《DEVOUR [Skill-Eater LitRPG]》 0. Prologue - Boro [Access Granted: Yggdrasil] [Soulsinger Designation: Boro] [Class 1: Evoker (Type: Stormwitch)] [Class 2: Bonesinger (Type: Anzu)] The wind howled as Boro¡ªBetrayer and Former Knight of the Morduin Order¡ªshot through the skies above the Three Seas, his feathered wings slicing through the air like twin scythes. With each beat of his wings, he drew of the Root of Air, pulling on threads of aether that propelled him forward. I¡¯m almost there. I need to reach him! The name of his goal¡ªthe embodiment of hope for himself and his fellow conspirators¡ªechoed through this mind. Vitomir Ratnik! The desperate thought fueled him nearly as much as the aether he channeled through his veins, feeding him with the restless energy and need to move, to act. He separated his mind into two, keeping one half focused on the presence of danger he sensed right on his tail. With the other half, he slammed his intent into the Skill [Trace]. Threads of aether only visible to himself shot from his chest, soaring ahead of him, slightly westward of the direction he had been flying. He quickly corrected his course, keeping his trajectory as efficient as possible. Every second would matter with this mission. The black cloak of the Morduin Order¡¯s Paladin Corp whipped around his body, and the weight of what he carried in his inside pocket, sitting right near his heart, seemed to beat like a second heart. Suddenly, the aether behind him swirled and evaporated in a rush, as though being sucked away by a vacuum. The sense of danger that previously crackled in the back of his mind erupted into a roaring flame. Ah, shit. He spared a glance over his shoulder and didn¡¯t like what he saw. The air warped, swirling like paint dissolving in water. Shhhhh¡ª! Then, with a sound much like a gigantic sword being drawn from a scabbard an airship popped into existence right where the distortion in space had been. The airship¡¯s skyfin¡ªa sleek, dolphin-like creature¡ªglided smoothly behind him, its body shimmering in the fading light of the sun, casting long shadows across the wine-colored waves below. The airship itself¡ªtethered to the skyfin¡¯s belly with silver chains¡ªwas small, built for speed and flight at lower altitudes than this. The outside of the ship was covered in large swaths of small, interlocking strips of metal. Where these metal patches didn¡¯t cover, the actual wooden exterior of the ship showed through. Two figures stood aboard the pursuing airship. Each of them were cloaked in layers of black much like himself. Their faces were hidden behind the red mask of the Holrac Division. The crimson surfaces gleamed in the dying sun like freshly spilled blood. The high, flared cheekbones and broad, furrowed brow of the masks¡¯ visages created a monstrous appearance, which was accentuated by the jagged tusks jutting out of the mouths formed on the ogre-like masks. Boro had worn a similar mask for years. Faster, he thought. He burned as much of his mana as he could. His wings pulsed, drawing more aether. Then, the singing of metal-on-metal filled the air. Boro cautioned another glance backwards to witness the metal strips tearing away from the airship¡¯s surface and hissing through the air towards his position. Boro banked hard to the left, rolling through the air as sharpened strips of metal tore through the space in the sky where he had just been. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. He anticipated what was coming next and prepared himself as the metal seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, the air around them swirling and warping. Boro could sense the aether being channeled on the deck of the airship. A red, grimacing face appeared in the air just above him, the metallic projectiles vanishing from the air. [Spell: Thunderclap] Boro¡¯s feathered wings gave a single, powerful beat and the air between him and the Holrac Knight shook with a deafening boom. The soundwave crashed into the masked figure, blasting them away from him. The knight¡¯s spiraling body twisted again, replaced by another flurry of metal that rained on Boro. Again, Boro was able to twist through the air, dodging the deadly shower. The sharp crackle of fire ripped through the air behind him, and Boro barely had time to glance back before the second knight, hands blazing with jets of fire, launched themself off the airship like a living missile. ¡°Shit!¡± Boro banked hard again, but it was too late. The knight collided with him mid-air, fingers like claws locking onto his wings. Heat seared through his back as fire burst from the knight¡¯s palms, engulfing his feathers in flame. Pain ripped through him, a scream tearing from his throat as they spiraled down, plummeting toward the sea below. Boro¡¯s vision blurred with agony, the edges of his world going red. He felt his wings disintegrating in the blaze, feathers turning to ash, and panic surged through him. If they hit the water, he was done. The sea¡¯s surface would be as hard as stone from this height. With a guttural roar, Boro released his partial Bonesinger transformation, letting the last of his wings dissolve into nothing. The knight reacted quickly, grabbing onto his cloak as they continued to descend towards the crashing waves below. Their hands continued to burn. ¡°Aghhh!!...¡± Boro gritted his teeth. He drew in the aether around him, and with the mana he freed up from his Bonesinging he cast another spell. [Spell: Wind Sphere] Boro¡¯s aura was forced into a swirling sphere of wind that exploded outward, blasting the knight away from him in a violent shockwave. The knight was sent careening through the sky, limbs flailing, before their partner swooped in with the airship, catching them just before they could fall to their doom. Boro didn¡¯t wait. His body screamed with pain, burns crawling up his back and shoulders, but he summoned what remained of his strength, wrapping himself in the wind and shooting upward once more. He activated his Bonesinger transformation again, a set of new wings sprouting from his shoulder blades in a burst of white light. The skyfin shrieked behind him as the airship angled to pursue again, but Boro was done playing defense. He turned, his wings keeping him suspended in the air on threads of Air. With a swift motion, he shot his hand forward. [Spell: Chain Lightning] A single bolt of lightning arced through the air, striking the airship¡¯s hull with a loud crack. The skyfin bucked, panicked, sending the ship into a wild, careening wobble as it lost its grace in the air. The knights scrambled. Boro could hear one of them cursing as they struggled to regain control, but it was too late. The ship slowed to a crawl, its momentum lost. Boro let a faint smile creep onto his face before it was quickly wiped away and replaced with a grimace of pain. He glanced down at his side where a sharp pain was tugging at his skin. He touched the wet cloth of his cloak and his hand came away bloody. Several of the metal strips must have found their mark after all. Boro tore his eyes away from his hand, and activated [Trace] again. His burns ached, and his strength was flagging, and he had no time to linger. Not sparing another glance back towards the airship, he set off in the direction of his target. He could still feel the weight of the artifact beneath his cloak, pressing against him like a reminder of what was at stake. So many years of plotting and planning for this single opportunity. Vitomir, I¡¯m coming¡­ His eyes narrowed, locked on the distant shore of Valhadryan. A small dot in the air ahead of him. Another airship¡ªlarge and lumbering through the air towards that cold, gray shoreline. There it is! Boro pushed harder, the wind tearing at his cloak as he soared onward. He had to make it in time. 01. Birds Chapter 1 Birds Sabo¡¯s world had become the endless thud of the drum. Each beat drove the oar in his hands forward, backward, forward again, like a curse that wouldn¡¯t end. His shoulders screamed, his wrists raw beneath the iron of his shackles, but it was easier to sink into the rhythm than to let himself think. Thinking brought the pain closer. Worse, it brought back memories of when he¡¯d had the strength to hold something besides an oar. When he had been free. The drum¡¯s beat swallowed him. It ate his days whole, a monotonous chew that gnawed away muscle, flesh, will. A little more than a year he¡¯d been an imperial slave, and a year had been all it took to shave him down to a scarecrow, every ounce of strength burned up by the Black Iron imperial labor camps. They worked in the Green Sea¡ªthe giant forest at the edge of the world¡ªspending each day harvesting aether sap from the towering canopies. And each night shaking in fear of the Maldrath and other monsters that lurked within the darkness of the forest. Now, he was just another bone-thin prisoner at an oar. Rowing alongside the others who had survived the Green Sea long enough to see their voyage to their final destination. Their job was to row. The oars were huge, and came out of the side of the airship like giant feathers. Aether-based technology¡ªor ¡®aethertec¡¯¡ªif Sabo had to guess. However it worked, it helped move the airship that would otherwise be too large and heavy with cargo for the skyfin it was tethered to. Sabo didn¡¯t even gawk in awe the first time he saw the skyfin¡ªthe monstrous, fish-like creature gliding through the air as though it were water, chained to the wooden ship with silvered cords. He used to be curious once, but the curiosity had shriveled and died within him long ago, much like everything else. Each pull of the oar took every ounce of strength he could muster. His legs and back burned with the effort. He focused on a random spot in front of him, the grain on the wooden bench of the prisoner before him, and tried to lose himself once more in the beating of the drum. Eventually, the rhythmic drumming stopped. Relief shot through Sabo¡¯s aching arms, but it was tempered by the raw throb that quickly followed. He could already feel new bruises forming along his shoulders. Around him, the other prisoners dropped their oars, bent over in ragged huffs, the remains of whatever they¡¯d been before this sapped away. Just another group of bones and shackles. A skeletal crew being sent to labor in the hells of Valhardyan. Never to see the sun again. A warden¡¯s heavy boots clomped down the aisle between the rows of chained slaves. ¡°Up. Time for air,¡± the guard barked, his voice grating like rusted metal. They rose on legs barely capable of carrying them. One by one, they stumbled up the narrow steps to the deck, clinking with each shuffle, shackles biting into their ankles. Sabo joined the line, watching his feet to avoid stumbling. When they finally emerged on the deck, the sky hung vast and blinding above them, the setting sun on the horizon painfully bright after the ship¡¯s damp hold. Sabo blinked, squinting as the twilight settled into something bearable. Up here, the air was cool against his sweat-soaked skin, and for a moment, it almost felt freeing. Almost. The skyfin glided ahead of them, its enormous, sleek body moving in gentle undulations. Sabo had quickly adjusted to the sensation of being on the deck, shielded most of the wind he would have otherwise expected. The skyfin¡¯s ¡®gills¡¯ creating a protective barrier around the open deck using the ambient aether in the environment. The prisoners, all forty or so of them crowded on the deck, standing there lamely. Each of them too tired to do much else. At this point, their long stint in the Green Sea work camp broke their spirits. Even the prisoners who were Soulsingers wouldn¡¯t put up much of a fight now, with or without the voidstone collars on their neck, killing the source of magic within them. Now, they only needed to have the warden and three other guards in total, including the one that piloted the airship. It truly takes so little to keep us in line, Sabo thought. He kept his eyes on his feet. ¡°Get your fill, slaves,¡± one of the guards jeered. ¡°You won¡¯t see this sky again for a long time once we reach Valhadryan.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The threat sank in as Sabo watched the expanse of sky stretching endlessly around him. Valhadryan was a death sentence. The deck had the smell of salt and rot, thick enough to coat the back of Sabo¡¯s throat. He stumbled, pushed by the jostling crowd of other prisoners at his back. A hand caught him by the back of his tattered shirt and righted him before he could hit the deck. Sabo glanced up. Beside him, Vitomir stood with his hand still on Sabo¡¯s back. Sabo had known the older prisoner for most of his life. In fact, Vitomir was the last remnant of Sabo¡¯s former life in Solstice. The two had been captured together while on the run from imperial troops. Shipped off together to the Green Sea. In the hundreds of days toiling in the canopies of the massive forest, Sabo would have likely died a hundred times over if it hadn¡¯t been for Vitomir watching his back. Vitomir reached into a nearby water bucket and pulled a ladle full of brackish water. He handed it to Sabo. ¡°Here. Drink.¡± His voice was hoarse. Sabo gratefully took the ladle and drank. The water tasted bitter and harsh, the noticeable saltiness dampening the relief. His mouth was left with the tannic dryness of wood. He grimaced, thinking of the cold, refreshing water he and his dear friend Mags would draw from the wells in Solstice. He handed the ladle back to Vitomir, who took a trembling ladleful of water himself, before handing it off to another prisoner. The old man then turned towards the deck¡¯s railing and stared out at the darkening sky with a weary expression. Vitomir had likewise withered in the camps, bones poking sharp through loose, grayed skin. They had both been hollowed out by empire hands, but Vitomir felt it most¡ªthere wasn¡¯t much left to hollow. Sabo remembered how strong the man had once been, even in his old age. They stood in silence until a sudden crash shook the deck. Wood splintered as something slammed onto the boards, just a few paces away. Sabo felt the ground lurch beneath his feet, and he instinctively grabbed Vitomir¡¯s arm, holding him steady as the prisoners nearest them shifted in panic. Was it another bird? The avian creatures near Valhardyan were large, and once or twice landed on the deck. Sabo had seen one bird so large it had swooped down and snatched a prisoner in a single motion, carrying the man, screaming and fighting feebly in its taloned grip. The two guards near the bow of the large ship didn¡¯t even glance in their direction. So what, if another prisoner fell victim to the natural predators of the sky? It wasn¡¯t worth them risking injury over the loss of a single unit of cargo while in transit. Sabo knew the prisoners were only a fraction of the value of the casks of unrefined aether sap that was stowed below deck. When the dust cleared, Sabo saw what had actually hit the deck. A man lay sprawled on the deck, his black cloak in scorched tatters, one arm limp at his side, blood pooling beneath him. His back, bare now, was covered in burn scars and fresh cuts, but what caught Sabo¡¯s eye were the black feathers, still dissolving into ash on the wind. Wings¡ªthe man had wings. The remains drifted like whispers, dissipating into nothing. ¡°What¡­?¡± Sabo muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced at Vitomir, whose face had gone pale, eyes fixed on the man. For a second, Sabo thought he saw something in Vitomir¡¯s gaze¡ªrecognition, maybe, or fear. Some of the other prisoners pressed forward, murmuring, craning to get a glimpse. The guards hadn¡¯t noticed yet, too preoccupied with each other at the far end of the deck, but it was only a matter of time before they realized this was no bird. This strange man lay barely conscious, his breath shallow and ragged, like he was fighting to stay tethered to the world. A single thread between him and life. ¡°Vitomir,¡± Sabo whispered. He grabbed the old man by the arm. ¡°Are you alright?¡± But Vitomir didn¡¯t answer. He pulled his arm free, determination flickering in his eyes. ¡°Help me get him below. Now.¡± Sabo hesitated, but the urgency in Vitomir¡¯s voice snapped him into action. Together, they pushed through the crowd, leaning over to hoist the stranger up, each taking an arm as they maneuvered him to the edge of the deck and down the narrow steps into the hold. Beneath the main deck, it was dark, stinking and musty with the smell of labor. Sabo laid the man down on a rough patch of floor near the bucket of stale water kept for the prisoners. His hands were shaking, but he forced himself to dip a ladle in and bring it to the man¡¯s lips. The stranger¡¯s mouth barely moved, blood-streaked and cracked, but Sabo persisted, getting a few drops down. ¡°Stay with us,¡± Vitomir muttered from over Sabo¡¯s shoulder. Blind be! What is going on? Then, the boards above them loudly creaked, and the two sharp thuds of another two objects impacting the wooden floorboards echoed. Voices followed, low and urgent, scared¡ªthe prisoners. Then, a voice boomed through the air, laced with a heat that Sabo could almost feel searing the edges of the boards. ¡°We come on behalf of the Morduin Order in search of a deserter who has betrayed the church and stolen something of great value from us. We know he was heading for this ship. We demand he be surrendered immediately.¡± This voice was deep, but sharp as a razor. A second voice cut in, a slow crackle of fire winding through each word. ¡°¡ªthere will be consequences if such surrender is delayed. We expect full cooperation from an imperial ship.¡± Sabo froze, glancing back as Vitomir, who had gone still as stone, eyes flickering with a rare, hard edge. It was a look Sabo hadn¡¯t seen in the old man¡¯s eyes for a long, long time. Vitomir gave Sabo a firm look. ¡°Stay hidden,¡± he mouthed. ¡°Stay here with him.¡± But as he watched the stranger struggle to breathe, Sabo knew that the strange man didn¡¯t have much time left. ¡°What in the gods¡¯ names is going on, Vito?¡± But the old man had squared his shoulders, and was already making his way up the stairs to the ship¡¯s deck. 02. God-Eater Chapter 2 God-Eater Sabo crouched in the hold of the airship, barely breathing. Every creak of wood and rustle of chains above seemed amplified. The stranger lay sprawled beside him, unmoving except for the faint, unsteady rise and fall of his chest. In the dim, swaying light that seeped through the gaps in the floorboards, Sabo could see the man¡¯s burns and torn flesh, remnants of a brutal journey and whatever horrors he¡¯d escaped before crashing onto the airship¡¯s deck. The voices of the Morduin knights drifted down to him, cold and unyielding. Their tone was sharp and authoritative, clearly used to commanding obedience. ¡°What is the matter of all of this? Church Paladins on an imperial carrier?¡± It was the warden. Sabo lost some of the sound from above, but could see one of the guards address his superior officer. ¡°Are you certain?¡± one knight¡¯s voice cut in. The voice reminded Sabo of the threat of a blade undrawn. ¡°We know our prisoners,¡± came the voice of one of the ship¡¯s guards, the nervous tremor clear in his answer. He turned back to the warden. ¡°No stowaways, sir.¡± Silence followed, a silence so profound and foreboding, Sabo could almost feel it sinking into his bones. Then, after a long moment, the second knight spoke up. Their voice was soaked in crackling rage, even from behind the red grimace of their mask. ¡°Since you know your prisoners so well . . . How many prisoners on board?¡± ¡°Forty-three,¡± the guard replied, each syllable tinged with the desperation of a man speaking to avoid his own execution. The knights paused again, voices muffled as they seemed to exchange a quiet but weighty conversation. Sabo could only make out fragments of words, but he didn¡¯t need to hear more to feel their mounting suspicion, and with it, his own dread. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, each beat heavy as a drum, pounding alongside the stranger¡¯s ragged breaths. Beside him, the man stirred. A faint murmur escaped his lips, too soft for Sabo to catch. He leaned closer, heart still pounding, straining to hear. ¡°Vitomir¡­¡± the man whispered, barely more than a breath. Sabo stiffened, a chill racing up his spine. Vitomir? His gaze darted to the stranger¡¯s face, searching for some hint of recognition, but the man¡¯s eyes were glazed, distant, almost empty. ¡°Who . . . who are you? How do you know Vitomir?¡± Sabo whispered, voice trembling. But the stranger didn¡¯t answer, his body too spent, his breaths shallow and fading fast. Sabo clenched his fists, feeling helpless, useless¡ªlike he¡¯d felt every single day of the last brutal year. Since the day the Ravaelian Empire took everything from him. Then, with what seemed like the last reserves of his strength, the stranger¡¯s hand reached inside the scorched remains of his cloak. Sabo blinked in surprise as the man¡¯s fingers fumbled to withdraw a small, slender scroll, no longer than his own index finger, wrapped in a ribbon stained dark with something that might¡¯ve once been blood. The man thrust the scroll into Sabo¡¯s hands, his voice little more than a rasp. ¡°Vitomir . . . give . . . to him . . . he¡¯ll know . . .¡± ¡°How do you know Vitomir? What is going on?¡± Sabo desperately asked again. A rattling breath escaped the man¡¯s lips. ¡°The Tower . . . Hecate¡¯s Tower . . . He¡¯ll know . . . Vitomir will . . .¡± Sabo stared at the scroll, feeling the faint pulse of something strange, some energy that hummed just beneath the surface. It wasn¡¯t like any paper he¡¯d held before; it seemed almost . . alive. The sensation was almost like touching living flesh. He swallowed, unsure of what to do with the growing sensation in his gut that felt oddly like dread and responsibility, mingling together in a way that made him want to vomit. ¡°What . . . what is this?¡± he asked, his voice low and urgent. But the stranger¡¯s head slumped to the side, breath rattling out one last time. He was gone. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Sabo¡¯s gaze lingered on the man¡¯s hollow, lifeless face, but the sound of the knights¡¯ voices above jolted him back to the present. He turned his attention back to the deck, heart pounding as he crept closer to the wooden floorboards, peering through the narrow gaps. On deck, the interrogation was growing tense. Sabo could see the faint outline of the Morduin knights, draped in dark leathers and cloaks, looming over the guards and prisoners with the kind of controlled violence that only came from long practice. ¡°Now,¡± one of the knights intoned, cold and patient. ¡°Are you sure no one knows where he is?¡± The guards looked at each other, faltering, then shook their heads. ¡°No one here knows of him,¡± one guard stammered, his voice a thin thread stretched too far. ¡°As we said, we¡¯ve been flying for days and have uncovered no stowaways. And you¡¯re the first of the Order to appear before us.¡± The knight¡¯s mask turned slowly to survey the prisoners, then paused. ¡°Hmm . . . Perhaps you¡¯re all a little too sure of that,¡± they said, voice dropping to a low, venomous murmur. ¡°And perhaps you have a few too many prisoners to accurately monitor this ship.¡± The prisoners fell silent, shrinking back, but the knight seemed to drink in their terror, savoring it. With a gesture as casual as if they were tossing a scrap of meat, the knight flicked their fingers, and fire erupted from their hand. The flames coiled around one of the prisoners¡ªa man Sabo vaguely knew, another laborer from Olendar. The man screamed, agony tearing through his voice as the fire consumed him, flesh melting beneath the knight¡¯s dark magic until there was nothing left but a charred, crumbling form on the deck. The knight turned to another prisoner. Again. The man erupted into flames, his screams quickly choked off as the fire consumed him and he toppled over the railing and off the side of the ship. Sabo pressed a fist to his mouth, stomach twisting, struggling not to retch. The smell of the burning men was sickeningly sweet. He glanced up too see Vitomir. The old man had already stepped forward through the crowd of other prisoners, his expression grim but resolute. ¡°Enough!¡± Vitomir¡¯s voice rang out, firm and unafraid. His gaze never wavered as he approached the knights, shoulders squared, a fire in his eyes that Sabo hadn¡¯t seen in a very long time. Even the guards and warden seemed to take a slow step backwards at the old prisoner¡¯s approach. ¡°You¡¯re wasting your time.¡± Sabo¡¯s heart sank. ¡°No¡­¡± he breathed, watching Vitomir with a desperation bordering on fury. But there was no stopping the old man now. All Sabo could do was stare up through the floorboards and watch, a prisoner to the scene unfolding before him. Vitomir stopped a few paces from the knights, standing as tall as his frail frame would allow. ¡°The man you seek did land here, yes,¡± he said, voice steady and strong. ¡°But he was already dead. We didn¡¯t want trouble, so we threw him over the side.¡± He gestured toward the edge of the ship, unblinking. ¡°He¡¯s in the sea now. Whatever you wanted from him was likely been swallowed by those dark waters.¡± One of the guards cursed under his breath, stepping forward and grabbing Vitomir by the shoulder and yanking him down to his knees. ¡°Shut up, old man!¡± he spat, then turned to the knights. ¡°Forgive him, sirs. We don¡¯t know what kind of madness may have a hold of his old, addled mind.¡± But the knights didn¡¯t look amused. One of them stepped forward, darkly elegant, bending until their masked face was level with Vitomir¡¯s. The old man glared at the knight, confident, defiant. ¡°You threw him into the sea, did you?¡± the knight murmured, their voice sharp as blade off a whetstone. Vitomir met his gaze, unyielding. ¡°Aye,¡± he replied, calm as ever. ¡°He¡¯s gone.¡± The knight straightened, silent for a moment. Then, with a fluid motion, they slashed their arm across the air. The effect was immediate. Vitomir¡¯s body jerked as blood sprayed from his chest, splattering across the deck in a wet arc. The old man fell, limbs slackening, his face frozen in a final look of defiance. A strangled gasp escaped Sabo, and he clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on his knuckles until the pain blurred the raw horror of what he¡¯d just witnessed. The image of Vitomir lying motionless, his blood pooling around him, carved itself into his mind, a memory that would haunt him as long as he lived. Then, a strange warmth prickled in his hands, and he looked down. The scroll. He had forgotten about the small, delicate thing in his palm. But now, as he held it, he felt an insistent pulse, a beat that matched his own racing heart. His hands shook as he unfurled it, eyes widening as golden runes began to glow on the parchment. One by one, the runes lifted from the page, shimmering in the dim light, and then they moved¡ªsliding up his hands, crawling like fireflies beneath his skin, searing him from the inside out. Jebati! He silently swore in the Olenish tongue. He grit his teeth, trying to keep his cries muffled as the runes burned deep into his flesh, their bright light fading as they etched themselves into his skin. What is happening?! The pain ebbed, leaving his right arm throbbing and his senses numb. Then, from the corner of his vision, something new appeared¡ªwords, neat silver script floating in the air like a hallucination. He reached out, but his hand passed through the strange runes as though they were smoke in the air. The runes distorted for a moment, before arranging into silver script in the written common tongue. [Access Denied: Yggdrasil] [Explanation: Soul Incapable of Ignition] [Detected: Divine Mark, Designation: God-Eater] [Overwriting Permissions . . .] [Forced Ignition Initiated . . .] [Access Granted: Yggdrasil] [Soulsinger Designation: Sabomir] [Class: God-Eater] And then, a voice rumbled deep within his mind, a dark growl that made his blood run cold. 03. Host Chapter 3 Host Sabo backed into the corner, chest heaving, pulse loud as thunder in his ears. The voice had been in his head¡ªa guttural growl with an edge of cruelty that dug into him, echoing against his thoughts. His whole body trembled, his vision swimming as he looked around the dim hold, expecting . . . something. Anything. ¡°What . . . what is this?¡± he stammered, his voice hoarse with panic. ¡°Who . . . who¡¯s there?¡± The voice grumbled again, low and gritty, like a beast too old to be tamed. Sabo¡¯s skin prickled, goosebumps racing along his arms as he watched a strange, dark line form on his forearm, like a burn but alive, moving. It spread slowly, dragging a searing heat with it until his skin split open in a grotesque line, pulling apart like some horrific blooming flower to reveal sinew and dark red tissue beneath. He swallowed hard, revulsion seizing his stomach. And then¡ªhe saw them: sharp, jagged teeth lining the bloody edges of the wound, clamping into a grin that split his arm. A thick tongue slid out, curling through the air and licking across his skin, leaving a sticky trail of purplish saliva. It twisted back into the cut with a lazy, almost mocking flick, and Sabo felt the brush of its tongue like fire against his nerves. A mouth?! Sabo blinked once, twice¡ªwilling this nightmare to end. He stumbled backward, hands shaking as the mouth curled into a smile, as wicked and dark as the voice that had spoken to him moments before. ¡°What do we have here¡­?¡± The mouth growled, voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. Sabo¡¯s breath hitched, his throat clenched tight with fear. He could barely move, barely think. The thing on his arm laughed, a rasping, hollow sound that scraped against his ears. A flash of searing pain clawed through his chest, then slithered down his spine, twisting like a molten brand that threatened to burn through his skin from the inside out. The voice grumbled, irritated, as though distracted, and then . . . something strange settled over him¡ªa sensation of prodding, digging through his mind, fingers curling through his thoughts like pages rifled through in a book. ¡°No, no. . .¡± the voice muttered, almost to itself. ¡°This won¡¯t do at all. This is the hand I¡¯ve been dealt? I suppose I can work with this. We¡¯ll need to fix it, change it. But later. . .¡± The words held a cruel promise that only deepened Sabo¡¯s dread. ¡°. . . Now, I¡¯m hungry.¡± Sabo¡¯s pulse thundered as he watched the wound mouth slither up his skin, its teeth scraping across his arm and shoulder until it paused, curling open just below his ear. The sensation of his neck splitting open was. . . unsettling. He felt it widen, warm and wet against his neck. Its tongue flicked out once more, tasting the air. ¡°Let¡¯s find something to eat.¡± Without warning, a strange, powerful sensation surged through Sabo. It wasn¡¯t hunger¡ªnot exactly¡ªbut a gnawing, aching emptiness, a hollow pit that roared to be filled, to be satiated. He gasped as the sensation grew, spreading through him and beyond, like tendrils reaching out, feeling, tasting, searching. For a moment, the strange, silver script filled the righthand corner of his vision. [Skill: Aura Sense (Passive)] [Level: B-1] [Skill: Aura Sense ¨C Seeking Hunger] [Level: C-9] His vision dimmed, the ship¡¯s hold fading from view, replaced by some internal map of scent and sensation that led his mind¡¯s eye deep into the ship¡¯s underbelly. Below deck, there it was¡ªthe scent, the taste. The aether sap harvested from the Green Sea, thick and thrumming with latent power, stored in sealed jars. The essence of it coiled around him, a seductive whisper, and he felt his mind reach out, gripping the raw energy. It was almost like his mind was a hand, and he instinctively willed it to take what he desired and claw it towards him. He took the power from the aether sap and pulled it into his core. It surged into him, hungry and raw, filling the emptiness with heat and light, devouring it like a starving man at his first meal in years. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Sabo felt the mouth on his neck lick its lips. The voice in his mind hummed with satisfaction. Strength flooded his body, spreading through every muscle, setting his nerves alight with power. Colors sharpened, sounds intensified, the flickering shadows in the hold grew vivid and deep. He could feel each heartbeat of the ship¡¯s wooden frame, sense the trembling breaths of every prisoner standing on the deck above him, smell the metallic tang of blood. [Skill: Physical Enhancement] [Level: E-5] He could feel the aether he had drawn from the sap below around his body. He could feel his body channel it, burning it and turning it into power that flooded his veins, circling through his limbs alongside the life essence pumped by his beating heart, which seemed to be working double time. Instinctively, he shifted his weight, feeling the metal chains drag against his limbs. He clenched his fists, the metal biting into his skin, and then¡ªsnap! His arms jerked free. The chains clattered to the floor as he felt the last shackle give way, releasing him from his bonds. He could barely believe it, staring down at his wrists, raw and bruised, but finally free. His hands trembled, and he didn¡¯t know if it was from fear, excitement, or something more . . . feral. The mouth on his neck split wider, teeth glinting, a hideous, eager grin. ¡°Come, come, mortal. . .¡± it purred, voice thick with malevolent hunger. ¡°It seems my next meal was delivered right to our doorstep.¡± The words coiled around Sabo, filling him with a strange, simmering rage. He could feel his thoughts shifting, turning dark, tinged with a bloodlust that wasn¡¯t entirely his own. The two Morduin knights¡ªhe could hear them up above, still interrogating the prisoners, their voices harsh and cold. They had hurt Vitomir, bled him like some sacrificial lamb. A deep throb of anger burned in his chest. Vitomir, lying on the deck with his life pooling around him . . . He ground his teeth. The anger flared in his heart. Wait! The thought was a knife of clarity through the haze of anger beginning to fill his mind. Are these really my emotions? Or, had whatever this entity was made him feel that way? Sabo fought against the urge of the aether filling his body¡ªthe need to move, to act. In his time as a prisoner, no matter what freedoms he had stripped away by the Empire, he had always had the sanctuary of his mind to retreat into. The early days, thoughts of escape or revolt fueled him. And after his will had been eroded, losing himself in idle thoughts and the beating of the drum had saved him from insanity. No matter what happened, his mind had always been his alone. Unconquered. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening to his body, but he wasn¡¯t going to let this alien force control his mind or emotions. He focused on that feeling he had in his mind, of the foreign entity leafing through his thoughts. He found it and pushed back with all the mental effort he could exert. Stop it! My mind is mine! His mouth opened in a silent scream. Then, something in his mind ¡®clicked¡¯¡ªthe sensation of something being shoved to the side. My. Mind. Is. Mine! Mine, alone! The voice grumbled, but this time it came from the mouth on his neck. ¡°I was simply using what was already there. . .! See for yourself, mortal.¡± Sabo¡¯s mind cleared, feeling suddenly evacuated of a mental burden he had been carrying. His breathing calmed, but the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. The smell of Vitomir¡¯s blood, and the sound of the two Morduin knights interrogating the other prisoners stoked it. It had been his anger all along. An anger that had been buried by futility, and now uncovered by the power that filled his core. Thoughts and images raced through his mind. Images of imperial troops razing Solstice, the place Vitomir and him had both called home. Memories of being on the run, of being captured. Images of the Morduin knight so carelessly opening Vitomir¡¯s chest, when all the old man wanted was an end to the mindless violence. Yes, he had been angry. Angry for a long, long time. And now, he wanted to do something about it. Each step up the narrow stairwell resonated like the beat of a war drum in his mind. His foot hit the deck, his senses alive, his vision blazing as he took in the scene. The Morduin knights stood at the other end of the ship¡¯s deck, hoods shadowed, their masks a bright, gleaming red against the darkness of their armor. And there, sprawled at their feet, lay Vitomir. Sabo¡¯s fists tightened as he saw the old man¡¯s face pale and slack, his blood streaking the wood in a wide, red arc. The sight fueled something hot and fierce within him, something that felt foreign but also painfully familiar. Fury. I¡¯m sick of simply being angry. You wanted to feast? Well, here you go! The voice in his mind rumbled with satisfaction. One of the knights turned, as though sensing him, and Sabo locked eyes with the empty black hollows of his mask. The mouth on his neck widened into a feral grin, sharp teeth glinting in the low light of the dying sun. Sabo could feel it twist against his skin, eager, ravenous. It licked its lips, and he felt the slick, wet sensation against his neck. It was time to feast. 04. [Regurgitate] Chapter 4 [Regurgitate] One of the two Morduin knights froze, their eyes visibly widening behind the blood red mask as they saw Sabo standing there, panting, fists clenched. Clearly staring more at the giant mouth on the side of his neck than at the angry prisoner. The knight raised a gloved finger and pointed. ¡°That boy,¡± they shouted, voice carrying across the deck. ¡°He has the Divine Mark!¡± Sabo barely had time to register the words before he felt the pull of power, a shuddering ripple through the space around the knight, as they tore energy from the air itself, coalescing around their raised hand. The air crackled, a searing heat building between the knight¡¯s fingers as fire began to flicker and grow, a swirling mass of flame that brightened into a roiling inferno. The knight thrust his hand forward, releasing a massive fireball that hurtled toward Sabo with blistering speed. Instinct took over. Sabo flung himself to the side, hitting the deck hard, but he couldn¡¯t escape the flames entirely. The fireball missed him by inches, the scorching heat searing his back as it shot past, roaring toward a huddled group of prisoners who hadn¡¯t even had a chance to scream. The explosion sent a shockwave through the deck, knocking Sabo forward, the heat so intense it stung his skin even from yards away. He heard the prisoners¡¯ screams, high and panicked, the brief terror that was snuffed out in an instant, replaced by the crackling and hissing of hungry flames consuming everything they touched. Sabo felt the blistering heat and tasted ash in the air, felt the horror curl in his stomach. He heard the warden and one of the ship¡¯s guards scream, swearing about the danger the knight¡¯s Spell posed for the safety of the entire airship. ¡°Do not fear, mortal,¡± the voice in his neck rumbled. Its tone held a mocking patience, like a parent scolding a cowering child. ¡°If you are to serve me, you must be steadfast. This is no way for a retainer to conduct himself. It¡¯s . . . embarrassing.¡± Sabo¡¯s breaths were short and quick, chest rising and falling as he fought to process what he¡¯d just seen. The knight¡¯s casual violence, the smell of burning flesh¡ªit all blurred into a miasma of horror. He could barely force words out. ¡°How. . . how am I supposed to fight?¡± he stammered. ¡°They¡¯re throwing bloody fireballs at me, and I¡¯m barehanded!¡± The voice chuckled, a gravelly, mocking sound that reverberated through his mind. ¡°Is it simply a weapon you want? You already possess one, mortal. All you must do is ask.¡± ¡°Give me a weapon!