hathgar was aware enough to read the notification. Steel Skin Modified Steel Skin -> Abyssal Wrought Iron Skin Abyssal Wrought Iron Skin Level 1 Defensive Aspect Absorb and store blows, allowing fluid movement and control of flesh. Offensive Aspect Forge weapons out of flesh. A small smile creeped on his face. A plan began to develop in his mind. This¡­I can work with this. Chapter 15: No Rest for the Wicked The caverns stretched on, endless and winding and constantly sloped downward. The moist stench of rot clung to the thick air. The squad had been traveling for hours, down the branching tunnels that Sable seemed to choose at random. From the start, Mitch heard it¨Cthe faint, irritating sound of scratching. At first, they thought it was a phantom noise, but no, it was real. The scratching was there, a constant reminder of something unseen lurking. Like someone scribbling on parchment, the noise followed them at every turn. What is that? Mitch¡¯s steps were heavy as he half-carried, half-guided Urgar along, the dwarf¡¯s weight leaning into him. Urgar winced with every hobble. ¡°Don¡¯t know how you¡¯re healing, but you best keep that to yourself, boy,¡± the dwarf muttered lowly, more out of habit than real concern. His voice was strained, a grim reminder that the wounds he carried were severe. Far worse than Urgar was letting on. Mitch didn¡¯t reply. Sable and Warrick didn¡¯t say anything, but he knew they wondered how he was able to heal himself with Flesh that he collected. He also noticed Urgar¡¯s wounds knitting themselves faster than they should. Too fast for someone without a healing ability like Mitch. Warrick noticed too¨CMitch caught the quiet orc glancing at Urgar¡¯s closing wounds with suspicion. But Mitch kept silent. Whatever it was, they still needed to keep moving. Sable led the way with a relentless pace. She hadn¡¯t slowed, despite Urgar¡¯s obvious injuries. She refused to stop, even when the tunnel twisted into bizarre, unnatural shapes. Or when the walls narrowed so much that Mitch had to angle his shoulders to squeeze through. Her eyes darted along the cavern walls, her hands tightly gripping a map. To Mitch¡¯s eye, it was becoming more useless with every step. Occasionally, she would pause to inspect the creatures scurrying along the cracked stone walls¨CAbyssal bugs, their hard black shells glinting in the faint green light. They were like living shadows, crawling in and out of unseen cracks. Disappearing into the dark as quickly as they appeared. A constant reminder that they were in the Abyss. Warrick grumbled from the back. ¡°We¡¯ve been walking for hours. We need to rest. At this rate, we¡¯ll never find the Abyssal Hag, much less the way back.¡± Mitch had to agree. His muscles ached from carrying Urgar, and the pressing weight of the Abyss seemed to close in tighter with every breath. The cold, damp air clung to his skin like a curse, and the constant scratching noise only made it worse. Sable didn¡¯t respond. She kept moving forward, constantly checking the map that clearly wasn¡¯t of any use. Frantic. ¡°This isn¡¯t right. Where are the markings? There¡¯s no markings.¡± Sable said to herself as she set off down yet another endless tunnel, searching for any sign they were headed in the right direction. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen a blasted marking yet, Sable.¡± Urgar grumbled while limping. Mitch could see the visible tension in her stance. ¡°You know as well as I do the markings left behind by the Masked Lord and his army are the best way to navigate these tunnels,¡± Sable said through clenched teeth while squinting to scan the map. ¡°Then where are they?¡± Warrick remarked, unease leaking into his typically stoic canter. Urgar was nearing his limit. The dwarf¡¯s voice was rough and tired, ¡°We¡¯re proper lost, ain¡¯t we?¡± Mitch didn¡¯t say anything, but Warrick gave a low, rumbling laugh from the rear. ¡°It¡¯s looking that way.¡± Sable¡¯s head whipped around, her multi-colored eyes wide and flashing in the dim light. ¡°We are not lost,¡± she snapped, voice tight. ¡°We just¡­need to keep moving. We¡¯re close. We have to be close to a marking.¡± Mitch wasn¡¯t convinced. The scratching sound grew louder in the stillness, gnawing at his nerves. It was like something followed them, scribbling incessantly on parchment just behind the next bend, but whenever he turned the corner, there was nothing. Only the dark. Urgar coughed, leaning harder into Mitch. ¡°If we keep going at this pace¡­¡± he wheezed. ¡°I¡¯m strong, but¡­not that strong.¡± Sable glanced back at him, her expression conflicted. For a moment, Mitch saw the frantic determination in her eyes falter. She looked down at the map again, then up at the dark tunnel ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Fine,¡± she conceded, her frustration leaking through. ¡°We¡¯ll rest. Sleep. First thing after you get some rest, we move.¡± She moved ahead, scouting the tunnel wall until she found a small hallowed-out section. It looked like it had been chipped away by something long ago. Miners, perhaps. Or something worse. Either way, it was large enough for them to settle into. Mitch helped Urgar down, easing him into a seated position against the wall. The dwarf winced as his back hit the stone. ¡°Aye, how I wish that health potions were real,¡± Urgar muttered again, his voice a rasp. ¡°Don¡¯t I wish I had a healing Skill like you, lad.¡± Mitch was more concerned with the fact that Urgar was healing unnaturally fast. There was something about it that gnawed at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside for now.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The cavern settled into a tense quiet as the group made camp. Each member was weighed down by exhaustion and the oppressive dark around them. The scratching noise had finally faded into the background, yet it lingered in Mitch¡¯s mind like a haunting echo. Sable glanced at the group before turning to Mitch, her expression cold and commanding. ¡°First watch,¡± she said, nodding down the tunnels where the shadows twisted. ¡°Make sure we¡¯re alone.¡± Mitch gave a curt nod and stepped away from the others, moving slowly down the rocky corridor. The scratching returned, faint but insistent, as if the Abyss itself refused to let him forget it was watching. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked alone through the tunnel. Behind him, he heard light footsteps approaching. ¡°Wait,¡± Sable called, catching up with him. Mitch slowed but didn¡¯t turn completely. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked her. Sable stopped a few steps from him, her different colored eyes hard to read. She hesitated, and crossed her arms defensively. ¡°I wanted to talk,¡± she said finally. ¡°About earlier.¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow. ¡°What about it?¡± Her gaze dropped, and for a moment, she looked less like the confident leader she tried to project and more like someone carrying a heavy weight. ¡°I was wrong to lash out,¡± she admitted. ¡°I know why you did what you did with Urgar. It was the right call.¡± Mitch¡¯s stance softened slightly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean it was easy,¡± he said after a pause. ¡°I didn¡¯t like doing it.¡± She nodded, fingers tightening around her arms. ¡°I know. That¡¯s why it worked. If you hesitated, there¡¯s a good chance we might be dead.¡± She took a small step closer. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to lead, to¡­push forward and do what needs to be done¡­¡± She faltered. ¡°Sometimes it feels like I¡¯m barely holding it together. Pretending, and it¡¯s exhausting.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not pretending,¡± he said firmly. ¡°It¡¯s not easy, but you¡¯re here, I¡¯m here, Urgar and Warrick too. You¡¯re still leading.¡± Sable let out a shaky breath, shoulders loosening. ¡°And what about you? How do you do it? You act like none of this gets to you.¡± ¡°It does get to me,¡± Mitch said simply. He hesitated, glancing down at his feet before meeting her eyes. ¡°I know what it¡¯s like to wear a mask. To pretend you¡¯re fine because it¡¯s what people need from you.¡± His voice dropped. ¡°Before I came here, I learned to slip into the role people expected. It was survival. A cold comfort, but it works. Works for a while, anyways.¡± The walls she kept up cracked a little bit further. ¡°That¡¯s what you think I¡¯m doing? Wearing a mask?¡± ¡°I think you¡¯re doing your best,¡± Mitch said. His tone softened, and he took a small step closer. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this alone, you know. Whatever you¡¯re really doing with Crae¡¯s. I know you think you have to, but¡­¡± Sable¡¯s eyes lingered on him. ¡°You¡¯re not what I expected, barback,¡± she said finally, her voice carrying warmth beneath her exhaustion. Mitch smirked. ¡°That a compliment?