¡± Sabo breathed, pushing himself up from where he was sprawled on the deck floor. The deck had erupted into chaos, the prisoners no longer willing to simply stand there and be roasted like helpless lambs. Prisoners were shoved and trampled in the hectic push to head below deck or get as far away from the two Morduin knights as possible. Some prisoners were accidentally pushed over the edge of the ship, tumbling to their deaths. Sabo was pushed onto his back, though he quickly righted himself, scrambling to stand amidst the jostle of dirty, screaming bodies. ¡°Foolish human! A vassal must ask its lord politely if it expects to have its requests granted . . . Grovel!¡± Did this thing just ask me to ¡®say please¡¯? Suddenly, the sea of bodies surrounding the two masked knights erupted into ribbons of blood. Men and women lost arms, legs, fingers¡ªSabo swore he saw a head lopped clean off a pair of shoulders and spinning through the air. He sensed a static rush of energy coming from the second knight, who stood ominously still in the midst of the carnage. Another fireball was forming in the hand of the first knight, the heat radiating in waves as they readied themselves. Sabo forced his gaze back to his attacker, a cold dread filling him as he watched the deadly energy swirl in the knight¡¯s hand. The knight hurled the fireball just as Sabo leapt to the side, crashing into a stack of barrels that splintered under his weight. He pressed himself behind them, heart pounding, his mind spinning in a frantic spiral. He had to fight back. There was no choice. Don¡¯t be a coward, Sabo! He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. His heartbeat, like the pounding drum. In that moment, he focused himself and found that anger again, waiting for him, just beneath the surface. Simmering. Ready to boil over and drown them all. ¡°Please,¡± he whispered, his voice cracked and desperate. ¡°Please, I need a weapon!¡± The mouth on his neck twisted into a wicked grin, teeth gleaming in the shadows. Then it closed, the lips pressing together in a final smile as the flesh of his neck sealed over it. But the pain didn¡¯t vanish¡ªinstead, it traveled, burning a path down his shoulder, searing his bicep, then slicing down his arm until it reached his right hand. Sabo clenched his teeth as the pain intensified, like molten iron pooling under his skin. The flesh on his palm split open, and from the wound, something began to grow, stretching and twisting outward. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. A pole extended from the wound, bloodied and slick, the metal shaft lengthening as it formed. Sabo watched in awe and horror as it grew longer, heavier, his hand instinctively wrapping around the weapon as it emerged. Then, with a final pulse of energy, it solidified¡ªa massive maul, glistening in the dim light, forged from dark, fleshy metal. The weapon was monstrous. The shaft stretched five feet long, thick and solid. Its head was impossibly large, spiked and brutal. At the back end, a single massive spike protruded like the barb of a scorpion¡¯s tail, cruel and gleaming. And in the center, embedded in the metal and flesh, were features that twisted his stomach¡ªa maw, enormous and leering, filled with jagged teeth that moved, dripping with thick saliva. The saliva was a sickly, purple ichor that hissed as it hit the deck Above the mouth, two reddish eyes glowed, fierce and intelligent, watching him with a hungry malice that sent a chill down his spine. He felt a haptic tingle at the base of his skull. Neat, silver letters appeared before him, transparent and floating in the air about a foot in front of his face. [Divine Mark ¨C God-Eater: Activated] He blinked, the message disappearing from his vision. He swallowed hard, his hand tight around the handle, feeling the weight and power thrumming through it, an extension of his own fury and terror. He could barely breathe, yet there was a rush to it, a thrill in his blood that dared him to swing, to strike, to let the beast within the maul loose. Despite the weapon being larger than anything he could reasonably have been expected to wield¡ªeven before imprisonment had deteriorated his muscle¡ªhe was able to hold and move it with ease. The monstrous eyes in the maul blinked, shifting to look at him, and the maw split open in a wicked, gleeful grin. The first knight raised their hand once more, a new fireball crackling to life between their gloved fingers, each flicker of flame growing hotter, brighter. Their eyes gleamed with confidence from behind the mask as they hurled it toward Sabo, the inferno tearing through the air with a deadly roar. But Sabo didn¡¯t flinch this time. The heat of the ship¡¯s flames already blazed at his back, pinning him between death and destruction. Gripping the maul tight, he swung, bringing the massive head of the weapon into the fireball¡¯s path. The maw in the warhammer¡¯s head opened wide, teeth gleaming, and swallowed the fireball whole. A low, guttural crunch followed, the mouth chomping down as if it were devouring some kind of prey. Black smoke billowed from its maw, spiraling up in wisps that curled and danced in the darkening air. Sabo could feel it¡ªthe power transferred through the weapon, moving up the shaft and sinking into his hands, then deeper, flooding his veins like a river of ice. The chill sharpened his senses, awakening every fiber of his body, and he felt a surge of energy that drove him to move, to act. The sounds of chaos on the deck quieted, as if muffled, and his vision sharpened. Before the knight could throw another, Sabo charged forward, legs coiled like springs, feet pounding the wooden planks. He closed the distance in a few strides, muscles thrumming with urgency. The weight of the maul felt almost inconsequential in his hands as he swung it in a wide arc, aiming to smash the knight to the ground. But the knight was quicker. In a deft move, they leapt up, balancing on the head of the maul with eerie precision. They turned their crimson, gruesome-faced mask down towards Sabo, eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement from the two circular eye holes. ¡°A little out of your depth, aren¡¯t you?¡± the knight sneered, their voice dripping with contempt. ¡°That power doesn¡¯t belong to you. In the name of the Order, I will be reclaiming it now.¡± Flames erupted along the masked knight¡¯s arm, which they threw out in a sharp motion, sending a searing lash of fire towards Sabo¡¯s face. With the maul¡¯s icy energy coursing through him, everything seemed to slow down. Sabo twisted his body, bending backward just enough to feel the heat graze his cheek, narrowly avoiding the burning strike. But the evasion threw him off-balance, forcing him to stumble back a step. The knight laughed, pressing their advantage, sending another lash of flame toward him. Sabo swung the maul upward, using it as a shield, but he could feel his footing slipping as the knight continued their relentless assault, raining blow after blow down on him¡ªeach punch or kick enhanced with shimmering flame. Each swing of Sabo¡¯s in return was wild and desperate, buying him seconds but doing little to turn the tide. Sabo gritted his teeth, feeling a burst of frustration ignite inside him. He needed to do more than survive this. Why am I fighting like a damned coward? He recalled his life in Solstice, and sparring Mags with wooden practice swords under Vitomir¡¯s watchful guidance. The two had always been evenly matched, but where Sabo used his longer reach to evade and keep his distance, Mags would bulldoze forward, breaking through his defenses with sheer force of will. He thought of the courage Vitomir showed when the Ravaelian Empire burned Solstice to the ground. I need to be more like them! I won¡¯t be afraid! Suddenly, his vision flashed again. [Spell: Regurgitate] The mouth on the maul opened again. It stretched wide, letting out a low, throaty growl, and without warning, it spat a jet of flame directly toward the knight. The knight¡¯s expression shifted, widening in surprise as they instantly halted their assault, lifting their arm to shield their eyes from the blast. The fire was weaker than the fireball the knight had conjured, sputtering and flickering, but it was enough to force the knight back a step. Sabo¡¯s eyes narrowed as he felt the maul¡¯s power thrumming beneath his hands. It wanted to consume, to absorb. He was beginning to understand: the weapon took in power and returned it, albeit diminished, in kind. It could eat magic and let him wield its power as his own. I understand you now. < If that is true mortal, than are you ready to fight for me? > A smile crept onto Sabo¡¯s face. ¡°This is going to be fun.¡± 05. Steel Chapter 5 Steel Sabo¡¯s pulse boomed like a war drum, resonating through his body and up through the haft of the maul, God-eater. He didn¡¯t know who¡ªor what¡ªlurked in this monstrous weapon¡ªin him¡ªonly that he was going to need its strength. A strength he was quickly beginning to understand. Give me power, he thought, reaching out to the presence. A low chuckle echoed through his mind, guttural and sharp as a blade singing across a whetstone. Whatever this presence was, it was pleased with Sabo¡¯s decision. Sabo felt his body instinctively reach out for the power he knew was in the air, ready to be exploited, used. All I need to do is take it! [Skill: Aura Sense] Sabo¡¯s senses flared, exploding with clarity as if the world around him had been thrown into sharp relief. He could see faint trails of ambient aether spiraling through the air like silver smoke mixed with golden particles. Even moreso, he could feel the pulsing from the aether sap barrels below deck. He reached out with his mind, pulling the energy in, feeling it wind through his veins, fortifying his muscles, sharpening his focus. It was like drinking in strength itself. Any fatigue in his body instantly vanished, and the pain was dulled to a barely perceptible inconvenience in the back of his mind. The noise of the ship fell away, and everything came into clearer focus. The prisoners had fled below deck, escaping the chaotic battlefield of the topdeck. Bodies littered the deck, one of the guards sprawled lifeless, but he didn¡¯t see the warden or the second guard. For a moment, he felt the quietude settle over him. Then, his grip tightened, the God-eater thirsting in his hands, urging him forward. He charged, his muscles surging with borrowed power, swinging the massive maul toward the first knight. The knight snarled, two jets of fire bursting from their palms as they launched themselves high into the air, flames propelling them out of Sabo¡¯s reach. Sabo¡¯s momentum sent him hurtling forward; he gritted his teeth, every muscle straining as he fought to bring the maul¡¯s weight under control. Despite feeling a lot lighter than a weapon that size realistically should, it was still a bit cumbersome. That¡¯s when he saw the second knight. A blade glinted in the air, arcing down with deadly precision. Sabo pivoted at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the projectile. But as he twisted, he felt a strange pull of energy behind him. He whipped around to see the second knight, masked and menacing, surrounded by floating fragments of metal, the thrown blade now in their gloved hand. The metal fragments swarmed through the air, an extension of the knight¡¯s malice. They twisted through the air, razor-edged and whirling, a bladed cloud encircling the knight in a deadly storm. The first knight was still airborne, but now, Sabo was trapped. He had a heartbeat to react. The cloud of blades launched towards him. His body flared with the aether¡¯s influence as he quickly burned more of the ambient energy, his limbs moving on instinct. He shifted to dodge the descending cloud, but it was impossible to avoid them all. Sharp metal sliced through his skin, leaving searing lines of pain across his arms and chest. Blood welled up in thin rivulets, staining his shirt as he stumbled backward, chest heaving. the voice in his mind growled. Sabo clenched his jaw, feeling the God-eater¡¯s weight throb in his hands like a second pulse. A heart beating in rhythm with his own, like the steady beating of the drum! Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. He lunged into the air, every muscle straining as he hefted the God-eater maul over his head. Metal shards whipped around him in a deadly flurry, leaving shallow cuts that stung and throbbed in time with his pulse, but he ignored them, focusing all his strength into this single, crushing blow. The steel-wielding knight was poised to dodge, agile and certain. But as the maul swung down, something shifted. The weapon¡¯s maw stretched wide, elongating with unnatural speed, and clamped onto the knight¡¯s shoulder with a grotesque snap. The knight¡¯s scream tore through the air, and in a brutal twist, the God-eater ripped the man¡¯s arm clean from his body, gnashing through flesh and bone as though it were little more than a snack. Sabo staggered with the weapon''s recoil, staring as the maul chewed with sickening relish. The knight stumbled back, clutching at their shoulder, blood streaming down his armor as they doubled over in agony. ¡°Do . . . do you think you have more room in your . . . stomach?¡± Sabo whispered, feeling a rush of savage exhilaration mingling with his horror. Both feelings seemed to be stoked by his rage, and he had to admit, it felt good to see the Morduin knight torn apart. It felt better knowing it was his doing. He could feel the maul¡¯s bloodlust pulsing through his grip, a driving need as sharp as his own. < Flesh is what lesser beings feast on. I feast on power. > The presence in his mind rumbled, as though it were thinking before speaking. < There is enough power here for me to draw from. > The maw reared up, ravenous, and bit down on the knight¡¯s armor, latching onto them. The knight, having been doubled over, was swallowed head first, both their shoulders now in the mouth of the God-eater. With a guttural yell, Sabo lifted the maul high, pulling the knight off their feet. His muscles strained against the weight, but the God-eater granted him newfound strength, and with a final heave, he swung the maul upwards. At the top of the motion, the maul¡¯s mouth relinquished the knight, hurling them into the air, chunks of flesh still clinging to the weapon¡¯s dripping teeth. As the knight soared, another fireball roared past Sabo¡¯s right side, just missing him and singing the air beside his face. He ducked, scrambling across the blood-slick deck, panting with exertion. He pushed himself upright, and a series of flashing notifications burst in front of his vision, bringing with them a strange clarity. [New Ability: Steel Sense] Sabo blinked as more, neat silver text flashed into his vision. At the same time, a haptic tingling in the back of his brain brought a flash of understanding, as if the information being conveyed by the text had been there all along. [Skill: Steel Sense, Level C-8] [Description: User has the ability to sense the presence of steel using their Aura Sense.] [Uses Remaining: 10 of 10] It was as though the steel in the air around him had come alive. He could feel it, a web of pulsing metal points, each distinct¡ªincluding the metal encasing the airborne knight, who was falling back to the deck floor, their stump of an arm dripping blood mid-air. The fire-conjuring knight prepared another attack below, but Sabo didn¡¯t care. He tapped into his [Aura Sense], thinking of how it had felt when he had sensed the harvested aether sap below deck. In that single moment, he felt threads of aether in the air, threads linking him to pieces of steel throughout the deck, including the armor worn by the one-armed knight. He felt the steel threads vibrate under his will, a hidden current begging to be set loose. With a clenched jaw, he pushed his will outward, focusing on the knight¡¯s armor. Another notification flashed in the corner of his vision. Again, his mind was flooded with instant understanding. [Spell: Push/Pull Steel] [Description: User can push or pull steel in a direction towards or away from them. Can only target a single piece of steel. User can also apply this Spell to iron, but to a severely weakened effect (at same mana cost).] [Current Mana Cost: 10%] [Uses Remaining: 5 of 5] Sabo could sense the knight¡¯s armor, constructed from multiple separate pieces of sharpened steel, likely for the purpose of separating from the whole and using in their own magic. Sabo grinned. He would use the knight¡¯s own tools against them. He used [Steel Sense] to latch onto each piece of the armor. Then, he triggered [Push/Pull Steel] and willed each piece at the knight¡¯s back to fly towards him, and each piece on the knight frontside to fly away from him. The steel exploded outward in a violent flurry, tearing the knight to shreds in an instant. Shrapnel filled the air like an iron storm, each shard a blade of its own. Blood misted, a fine spray of red drifting down in a slow, terrible rain. Pieces of flesh, bone and carnage splattered against the wooden deck. For one breathless second, Sabo felt the thrill of triumph. And then he looked up. Above, the skyfin pulling the airship arched its body in agony, its underbelly shredded from the steel¡¯s brutal explosion. Blood and viscera poured down from the massive creature, and with a heart-stopping lurch, the ship began to dip, tilting dangerously as the skyfin¡¯s wings faltered. ¡°No, no, no,¡± Sabo muttered. He used his free hand to grip the railing as the deck tipped, sending loose objects and bodies tumbling. The airship shuddered, and with every passing second, the descent grew steeper. Sabo cursed under his breath, panic flaring. Without the skyfin keeping it afloat, the ship was falling. The ship was falling fast. 06. Blood Chapter 6 Blood Another ray of fire slammed into Sabo¡¯s chest, scorching his tattered clothes as he stumbled back. He barely had time to react as a second ray of fire roared through the air. Leaping backwards, Sabo stumbled, slamming the gigantic maul into the deck of the ship to right his center of gravity. The floorboards erupted into splinters and searing flames as the ray crashed into the space Sabo had been standing only a moment before. The entire deck was now on fire. From the other side of the dancing flames, the knight¡¯s dark silhouette loomed, distorted by wall of oppressive heat. Sabo¡¯s body screamed in protest, each fresh burn driving deeper exhaustion into his bones. His grip on the sentient maul was slipping, sweat mixing with the blood covering his hands. He dodged another blast, barely, and saw a group of prisoners creeping back onto the deck, their faces pale with terror as they took in the bloody rain from above and the carnage at Sabo¡¯s feet. Their horrified gazes turned to him, but there was no time to reassure them, no time to warn them to get below deck. Another fireball seared the air. This time, he had nowhere to evade the attack. He jerked back, forcing the head of the maul upwards, meeting the fiery blast head on. The maul¡¯s maw parted, closing in around the fireball as though it were a freshly-picked apple. It crunched down, gulping the flame down in billows of black smoke. ¡°Can¡¯t keep . . . this up,¡± he muttered through gritted teeth, muscles aching with every dodge and swing. Did the knight¡¯s supply of fire have no end? How could they keep hurling attack after attack at him? He tried to catch his breath, only to breathe in a mouthful of smoke. As he forced out hacking coughs, the voice in his head growled, almost amused. What is it talking about? Sabo¡¯s mind whirled, barely understanding. Blood? Then, it clicked. He thought about the mist of gore that filled the air. He looked up to the mortally wounded creature tethered to the airship. From the skyfin? The monstrous creature bled from hundreds of wounds, its life dripping down on them in a mist, mingling with the charred air. The acrid smell was suffocating. Sabo didn¡¯t know how long the creature would last¡ªbut he felt the maul¡¯s presence stir, a ravenous hunger resonating from it. He wasn¡¯t going to die there. If one moment was all it needed, he could do that. If I¡¯m good at anything, it¡¯s running and evading. Desperation steeling his resolve, Sabo darted to the side, hoping to create as much space as possible between himself and the masked night. He dragged the maul behind him, straining to move as fast as possible despite the weapon¡¯s weight. The knight¡¯s silhouette rippled and then vanished. The air right in front of him erupted¡ªthe masked figure materialized from the shimmering air. Their hand was covered in tongues of fire, cocked back and ready to strike. Heat surrounded Sabo, flames licking around him. All of his exposed skin stung with a searing pain, and he could smell the hair on his arms and head burning. It was a blast unlike any before, an all-encompassing inferno that consumed his senses, leaving him teetering on the brink of consciousness. The knight¡¯s flaming fist rocketed towards his face. Then, amid the heat and pain, a notification appeared in his vision, cutting through his agony like a blade: [Spell: Bloodstorm] [Description: User combines the elements of fire and blood. Capable of targeting any blood that is not held in a living vessel, the user can make it explode.] [Current Mana Cost: 55%] [Uses Remaining: 1 of 1] The maul in his grip seemed to pulse, and a wave of new strength shot through him. The God-Eater groaned, its maw widening with anticipation. Blood began seeping from every seam in the weapon¡¯s metal, bubbling, pooling, until it streamed outward in torrents. The air thickened with a dense, crimson mist, twice as heavy, twice as ominous as before. Sabo took a single step forward, and with that, the blood hanging around him shot forward, forming thousands of needle-thin daggers. The blood-daggers whistled through the air, faster than arrows, faster than a heartbeat. The knight paused their strike, pulling back their fist and attempting to turn midair. It was too late. Their armor was shredded, body impaled by the fine points of a thousand blood-wrought blades. They pierced the knight¡¯s arms, chest, and throat, each impact pushing them back until they finally collapsed, dead before their knees hit the deck. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The flames around Sabo vanished, and he staggered, gasping as relief flooded his body. He could barely breathe, the world spinning, his vision clouded by exhaustion and the overwhelming scent of blood. But he had won. I did it. Just as relief sank in, he looked over the side of the airship. Below, the ground was growing dangerously close. They were falling fast, the airship shuddering, tilting as it lost altitude. He could see the vast expanse of earth rising to meet them, jagged rocks and trees stretched out like eager hands to claim them. ¡°Damn it,¡± he whispered, clenching the maul as his heart pounded. The crash was coming, and there was no stopping it. The world crashed down on Sabo in waves of agony. As the rush of battle faded, the power he¡¯d pulled into his body left him, every muscle throbbing in raw, unbearable pain. His arms and legs felt like lead, twitching and burning, and even breathing felt like forcing air through iron. If the raw and burnt flesh on his forearms were any indication, he didn¡¯t want to know what the rest of him looked like. He barely noticed as the maul melted back into his skin, shrinking from the monstrous weapon into a small, pulsating heat in his arm. The searing of its withdrawal was nothing against the aches racking his body. His vision blurred and doubled, but Sabo forced himself to focus, pressing forward as he stumbled across the deck of the tilting ship. The skyfin above wailed, a long low-frequency pulse that reverberated through the air as its life drained out in blood and shredded flesh. They were descending fast, lurching, skimming dangerously close to the treetops below. Sabo squinted, his mind reeling. Frigid air whipped around them as the skyfin¡¯s protection of the deck faltered. He had to find Vitomir. He searched the destroyed deck frantically until he spotted the old man¡¯s body. Vitomir was sprawled against the side of the ship, his figure slumped and still. The ship must have lurched, kicking or rolling Vitomir¡¯s form to the edge, yet somehow he had avoided being trampled in the chaos of the prisoners fleeing the cruelty of the two knights. Sabo fell to his knees beside him, fingers trembling as he inspected the old man. There was a gaping slash across Vitomir¡¯s chest, deep and dark with blood, stretching from his left shoulder down to his right ribcage. It was fresh, a recent wound amid the pale, webbed scars of old battles that covered his skin like a twisted, convoluted map. His chest rose in shallow, labored breaths, the lines around his mouth drawn tight with pain. Blind be! Thank the gods! ¡°Vitomir,¡± Sabo rasped, his voice raw as he gripped the old man¡¯s shoulders. He was slipping, this man who¡¯d survived so many horrors, who¡¯d cared for the war orphans, who¡¯d carried Sabo from the nightmares of Solstice. Sabo had to get him help. Fast. With a grunt, Sabo looped his arms around Vitomir¡¯s torso and pulled him up. The old man¡¯s weight, though slight, felt crushing in Sabo¡¯s weakened state. He gritted his teeth, dragging Vitomir inch by inch toward the cockpit, the only place he could think to shield him from the inevitable crash. The cockpit door gave way under Sabo¡¯s weight, swinging open with a dull creak that was drowned out by the storm of wind and groaning metal around them. Inside, the warden gripped the ship¡¯s wheel in a white-knuckled grasp, his face drawn and tense as he fought to steady the wildly careening vessel. The shrieking wood and trembling walls told Sabo all he needed to know; they were hurtling downward, fast. There was no stopping the crash. Not without the skyfin. With a desperate heave, Sabo dragged Vitomir into the cramped room, carefully lowering the old man to the floor beside the control panels. Vitomir¡¯s breathing was shallow, but the faint rise and fall of his chest gave Sabo a sliver of hope. He turned back to the warden, shouting to be heard over the relentless noise. ¡°Can we land this thing?¡± Sabo yelled, his voice hoarse. The warden looked over his shoulder, his eyes hardening as they fell on Sabo. A string of curses escaped him, but he managed a tight nod. ¡°Maybe. But not with the skyfin still dragging us down! That beast is dead weight! If we can¡¯t cut it loose, we¡¯re finished.¡± Sabo¡¯s stomach twisted. He knew what he had to do. With a last look at Vitomir, he bolted out onto the open deck. The moment he stepped outside, he was hit by a wall of wind that nearly knocked him off his feet. His eyes watered, and he felt his skin sting as gusts ripped at him with merciless force. The dead skyfin¡ªits lifeless bulk no longer channeling aether to shield them¡ªhung from the silver tethers, dragging them further and faster into the unforgiving ground below. Sabo staggered toward the tethers, the silvery cables thick as his arm, each bound in metal and magic. He tried to pull them loose, but the material wouldn¡¯t budge. Desperation clawed at him. He leaned back, shouting over the roaring wind. ¡°I need the weapon! Give it to me¡ªif you don¡¯t, we¡¯ll all die!¡± A dark rumble echoed in his mind, an amused growl. The voice corrected. The skin of his right hand split open again, raw and tearing, and the mouth of the maul emerged from his flesh, its jaws grinding and drooling purple ichor as it grew, stretching into its monstrous form. Sabo struggled to even hold onto the weapon. He remembered the feeling of sensing the aether in the air. He tried to focus his mind, to find that feeling again. There it is! He found the familiar sensation and tapped into it. Like a sharp breath of frigid air, aether flooded his body, filling his muscles with newfound strength. Sabo braced himself, raising the maul and aiming it at the first tether. With a vicious swing, he brought the maul down, and its jaws snapped onto the metal cable, biting through it like paper. The tether was devoured in seconds, swallowed into the maul¡¯s endless maw. One by one, he struck at the cables, watching as the skyfin began to lurch and sag, falling further behind the ship. With a final swing, the last tether gave way, and the skyfin¡¯s enormous corpse detached, separating from the space above the airship before plummeting toward the ground in a cascade of scales and blood. Freed from the burden, the ship bucked and jolted, the whole deck vibrating violently as they hurtled downward, no longer weighed down but still out of control. Sabo felt a rush of dread, gripping the maul as tightly as he could. He raised it, letting its teeth clamp around the thick mast at the center of the deck. Every muscle in his body screamed as he braced himself, heart pounding as the ground rose rapidly to meet them. The ship shuddered, groaned¡ªand with a deafening crash, it hit the earth. 07. POV: Gagan, the Drowned Man Chapter 7 POV: Gagan, the Drowned Man The Drowned Man lay sprawled across the black stones of the Valhadryan shore. His skin, usually a tanned bronze, was muted¡ªits color washed away by the passage of time. Fingertips wrinkled and swollen, were tipped pale fingernails, dirtied by seabed soil. Seaweed was caught in his curly, dark beard and strands of long wet hair stuck to his face¡ªa youthful one by most standards. The Drowned Man¡¯s blue lips were slightly parted, as though he were just about to speak. I was going to speak her name¡­ The first thing he remembered was water. It wasn¡¯t just a memory¡ªit was a sensation that lived in his body. The weightlessness of being submerged. Of the cold, all-encompassing pressure that seeped into every pore as he lay there beneath the dancing waves above. He remembered the way sound dulled beneath the surface, reduced to muffled whispers and distant vibrations. He was sinking, deeper and deeper, drawn inexorably down into the unyielding embrace of the sea. Above him, the sun shimmered, fractured into a thousand brilliant shards, scattered across the trembling surface. It seemed so far away, unreachable. He stretched toward it¡ªor perhaps he imagined doing so¡ªbut it was futile. The light grew dimmer as the water grew darker. First, it was gray. Then charcoal. Then black¡ªthick and oppressive, pressing in from all sides like the inside of a coffin. Water was the first thing he remembered, and it was the last. And in that utter blackness, the world ceased to exist. No sight. No motion. Only the dull roar of water in his ears, a muted symphony of nothingness. Then, faint and distant, came a new sound. Rhythmic and steady, it pulled at his consciousness like a lifeline. The crash of waves against a shore. Louder and louder it grew until. . . The Drowned Man¡¯s eyes shot open, and the world greeted him with a blinding, white-hot light. He gasped for air, his chest spasming as it tried to expel the water lodged in his lungs. His throat burned as brine surged upward, spilling from his mouth in violent, choking coughs. He twisted to his side, retching, spitting out the saltwater that pooled onto the ground beside him. For several moments, all he could do was breathe, ragged and shallow, his body trembling from exertion and cold. The surface beneath him was rough and unyielding, a bed of pebbles pressing into his skin. The tide lapped gently at his bare feet, the water icy and sharp against his flesh before retreating with a soft hiss into the ocean. He blinked against the glare of the sun, squinting as he tried to orient himself. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray, and the air was sharp and cold, biting against his damp clothes. Slowly, his head tilted to the side, his gaze following the receding tide to the ocean beyond. It stretched out before him, vast and black, a featureless void beneath the flat, ashen sky. The waves moved with a lazy, rhythmic persistence, indifferent to the man lying broken on the shore. He shivered, not from the cold, but from the sheer enormity of it all. There was no end to that ocean. No beginning. Just an endless, churning nothingness. To be alone before such a nothingness was paralyzing. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. He swallowed, the motion painful against his raw throat, and forced himself to move. His muscles protested as he pushed himself upright, pebbles shifting beneath his hands. He sat there for a moment, hunched over, head hanging as he sucked in great gulps of air. Each breath sent fire through his chest, but it was better than the alternative. Finally, he glanced back at the shore, half expecting to see others¡ªor something. Wreckage, bodies, anything. But there was nothing. Only the black sea at his back and the jagged cliffs that framed the desolate beach before him. A sadness tore at his chest, a sadness for something lost. Then, he noticed an unfamiliar and foreign weight against the left side of his chest. His trembling fingers slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket and emerged with a small, leather-bound journal. The cover was worn and warped, its edges frayed from age or use, and water clung to its surface in glistening beads. He opened it with cautious fingers. Some pages stuck together, their edges swollen and puckered, but most of it was intact and surprisingly dry. His eyes fell to the inside cover, where a name had been written in deliberate, careful script: Gagan Bostock It hit him like a jolt. Gagan. Yes. That was him. That name belonged to him. I am Gagan. The thought bubbled to the surface of his mind. The realization brought little relief. The name was a sliver of identity, but it didn¡¯t answer the how or why. How had he ended up here? Why couldn¡¯t he remember anything else? Then it struck him¡ªa face he couldn¡¯t quite see. A name he couldn¡¯t quite grasp. His sister. He had a sister. He was looking for her, or maybe chasing after her. But the harder he tried to summon the image, the faster it slipped from his grasp, like water through his fingers. What had happened to her? Gagan racked his brain. He closed his eyes, screwing his face with concentrated effort, tearing at his wet, dark locks of hair. She was taken. Taken somewhere far away¡­ Yes, that was it. Tears blurred his vision, hot and stinging as they rolled down his salt-crusted cheeks. He stifled a sob with the back of his hand, his chest heaving as grief clawed at his insides. Had it been that long? So long that her face¡ªher name¡ªwas gone? No. He couldn¡¯t think like that. He wouldn¡¯t think like that. With renewed determination, Gagan wiped at his face and turned his attention back to the journal. He flipped through its damp pages, his fingers pausing on one marked with a ribbon. He pulled the ribbon free, and the sight that greeted him was chaotic: lines of black ink, overlapping and jagged, filling the page with a dark, imposing shape. A tower. Scrawled in hurried, uneven letters at the bottom corner of the right-hand page were two words: Hecate¡¯s Tower. The name rang faintly in his mind, a ghost of a memory he couldn¡¯t pin down. He stared at the drawing, at the harsh black lines that seemed to vibrate with a strange intensity. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was all he had. Carefully, he tucked the journal back into his pocket and rose to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him, and every joint in his body protested the movement. But he stood, turning his gaze toward the horizon. The pebbled beach stretched into a rugged, gray expanse, broken only by patches of emerald moss clinging stubbornly to cracks in the stone. The wind carried the sharp tang of salt and the low, rhythmic crash of the waves. With one last glance at the endless ocean behind him, Gagan set his sights on the gray landscape ahead. The name Hecate¡¯s Tower burned in his mind, a faint beacon in a sea of uncertainty. And so, he began to walk. 08. Crashing Chapter 8 Crashing The first thing Sabo felt was the world turning upside down. The ship hit the treetops with a deafening crack, branches snapping like brittle bones. Shards of bark exploded into the air, mingling with splinters of wood and the acrid stench of burnt flesh and hair, and blood. The ship¡¯s hull groaned as if it were a living thing, its sides shearing against the canopy in a symphony of destruction. Flames erupted from the ship¡¯s side. Sabo¡¯s ears rang with the chaos, but the roar of the flames cut through it all¡ªa harsh, consuming sound that drowned out reason and filled the world with urgency. Sabo¡¯s fingers clawed at the deck, reaching for anything solid. His grip found nothing but slick, broken planks, and the ship¡¯s violent lurch sent him hurtling backward. The air was ripped from his lungs as his body collided with the mast, a jarring impact that lit his nerves on fire. His vision swam, the world a blur of red and orange, of fire and falling leaves. The maul, he thought desperately. He had to get back to the maul. The weapon lay several feet away, its jagged form embedded in the fractured deck. Sabo scrambled toward it, his body screaming in protest with every movement. A fresh lurch of the ship sent him sliding, and he barely caught himself on a section of the shattered railing. Below, the earth rushed toward them, a dark, tangled mess of roots and churned soil. He was out of time. With one final, desperate lunge, Sabo wrapped his fingers around the haft of the maul. The moment his skin touched its surface, a familiar heat coursed through him, a searing connection that felt both empowering and parasitic. He didn¡¯t have the luxury of hesitation. ¡°Bite,¡± he whispered, his voice raw and desperate. The maul responded with a sickening crack. The weapon¡¯s head split open like a monstrous jaw, teeth of shadow and steel sinking into the mast. The ship trembled under the force, its descent slowing marginally as the maul anchored itself¡ªand Sabo¡ªto the dying vessel. An eye appeared on the metallic surface of the weapon¡¯s head. It stared at Sabo, taking him in. ¡°I¡¯m not dead yet,¡± Sabo grunted through gritted teeth. He clung to the haft with every ounce of strength he had. He had to hold on no matter what. But how? He squeezed his eyes shut, shifting his grip to have a better handle on the weapon¡¯s shaft. Then, it hit him. Aether! He focused on the feeling again. [Aura Sense: Seeking Hunger] A shudder echoed through the air with his body as the epicenter. A sixth sense reaching out, searching for that familiar, sweet source of power. It quickly found the barrels of concentrated sap below deck. He focused his attention on it and breathed in, pulling the power into his body. A rush of ice filled his veins and strength filled his limbs, along with the drive to act, to live. He continued pulling on the aether like a drowning man gasping for air. It surged into him, raw and wild, threading through his veins in a burning tide. His grip steadied, his body locking into place even as the ship bucked and twisted beneath him. More! Just . . . a little . . . more! He drew in as much of the aether as he could. He could feel it flood his body, and deep within him something burned like furnace, turning the raw energy into something he could use. Then, the world ended in fire and noise. The ship slammed into the ground with a force that defied comprehension. The impact tore through the earth, uprooting trees and carving a jagged scar into the forest floor. More flames erupted along the hull, consuming what little was left intact. Sabo felt the jarring halt reverberate through his bones, the maul¡¯s bite holding firm against the mast. Splinters rained down around him, and the world blurred into a chaotic smear of color and sound. His head throbbed, his body numb from the strain of holding on. The ship came to a grinding stop, its remains half-buried in the torn earth. Smoke curled into the sky, mingling with the orange glow of distant flames. The forest around them was eerily quiet, the cacophony of the crash replaced by an oppressive stillness. Sabo released his grip on the maul, his fingers trembling as he pulled them away. The weapon¡¯s jaws snapped shut, retreating into its original, brutal shape. He swayed on his feet, the aether coursing through him now ebbing to a faint hum. The edges of his vision darkened, a creeping shadow that stole his thoughts and dulled his senses. He staggered, his knees buckling beneath him. He barely registered the taste of blood on his tongue, the sharp scent of smoke in his lungs. Too much, he thought distantly. Too fast. The maul slipped from his grasp, clattering to the deck as his body gave out. Darkness surged in, cold and unforgiving, and Sabo fell into it without resistance.
The air was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of burning wood. Hiwot pulled herself from the tangle of wreckage, her muscles screaming in protest as she staggered to her feet. The world around her was a blur of chaos¡ªflames licking at broken planks, bodies strewn across the shattered remains of the ship¡¯s inner chambers, and the groans of survivors trying to make sense of their shattered reality. She wiped a streak of blood from her cheek, smearing soot in its place, and surveyed the scene. The prisoners who could still stand were clambering to the stairwells, their movements frantic but purposeful. Some worked to smother the fires spreading through the wreckage in the hull, using tattered clothing and splashes of rainwater collected in overturned barrels. Others simply stood in a daze, their faces pale and drawn in the light that filtered into the thick darkness. Hiwot counted the survivors as best she could. Out of what had once been at least fifty, fewer than half were still breathing. The rest lay scattered among the debris, their lifeless bodies grim reminders of the chaos that had unfolded both in the air and during the crash. Her gaze caught on one figure¡ªa young man with a shock of red hair and a brutal gash across his abdomen, clutching his side as he tried to haul himself out of a collapsed section of the hull. Hiwot took a hesitant step toward him but stopped short when she noticed the voidstone collar glinting around his neck. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The weight of her own collar felt heavier in that moment, a band of cold finality pressed against the skin of her neck. She reached up to touch it, fingers brushing the smooth, unyielding bleach white surface. The device was a masterpiece of cruelty, cutting her off from the power she had once wielded so freely. Yggdrasil, she thought bitterly. The System that her and other Soulsingers accessed to use their power. But in order to use it, one needed the ability to touch and channel aether. In her mind¡¯s eye, she could almost see it¡ªthe vast, sprawling network of luminous threads that connected her soul to the Aethereal Sea. But the collar¡¯s effect was absolute. Where once those threads had flowed freely, there was now a wall of voidstone, thick and impenetrable. Her connection to Yggdrasil was severed, leaving her a hollow shell of the Soulsinger she had been. Hiwot¡¯s hands clenched into fists. She had accepted the collar when she¡¯d been captured¡ªwhat choice did she have? It had been that or death. Deserters from the Crown Coalition Forces were often shown no mercy. But now, after everything that had happened, her resentment burned brighter than the fires consuming the wreckage around her. She met the gleam of the young man¡¯s eyes for a moment, before he stopped struggling and the brightness of life faded from his vision. Then, turning away, she made her way above deck. The deck of the ship was in no better of a state as below. It was a graveyard of shattered wood and twisted metal. Hiwot stepped carefully, her boots crunching over charred debris. Smoke still billowed from pockets of flame, though the worst of the fires had been smothered by the grim determination of a handful of prisoners. Above, the treetops stood like sentinels, their boughs bowed and broken from the ship¡¯s descent. The skyfin, their once-magnificent beast of burden, was nowhere to be seen. They wouldn¡¯t be taking to the skies again. At least, not on this ship. Hiwot paused, taking in the full scope of their predicament. The ship was grounded for good; the broken hull and scattered remnants of its tethering mechanisms made that much clear. They were stranded, deep in some remote stretch of forest with no skyfin and their only form of shelter still actively on fire. Her attention was drawn towards the back to the deck as she noticed a cluster of prisoners murmuring among themselves. They stood near the prone form of the prisoner¡ªthe one who had engaged the two Morduin knights in battle. His gigantic, twisted maul was nowhere to be seen. Probably fell off the ship during the crash. Even looking at that weapon had sent chills down Hiwot¡¯s spine. Something was off about it. How did he get away without getting a collar? She couldn¡¯t help but wonder. If he had an awakened soul capable of magic, the Crown Coalition would have detected it and equipped him with a collar as precaution. Did his soul just ignite? It was a ridiculous thought. Someone with a freshly ignited soul wouldn¡¯t be able to hold their own against a trained Morduin knight, let alone two. Hiwot narrowed her eyes. The man was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. His body bore the marks of battle¡ª a patchwork of burns, bruises, and lacerations covered his body from his forehead down to his waist¡ªbut he was alive. Against all odds, the crazy bastard had survived. Though likely not for much longer, with those wounds. A murmur rose from the cluster of prisoners gathered near the unconscious young man. The group huddled tightly, speaking in hushed tones and casting uneasy glances at whatever had drawn their attention. Hiwot¡¯s curiosity got the better of her. She adjusted her tattered tunic and strode toward them, weaving through the remnants of the wreckage. When she reached the group, she pushed her way through with sharp elbows and muttered apologies until she broke into the circle. She took a closer look at the young man and whatever it was the other prisoners were murmuring about. Hiwot crouched beside him, studying his face. He was Olenish, she guessed, judging by his sharp cheekbones and the deep brown of his complexion. His curls were matted with blood, though she couldn¡¯t tell whether it was his own or someone else¡¯s. He looked far younger than she would have expected for someone capable of such ferocity in battle¡ªbarely more than a boy. He probably hasn¡¯t even seen twenty summers. It was always a shame when a talented Soulsinger died so young, but that was their lot in life. ¡°Look at his arm,¡± one of the prisoners said, his voice barely above a whisper. He pointed a finger towards the young man, and Hiwot¡¯s gaze followed the direction of his finger, finding the man¡¯s arms. Her breath caught in her chest. Most of his exposed skin carried severe burns. The once dark skin was red, swollen, covered in fluid-filled blisters. Her eyes were quick to notice what the prisoners had been muttering about. One of the deeper burns on the young man¡¯s forearm had begun to change. The raw, blistered skin shimmered faintly, as though it were catching the light in an unnatural way. Before her eyes, the wound seemed to knit itself together, the angry redness fading and giving way to smooth, unblemished flesh. She blinked, unsure if the sight was real or if exhaustion was playing tricks on her. ¡°It¡¯s healing,¡± the man beside her said, awe thick in his voice. ¡°I swear it. I saw it. Just a few seconds ago, it was worse than that.¡± Hiwot reached out, her fingers hovering just above the injury. The air around the wound felt . . . strange. Damned, if I could only use my powers! ¡°Incredible,¡± she muttered. ¡°What is he?¡± The collar around her neck felt heavier as she considered the implications. In all her time in the Crown Coalition Forces, Hiwot had never seen a Soulsinger with a healing factor that acted so quickly, and while one was unconscious at that. What kind of monster is this kid? Hiwot glanced up at the other prisoners, her expression sharp. ¡°Keep this to yourselves,¡± she said. ¡°And give him some room to breathe!¡± ¡°Step away from him!¡± a voice barked from behind them, sharp and commanding. Hiwot snapped her head around at the sound, her stomach sinking. The warden was a stout man, his frame compact with muscle but softened by a protruding belly. His crimson and gold uniform, now marred with soot and bloodstains, bore the unmistakable black sigil of the Crown Coalition¡¯s Correctional Forces on his chest. His square jaw was set, and his small, dark eyes darted between the prisoners, cataloging their faces. ¡°That man,¡± the warden snarled, pointing a finger at the unconscious boy, ¡°is wanted by the Morduin Order. He will be surrendered to them. Immediately.¡± Hiwot stood slowly, her hands raised in a mock gesture of submission, but her eyes narrowed. The warden¡¯s gaze swept the deck, his posture stiffening as he took in the ragged group of prisoners surrounding the boy. They were battered and bloodied, but there were more of them than he¡¯d likely expected. He hesitated. Hiwot watched the man realize his situation in real time. He was the only surviving guard and even if the prisoners were all chained and weakened by starvation and hard labor, the calculus still wasn¡¯t in his favor. The murmurs from the prisoners grew louder, their discontent swelling into something far more dangerous. The warden¡¯s his eyes flicked to the nearest escape routes. Hiwot recognized the subtle shift of his weight, as though he was preparing to retreat. But then his hand twitched. Slowly, deliberately, he began to reach behind his back. Hiwot¡¯s pulse quickened. She knew what he was going for¡ªan aether pistol holstered at his belt. Even in his trembling hands, it would be enough to send a bolt of concentrated aether into one of their chests. ¡°No,¡± she breathed, taking a step forward, but it was already too late. The first prisoner lunged. A wiry man with a shaved head and desperate eyes. He tackled the warden¡¯s arm, wrenching it away from the weapon. The deck exploded into chaos. The other prisoners surged forward like a wave breaking against a cliff. They collided with the warden, dragging him down with sheer weight of numbers. He shouted, cursing and struggling, but the prisoners overwhelmed him, a dozen hands clawing at his uniform, striking at his face, his arms. Hiwot froze, her breath catching in her throat as the warden¡¯s cries turned to guttural screams. Blood splattered against the deck as fists and makeshift weapons rained down on him. The warden¡¯s hand shot out from the pile, gripping the hilt of the aether pistol. The weapon sparked as he squeezed the trigger, sending a brilliant flash of blue light arcing into the sky. A cloud of blue and green smoke burst from the pistol as the aether charge was expended. The crack of the shot echoed through the trees, scattering birds into the air. Hiwot stepped back, shielding her eyes from the blinding light of the gunfire. When she lowered her hand, she saw the warden still pinned beneath the prisoners, his uniform shredded, his face a bloody ruin. The pistol was gone, tossed somewhere amidst the wreckage. And then she heard it¡ªa sound that froze her blood. In the distance, a deep, resonant cry bellowed, its mournful tone reverberating through the forest. It was followed by the sound distant sound of trees and earth moving. Something was coming for them. 09. Pain Chapter 9 Pain Pain. That was the first thing. Not a sharp stab or a clean throb, but a heavy, all-encompassing ache that felt like it had sunk its claws deep into him and refused to let go. Sabo couldn¡¯t open his eyes. Not yet. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stay still, to lie there and take the pain. To embrace it. His skin felt raw, as if he¡¯d spent hours too close to the forge back at Frane¡¯s, the heat licking at his arms, his chest, his face, leaving him tender and blistered. Frane¡¯s. He hadn¡¯t thought of that place in . . . how long? He could almost hear the rhythmic clang of the hammer against iron, smell the sharp tang of burning coal, feel the ache in his arms after a long day at the anvil. Life had been simple then. Hard, yes, but simple. Solstice had been a little scrap of nowhere in the Far Country. Isolated, quiet, full of wide-eyed fools who thought their troubles mattered. Sure, they¡¯d had to deal with the Blackfire Company, a band of brutes who styled themselves as the petty lords of Solstice. Small tyrants with big swords and bigger egos. But tyrants, Sabo had learned, came in all shapes and sizes. Tyrants were everywhere. And some were easier to stomach than others. Back then, his biggest concerns had been keeping the forge running alongside Frane and helping Vitomir manage the other orphans. Long days at the anvil shaping horseshoes, hinges, tools, and the occasional blade. Long evenings chopping vegetables, stirring soup, and making sure the youngest kids didn¡¯t burn the bread. And afterward? Sparring matches with Mags in the yard. Wooden swords in hand, swinging like fools under Vitomir¡¯s watchful eye and gentle guidance. Practicing for the day they¡¯d be heroes. Joining the Crown Coalition Forces. Fighting the Maldrath horde from beyond the Green Sea. What a joke, he thought sadly. Sabo winced internally, the memory cutting sharper than the pain in his body. They¡¯d been so damn young. So damn stupid. The sound of voices pulled him back to the present. A sea of murmurs, a low, indistinct hum that seemed to rise and fall in waves. He stirred, the ache in his body flaring as he tried to move. The pain threatened to drag him back under, but then came another sound¡ªa long, mournful cry, distant but chilling. It wasn¡¯t manmade, or from any animal he¡¯d expect to encounter in the wild. Sabo was sure of that. It was something else entirely. Something unnatural. He thought of the sounds he and the other prisoners would hear on occasional nights in the Green Sea. The Maldrath. His eyes opened. Slowly. Blinking once, twice against the harsh glow of burning torches. The light stung, and his vision swam for a moment before settling. Above him, between a broken canopy of treetops, the night sky stretched out in hazy blacks and purples, the stars smudged like ink stains. Sabo tried to push himself up, his arms trembling beneath him. But he managed, teeth gritted, breath shallow. Every inch of him protested. He didn¡¯t even want to imagine what he looked like¡ªhis burns pulling tight against his skin, his body covered in countless cuts. The voices grew louder. He turned his head, trying to make sense of the shapes moving in the flickering torchlight. Prisoners. Dozens of them, their faces drawn with exhaustion and fear. Some whispered urgently to one another, others cast wary glances around the deck. I¡¯m lying on the deck of the ship, he realized. His mind finally caught up to his body, memories of the crash flooding back in disjointed flashes. The fire. The skyfin and its lifeblood filling the air. The two Morduin Knights. The maul. The maul. He glanced around and couldn¡¯t see the weapon anywhere. Might have lost it in the crash, he thought. Did the warden retake control of the ship after the crash? Did he have the prisoners working to fix the damage? No, that was a foolish thought. Without a skyfin it didn¡¯t matter in how good of shape the ship was, it was as useless as a sea vessel dropped into the middle of land. They weren¡¯t getting airborne again. A faint pulsing in the palm of his hand drew his attention. He looked down at his hand, half-expecting to see a monstrous grin smiling back up at him. But it was gone. No, not gone¡ªburied back in his flesh, lying in wait like some coiled predator. He could still feel its presence, faint and pulsing, as if it were a part of him now. Whatever that thing is. He realized that the maul was probably within him too. Images of his skin parting and that ungodly weapon emerging from his body flashed through his mind. The thought sent a wave of nausea through him. And yet, he couldn¡¯t think about that now. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand, unsteady but determined. Sabo gritted his teeth as he forced his legs to cooperate, the effort sending fresh waves of pain up his spine. His limbs felt like lead, and his knees threatened to buckle before he could fully straighten. He pressed a hand to his ribs, panting, the sound of the murmuring prisoners and the mournful horn still ringing in his ears. ¡°Need a hand?¡± The voice was husky, low and dry, carrying a faint edge of humor. Sabo froze, blinking down at the speaker. He wasn¡¯t sure what he¡¯d expected. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The woman standing before him barely came up to his chest. She was short¡ªshort enough that calling her five feet tall would have been generous. Her boyish features were sharp and angular, a face that might have been mistaken for a teenager¡¯s were it not for the glint in her deep red eyes, a look far too knowing for someone young. Even in the uneven flicker of torchlight, her eyes stood out¡ªdark and crimson, sharp as rubies. Her hair was white, though not from age. It looked like it had been hacked at carelessly, some strands hanging just past her ears while the rest of the straight white locks fell around her face at other varying lengths. She wore the same tattered clothing as the rest of them, singed and dirtied. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her posture loose but confident, and there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Sabo straightened, wincing, and frowned at her. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he grunted, though the tremble in his legs betrayed him. She raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. ¡°Sure you are. You just went toe-to-toe with two knights from Mordua. Though, you look to be in better shape than the last time I saw you.¡± Sabo was about to snap something back when his gaze drifted lower, catching on the glint of something around her neck. The firelight reflected off the smooth, black material of the voidstone collar clasped tightly around her throat. It was unmistakable¡ªlike the ones he¡¯d seen on a few of the other prisoners. A Soulsinger. His mouth went dry. She noticed his gaze and tilted her head, the smirk softening into something more neutral. Her fingers brushed against the collar absently, as if she¡¯d forgotten it was there until his stare reminded her. ¡°Yeah, some of us weren¡¯t as lucky as you,¡± she said, her voice quieter now, though no less steady. ¡°How¡¯d you do it? Avoid getting a collar.¡± Sabo didn¡¯t respond right away. He didn¡¯t know what to tell her. He¡¯d seen plenty of these collars, both during his time in the camps and on the ship. Despite knowing the collars killed their ability to do magic entirely while equipped, he couldn¡¯t help but be cautious around the sorcerers. Especially after now having first-hand experience of the kind of power they wielded. Her red eyes studied him, and she let out a soft huff, her hands dropping to her sides. ¡°You¡¯re staring,¡± she said, her tone light but pointed. ¡°Sorry,¡± Sabo muttered, forcing himself to look away. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of pain and exhaustion clouding his thoughts. ¡°Just wasn¡¯t expecting. . .¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t answer my question. How did you avoid getting a collar? With enough power to kill to Knights.¡± ¡°I . . . I¡¯m not a Soulsinger.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m not a prisoner. I¡¯m actually a runaway prince, trying to hide my identity and escape an arranged marriage waiting for me in my homeland. Cut the garuda shit! Did you find a way to remove your collar?¡± Frustration burned behind his eyes. He ground his teeth. ¡°I didn¡¯t have a fucking collar!¡± He threw his hands up. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡± ¡°Fair,¡± she said with a shrug. The way she casually abandoned the interrogation was somehow ever more frustrating to Sabo. The prisoner took a step closer, her movements quick and purposeful, like someone who was used to making the most of her size. ¡°Too bad we¡¯ve survived those two church-sanctioned sociopaths, the crash, only¡­¡± Sabo¡¯s eyes flicked back to her face, his frown deepening. ¡°Did you happen to see an older man? He was injured by the knights. Should have been in the cockpit? I guess the warden would have thrown him below deck, if not overboard.