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± she muttered, though the edge in her voice was softened with amusement. She hesitated again. ¡°That thing, back there¨Cthe Abyssal man? What it said about me¡­you know about Patchling souls?¡± Mitch¡¯s expression grew more serious. ¡°Yeah, I do.¡± She looked away, her jaw tightening. ¡°Then you know what people think of me. What I am.¡± Her voice grew quieter, laced with bitterness. ¡°Not even a real person. Just¡­scraps. Whatever was left.¡± Mitch frowned, stepping closer. ¡°You¡¯re not just scraps, Sable.¡± Her gaze snapped back to him. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. My soul is gone, Mitch. I don¡¯t even know where it is. If it even still exists. What does that make me? A husk pretending to be something I¡¯m not?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a husk,¡± Mitch said, his voice gentle but firm. ¡°And you¡¯re not defined by what you think you¡¯ve lost. You¡¯re more than people think, more than what the Abyss thinks you are too.¡± She stared at him, lips parting as if to argue, but the words didn¡¯t come. Instead, she took a slow breath. ¡°You really believe that?¡± she asked quietly. ¡°I do,¡± Mitch said without hesitation. ¡°You¡¯re not what¡¯s happened to you, Sable. You¡¯re not just what people see, or what the Abyss says. You¡¯re you. And that¡¯s enough.¡± Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her gaze searching his face. ¡°You make it sound so simple.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± he admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s still true.¡± A silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. ¡°You¡¯re not what I expected, Mitch.¡± ¡°Still not sure if that¡¯s a compliment,¡± he teased, his voice carrying a low, amused tone. ¡°I like your hair? Sure the white locks get lots of compliments,¡± Sable laughed finally. It warmed him in the cold, dark tunnel. ¡°I like you too,¡± he shot back without hesitation, lips twitching into a grin, the banter slipping out before he could stop it. She froze for a fraction, her cheeks tinting slightly as her eyes rolled. Her expression shifted into a wry smile. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡± ¡°I try,¡± Mitch replied, his grin turning cocky. He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. ¡°You know, you could just admit you like me too. Save us both a lot of time.¡± Her laugh was soft but genuine. ¡°Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, barback,¡± she said, turning abruptly on her heel. But her pace slowed as she walked away, as if waiting for him to follow. Mitch chuckled under his breath, ¡°Guess I¡¯ll take watch, then,¡± he called after her. ¡°Guess you will,¡± Sable replied, her voice light. Mitch caught the subtle sway in her hips as she disappeared back toward the camp. He stood there for a moment longer, letting the last of their exchange settle in his chest. Even if he hadn¡¯t been forced into this body, he would have liked Sable if he¡¯d met her on Earth. He just wouldn¡¯t had the guts to put himself out there. This can¡¯t be all bad. The warmth of the conversation lingered, but the familiar weight of the Abyss crept back in. Mitch shook his head, pulling his focus back to the task at hand. The dimly lit tunnels stretched endlessly in front of him, twisting into shadowy unknowns. The scratching sound tickled at the edge of his hearing again, faint but persistent. Right. Watch duty. I know how to do that. You watch. He moved deeper into the tunnel, the glowstone light flickering over rough walls as his footsteps echoed softly. The faint dampness in the air clung to his skin, the rot and mildew pressing heavier now that he was alone. Mitch kept his grip firm on the hilt of his Soul Sword, his senses sharp. Then he saw it¡ªa small, black shape darting across the ground ahead. Chapter 16: Snack Time A mouse. It was tiny, with fur that seemed more like a slick coat of oil than hair. The creature¡¯s eyes shone like pinpricks of silver, and it stared up at him, twitching. Assessing him carefully. Mitch knelt down and rummaged through his pouch, retrieving a piece of hardtack. He snapped a tiny piece off, and threw it to the mouse in an offering. It sniffed the air, then darted forward to snatch the food with its small, clawed paws. The mouse chewed quickly, darting its eyes from Mitch to the dark passage beyond. Mitch watched, amused as the creature scurried away. Mitch continued his watch in silent darkness. A few minutes later, the creature returned, this time with several friends trailing behind. Dozens of tiny eyes gleamed up at him in the dim light, each mouse a near-perfect shadow of the last. Mitch smirked, feeling a flicker of curiosity and mischief spark in his mind. Their movements were eerily synchronized, the faint rustle of their slick bodies unnervingly quiet in the echoing tunnel. Curiosity and mischief sparked in his mind, but it was tempered by unease. These weren¡¯t normal mice. He knelt, extending his fingers slowly. One brave creature crawled closer, its silver eyes locking onto his. The others twitched in anticipation, huddled in a semi-circle as though awaiting his next move. Mitch felt a strange pang¡ªkinship? Power? He couldn¡¯t place it. Alright, let¡¯s see how this works. He reached for his Affliction Skill, Dominion of Shadows, which offered control and authority over lesser Abyssal beings. Something clicked in his mind. A thin thread of influence settled over the mice, and he felt a slight tingle as their small wits bent to his. The notification confirmed it had worked. Affliction Skill Dominion of Shadows Level 1 Exert control over lesser Abyssal beings. True obedience must be granted willingly. Usage of this skill may attract the attention of beings from the Abyss. Minions: 11 Abyssal Mice (+11 Abyssal Mice) The first mouse froze, its tiny mind bending to his will. One by one, the others followed. The connection snapped into place, faint but tangible, like spider silk threaded through his consciousness. They were his now. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he tested its limits. He made multiple mice jump and scurry in little patterns as the others watched, twitching in anticipation. He gave the ones he influenced the same commands, feeling a strange satisfaction as they responded eagerly. Dustings of hardtack as rewards for the mice made the process even easier. A hiss, low and drawn, slithered through the dark like a warning bell. Mitch barely had time to tense before a massive coiled form shot out from the shadows with terrifying speed. A snake, matte black scales dark as night and eyes glowing with a sinister red light. It struck in a single, deadly flash. It was the size of an anaconda, thick as a tree. And so fast Mitch¡¯s eyes could barely follow. Minions: 10 Abyssal Mice (-1 Abyssal Mice)Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Its mouth opened and swallowed the first mouse whole. Mitch took a step back, adrenaline kicking in as the remaining mice scattered. They squealed in terror as his grasp of their minds slipped. Mitch reacted, and clamped down on their tiny minds with Dominion of Shadows. The panic ebbed as he threw it into Devoid. With a vicious tug, he redirected their movements back towards the snake. ¡°Hate snakes,¡± Mitch growled, watching the giant Abyssal Snake recoil, its head still poised to strike again. This time, it faced him. Mitch¡¯s fingers twitched. Dominion of Shadows flared like an unlit match struck against stone. The snake coiled tighter, its crimson eyes boring into him with an intelligence that felt wrong¨Ctoo sharp, too knowing. It striked to the side, devouring another mouse, its jaws snapping as it ate another mouse. Minions: 9 Abyssal Mice (-1 Abyssal Mice) He pushed Dominion of Shadows outward. His control stretched thin, a mental tether swiping at the snake¡¯s mind. The Skill hissed in response. ¡°Let¡¯s see how you like this,¡± he muttered, sweat beading on his temple. The snake twitched. For a heartbeat, it froze. It was different from the mice¡ªfar larger, far more complex. Its scales rippled as if trying to slough off invisible chains. No notification was sent his way. The brief connection shattered. Molten pain lanced through Mitch¡¯s head, and he stumbled backward. The snake snapped back to itself with a feral hiss, its burning gaze now locked on him. The snake struck, fangs flashing. Mitch barely twisted away in time. Its body flexed with renewed energy. Whatever Mitch had tried, it had pissed the thing off. Not a Lesser Abyssal being then. Dominion of Shadows is too weak. Mice it is. He gripped his empty Soul Sword, heart pounding as he directed the mice that charged from all directions. Some scrambled over one another towards the snake in forced determination. It was the oddest feeling, to know where they were around him, like small flickering beacons. They swarmed around its scales, biting at the rough hide with miniscule teeth. Barely more than a nuisance for the snake. But it was distracting enough to give Mitch an opening. He yelled and swung his blade, but the snake dodged sideways. A brutal slash ran across the snake¡¯s flank, and he felt the blade bite into flesh. It didn¡¯t pass through however, as all his other strikes had. That¡¯s new. I think this snake is tougher than the Grimmers. Black ichor sprayed from the wound. A sharp shout echoed down the tunnel. ¡°Mitch!¡± Sable¡¯s voice was tight with alarm. Warrick¡¯s deeper bellow followed. Mitch ignored their calls. They would come, and he would fight what was in front of him. The snake coiled tighter, its burning eyes fixed on him, waiting for the next strike. He couldn¡¯t afford a single wasted second. The mice squealed as they continued to bite the hide of the snake. Before he could pull back his sword, the snake¡¯s tail whipped around in a lightning-fast arc, aimed directly at his left hand. It struck him just above the wrist, punching through Rex, which elicited a growl from the beast that covered Mitch¡¯s body. Searing pain exploded in Mitch¡¯s hand, and his grip on the soul sword faltered. He looked down, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw a gaping wound. Even through the clinical state from Devoid, Mitch knew this wasn¡¯t good. Rot. The wound was melting, the flesh around the puncture blackening as if eaten by acid. He could visibly see the festering spreading quickly towards his hand. The pain told him that it was also happening up the Rex-covered forearm as well. The rot crawled up his arm, an icy burn as his skin melted. Rex growled, the sound reverberating in Mitch¡¯s ear like thunder, but the beast¡¯s presence couldn¡¯t mask the searching pain. Even through the haze of Devoid, panic clawed at the edges of his thoughts. He shoved it down, clamping the emotion into the lockbox of his mind. Not now. Not here. Mitch felt the rot spreading further, a creeping poison devouring flesh and sinew with every passing second. Time was running out. He kept an eye on the snake as he made a cold, calculated decision. He waited for it to strike again, and ordered the mice he controlled to tear harder. Two mice minions got special instructions. Go for the eyes. Mitch held his rotting hand in front of him. The rot from the bite melted his flesh before his eyes. He raised the soul sword one handed. Noise from Sable yelling behind him told that his squad was still a ways away. Cold rationality knew this was the only current solution. Sacrifices must be made. Chapter 17: That Aint Natural Blood sprayed across the stone as Mitch¡¯s soul sword sliced clean through his own flesh. His left hand fell away. A useless, rotting mess. A scream escaped him¨Craw and strangled, echoing down the cavern walls. The notification from the upgrade fueled the power surging within him from Agony¡¯s Embrace. Affliction Skill Upgraded Agony¡¯s Embrace Level 4 Pain is power. Harness every drop of suffering, turning agony into unrelenting strength. Your torment permanently fortifies your body and amplifies your strength. +Your acceptance of pain strengthens your resolve. Consume Souls or Flesh to heal your Body Rex, his Shadowshroud, pulsed in response, recoiling up his arm like a spooked animal. The swirling black shirt he appeared as had retreated from the self-inflicted wound. Mitch took the shock he felt from what he had done to himself and shoved it firmly into Devoid. Blood splattered around him from arteries sliced cleanly through. Mitch felt his mind haze at the sudden loss of blood as the Abyssal Snake tracked him, waiting for its chance to strike again. But then Rex surged down his arm, binding himself tightly around the fresh wound. Capping the severed limb with dark, shifting tendrils. A cold wave pressed over the exposed flesh, the gushing smothered as Rex shielded what remained. Good dog. Mitch staggered, the strength draining from him in a rush. His vision blurred, and he felt himself wobble. The snake moved in, shaking the mice that gnawed at it, its red glowing eyes gleaming with vicious intent. Agony¡¯s Embrace flared to life within him. A surge of power born of pain roared through his veins, steadying him and strengthening him further. He gripped the soul sword harder, pressed the mice forward. His vision sharpened, the slight movements of the serpent as clear as fire against the dark. The snake lunged, fangs bared. Mitch twisted, slashing the blade across its scales, and felt the swing connect. The snake hissed, reeling back as dark ichor seeped from its wound. Mitch moved fluidly with his blade, every strike and dodge precise and cold. Each narrow dodge, each near miss of the fangs that leapt at him felt like survival etched into muscle memory. His body¡¯s instincts guided him through every movement. The Abyssal mice continued their attack, hurling themselves at the snake¡¯s face like small, dark missiles. They latched onto the serpent¡¯s scales with sharp paws, scratching and biting. Tiny teeth sought its eyes. But the snake shook them off with ease, tossing the small creatures aside with every movement. Mitch clenched his jaw in a scowl, dodging another bite, before his mind sought another solution. He reached again for Dominion of Shadows. The skill unfurled within him, dark and quiet, and he pressed it on, searching. He found them. Small beacons of minds scuttled and slumbered within the walls. He could feel them. With his Skill, or his curse that latched him to the Abyss he wasn¡¯t sure. But he knew they were there. All around him. Their dormant minds were always hungering, always waiting. It was an easy thing to instill his authority over them, once he knew how. Bugs, scurrying, or hiding, littered the cracks and shadows all around him. A cold smile formed onto Mitch¡¯s mouth as he flexed his Affliction Skill. With a cold determination, he swept down brutally on their simple wills and implanted his own. The power thrummed within him. Souls in his core roared in victory as Mitch claimed their small wills. They already loved his power. Their internal cheers strengthened his resolve. Minions: Abyssal Mice: 7 (-2), Abyssal Bugs: 249 (+249) Come forth. Feast. It appeared that he had lost two more mice during his fight with the Abyssal Snake. A faint rumble grew in the shadows as dozens, then hundreds of Abyssal Bugs poured from the walls and shadows. Black-shelled, scuttling things with needle-sharp legs and glistening carapaces. They crawled toward the promise of a feast in a wave. Their tiny minds felt like pinpricks within Mitch¡¯s Dominion of Shadows, each one a flickering light that pulsed with hunger. As the swarm reached the Abyssal Snake, Mitch felt their collective wills bending to his own. A relentless tide of hunger and obedience. The snake recoiled, its red eyes narrowing as the horde of bugs scrambled up its coiled, slashed body. The bugs began their gnawing. Biting and tearing, their mandables scraped against its scales, chipping away at the slide hide and drawing thin streams of ichor. The snake thrashed, throwing them off, but Mitch held their minds firm. He pressed the simple minds forward with a single command. Devour. The snake launched again, its hinged jaw snapping dangerously close to Mitch¡¯s chest. He twisted out of the way, slashing downwards with his soul sword. The blade met its mark. It cleaved deep into the snake¡¯s hide. The serpent hissed in pain, coiled body thrashing as the bugs burrowed into the fresh wound. Mitch felt his mind stretch as he managed the swarm of creatures under his control. Each one was a thread within his Dominion. The effort was taxing, but the newfound strength from Agony¡¯s Embrace from his cut-off limb pushed him through. It turned his blood loss into simmering, raw strength. Warrick¡¯s voice echoed from somewhere behind him, but Mitch paid him no heed. ¡°What? That ain¡¯t natural,¡± the orc muttered, fear flashing in his voice as he caught sight of the swarm crawling over the snake. His squadmate had arrived, to witness Mitch¡¯s growing power.