¡± ¡°The warden was . . . disposed of,¡± she replied. ¡°I think the old man is still there. Alongside some of the other injured but still living.¡± ¡°He is?¡± he exclaimed, whipping around to gather his bearings in the darkness of the night. He spotted the cockpit doorway and made a beeline towards it. ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t think now is the time for¡­!¡± the woman said, her voice trailing off as Sabo pushed through the thrum of prisoners moving back-and-forth across the deck. The deck was a mess of chaos and desperation. Prisoners moved in frantic clusters, some tending to the wounded, others hauling buckets of water to douse the stubborn flames still licking at the remains of the ship. Others carried lumber, barrels, and other objects to-and-fro. Sabo barely noticed any of it. His focus was singular: Vitomir. He shoved his way through the crowded deck, ignoring the questioning looks and murmurs of the prisoners around him. The cockpit loomed ahead, its reinforced door hanging half off its hinges. The magical glass, once clear and unyielding, was now fractured and blackened from the crash, the edges shimmering faintly in the torchlight. He stepped inside, and the stench hit him immediately. Blood, smoke, and the sickly-sweet tang of charred flesh. The air was thick and suffocating, the small space lit only by the faint glow of the fires outside. Bodies were strewn across the floor, crumpled and lifeless. Men and women, their faces pale and slick with sweat, their clothes stained dark with blood. Sabo¡¯s chest tightened as he stepped over them, his feet squelching against the slick wood. Some of the wounded were still alive, their breaths shallow, their limbs twitching weakly. ¡°Vitomir,¡± Sabo muttered under his breath, his voice tight with fear. His eyes scanned the room frantically, darting from one prone figure to the next. He crouched beside one body, a man with a deep gash across his chest, but it wasn¡¯t him. He moved to the next, then another, the panic rising in his throat like bile. Finally, in the far corner, near the ship¡¯s steering wheel, he saw him. Vitomir was slumped against the wall, his head lolling to one side, his chest wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. The makeshift bandages were haphazardly tied, the fabric frayed and discolored. It was clear whoever had wrapped him up had done so with whatever scraps they could find. Sabo¡¯s heart dropped. The older man¡¯s chest wasn¡¯t rising or falling. ¡°Vitomir!¡± he called, rushing to his side. He fell to his knees, grabbing the older man by the shoulders and shaking him gently. ¡°Vitomir, wake up! Come on, wake up!¡± The silence stretched, unbearable and heavy. Sabo felt a lump rise in his throat, his hands trembling as he gripped the man¡¯s frail frame. He wasn¡¯t ready to lose the old man, not again, not so soon. Then, a sound¡ªa low, ragged groan. Vitomir¡¯s eyes fluttered open, their once-bright gaze dulled and heavy-lidded. His head lolled toward Sabo, his breath escaping in shallow, pained gasps. ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± Sabo whispered, his voice breaking with relief. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, silently thanking every god he could think of. Vitomir¡¯s lips moved, but no sound came out. Sabo leaned closer, his hand still resting on the older man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk. Just . . . just stay with me, okay?¡± The older man¡¯s gaze was unfocused, his face twisted in pain, but his breathing steadied¡ªif only slightly. Sabo sat back on his heels, his mind racing. The cloth wrapped around Vitomir¡¯s chest was damp with blood, its crude folds barely holding the wound together. ¡°We¡¯ll fix this,¡± Sabo said, his voice firmer now. ¡°I¡¯ll find something. I¡¯ll figure it out.¡± Vitomir¡¯s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in a faint expression of doubt. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look,¡± Sabo muttered, half a laugh, half a sob. ¡°You¡¯re too stubborn to die here. Too stubborn by far.¡± He pressed a hand against the bandages, trying to slow the bleeding as he scanned the room for anything useful. For now, Vitomir was alive, and that was enough. The old man¡¯s lips parted again, ever so slightly. ¡°Boro,¡± he breathed. ¡°Where¡¯s Boro?¡± 10. Problems Chapter 10 Problems Vitomir¡¯s shallow breaths filled the cramped cockpit, each one more labored than the last. His head rested limply against the wall, his skin ashen and drawn. Sabo crouched beside him, his hand pressing gently against the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around the older man¡¯s chest. Suddenly, Vitomir stirred, his lips parting as a single, strained word slipped out. ¡°Boro¡­ Where¡¯s Boro?¡± Sabo blinked, confused. ¡°Boro?¡± he repeated, leaning closer. ¡°What do you mean? What¡¯s Boro? . . . Who¡¯s Boro?¡± For a moment, Vitomir didn¡¯t answer. His gaze flickered weakly, unfocused, and then it clicked in Sabo¡¯s mind¡ªthe knight. The Morduin knight who had crashed onto the ship¡¯s deck. The one he had dragged below deck at Vitomir¡¯s insistence. Who had given him the scroll that contained . . . that thing. Sabo¡¯s expression darkened as he remembered the mangled body of the knight, the blood-soaked chaos that followed the arrival of the other two masked knights of Mordua, and the flames. He looked back at Vitomir and shook his head slowly. ¡°He . . . he didn¡¯t make it,¡± Sabo said, his voice low. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Vitomir didn¡¯t react at first. Then his eyes closed, and his face slackened, a silent resignation settling over him. ¡°I see,¡± he murmured, almost to himself. Sabo hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The question hung heavy between them¡ªhow had Vitomir known the knight? But before he could ask, his thoughts turned again to the strange object that Boro had given him. ¡°Boro gave me something,¡± Sabo said hesitantly, watching Vitomir¡¯s face for any flicker of recognition. ¡°It¡¯s . . . it¡¯s strange. A small scroll. The other knights, the ones chasing him¡ªthey wanted it. I think it¡¯s why he came here.¡± Vitomir¡¯s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze sharpening just enough to focus on Sabo. ¡°He mentioned something about a tower,¡± Sabo continued. ¡°Hecate¡¯s Tower? Does that mean anything to you?¡± At the mention of the name, Vitomir¡¯s expression shifted. His brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he repeated the words under his breath. ¡°Hecate¡¯s Tower . . . Of course¡­!¡± The pause that followed felt like an eternity. Sabo watched Vitomir intently, his stomach knotting as the older man¡¯s breathing slowed, growing more uneven. He reached out instinctively, gripping Vitomir¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Vitomir, stay with me! Please!¡± Vitomir blinked slowly, his gaze distant but resolute. ¡°So that¡¯s what they¡¯re after,¡± he said, his voice a rasping whisper. His eyes fixed on Sabo, and for the first time in what felt like hours, there was a spark of clarity in his expression. ¡°Listen to me, boy. You take that gift from Boro. You take it and use it.¡± ¡°Use it?¡± Sabo echoed, unsure if he wanted to understand. ¡°Use it to become stronger,¡± Vitomir said, his voice steadying despite his obvious pain. ¡°Be a thorn in their side¡ªboth the Empire and that damned Church that pulls the strings from the shadows. Use their own damned weapon against them. Find the Tower, Sabo. Find Hecate¡¯s Tower, and stop them. Whatever they want . . . it must be at the top of the Tower. You . . . you¡¯ve got to. You¡¯ve got to do it. I¡¯m too damned old.¡± Sabo¡¯s mind reeled, his thoughts spinning out of control. He¡¯d always known that Vitomir had a past, a history of military service with the Crown Coalition Forces that he rarely spoke of, but this? This was something else entirely. The calm, unassuming man who had raised orphans in some quiet backwater in the Far Country was somehow tied to the imperial-backed Church? It was a fact so far from the reality Sabo had lived for so many years. He couldn¡¯t comprehend what he was hearing. And this wasn¡¯t just some kind of rag-tag resistance effort. No, this was something so important that two Morduin knights were willing to slaughter everyone aboard this ship to obtain it. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Vitomir,¡± Sabo began, his voice shaking. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s this Tower? I . . . I need to know what you¡¯ve gotten us involved in.¡± But Vitomir didn¡¯t answer. His head lolled back against the wall, his breathing shallow once more. The spark of clarity in his eyes faded, replaced by exhaustion. Sabo gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on Vitomir¡¯s shoulder. His mind was a whirlwind of questions and half-formed thoughts, but one thing was clear: this Tower¡ªHecate¡¯s Tower¡ªheld something important. Something the Morduin Order wanted. Whatever this scroll was, whatever Boro had entrusted to him, it was bigger than he could comprehend. Bigger than he was ready for. Jebati, he silently cursed in the Olenish tongue. The voice came unbidden, slipping into Sabo¡¯s mind like a dagger into flesh, sharp and grating. < I like the sound of this Tower,> it purred. Its words oozed with hunger, each syllable coiling around his thoughts. < The old mortal¡¯s plan has potential. If there will be more of those priests at this Tower of his, then there will be plenty of powerful sorcerers to Devour. I demand you take me to the Tower now, servant. Go! > ¡°Shut up!¡± Sabo snapped aloud, his voice harsh and cutting through the oppressive stillness of the cockpit. Vitomir stirred at the sudden noise, his heavy-lidded eyes cracking open to give Sabo a bewildered look. ¡°What?¡± the older man rasped, his voice weak, barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing. Sabo stiffened, realizing he¡¯d spoken without thinking. ¡°Nothing. I¡¯m sorry,¡± he muttered, but Vitomir¡¯s expression shifted. His brow furrowed, and a faint spark of realization flickered behind his exhausted gaze. ¡°The Divine Mark,¡± Vitomir murmured. His breathing hitched, and he grimaced, pressing a trembling hand against his bloodied chest. ¡°Sabo . . . which one is it? Which one was Boro able to extract and steal away from those bastards?¡± ¡°Which one?¡± Sabo repeated, frowning. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± But Vitomir¡¯s face twisted with pain, and he slumped further against the wall. His voice was little more than a whisper now. ¡°The Marks . . . of the Divine . . .¡± ¡°Stop talking,¡± Sabo said, his tone firm but tinged with panic. ¡°You need to rest. You¡¯ll be fine, alright? You can¡¯t die on me, you old bastard. You owe it to me to survive this.¡± Vitomir tried to speak again, but his strength failed him, his eyes fluttering shut as he slipped back into uneasy unconsciousness. Sabo let out a shaky breath he hadn¡¯t realized he had been holding, his hands clenching into fists at his sides so tightly his palms hurt. He couldn¡¯t think about the strange words or the ominous questions. Not now. They would need to wait for Vitomir¡¯s recovery. Then. Then, he¡¯d get the answers he sought from the old man. ¡°Touching,¡± a voice interrupted from behind him. ¡°But I was trying to tell you that now may not be the ideal time to check on the wounded.¡± Sabo whirled around, glaring at the white-haired woman standing in the doorway of the cockpit. Her red eyes gleamed in the dim light. Though her expression was otherwise neutral, those eyes were as sharp as cold steel. ¡°And why is that?¡± he asked, his voice edged with irritation. She tilted her head, her expression still casual despite the tension in the air. ¡°Because we¡¯ve got a bigger problem to deal with.¡± Sabo narrowed his eyes. ¡°And what might that be?¡± he asked, gesturing to the wreckage around them. ¡°We¡¯ve crash-landed in the middle of gods-know-where, without a skyfin. With numerous injured, and limited rations. Which problem could you possibly mean?¡± As if in answer, the sound hit them¡ªa deep, unnatural roar, layered with a thousand monstrous cries like bestial distortions of a sea of people screaming in agonized pain. It was a cacophony of anguish and rage, a sound that made Sabo¡¯s stomach lurch. He froze, his heart pounding as the noise reverberated through the trees. He knew that sound. He had heard something like it before, back in the Green Sea. It was a sound that haunted his dreams, the sound of something that should not exist. Maldrath. The Maldrath horde were figments clawed from the fabric of humanity¡¯s nightmares and given physical form. When he and Vitomir were first captured by the Empire, they were placed into a work camp within the Green Sea. And in the blackness of night, the forest would come to life with a symphony of horrors. There were always fewer of them the following morning. Something would feed on them¡­ Without another word, he rushed past the woman, his legs shaky but moving on instinct. She followed close behind, her footsteps light and quick. The deck was a mess of smoke and flickering torchlight. Prisoners clustered together in uneasy groups, their faces pale and tense. Some were pointing toward the edge of the tree line surrounding the makeshift clearing their airship had formed upon its crash landing. Their voices were hushed and frantic. Sabo followed their gazes and felt his breath catch. From the shadows of the trees, a tide of inky black masses emerged, their shapes shifting and writhing as they pushed through the undergrowth. Trees cracked and splintered under their force, the forest itself seeming to bend and break in their wake. And then there were the eyes. Hundreds of them, glowing yellow orbs, burning like embers in the dark. A vigil drawn to a gigantic coffin. They blinked and flickered, each one a window into a seething, otherworldly hunger. The white-haired woman stepped up beside him, her arms crossed, her expression grim but calm. Her fingers brushed across the smooth voidstone collar around her neck. ¡°That,¡± she said simply. That¡¯s indeed a bigger problem, he couldn¡¯t help but silently concede. ¡°Gods dammit¡­¡± 11. Maldrath Chapter 11 Maldrath The first of the Maldrath broke through the tree line, and Sabo felt a chill crawl up his spine. They moved like living shadows given weight, a terrible wrongness in the way their bodies twisted and coiled, inky masses that defied natural form. The largest shade stepped into the flickering torchlight, its hulking silhouette solidifying into something that might have once been a bear. But no bear looked like this. Its body was swollen with grotesque strength, patches of black silhouette mimicking matted fur clinging to the rippling, jet surface of its inky flesh. From its back, a writhing nest of shadowy snakes emerged, their bodies moving independently of the mass, their heads snapping and twisting, each with glowing yellow eyes. They writhed like maggots feasting on a long-dead corpse, spilling over the thing¡¯s massive shoulders. Sabo¡¯s mouth went dry. The thing let out a guttural snarl, the sound low and grating, vibrating through the deck like a warning. The smaller shades followed close behind, spilling from the darkness like ink poured into water. Wolves¡ªor at least, something that vaguely resembled wolves. Their shapes were twisted, deformed. Long limbs ended in jagged claws that dragged against the earth, leaving gouges in their wake. Their bodies were gaunt, almost skeletal, and their eyes burned with a sickly yellow glow, their hunger plain to see. The airship, smoldering and broken, was clearly the only source of life for miles¡ªa beacon of warmth and blood in what had to be a frozen forest, picked dry by these miasma-born monstrosities. The Maldrath moved with singular purpose, their movements eerily silent except for the occasional snap of a twig beneath their weight. And yet, they had not been concerned with concealing their movement. Why should these predators fear such weak, pathetic prey? The prisoners on deck froze, their voices falling to whispers, then to silence. No one dared to breathe. ¡°What are those things?¡± one man whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°Maldrath,¡± the white-haired woman said, her tone as grim as the night itself. ¡°And they¡¯re hungry. It must be our lucky day. Freed from the shackles of our bondage, only to run into the mouth of the umbral tide.¡± While it sounded like a joke to Sabo, the woman¡¯s voice was so flat and monotonous. The shadow-wrought snakes on the bear Maldrath¡¯s back released a torrent of cries. They sounded unsettlingly like the tormented screams of children. A man to Sabo¡¯s left started sobbing. Out of the corner of his eye Sabo could see the man¡¯s trousers darken with urine. Another man dropped an oar he had been holding as a weapon. The oar clattered against the deck floor as the man scurried away from the edge of the deck, frantically crying to himself as he ran to head below deck. This does not bode well, Sabo thought. Sabo¡¯s pulse thundered in his ears as he scanned the horde. They moved with an almost fluid unity, the mass of wolves spreading out to encircle the wreckage while the bear-like abomination lumbered closer, its bulk casting long shadows across the deck. ¡°Looks like this group have evolved some pack tactics,¡± the woman added, glancing at Sabo. Her apathetic red eyes locked onto his own. ¡°They might kill the strongest first, then take their time picking apart the stragglers.¡± ¡°Fantastic,¡± Sabo muttered, gripping the railing to steady himself. His body still ached from the crash and the battle with the two knights, but the sight of the advancing sea of Maldrath was enough to sharpen his senses. He had only ever seen so many of them twice in his life¡ªwhen he became an orphan, and later when he lost Solstice. The bear-shade let out another snarl, the snakes on its back hissing in unison, this time the rattling cackles of a group of hags. One of the wolf-shades darted forward, its body rippling unnaturally as it closed the distance between the tree line and the ship. The bear monstrosity snarled again, and the wolf-like Maldrath stopped in its tracks, looping back to take its position. That¡¯s interesting, Sabo noted. Sabo¡¯s mind raced. The prisoners were too scattered, too disoriented to fight. They didn¡¯t have weapons¡ªhell, most of them barely had the strength to stand. The white-haired woman nudged him with her elbow, her red eyes gleaming in the dim light. ¡°Got a plan, hero?¡± ¡°Working on it,¡± Sabo snapped, his gaze locked on the advancing shades. ¡°Better work fast,¡± she said, nodding toward the bear-shade as it let out an ear-splitting roar, the snakes on its back snapping toward the ship. Sabo clenched his fists, feeling the faint pulse of the maul within him, a familiar, unsettling presence. The voice of the entity slithered into his mind, dark and eager. < How convenient that they came to us! Now, my vassal, we must not let such fortuitous events go to waste. > Sabo swallowed hard, trying his best to ignore the voice. He made his way toward the side of the ship, where many of the prisoners had gathered. Most stood huddled in loose clusters, their eyes darting nervously toward the forest as the glow of the shades¡¯ yellow eyes grew brighter in the ever-darkening forest. Others were less frozen by fear, scrambling below deck in desperate attempts to find refuge. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. As Sabo moved, he realized what the earlier flurry of activity had been. The prisoners hadn¡¯t been idle after the crash. Much of the damage to the ship¡¯s hull had been hastily patched, wooden planks hammered across gaps and splits in the hull. Some areas were little more than crude barricades of broken parts of the ship and other debris. The torches on deck had been positioned strategically, their flickering light casting long shadows but keeping the worst of the darkness at bay. And then there were the weapons. Makeshift spears fashioned from broken railings, knives crafted from shards of metal, and even a few rough approximations of clubs. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was clear the prisoners had done their best to prepare for whatever nightmare had followed them there. Near the bow of the ship, Sabo spotted a man standing atop an overturned crate, holding the warden¡¯s sword. The blade gleamed faintly in the torchlight, its polished steel a stark contrast to the man¡¯s rough, tattered clothing. His voice rose above the murmurs of the prisoners, sharp and commanding. ¡°Hold your ground!¡± the man barked, gesturing toward the barricades. ¡°Stick together, and don¡¯t panic! If you scatter, you¡¯re as good as dead! We must work together if we¡¯re going to survive!¡± Sabo paused, watching the man work. He was doing a decent job, all things considered. His words were clear, firm, and practical, and while fear still lingered in the faces of the prisoners, many of them looked to him with a glimmer of hope. But even as the man spoke, Sabo could feel it¡ªthe creeping pressure in the air, the insidious weight that pressed down on his chest like a vice. Then, just as he expected, it crept into the back of his mind¡ªa primal fear, one that whispered to his instincts to freeze, to stop moving, to curl up and pray the predators in the dark would pass him by. He swallowed hard, his fists clenching. He knew this feeling, even if not well. He¡¯d felt it before, deep in the Green Sea, harvesting aether sap, as well as before that, near Solstice. The Maldrath exuded this aura of fear. It paralyzed their prey, made humans easy pickings for the monsters that prowled the dark. But this¡ªthis was stronger than anything he¡¯d ever felt. Almost anything you¡¯ve felt. His mind summoned images of the night Solstice had been destroyed. He scanned the forest¡¯s edge, the glowing yellow eyes multiplying like fireflies. At least fifty of the Maldrath, maybe more, their forms shifting and writhing in the shadows. These weren¡¯t the lesser shades he¡¯d encountered before, the fragmented, half-formed beings that occasionally wandered the countryside. These were fully realized abominations, their presence suffocating, and their intent clear. How are there so many? Sabo thought, his heart pounding. It wasn¡¯t normal for shades to gather like this. Not in these numbers. Not with this kind of force. A dungeon, he realized. It made too much sense. Deeps¡ªor dungeons¡ªwere pits of concentrated miasma, cursed places where the natural order had been corrupted. They spawned monsters, gave rise to abominations like the Maldrath. If one had been left unchecked nearby, it could have festered for years, spilling out its corruption until the forest itself was crawling with horrors. The man with the warden¡¯s sword stepped down from the crate, walking among the prisoners and speaking in quieter tones now. Sabo watched as he stopped to place a hand on a young woman¡¯s shoulder, giving her a reassuring nod before moving to the next. He was keeping the group together, for now. But Sabo knew the truth. They¡¯ll tear through the barricades like paper. Those weapons won¡¯t matter. They¡¯ll slaughter everyone. There was little mundane, non-magical weapons could do to a Maldrath. The aura of fear pressed down harder, as if the shades themselves knew his thoughts. Sabo gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving. He needed a plan, and he needed it fast. Sabo made his way toward the man at the front of the ragtag group of prisoners, weaving through the clusters of frightened faces and makeshift weapons. The closer he got, the clearer the man¡¯s presence became¡ªa hulking figure of muscle and grit, standing firm against the fear that seemed to buckle the others. He wasn¡¯t tall, not much taller than Sabo, but there was a solidity to him, the kind of weight that came not from size but from sheer determination. His wild brown hair hung loose around his shoulders, tangling with the edges of a long, unkempt beard streaked with ash and dirt. His arms, thick with muscle despite the gauntness of malnourishment, flexed as he adjusted his grip on the warden¡¯s sword. The blade gleamed faintly in the flickering light of the torches, its polished steel a stark contrast to the battered shield he carried in his other hand. The shield had clearly been fashioned from the staves of a destroyed barrel, its edges jagged and uneven, but the man held it like it was forged by the finest smith. Around his neck was the unmistakable voidstone collar, its dark sheen catching the firelight. Sabo couldn¡¯t help but notice it. A Soulsinger. Just like the woman with white hair. The man¡¯s gaze was fixed on the hundreds of burning eyes in the distance. His face was set, his lips pressed into a hard line as he waited for the inevitable. Sabo quickened his pace, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he approached. ¡°Do you have a plan?¡± Sabo asked, his voice low but steady. The man turned his head slightly, his eyes¡ªpiercing and pale green¡ªlocking onto Sabo. There was a depth in his stare, a kind of raw, unshakable focus that made Sabo feel small despite his own growing resolve. ¡°A plan?¡± the man said, his voice gruff, carrying the rough edges of a life spent shouting over the noise of labor. He let out a dry, humorless laugh. ¡°I¡¯m lucky to have enough bodies to hold the tide back for a moment. A plan would be asking for miracles.¡± He gestured toward the hastily constructed barricades, the prisoners huddling behind them with their cobbled-together weapons and trembling hands. ¡°We¡¯ve prepared as much as we can,¡± he continued. ¡°Boarded the ship, fashioned what we could out of scraps, set up the lights. There¡¯s nothing else to do now but wait to meet our fate, and die with one last act of defiance.¡± I think a better act of defiance would be actually getting out of this situation alive, Sabo couldn¡¯t help but think. < I agree, > the entity growled. < While he seems stronger than you, my pathetic vassal, his will is weak. > ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered. Sabo followed the grizzly man¡¯s gaze to the forest¡¯s edge, where the glowing yellow eyes of the shades burned like embers. The horde seemed to ripple and shift as one, their inky forms twisting unnaturally, almost as if testing the resolve of those aboard the wreckage. And then, all at once, the forest went still. The change was immediate and absolute. The air grew thick and heavy, the kind of silence that made every breath feel deafening. There was no birdsong, no rustling of leaves, no chirping of insects. Even the crackling of the torches seemed to dull, the light from their flames flickering weakly. The man straightened, his grip tightening on the hilt of the sword. His eyes never left the treeline. Sound flooded back all at once. The bear monstrosity roared. And then, the Maldrath charged. 12. Voidstone Chapter 12 Voidstone The Maldrath horde surged forward, their monstrous forms blotting out what light was left, a living tide of hunger and hate. The twisted wolf-like creatures slammed into the side of the ship with bone-rattling force, their claws scraping against the battered hull as they clawed for purchase. The prisoners hurled makeshift projectiles¡ªsplintered wood, rusted scrap metal, even rocks ripped from the ship¡¯s ballast¡ªbut they bounced harmlessly off the inky masses or sank into shadowy flesh only to be expelled as the wounds closed with unnatural speed. Sabo knew this futility all too well. He had seen how useless mundane weapons were against these things. Their regenerative abilities rendered cuts and blunt trauma meaningless unless dealt with in overwhelming force or through the power of aether. The projectiles tossed over the side of the ship by the prisoners were like pebbles tossed into a storm. His heart pounded. Instinctively, he reached inward, calling to the thing that lurked within him. The entity known as the God-Eater. A searing heat surged through his veins, molten and electric, twisting his muscles and bones. His right arm spasmed and then parted unnaturally, bone and flesh opening as the maul materialized, tearing through his flesh with sickening precision and forming comfortably in his hand¡¯s grip. The wounds didn¡¯t bleed; they glistened with dark, otherworldly energy as the weapon fused into his grip, solid and cold. As soon as the maul had been summoned, his arm was whole again. Sabo didn¡¯t think he would ever adjusted to the sensation of his body producing the weapon. The ship shuddered under the onslaught, but the structure held, if only just. The wolf-shaped shades weren¡¯t deterred. Instead, they shifted tactics, using their own bodies as platforms. First, the large wave slammed against the ship¡¯s haul again, but this time sticking to the crashed ship¡¯s side and forming what could only be described as a ramp of compressed shadow. Then, the remaining horde charged, running up the Maldrath-formed ramp in smaller, coordinated waves. As they neared the deck, their claws dug into the battered planks, dragging them upward like spiders scaling a web. ¡°Shields!¡± the leader roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. A line of prisoners surged forward, lifting makeshift shields fashioned from barrel lids, scrap wood, and bits of metal lashed together. The Maldrath collided with the barrier, the force of impact rattling the defenders, but they held firm¡ªfor a heartbeat. The second wave came harder, faster. The shades slammed into the weakened shields, splintering them like kindling. Screams erupted as shadowy maws burst through the gaps, dragging men and women down in flashes of teeth and claws. Sabo moved without thinking. His body instinctively reached out for the aether emanating from the sap reserves below deck, still flush with the magical energy, and drew it in. The power filled his limbs with strength and his mind raced with the need to act. An anger erupted in the pit of his stomach. The maul was an extension of his rage, a blur of dark steel and violent force. He swung with brutal precision, the weapon carving through the Maldrath with ease. Unlike the futile strikes of the prisoner¡¯s makeshift weapons and projectiles, the maul left no room for regeneration. Each impact shattered the creatures, dissolving them into wisps of dark mist and shrieks of unnatural agony. For the first time since the battle began, hope flickered in Sabo¡¯s chest. The maul worked. It killed them¡ªtruly killed them¡ªlike an Ivaldi-wrought relics or the touch of magic. He gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the haft. If this was his weapon, his curse, then so be it. He would use it to survive. The sound came like a hammer striking bone¡ªsharp, final. From the other side of the ship, the screeching chorus of the Maldrath, a guttural chorus that sent a shudder down Sabo¡¯s spine, mixing with screams of fear and agony. The wolves had flanked them, shadows slamming against the opposite side of the wrecked ship, clawed limbs scrambling for purchase. Panic swelled among the prisoners, another ragged scream of fear drowning beneath the monstrous howls. The Maldrath wasted no time, setting themselves onto the vulnerable humans. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Sabo¡¯s mind raced. Too many. Even with the maul, there were too many of them for him to fend off at once. The entity¡¯s mouth split wide in a grin, jagged teeth gleaming with dark ichor. ¡°Nonsense,¡± it hissed through the weapon. ¡°Let them come. Let them all come.¡± Its tongue extended from the head of the weapon, as though licking its lips. The metal surface twisted, forming a crimson, glowing eye with a black slit-like pupil at its center. The maul¡¯s words stoked the flames of anger in Sabo¡¯s belly, but as he so often did during his time working as a blacksmith¡¯s assistant, he controlled those flames. His gaze snapped towards the man leading the prisoners in their futile fight for survival, the bearded man wielding the warden¡¯s sword, his muscles straining as he fought to hold the line. Around his neck, the voidstone collar glinted faintly, a shackle on his Soulsinging powers. A thought struck Sabo like lightning. Could it work? ¡°Can you eat voidstone?¡± Sabo muttered to the maul, swinging at a shade that lunged too close. The entity laughed, a sound like rusted chains dragging across stone. ¡°Fool! I can Devour anything!¡± Sabo¡¯s heart raced. ¡°Look at him,¡± he barked, pointing to the leader. ¡°Can you Devour his collar . . . without killing him?¡± The maul growled, considering. Then, reluctantly: ¡°Yes.¡± Without hesitation, Sabo sprinted toward the man, dodging snapping maws and flailing limbs. The deck had broken out into a chaotic pit of battle as prisoners were chased down and slaughtered, or attempt to fend of Maldrath as long as possible. One of the wolf-shaped Maldrath leapt, landing between Sabo and where the collared man was engaged with one of its ilk. It growled, though the low sound was distorted, and sounded eerily like a human crying. It opened its mouth then, its bottom jaw extending unnaturally wide. Within its mouth was a large, glowing eye, as though the wolf-creature had swallowed a miniature moon. The eye pulsed and the air between him and the wolf quaked. Sabo¡¯s [Aura Sense] instinctively triggered and he could see the air shimmer. Then, he felt something slam into his mind. The sudden urge to drop his weapon and curl into a tight ball bombarded him. He gritted his teeth and pushed back against it. If I wasn¡¯t going to let this maul toy with my mind, what makes you think you stand a chance? A guttural scream of rage tore through his throat as he charged the Maldrath, lifting the maul high and to the side. If the creature was surprised, it didn¡¯t have time to show it. With a brutal swing, the head of the maul met it right between its ears, slamming its jaws closed before it was turned to black dust beneath the weapon¡¯s might. A pulsing feeling filled Sabo¡¯s mind and a notification flashed in the corner of his vision. [Maldrath (Class: Walker) Devoured: 11] [New Ability: Aura of Fear] Sabo didn¡¯t pause. He blinked, dismissing the notification. His heart hammered as he dashed through the dark particles that hung briefly in the air before fading to nothingness. He skidded to a halt beside the collared leader, breath ragged. ¡°I can get that thing off you,¡± he shouted over the din. The man¡¯s eyes flashed, distrust mingling with desperation. ¡°And why the hell should I trust you?¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re about to die with it on.¡± That earned a grim chuckle. After a beat, the man nodded sharply. ¡°Do it.¡± Sabo lifted the maul, its grotesque mouth widening, dripping ichor. He felt something quake deep within him, then a notification flickered at the edge of his senses. [DEVOUR] The maul¡¯s tongue lashed out, sinewy and slick, wrapping around the voidstone collar. The stone hissed and smoked as it disintegrated, the fragments pulled into the maw with a sickening crunch. Black acrid smoke billowed from its jagged teeth as it swallowed the last piece. The grizzly man gasped, stumbling back, free hand instinctively going to his bare neck. Then he grinned. ¡°Name¡¯s Maro. Thanks, stranger. I owe you one if we survive this night.¡± Before Sabo could respond, there came a sharp tug on his sleeve. He turned and looked down to see the white-haired woman, her crimson eyes burning into his. She didn¡¯t speak. Just pointed to her own collar. Sabo nodded. If they were going to survive, they needed all the help they could get. ¡°Hold still.¡± The maul hungrily latched onto her collar, the same dark process unfolding. As the voidstone crumbled, she inhaled deeply, like someone tasting air for the first time in years. Power surged around her, raw and vibrant. Sabo¡¯s [Aura Vision] flared to life on its own to see the immense amount of aether the woman was drawing from beneath the ship. She shone like a firefly under a cloudy night sky. The air thickened as both she and Maro drew in aether, the invisible force crackling in the space between heartbeats. Then, like a dam bursting, they unleashed it. 13. Freed Chapter 13 Freed A burst of wind exploded from Maro¡¯s body, a concussive force that knocked several of the wolf-shaped Maldrath sprawling across the deck. The creatures yelped and snarled, shadowy forms twisting mid-air before slamming into the ship¡¯s railings or tumbling overboard into the darkness below. Maro stood tall, his newly freed neck glistening with sweat, the remnants of the voidstone collar still smoldering at his feet. He thrust his hand toward another Maldrath, his fingers splayed wide. A violent gust answered his command, slamming into the creature with such force it flew off the deck, vanishing into the abyss beyond the ship¡¯s edge. Sabo, awestruck by the display, activated his [Aura Vision]. The world shifted, colors bleeding into vibrant streams of energy. Maro''s aura blazed like a tempest, threads of brilliant jade intertwined with streaks of white, pulsing through his limbs and channeling into the roaring gales he conjured. The wind wasn''t just air; it was infused with his very essence, an extension of his will made manifest. The barrage of Maro¡¯s aura in the air was overwhelming and Sabo forced his [Aura Vision] to drop. Maro moved with precision, sweeping his arms in fluid arcs, each gesture birthing another surge of wind that propelled the Maldrath away. Sabo struggled to maintain his footing, the powerful gusts tugging at his clothes, threatening to hurl him across the deck. He dropped into a low stance, anchoring himself as best he could. Not all the prisoners were as fortunate. Several were caught off guard, their makeshift weapons and shields torn from their grasp. Some were lifted entirely off the ground, tumbling like ragdolls until they managed to grasp onto railings, ropes, or the jagged remnants of the ship''s damaged structure. Despite the chaos, there was a growing sense of hope, the tide of fear ebbing with every Maldrath sent hurtling into the void. Sabo clenched his grip on the maul, feeling its dark presence thrumming with approval. The battle was far from over, but for the first time since the attack began, victory no longer felt like a distant dream. Sabo felt a stabbing pain at the back of his mind, like there were two clawed hands digging into his brain. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his entire will against the entity¡¯s attempt to take control. ¡°If you don¡¯t stop that right now, you won¡¯t be eating anything!¡± he hissed. The maul¡¯s physical mouth grumbled, but the sensation immediately ceased. A burst of wind exploded from Maro¡¯s body, knocking several of the wolf-shaped Maldrath into the air like rag dolls. With a fierce cry, he thrust his hand towards another, sending it flying off the deck, its shadowy form dissipating midair. Sabo, wide-eyed, activated his Aura Vision. Vivid streams of Maro¡¯s aura infused the gusts, a dazzling display of raw, untamed power channeled through sheer will. Maro continued his onslaught, masterfully controlling the wind, shaping it into cutting gales that shredded through the encroaching Maldrath. A subtle pulsing sensation in his mind was accompanied by script in the corner of his vision, indicating that his [Aura Vision] was activated. What he saw was terrifying. The bursts of wind Maro was launching from his hands were gigantic scythes of aura, slicing through Maldrath, which exploded in bursts of dark particles. Even at his distance, the force was overwhelming, a tempest of fury that kept the creatures at bay. Sabo struggled to maintain his footing, the deck a whirlwind of chaos. Amidst the storm, Sabo noticed the white-haired young woman had stepped onto the banister at the ship¡¯s side, balancing effortlessly as if the gale were nothing more than a gentle breeze. The air around her crackled ominously. With a slow, deliberate motion, she ran her fingers through the air, slicing it open as though it were fabric. Jagged, claw-like tears appeared, glowing with searing red energy that escaped the tears in the air like crimson electricity. The rips widened as skeletal fingers emerged, pulling the tears apart with creaking resolve. White smoke billowed from the gashes in reality, mingling with the black smoke that still curled from the God-Eater maul. From within the swirling mist stepped a colossal figure¡ªa twelve-foot-tall skeleton with crimson bones, though its skull was an ethereal fusion of white smoke and bleached bone. Red and white tendrils of smoky essence snaked from the back of its skull and along the edges of its crimson frame, flickering like ghostly flames. The monstrous entity loomed behind the young woman, its burning coal-like eyes scanning the battlefield with a predatory gleam. The wolf-shaped Maldrath faltered, their charge hesitating under the oppressive presence of this new nightmare. The battlefield fell into a brief, dreadful silence, broken only by the distant roar of the still-advancing horde. ¡°Jebati!