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The snake whipped its tail at Mitch again, but he was ready. Dodging to the side, he drove his blade one-handed into the base of its jaw. The soul sword bit deep, and the serpent¡¯s thrashing slowed. Its strength finally wavered. ¡°Almost done,¡± Mitch said to Warrick, who was frozen at the display. He could tell the snake¡¯s life was slipping away. With a flourish, Mitch yanked the soul sword out and spun in a vicious circle. A final, sweeping arc with all his strength came down. Mitch drove the blade through scale and then skull. The serpent seized. Then went still. The moment its life faded. Mitch released control over the bugs, letting them swarm freely over the fresh corpse with the remaining mice. Minions: Abyssal Mice: 4 (-4), Abyssal Bugs: 0 (-249) Why no upgrade to Dominion of Shadows? Hmmm. Still cold with Devoid, he reached for the snake¡¯s soul. He seized it, latched onto it, and pulled out the dark tendril into his core. It joined the others. A frenzied, animalistic energy, full of spite and instinct. It was heavier, denser, and more volatile than any he¡¯d absorbed before. Settlement Amount: 37 Souls, 1 Beast Soul (+1), 0 Credits, 109(+81) Flesh As Mitch straightened from the kill, blood-streaked and cold, Warrick¡¯s voice broke through the quiet. ¡°How? How is that possible?¡± His tone was wary, almost disbelieving. The orc¡¯s eyes darted between Mitch and the swarm of bugs devouring the serpent¡¯s remains. ¡°What happened? I swear I saw something go into you. I think.¡± Mitch forced a casual shrug, despite the pain pulsing through his severed limb. ¡°They must have been drawn to the smell of blood, I don¡¯t know,¡± he responded, keeping his face neutral. Warrick¡¯s eyes lingered, suspicion lurking. The orc must have seen some of the black tendril sink into Mitch¡¯s core, and he could sense his distrust. Can''t fully see souls. Good. Sable¡¯s footsteps echoed, and she appeared in the cavern. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene. The remains of the snake corpse, the bugs feasting, and Mitch cradling his capped stump. She crossed the distance quickly, focusing on his wound. ¡°Thank the Stars the Shadowshroud capped it,¡± she muttered, touching Rex¡¯s dark form and his arm with a hint of relief. Mitch felt her warm touch through Rex. ¡°Rex, you beautiful thing.¡± There was warmth in her voice. She met his gaze, concern in her eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll need to be careful about blood loss. This isn¡¯t something you can just¨C¡± ¡°I know,¡± he replied, swallowing the apprehension that twisted in his gut. He watched Warrick warily out of the corner of his eye. Warrick¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the bugs. ¡°Those creatures, they followed you, didn¡¯t they?¡± He glanced sideways, eyes unreadable. ¡°Almost like they were waiting for you to order them around.¡± Mitch forced a chuckle, masking the tension thrumming. ¡°They were just bugs, Warrick. Probably just smelled something they liked.¡± Warrick¡¯s eyes narrowed, not buying it, but he didn¡¯t push further. Mitch felt the weight of the orc¡¯s suspicions pressing down like a physical force, a sharp contrast to Sable¡¯s soft concern. No way I¡¯m telling them I controlled the bugs. Mitch¡¯s mind buzzed with possibilities. As well as a nagging sensation that he¡¯d just crossed a line. The realization settled over him with a strange discomfort. He was more bound to the Abyss than he¡¯d ever admit. Sable wasted no time. She took his good arm, her grip firm but surprisingly gentle as she led him back toward their campsite. ¡°Come on,¡± she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and something softer. ¡°You need to sit, catch your breath.¡± As they moved, Mitch felt her eyes flick to his wound now and then, her face etched with concern. Mitch felt the warmth bubble inside him as he admired her. ¡°Yeah, well¡­not planning to go anywhere,¡± he replied, voice gruffer and more awkward than intended. Bloodloss. Mitch felt the mice nibbling alongside the bugs in his mind on what little remained of the snake. Pinpricks of tiny wills he felt like beacons. With a thought, he ordered them forward, Dominion of Shadows reaching out. Enough. Scout ahead, and stay hidden. The mice gave one last nibble and darted forward, fading into the shadows like echos of his own dark thoughts. Each one was a silent, small tether. A sense of satisfaction pulsed back, a reminder of the dark power and authority he wielded. Even if that authority was over small creatures. Yet as they reached the cavern, the iron hold of Devoid began to crack. His emotions slipped in, slow at first, then surging. The memory of severing his own limb seared itself into his mind. A brutal reminder of his cold desperation. His heart pounded as he stared down at his Rex capped stump. I¡­cut off my own hand. The sound of parchment scratching had returned, itching his nerves further. Remnants of shock and fear hammered against his small measure of control. The realization attacked him. Can I heal this? His Abyssal Vault was powerful, yes, but could it grow a missing limb? Was that even possible? Souls in his core pulsed in response. They shifted, aligning in readiness. Each one was a potential piece of himself, brimming with energy. Within his Abyssal Vault, the souls ganged up on another. A particular soul. The serpent¡¯s. They grouped around it, containing it in their number, and pressed it forward to the front. The souls roared at the chance to offer up the twisted beast in the shared space. He felt Sable¡¯s hand on him, her warmth steadying him as she sat him down next to a sleeping and snoring Urgar. She watched him, concern etched in her eyes. Mitch barely saw her, but her presence was welcome. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on in that head of yours¡­but you¡¯re here. Focus on that.¡± She¡¯s right. He nodded, and closed his eyes, feigning going to sleep. Warrick had offered to take the next watch, a suspicious gaze settling on Mitch before departing down the tunnels to watch for more threats. The notification of the Abyssal Debt couldn¡¯t have come at a worse time. Credits Debts: -1,001,998* -> -1,002,664* Assets: 127 Credits, 0 Souls*, 0 Flesh*Interest: -666/day Cashflow: 0/day The weight of what he¡¯d done hung heavily. The edge of terror approached at the realization that he was losing pieces of himself. One limb at a time. Rex sent worry through their bond, disappointed that he couldn¡¯t protect his master from the fangs of the serpent. It¡¯s ok, Rex. You did great to seal it. Let¡¯s hope you don¡¯t need to do that forever. We¡¯ll keep getting you stronger. Mitch sent Rex the thought, and he felt the Shadowshroud curl more tightly around him in protectiveness. Mitch reached for his Abyssal Vault, the sacrificial souls cheering within him. Their numbers had the serpent¡¯s soul surrounded. It stuck out like black lightning within him. Let¡¯s see if I can heal this. Chapter 18: Vanquish Mitch settled into the darkness of his own mind. The pull of Agony¡¯s Embrace¡¯s healing capability felt like a heavy hum. The souls carried within him churned around the serpent¡¯s soul almost ritualistically, pressing it forward as an offering. It was contained, this monstrous presence, but thrashed with feral energy, barely restrained by the other souls crowding around it. Sable sat at the front of the cavern, watching the tunnel. Warrick traveled further up, ensuring nothing got too close. Mitch wasn¡¯t concerned. The mice he still controlled with Dominion of Shadows scouted and held positions in shadows. Their dark fur provided cover. The small minds sent back the all clear. Nothing lurked towards them. At least for now. Only the persistent scratching that constantly plagued them. Urgar snored beside him.The dwarf slept off the worst of his injuries, and Mitch noticed again how quickly his wounds closed. Deep gashes and bite marks visible on his hands and neck, as the rest of him was covered in soot-covered plate armor, were already covered in fresh pink flesh. If he doesn¡¯t have a healing skill, if they¡¯re that rare, how is he healing so fast? Mitch steadied himself, trying to focus on the flesh within his Vault. He drew it out of his Abyssal Vault and applied it with Agony¡¯s Embrace, directing it towards his stump. Settlement Amount: 37 Souls, 1 Beast Soul, 0 Credits, 108(-1) Flesh Warmth spread over his cut flesh. Mitch felt Rex relax as the flesh knitted over, sealed. Rex, ever present in his mind, loosened his tight grip, appearing as a swirling black shirt retreating upwards and sending Mitch a wave of quiet relief. Mitch looked down at what he¡¯d rebuilt: a new surface of skin, pale and thin. Thankfully intact over the halfway point of his forearm. I don¡¯t need Rex to keep from bleeding out. That¡¯s step 1. Mitch took a breath and tried again. He attempted to apply more Flesh from his Abyssal Vault to finish the growth. Agony¡¯s Embrace resisted, halting him mid-command. Shit. Knew that was going to happen. Frustration gripped him as he directed his focus to the serpent¡¯s soul. The powerful creature still seethed within. It writhed like an animal sensing slaughter, thrashing against the other soul''s bindings. He latched onto it and for the first time, tried to use a soul to heal himself. Nothing happened. His Abyssal Vault flat-out rejected it, and Agony¡¯s Embrace held him at an impasse. Is it because the soul is a beast soul? Is that why? He considered his soul sword for a moment. Maybe the serpent¡¯s soul belonged there. But something in him hesitated, a tugging awareness from past memories that it was the wrong decision. The Soul Sword was wasted on a simple beast. Something in his body told him that better things could be done with the weapon. Nagging at the back of his head, memories floated upwards. He knew he could use a regular soul instead. It would work, he could feel it. Another intuition from his Affliction Skill told him that it would vanquish the soul, wiping it from existence. The memories, the experiences¨Ceverything that person once was would be extinguished for good. All for a hand. The souls stirred. A few of them pressed forward in eager sacrifice, withdrawing their hold on the snake¡¯s soul. Mitch¡¯s chest tightened. It was a bitter ache that twisted with the temptation of his need. He tried to ignore them, tried to convince himself that he could endure with only a single arm. Yet even without the cold rationality of Devoid, he knew he would need to be whole to survive. One soul broke away from the rest, stepping forward with a sense of calm resolve. Mitch knew that it understood the true cost. Mitch felt his throat tighten. His hand trembled as he mentally reached for the soul. His mind grappled with the decision. Whispered gratitude escaped his lips in a murmur. He tapped into the soul¡¯s energy, and it shattered. A life spent in a single moment. A rush of memories invaded his mind as he felt his arm begin to regrow: a young boy, gaunt and hungry, scrounging through garbage in an alley of Shadowreach. Brilliant blue flames devouring his home. A smoldering scar where a family once lived. Citizens not even waiting a day to claim the burnt space. A desperate dive into the solace of Grimlace. The memories broke apart, leaving Mitch hollow.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Settlement Amount: 36(-1) Souls, 1 Beast Soul, 0 Credits, 108 Flesh Tears flowed down Mitch¡¯s face, and he cried silently. Looking down, a fresh layer of muscle and bone was at the end of his arm. It was still incomplete. Another soul pressed forward. Its essence was one of quiet acceptance. Mitch¡¯s chest burned with grief as he tapped it. Raw, visceral echoes of another shattered life plagued him for what felt like ages. With each memory, his arm grew bit by bit. And each soul gave a piece of themselves. As the ninth soul broke, he finally let out a whimper to accompany his tears. This¡­this is why the other¡¯s didn¡¯t last. He clenched his jaw, muttering his grief as he reached for the tenth, and hopefully final, soul. He vanquished it. A final surge of memories washed through him¨Cpain, struggle, small joyful glimmers amidst a life mostly suffered. But his arm was whole again. He stared at it in awe. The flesh was pale, clean. Scars still layered his skin. Apparently those were permanent, even in regrowth. Least my arm is whole. Settlement Amount: 27(-9) Souls, 1 Beast Soul, 0 Credits, 108 Flesh The souls within him were quiet. Even the bestial soul seemed calmer at the witnessed sacrifice. Agony¡¯s Embrace pulsed with newfound power as a notification was sent to him. Affliction Skill Upgraded Agony¡¯s Embrace Level 5(+1) Pain is power. Harness every drop of suffering, turning agony into unrelenting strength. Your torment permanently fortifies your body and amplifies your strength. Your acceptance of pain strengthens your resolve. Consume Souls or Flesh to heal your Body + Power over life. Power over death. Souls may fuel what flesh alone cannot. Sacrifice the willing and rebuild what was lost. Mitch wanted to throw every emotion into Devoid. But he let himself feel the weight of what he had done. At least for a moment, he would bear the weight of his actions without assistance. The hollowness in his chest throbbed. A weight far too deep for words. Devoid itched in his mind like a warm, waiting embrace. He gave into it. Shoving the guilt and the emotion into Devoid, he forced himself back to cold rationality. The sorrow lingered at the edges, a phantom ache that he couldn¡¯t shake. Even logic has its limits. Beside him, Urgar snored. Oblivious. Mitch turned over, and caught Sable¡¯s red and yellow eyes staring at him. Her gaze was concerned, and then it swept over his fully healed arm. ¡°You¡­you¡¯re whole,¡± she murmured, a relieved smile breaking over her face. She rushed over and threw her arms around him. The warmth of her embrace hit him. It was a balm against the chill of Devoid, and what he had done. Mitch let himself savor it, the simple comfort of being close to someone. His heart fluttered slightly at holding her small frame. She might be patched together from different bodies, but Mitch couldn¡¯t help view her as a woman. A small smile made its way onto his face as he drew strength from her closeness. Letting Sable¡¯s embrace linger a few moments, Mitch felt something unfamiliar swell in his chest. A craving. A pull for something that defied the violence and darkness surrounding him. In her arms, he felt real. The words came to him unbidden. Carrying a raw honesty that even Devoid couldn¡¯t suppress. ¡°Hold on, Sable,¡± he murmured into her shoulder. ¡°Just for a moment.¡± His voice was barely a whisper. She stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then her grip tightened around him. Her fingers brushed against his newly healed arm, tracing the skin with gentleness that surprised him. His breath hitched as he felt her fingertips press into fresh muscles. ¡°We¡¯ll have to move soon,¡± she murmured, glancing back over her shoulder. ¡°The Abyssal Hag isn¡¯t going to kill herself.¡± She pulled away, and Mitch missed her embrace already. Sable gave a small smile, but her expression turned to one tinged with worry. ¡°I¡¯ll go get Warrick.¡± And just like that, she was gone from his touch. Mitch¡¯s gaze lingered on her retreating form. Bitterness prodded him, but he threw it into Devoid. He wouldn¡¯t let his emotions erase the warmth she left behind. The Abyss tugged at him. His tie with his Skills provided temptations of power, of survival through cruelty, but something about Sable¡¯s touch made him want to find a way to keep this moment intact. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of Rex¡¯s watching presence. Now that they were connected, he knew that Rex could feel his thoughts. It almost felt like the Shadowshroud was lapping his tongue at him, amusement leaking through their bond. Don¡¯t watch me all the time, you weirdo. He swore he could feel the Shadowshroud harumph and pull from their connection. Rex went back to a waiting beast he wore like a shirt. His fresh hand drifted to his Soul Sword, his thoughts darkening slightly. The serpent¡¯s soul pulsed in his Vault. Trapped and waiting. If his memories told him the snake¡¯s soul wasn¡¯t meant for the sword, it must be meant for something else. A beast¡¯s soul could serve a purpose, couldn¡¯t it? Mitch glanced at Urgar. Shallow, healthy breaths, mixed with snoring. He knew they would be descending further into the Abyss soon. Mitch would let the dwarf sleep as long as possible. Standing up, he tested his new arm, and waited for Sable and Warrick to return. It was time to delve further into the Abyss. Chapter 19: Choices Served Warm An ancient resonance shifted through the rock as if the Abyss itself were alive and restless. The sounds rolled down the tunnel like a warning. Low and relentless, echoing in the claustrophobic darkness. Beneath it, faint and persistent, was the scratching¨Clike nails on parchment. It was distant, but everywhere at once, trailing them through the passageways. They searched for any sense of direction, Sable leading the way. Urgar¡¯s limp was loud. His slumber had healed the brunt of his injuries, but his boot scuffed and dragged along the uneven stone floor. It was a half-healed reminder of Mitch¡¯s decision. The dwarf mumbled curses with each painful step, his voice bouncing off the glowstones that speckled the walls. Warrick brought up the rear, his heavy footfalls muted but watchful. The orc scanned the shadows with a hawk¡¯s vigilance. Mitch felt the tension against his back, suspicious eyes watching his every move. He didn¡¯t blame the orc. Mitch had his own eyes. The mice he controlled with Dominion of Shadows scurried in shadows, watching for threats. The tunnel widened, and a small cavern opened before them. It ended in a split path. The dim, unnatural glow of the Abyss washed over the walls, casting sharp shadows. Sable slowed, her grip tight on her worn map, brow furrowing. ¡°This¡­doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± ¡°Again? We¡¯re still lost.¡± Mitch¡¯s voice was a murmur. Sable shook her head. ¡°This¡­shouldn¡¯t be here. It¡¯s nowhere on the map,¡± Her voice was tight, edged with confusion. ¡°Where are we?¡± Ahead of them, carved into stone, was an ominous marking¡ªa crude hourglass etched into the rock face. The sand in the upper portion appeared full, ready to spill, but frozen in time. Beneath the hourglass, a single word was carved in stone, hauntingly clear: Choices. A deep resonance rolled through Mitch, like a thread of memory trying to resurface. He could feel something. It was a rush of pride. A distant familiarity with the carved symbol as his body remembered it. ¡°The Masked Lord''s mark,¡± Sable confirmed. His fingers curled tightly around the soul sword¡¯s hilt. Did I serve the Masked Lord in another life? My body knows that symbol. Warrick grunted from behind. ¡°If he¡¯d only succeeded,¡± the orc muttered, his gaze locked on the hourglass with an unreadable look. ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Sable snapped, glancing at Urgar¡¯s leg, ¡°he didn¡¯t.¡± She turned away, her voice lowering. ¡°And now look where we are¡­¡± ¡°Bah,¡± Urgar spat on the ground. ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody stands a chance against the Abyss.¡± They stepped toward the fork. Two paths opened before them: one veering sharply upwards. A brutal vertical climb. The other a dark, sloping descent that yawned like some ancient beast. The air along the lower path pulsed faintly with a warmth. An ominous welcome against the frigid temperature of the Abyss. Mitch could feel the pull, something in him whispering that it was where he needed to go. Warrick¡¯s voice cut through, breaking the silence. ¡°Nothing good ever comes from going down.¡± Urgar shifted, favoring his good leg, and grimaced. ¡°My leg ain¡¯t up to the climb.¡± He motioned toward the downward path. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s warm down there. Better ¡®an snapping my leg.¡± Mitch felt the sense of purpose solidifying, the downward path calling to him. Sable watched him, catching the flicker of determination in his gaze before turning back to her map with a resigned frown. She sighed. ¡°Fine. If we don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going, down it is.¡± They began their descent. The darkness pressed around them thicker than before, the glowstones even more sparse, the scratching now echoing with each step. Somewhere behind them, Mitch heard the faint echo of a stone grinding. It was a slow, heavy sound that made his skin crawl. None of the others seemed to notice. Mitch felt it in his bones. Something was watching, and waiting. Rex growled in his mind. The tunnel abruptly opened into a larger chamber. Jagged rock formations jutted out of the ground like fangs, casting menacing shadows across the cavern¡¯s floor. A stale, choking heat rolled over them. Mitch tasted old rusted iron and decay. And then¨Cslam. A massive stone slab crashed down behind them, sealing off the exit with a finality that vibrated through the rock and into Mitch¡¯s body. It was so severe that he felt a miniscule pulse from Agony¡¯s Embrace harden his body. ¡°Stars, I hate this place.¡± Warrick said, squaring up in a fighting stance. Everyone gazed around the sealed chamber. Mitch¡¯s eyes scanned the room. The walls started to shift, solid rock morphing and rippling like liquid. Shadows detached from the walls, forming into twisted figures. Golems emerged from the walls. Their bodies detached from the stone, massive and monstrous. Brutal amalgamations of rock and what appeared to be sinew. Hunched and malformed. Their arms were grotesquely long, ending in clawed hands that scraped the stone floor as they moved. Each face was hollow, carved chasms of darkness with faint purple orbs where eyes should be, shining with malevolence. Veins of purple energy pulsed through their rocky skin like arteries, casting twisted glows around them. Each step was accompanied by a deep, resonant growl that reverberated through the chamber, shaking loose bits of stone from above. The golems moved forward in stuttering, unnatural lurches. Reanimated by some vile magic, held together by the pulsing veins of Abyssal energy. Sable moved first, metal wires shooting from her hands in a whiplash of silver. They wrapped around the body of the closest golem, biting into the stone with a metallic shriek. She gritted her teeth and pulled her hand closed. The wires tightened, grinding against the purple veins. The golem struggled, and she held it tight, forcing it to stagger to a halt.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Got you,¡± Sable muttered, twisting her wrists. She mentally wrenched the wires tighter, sending cracks spreading through the golem¡¯s body. Mitch surged forward, souls humming with dark energy as he swung the soul sword in a brutal arc. It connected with the wrapped golem, cleaving into its rock torso with a crack. Purple energy seeping from the wound like corrupted blood. His increased strength came in handy, and he swung again, crushing further into the creature. He held his Dominion of Shadows back, knowing that bugs and mice were useless against these creatures. Warrick phased in next to him, form flickering like a shadow. He appeared and slammed his gauntletted fists into its torso with brutal force. Stone cracked and shattered under the collective blows as each pounded the creature with vicious precision. Warrick¡¯s gaze flickered toward Mitch, suspicion tainting his eyes even amidst their battle. Urgar charged toward a second golem, grimacing as his bad leg dragged. Despite it, he moved with surprising agility. Sable¡¯s wires shot out again from her hands and wrapped around one of the golem¡¯s arms. Urgar dodged under one of the creature¡¯s massive swings, narrowly avoiding its clawed fist. With a swift turn, the dwarf swung his giant war axe into its shoulder, the blade biting into stone with a crunch. The golem staggered, and Urgar rolled back, movements nimble despite his limp. ¡°Gettin¡¯ too old for this,¡± he muttered, ducking out of the way of another attack. He hadn¡¯t ignited Forgeheart during the battle but didn¡¯t seem to need it. Across the chamber, Mitch left Warrick to finish the golem they had been tag teaming to lock eyes with another lumbering towards him. Its arms were outstretched, the hollow voids of its face somehow expressing a primal hunger. He steadied himself. The golem swung a jagged fist; but Mitch didn¡¯t flinch; instead, he took the hit, letting the impact slam into his shoulder. The shock reverberated through his body, blood pounding in his ears. Agony¡¯s Embrace flared, the wave of pain transforming into raw strength. He sheathed his soul sword across his back. Rex sent an inquisitive ping to his mind. ¡°Yep, definitely some anger to let out,¡± he muttered to himself, a dark grin stretching across his face. Mitch took a step forward and drove his shoulder into the golem¡¯s torso, fists slamming into the creature with brutal power. With a roar, he pushed the golem back. He swung and connected. Every strike powered by the furious energy flowing through him. For the decisions he had been forced to make. For what was being done to him. His core souls thrummed in unison as he struck. For a moment, he was about to activate Devoid, but didn''t. This I want to feel. Stone cracked, revealing seeping purple energy. Mitch focused on its face, staggering the golem and kept pounding. He felt his fists break under the pressure of his own hits, striking and taking the feeble swings of the Golem until it began to crumple apart. The veins of energy within it sputtered with a faint hiss. Finally, after countless hits, the golem fell apart in a heap of rock. Mitch straightened, breaking heavily, and caught Warrick¡¯s sidelong glare as the orc stood over his own dead golem. Looking down, Mitch saw his broken, split hands. Immediately, he pulled flesh from his Vault with Agony¡¯s Embrace and healed them. His fingers made a satisfying crunch as they straightened. Reaching again, he felt there was no soul within the golem. Just a very dense, strong puppet. Rex sent a pout of dissatisfaction to Mitch¡¯s mind¨Cno bodies to consume. Relax. We¡¯ll get you another. Mitch flexed his fingers, savoring the ache that lingered before his hands fully healed. The catharsis of breaking the creature had smothered his frustration for a moment. It left him feeling lighter. It wasn¡¯t a resolution, but it was a release¨Ca brief reprieve from the decisions looming over him. He caught Sable¡¯s eyes measuring him, the barest hint of admiration gleaming there before she masked it. ¡°Impressive, Mitch,¡± she said, her voice a mix of awe and caution. ¡°Needed to let off some steam,¡± he said, meeting her gaze. Behind her, he saw Urgar still fighting the last golem. ¡°Oy! Can we finish this?¡± Urgar bellowed, rolling. His axe gleamed with streaks of purple energy, lunging with vigor. Sable whipped around and fired wire around the golem¡¯s legs, securing it. Urgar¡¯s axe came down, splintering the creature¡¯s head with a final crunch. Mitch watched as Urgars axe bit deep, splitting the golem¡¯s head in a resounding crunch. It finally crumbled into dust and shards. A silence fell, broken only by the sound of heavy breaths and the persistent parchment scratching. The dwarf spun his axe in a flare and turned to the rest of his squad, grinning through his black beard. ¡°You like that, eh?¡± The dwarf winked at them. The immediate threat was gone, but the oppressive weight of the room wasn¡¯t letting up. Instead, it felt like it had coiled around even tighter. Warrick dusted off his knuckles, a strange look flashing access his face as he glanced at Mitch. ¡°Don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever get used to that,¡± he said, tone caught somewhere between grudging respect and something darker. ¡°You fight like a damned demon, every time.¡± ¡°Demon, angel¨Cdoesn¡¯t matter as long as it gets us out of here whole,¡± Urgar replied with a tired laugh, propping himself up on his axe and leaning heavily. His leg looked fine, Mitch noted. Sable surveyed the room, the edge of tension visible in the line of her jaw. ¡°This isn¡¯t over yet,¡± she surmised, eyes fixated on something beyond the rubble of a golem. Tremors grew underfoot, resonance echoing through the chamber. Purple light cracked the ground as the ground continued to rumble. Rising from the dust of the last golem was a pulsating stone. Large as a boulder, gleaming like dark amethyst. Veins of Abyssal energy radiated outward from its core in sharp lines, pulsing in a rhythm that appeared disturbingly alive. The glow deepened, bathing the room in a sickly purple hue. An instinctual unease washed over Mitch. Something inside him stirred as it reacted to the stone¡¯s energy. That¡¯s not a good sign. ¡°Watch out!¡± Sable shouted, diving to the side. Tendrils of purple energy shot out from the stone like lighting. The room was illuminated in blinding light. The tendrils were fast, ruthless. They shot out from the stone and grabbed hold of bodies, wrapping around them tightly. One by one, each of the squad members was lifted into the air. They were tied to the rock by the Abyssal energy. Except for Mitch. Something quickly grew around the energy strings. Purple energy pulsed from the stone, the tendrils transforming where they met flesh. They encased the squad members in purple light. They were trapped mid-air in bubbles of translucent Abyssal energy. Tied by purple lightning to the stone in the center of the room. Mitch barely had time to react. He watched helplessly as Sable¡¯s hands clawed against the barrier, her face twisted in frustration. Urgar cursed, swinging his axe futilely against his containment, while Warrick¡¯s defiant gaze burned into Mitch from behind the energy wall as he failed to phase out. He searched his body, but no tendril was attached to him. He stood alone, open mouthed and staring at his floating squad. ¡°Mitch, get out of here!¡± Sable¡¯s voice was muffled, barely audible through the barrier. Her eyes met his, wide with shock and a hint of desperation. ¡°Don¡¯t let it take you too!¡± But before he could move, a scrap of parchment appeared. It hovered just in front of his face, suspended in the air as if by invisible threads. His stomach twisted as he reached for it. Opening it, the message was written in blood. His chest dropped, a feeling of dread sinking into his bones. His veins turned to ice as he stared at the suspended squad. Trapped in the bubbles, trapped in the room. ¡°That¡¯s why the marking said ¡®Choices¡¯¡±. Chapter 20: Sacrificial Stone The parchment hovered before him, an obscene demand carved into the twisted script and written in blood. The incessant scratching had finally ceased. The real trap had finally sprung. Choose. One must perish, or all must perish. Mitch could feel the parchment link with his mind. All he had to do was choose one of his comrades, trapped in Abyssal Pods, and they would be extinguished. He was able to choose who would take the fall. or they all would. His gaze lifted from the blood-scrawled words to his trapped squadmates. They floated in their pods of energy. The reality of the choice clawed at him, digging deep into his resolve. ¡°What does it say?¡± Warrick asked from his pod, muted behind the energy wall, fear clear on his expression. Mitch ignored the question and ran towards the pulsating stone at the room¡¯s center. A feral snarl escaped his lips as he whirled and brought the blade down against the purple rock. The sword connected with a sickening, dull thud, its edge bouncing back as though it had struck solid iron. He let out a shout of frustration, casting his sword aside, and switched to his firsts. Flesh connected against the stone¡¯s unyielding surface until his knuckles split. Yet the stone remained unscathed, dark purple veins of energy thrumming. Mocking him. ¡°What does it say!? I can feel it taking something from me!¡± Urgar screamed in his own cage as he failed to crack the surface with his axe. Mitch¡¯s hands dropped from the stone, bloodied and trembling. His pulse hammered in his ears, drawing out thought. For a moment he didn¡¯t dare look at them. It¡¯s going to take one of them. This is because of me. Isn¡¯t it? It can¡¯t be chance that I was left out. But Sable¡¯s voice cut through, soft yet demanding. ¡°Mitch. What. Does. It. Say?¡± He swallowed. His throat was dry as the weight of their stares pressed into him like stone itself. There was no way to soften it. No words to make this easier. ¡°It says¡­one of you has to die,¡± he choked out. ¡°One of you, or we all do.¡± No one spoke for a moment. Then Sable broke the silence, her tone calm but laced with resignation. ¡°So that¡¯s it then.¡± She forced a thin, wavering smile. ¡°The Abyss has demanded its toll.¡± ¡°Bloody hell¡­¡± Urgar barked, his face paling as he pressed his hand against the energy that surrounded him. ¡°This can¡¯t be happening. There¡¯s got to be another damned way, right!?¡± But Mitch shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the pulsating stone. ¡°I¡­tried. I can feel it in my head. The choice is there, waiting.¡± Warrick¡¯s jaw clenched, stoic voice wavering between anger and terror. ¡°So what now? You just¡­pick one of us? Leave the choice to you?¡± His eyes bore into Mitch, fierce and accusatory. ¡°Or are we picking?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t make this harder than it has to be, Warrick,¡± Sable said quietly. She looked at Mitch, and met his gaze with a sad look that sent a shiver down his spine. ¡°You have to do it. And if someone has to go, make it me. I fucked up and brought us here anyways.¡± ¡°No!¡± Mitch¡¯s voice cracked, heart pounding painfully in his chest. ¡°No¡­I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yes. You can.¡± Her expression softened. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it in you. Warrick has to. You can make decisions like this. For some of us to survive, you have to,¡± her face grew darker. ¡°I''m the leader. I got us into this mess¡­I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m a hollow shell anyways.¡± The clench of tears made Mitch¡¯s chest even tighter. She had a point, a part of him knew. As a Patchling, Sable¡¯s body did not possess a soul. And Mitch knew all too well that Souls could feel. I have to do this. But something about her words lingered. She still carried herself like there was something left to find. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare,¡± Warrick interrupted, his voice fierce as he glared at her. ¡°This isn¡¯t about who¡¯s ¡®hollow¡¯ or whatever crap you¡¯re spouting. You think I want to die? I don¡¯t. But if this is how it ends, we go down fighting. Together.¡± Mitch¡¯s head swam. He didn¡¯t want to die either. Contrary to Warrick¡¯s point, when faced with the deal of one versus four, the choice was simple for him. He didn¡¯t want to choose, but he absolutely would. ¡°This isn¡¯t fair¡­¡± he moaned. ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing fair.¡± Urgar¡¯s voice cut through the haze. ¡°Not in the Abyss.¡± Sable said, unwavering. ¡°You can make a choice that lets most of us live. That¡¯s worth something.¡± Mitch could feel the choice weighing heavily against him. Souls in his core huddled back, unhelpful. Rex seemed none the wiser, only caring for his master. He needed help. Something to push his decision. ¡°You need to figure it out, Mitch. I can feel this thing already draining me,¡± Sable said quietly. Warrick and Urgar confirmed her point. He gave into his desire. Activating Devoid, the cold, calculated rational mind blanketed much of his emotion. Sable was, by her own admission, the leader and already empty and lacking. A husk of a person without a soul. It was logical. The clear choice. But even through the haze of Devoid, watching her sacrifice¡­he knew it was a weight he would barely be able to bear. ¡°This is insane,¡± Urgar spat at the wall of energy. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯ve got something to live for? Just pick somebody else. Not me¡­I ain¡¯t done yet.¡± ¡°None of us are,¡± Warrick snapped, tone heavy with defiance. Mitch¡¯s gaze lingered on each of them¨CUrgar¡¯s desperate, self-preserving fear. Warrick¡¯s well-intentioned suspicion. Sable¡¯s resigned acceptance. Even with Devoid, the choice felt heavy and merciless. It was one thing to stomp a Grimmer that was trying to kill you. Choosing someone to die so that you could live instead was quite another.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Whatever you choose, Mitch¡­¡± Sable¡¯s voice softened. ¡°I understand. I won¡¯t hold it against you. None of us will.¡± ¡°Fuck that!¡± Urgar shouted from his pod. Warrick gave an annoyed glare to the dwarf. As her words settled, Mitch felt something inside him harden. The choice was pressing on him now. If he didn¡¯t choose soon, they would all perish. Like an hourglass ticking down in his mind. He was running out of time. He tightened his firsts, feeling the sting of his own bloodied knuckles. If he was to choose this, he deserved worse. It would haunt him forever. But he would choose¨Cfor him, as well as them. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of his decision. ¡°Then¡­it¡¯s you, Sable.¡± A flicker of relief crossed her face. She offered him one last, bittersweet smile. Mitch felt the brutal scrape of guilt and anger whisper out from the shroud of Devoid. He confirmed the decision in his mind, and witnessed the parchment dissolve. The light around Sable¡¯s pod darkened, swallowing her in a sinister shadow. Warrick and Urgar¡¯s pods burst open, purple tendrils retracting back to the stone. They fell to the ground, gasping as they scrambled to their feet. Mitch barely recognized their freedom. His focus was consumed with Sable¡¯s fading figure, her face hidden by the contained encroaching darkness. But it wasn¡¯t quick. Not the way he¡¯d thought it would be. Sable wasn¡¯t just going to disappear or fade in silence. Inside her pod, she began to convulse. Her face twisted with pain and then horror. The threads that held her Patchling form together began to unravel like fraying rope. Dark energy clawed her arms first, tearing and untwisting the black threads. Her fingers stiffened, and Mitch saw each strand of her being plucked apart with agonizing slowness. She yelled behind the walls of her pod, terror muted as if she spoke through a cup. Her ears distorted, warping, and then one was plucked clean off her head. The threads had been fully unwound. Warrick¡¯s voice was a roar, ¡°You didn¡¯t say she would suffer!¡± He lunged at Mitch. The fist connected with his face, and Mitch let himself take it. It sent him sprawling onto the jagged stone floor. Blood trickled from his split lip as he looked up, tears in his eyes as he met Warrick¡¯s wild gaze. He didn¡¯t resist. ¡°You coward.¡± Warrick''s voice trembled with rage. ¡°You chose her because it was easy. Because she was¡ª¡± ¡°Enough,¡± Urgar interrupted softly. His tone was flat. ¡°He had no choice. None of us did.¡± Mitch¡¯s mind spun. Filled with a desperate, sickening regret. Devoid couldn¡¯t keep back all of his emotion. Whether it was the correct decision or not, it was too late to argue. He could feel the souls within him scrambling. Each one felt like a muted whisper. Through the fog of his choice, he felt them gather around the serpent¡¯s soul. They pressed it forward like an offering. Mitch heard Sable¡¯s screams of pain as he wondered what the souls were getting at. He didn¡¯t understand. Didn¡¯t know what they were trying to tell him. But he reached for it anyways. Anything to stop this. He closed his eyes on the ground and reached deep into his Abyssal Vault. The serpent¡¯s soul was writhing beneath his touch. It pulsed with raw, untamed power. Far more viscous than the subdued souls within him. The weight of it strained against him. Clawing to be unleashed in any way possible. Mitch¡¯s memories knew that one could never truly tame a beast soul. Not without breaking the beast within it. With a flex of aguish, he drew on it. Pulling the foul energy into himself, he felt it seethe through his body and stomach. Something unlocked within him. Born of desperation and sacrifice. Affliction Skill Gained Deathhowl Level 1 Relinquish Beastial Souls in a torrent of power. He barely had time to think. Sable¡¯s screams began to grow fainter as she was being unraveled before them in a display of horror. Desperation coiled into something primal as he felt the dark energy well up inside. A bubbling force that thrashed against his very core. Unfathomable heat seared his throat. He opened his mouth, and with a guttural, agonized cry, Deathhowl tore out of him. With a primal shout, he directed the energy toward the pulsing stone that held her. Red light poured from his eyes and mouth, and Deathhowl thundered forth. An ear-splitting, bestial roar laced with despair and rage. It was not just a shout; it was a raw, feral scream that shook the air, scraping against stone. The sound carried the serpent¡¯s fury, an oily, echoing wail that clung to the chamber walls. The room trembled as the tortured cry reverberated, seeming to drain the air itself. The ball of crackling energy ripped forward, blasting toward the pulsing stone with unstoppable force. Settlement Amount: 37 Souls, 0 Beast Soul (-1), 0 Credits, 108 Flesh The impact knocked him back, a torrent of bestial energy surging through the chamber, too wild and powerful to be contained. It connected with the stone in a shattering explosion. Obliterating it in a single blast. Purple shards flew in all directions, nicking and drawing blood from Warrick, Urgar, and Mitch¡¯s exposed skin. Sable¡¯s pod cracked open, and she fell to the ground gasping and trembling. Her tattered form was barely holding together. Her threads were frayed, her limbs slack. She was barely alive. Mitch rose and stumbled. He tried to get to her, barely able to keep his balance. Warrick and Urgar stared slack jawed at the display of raw power. Even Rex had gone silent, coiled within Mitch, stunned by the unleashed fury. His vision swam, his body rebelling against the power he had just unleashed. ¡°Sable¡­¡± Mitch choked through a strained throat, stumbling towards her. Finally, he reached her, and crouched near her side. Her yellow eye blinked. Weak, but alive. Her mouth moved, forming silent words. There was a glint of something in her eye, more than pain¡ªdetermination. The spark of life lingered, against impossible odds. She was still there, even as her body struggled to hold its shape. But before she could speak, the ground beneath them rumbled deeply. Mitch looked down, just in time to see cracks spreading from where the stone had once been. Lines of dark purple energy spiraling towards them like spreading blood. The floor beneath Sable gave way with a deep, low groan, and the stone crumbled inward. She let out a faint cry, a sound that echoed around him, haunting, and he barely had time to reach for her before she vanished. Swallowed by the Abyss below. ¡°No!¡± Mitch shouted as his heart seized. In a flash, Sable had vanished. He didn¡¯t hesitate, and leapt into the bottomless hole after her. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Warrick¡¯s shout rang out behind him. He ignored it. He fell, plummeting into the boundless, cold darkness. An unforgiving void devoured him whole. Below, he caught the faintest glimpse of her. A dim silhouette of her falling form. Out of reach. Hold on. Just hold on. Terror and rage coursed through him as he fell. Sable, so much more than a Patchling. Her desperation to survive, the quiet acceptance of her fate. Her natural ability to lead. Her tenderness. She was more than she let on. Much more. Desperation clawed at him as he fell faster, feeling the ache of every sacrifice and mistake he had made thus far. Should''ve chose Warrick. Something in his memories told him the bottomless pit was in fact not endless. No. I¡¯m not letting you fall alone.