¡± the Olenish curse spilled from Sabo¡¯s mouth. ¡°What in the hells is that thing?¡± The entity within him grumbled with hunger, the eye in the head of the maul glowing with a latent ferocity. Sabo knew it wanted nothing more than to devour the power it was witnessing that very moment. Heat rolled off the crimson skeleton in suffocating waves, distorting the air around it, turning blackened leaves to ash before they even touched the forest floor. The Maldrath recoiled, their once-relentless charge faltering as if their hunger had finally found something it couldn¡¯t swallow. But there was no escape. The towering figure leapt from the ship with impossible grace, its feet slamming into the writhing mass below. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. For a moment, the forest was still. Then the screaming began. Not human screams. Something worse. The cries of the Maldrath were a choir of agony, guttural and shrill, echoing through the trees as their inky flesh shriveled and burned away. They scattered, bodies melting mid-stride, their twisted, malformed features cracking apart in waves of black cinders. Even those that managed to turn tail didn¡¯t make it far. The heat had already done its work, searing through their essence, hollowing them from the inside out until they crumbled into nothing. Black dust drifted away on invisible winds as they disappeared. Sabo watched, the God-Eater maul heavy in his grip, its jagged mouth curled into something that might have been a grin. He could feel the thing inside him stirring, stretching, delighted by the carnage. The mouth on the weapon¡¯s head parted. ¡°Go, my servant. Join the slaughter.¡± Sabo exhaled sharply through his nose. ¡°Do I really need to?¡± The entity rumbled, not quite a laugh, not quite a growl. ¡°What a foolish question! Cowardice does not suit you. There is strength to be taken here. Power to be Devoured.¡± I think cowardice suits me just fine, Sabo thought. He shifted his stance, watching the battlefield unfold. It wasn¡¯t much of a battle anymore. Maro¡¯s winds howled through the deck, tossing the few remaining Maldrath like ragdolls before the white-haired girl¡¯s monstrosity finished them off. The thing waded through the fray in the forest clearing like a god of old, heat radiating from its bones, its clawed hands slicing through shades as though they were made of wet parchment. Those that still had enough sense¡ªor luck¡ªto run were already ghosts in the trees, their yellow eyes flickering out one by one. Strangely, the heat from the skeletal creature did not ignite the surrounding brush. Sabo ran his fingers along the shaft of the maul, contemplating. He had faced enough Maldrath to last a lifetime. Had seen what they did to people who weren¡¯t fast enough, weren¡¯t lucky enough. He should¡¯ve been grateful to have a chance to crush them, to erase even one of the horrors that had haunted him all his life¡ªin the Green Sea, in Solstice, even earlier, robbing him of a family. But right now? Right now, he felt like a man who had arrived at the slaughterhouse five minutes after the pigs had already been gutted. Still, the entity purred in his mind, attempting to stoke the embers of vengeance within him. Sabo sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡± The bear-shaped Maldrath loomed at the edge of the tree line, its form a writhing mass of shifting, ink-dark sinew. The snake-like appendages that slithered across its back shrieked in chorus, a cacophony of human and animal wails that clawed into the marrow of Sabo¡¯s soul. The air seemed to contract before a pulse erupted from the bear-like Maldrath. The pulse hit Sabo, causing him to stumble back. Then, the wolves began to boil. Their shadow-flesh bubbled and seethed, their twisted, half-formed faces losing all distinction as their bodies collapsed into slick pools of night-black sludge. The skeleton demon summon by the white-haired woman seemed just as surprised as Sabo felt, even if it did have a face, as the lesser Maldrath around it melted away. The inky substance spread, drawn toward an unseen force, its tendrils slithering together, coalescing. The forest groaned as something vast took shape, the dark tide rising, swirling, becoming something far greater than the sum of its parts. A wolf¡ªif a wolf could be born from nightmare¡ªformed again from the massive pool of darkness. A mountain of ebon muscle and shadow, broad as a siege tower, eyes like twin pits of smoldering hunger. Its maw gaped, a yawning abyss that drank the light, and from within, the echoes of every dying howl, every whimper of prey caught in a predator¡¯s teeth. Its shoulders bunched, its talons carved trenches in the earth, and it loosed a roar that sent the treetops shivering, the very ground quaking beneath its fury. The white-haired woman did not flinch. She merely raised one hand, fingers snapping open like a claw, and the rifts she had carved into the air flared with red-hot hunger. The skeletal giant she had summoned, a twelve-foot wraith of scorched bone and trailing white smoke, turned its burning gaze upon the newly formed colossus of shadow. Its shoulders rolled, its limbs creaked, radiating waves of blistering heat that made the very air shimmer around it. Then it leapt, dashing forward with impossible speed. A streak of crimson and white, it crashed into the umbral wolf with the force of a meteor, sending a concussive shockwave across the battlefield. The wolf staggered back, growling, as its inky flesh blackened and peeled where the heat touched it, but it did not retreat. It lunged, meeting the demon in a clash of fangs and clawed fingers, of heat and darkness. The ground split beneath them, the ship rocked upon its moorings, and the sky itself seemed to dim as their war ignited. Maro, meanwhile, continued to be a force unto himself. His laughter was lost in the gale that swirled around him, a tempest of his own making. His arms wove through the air, directing the storm, sending razor-sharp gusts lashing through the remaining lesser shades. They were shredded, torn apart, hurled from the ship¡¯s deck like ragdolls. His wind was a shield, forming a barrier around the survivors that huddled as close to the leader as possible. With his arms outstretched, Maro pushed back the tide of horror inch by inch. This is madness, Sabo thought. his maul-entity mused within his mind, A presence, near the tree line, drew in all of Sabo¡¯s senses, both old and new. He locked eyes with the twin-burning orbs of the Maldrath bear, and his gut twisted like something had latched onto his insides and was pulling him forward. A strange energy emanated from the hulking bear-like creature. Something Sabo didn¡¯t fully understand and couldn¡¯t explain. This was it. It was the thing pulling the strings. The master of this horde. Instinct alone told Sabo that if this thing died, the rest of the horde would quickly follow. So, he hefted the God-Eater maul onto his shoulder, its jagged iron mouth still dripping with the remains of the voidstone collars it had Devoured. ¡°I hope you¡¯re over that little stomach ache of yours, because I need your power once more,¡± he muttered. In response, the maul coughed out another stream of black smoke. The pull in his core became unbearable. Like gravity itself had shifted, and all roads now led to the bear. Towards a singular enemy. A singular target of destruction. A thing to be devoured. His body tensed, coiled, his legs bending at the knee. Then, he pushed off the deck¡¯s edge. 14. Bear Boss Chapter 14 Bear Boss He fell like a stone. The world howled around him. The black tide of Maldrath churned below, a mass of inky bodies writhing and shifting as their master called on them to continue to fight. The great bear stood at the center, a mound of darkness covered in writhing, twisting snakes. Their mouths opened and closed as if tasting the air, but no hisses came. Instead, the sound of distant wailing filled the space around it¡ªa chorus of voices that did not belong in this world. They sounded like the dead. The entity within him stirred. ¡°YES. THIS IS GOOD.¡± The weapon bellowed in joy. ¡°GO, MY SERVANT. GIVE ME MORE.¡± Sabo grit his teeth. ¡°Shut up.¡± The entity chuckled, low and pleased. It liked when he fought back. The sick bastard. The ground rushed up to meet him. He drew aether into his body, letting the still so-new sensation flood his veins. A haptic sensation tingled in the front of his mind as he processed his situation in an instant, letting the aura surging within him fuel him. He activated [Steel Sense]. The notification of silver script flashed in the corner of his vision. [Skill: Steel Sense] [Uses Remaining: 8 of 10] Sabo¡¯s senses came to life with an awareness of the metal fastenings built into the entire side of the airship, holding it together. He willed his mind to focus on all of them at once. The sense was weaker than when he had sensed the steel armor and weapons of the Morduin knight he had fought. It didn¡¯t matter. He mentally slammed the command to use the spell [Push/Pull Steel]. [Spell: Push/Pull Steel] [Uses Remaining: 4 of 5] He mentally triggered the Spell four times in quick succession, pushing against all of the iron fastenings built into the massive hull of the airship. The Spell worked as he had hoped. Instead of pushing the fastenings away from him, the weight of the ship acted as a counterweight, instead pushing him midair in the direction of the bear-shaped Maldrath at incredible speed. He was rushing through the air faster than a projectile from an aether pistol by the time he reached the Maldrath. He twisted his body midair, gripping the maul in both hands, and just before impact, he swung. The God-Eater¡¯s jagged mouth yawned open, and with a shuddering crack, he struck the Maldrath straight onto the flat top of its head. A shockwave ripped through the battlefield. Bodies of surrounding lesser Maldrath were thrown into the air by the sheer force of Sabo¡¯s strike. Black ichor sprayed skyward, and the bear¡¯s head was slammed down into the earth. The impact cratered the ground beneath him. The remaining lesser Maldrath near the bear shrieked and reeled back, their forms distorting, barely able to hold shape against the weapon¡¯s presence. Sabo could feel the vicious energy beading from the hammer¡¯s gruesome head. The bear, despite taking the brutal swing head on, did not flinch. It slowly raised its head, to Sabo¡¯s surprise lifting the maul as well. When the movement of its head stopped, its yellow eyes were level with Sabo¡¯s own glare. The two orbs burned with hatred. The bear-shaped Maldrath tossed its head, sending the maul¡¯s head swinging upwards and forcing Sabo to shift his weight to counteract the weight of his weapon, but even still the backswing ended with the head of the maul digging deep into the soft earth of the forest floor. The bear stood onto its hind legs, massive and grotesque, its burning gaze locked onto Sabo with something that might¡¯ve been amusement. The snakes on its back twitched, then lunged, firing over the bear¡¯s shoulders towards Sabo. He barely had time to react. He wrenched the maul from the ground and threw himself sideways as the first serpent struck. The impact rattled his bones, sent dirt and shadow scattering into the air. Another snake lashed out. He twisted, barely avoiding its snapping maw, then swung the maul in a wide arc. The God-Eater bit deep, trapping the snake between its two rows of razor-sharp teeth. The snake convulsed, its inky flesh twisting and bubbling. Then it shrieked. Not a snake¡¯s hiss, but a human scream¡ªhigh, broken, full of agony. The darkness writhed around the wound, unable to heal, unable to reconstitute. The maul had eaten something vital, something that could not grow back. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Sabo barely registered the notification flash in the corner of his vision. [Maldrath (Hydra-Arm) Devoured: 1] The bear let out a sound that was less a roar and more a hundred voices crying out in pain¡ªa chorus of suffering wails. The ground trembled beneath its weight as it stepped forward, its maw opening wide. Sabo didn¡¯t need to see what was coming. He already knew. A massive, writhing mass of darkness spewed from its throat, rushing toward him like a tidal wave. The spear-tip of the torrent of shadow morphed into multiple snake-like heads, each opening its fanged mouth. He dug his heels into the ground, gripped the maul, and braced himself. He swung the maul. The mouth at its head yawned wide, black ichor dripping from jagged teeth as Sabo felt its ability activate from within his core. [DEVOUR] A vortex of inky blackness swallowed the first wave of serpents, consuming them utterly. The very fabric of their being unraveled, their essence sucked into the God-Eater maul, leaving nothing but curling tendrils of acrid smoke in the air. But there were too many. The path of Sabo¡¯s swing continued, carrying the maul¡¯s head off course and the remaining shadow-serpents slammed into him like a battering ram. Fangs colder than ice sank deep into his flesh, his body jerking as if pierced by iron spikes. Sabo gasped, pain flaring bright in his limbs. His vision blurred as whatever venom they had injected¡ªa numbing cold, spread through his veins like liquid night. The force of the attack lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing onto his back. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. The world spun, his head cracking against the earth. Distantly, he registered the muffled cries of the battle raging around him¡ªthe crackling heat of the white-haired woman¡¯s summoned skeletal behemoth, the howling winds conjured by Maro, the panicked yells of the prisoners. But here, on the forest floor, there was only the sound of his ragged breathing and the slow, deliberate footsteps of something massive approaching. The bear-shaped Maldrath lumbered closer, its shadowy bulk towering over him. Its glowing, ember-like eyes burned with cruel intelligence. It sniffed the air once, then let out a triumphant roar that rattled Sabo¡¯s bones. It thought it had won. Sabo¡¯s fingers twitched. The maul was still in his grip, lying in the dirt at his side. His body screamed in pain, ice crawling through his muscles, but he gritted his teeth against the numbing cold. He had fought too hard, survived too much to be felled here like some cornered animal. An angry fire burned within him, stoked by the thought of the Maldrath. He thought of his home, long lost to memory. Razed to the ground by imperial forces, but only after destruction wrought by a Maldrath horde that had escaped from an un-attended Dungeon. His fingers tightened around the handle of the god-eater maul. The entity within it stirred, whispering at the edges of his mind. Sabo sat up, using the support of the gigantic weapon to pull himself up to his feet. He staggered, forcing his legs to steady beneath him as the hulking mass of shadowed muscle and writhing serpents loomed before him. The Maldrath exuded a suffocating pressure, its ember-like eyes locked onto him with a knowing malice. It moved, its colossal frame shifting with unnatural speed, and Sabo barely managed to duck as a claw the size of a wagon wheel tore through the air above his head. Splinters of earth and bark exploded behind him as the beast¡¯s strike carved deep into the forest floor. Sabo twisted, bringing the maul up just in time to meet a wave of snapping shadow-serpents. [DEVOUR] activated, the gaping maw of his weapon inhaling the tendrils of darkness, unraveling them into nothingness as it had done before. But the Maldrath had more. Always more. Another set of snake-like appendages lunged, their fangs sinking into his arm, his side, his leg. A frostbitten pain surged through him, a venomous cold seeping into his flesh, turning his movements sluggish. He couldn¡¯t keep up. Despite how much he willed his body to move, to react, it didn¡¯t matter. A swat of the bear¡¯s massive paw sent him careening to the side. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, but it wouldn¡¯t come. Is that venom affecting my lungs? Sabo spat, gritted his teeth, and prepared to put all of his strength into one more strike. One more strike? I think that is all I have left. The bear, still towering on its hindlegs, lumbered towards him. A blur of motion cut across the corner of Sabo¡¯s vision. The crimson skeletal colossus slammed into the shadowed bear from the side, tackling it with force enough to send a shockwave through the ground. The Maldrath bellowed in outrage, its serpentine appendages thrashing wildly, but the skeleton wrapped its fiery arms around the abomination¡¯s torso in an iron grip. The heat radiating from the creature surged, embers swirling, the air rippling with its intensity. The Maldrath screeched, the edges of its body curling and blackening as the flames licked hungrily at its inky flesh. The skeleton and Maldrath alike blurred with the heat radiating off the demon. Sabo coughed, forcing his numbed limbs to respond. His grip on the maul tightened. The skeletal demon had left the Maldrath¡¯s underbelly exposed. He saw his opportunity. He charged. The maul felt like an extension of his will, its weight a guiding force rather than a burden. He swung, the momentum carrying him forward. The weapon connected with a resounding crack, the force of impact splintering the Maldrath¡¯s underside, shadowy essence flaring outward like darkened blood. He didn¡¯t stop. With a guttural yell, he drove forward, crushing deeper and deeper until the massive creature split apart, the top half still writhing in the grasp of the skeletal colossus. The Maldrath let out one final, furious shriek¡ªbefore its form unraveled, dissolving into curling wisps of black dust. Sabo stood, panting, his arms trembling from the exertion. The battlefield was silent, save for the distant remnants of scattered Maldrath retreating into the void of the forest. The skeletal demon threw its head back and let out a triumphant roar, its white-hot skull burning against the night like a star set ablaze. 15. Lord Eater Chapter 15 Lord Eater Two days later. Sabo crouched low in the underbrush, his breath slow and measured. The Maldrath ahead of him was unlike any he had faced before. It stood on four slender legs, its body rippling with the fluid motion of living shadow. A long neck extended from its body, ending in Cervidae face. From its head rose an enormous rack of antlers, sprawling and twisted, each tine lined with staring yellow and red eyes. They blinked independently, their gaze sweeping the darkened forest, searching. the voice in his mind sneered. Sabo ignored the voice. He had grown used to the entity¡¯s derision over the last two days, but something about its tone now felt different. Moreso, he had developed a sense of feeling the emotions of the entity. They typically washed over him, as though they were his own, but now he was capable of discerning when the emotions were particularly alien. And the entity wasn¡¯t just irritated. It was embarrassed. He couldn¡¯t believe it. The God-Eater entity was ashamed to be sneaking around the forest. That¡¯s ridiculous, Sabo thought. It¡¯s just strategy. The Maldrath let out a low, unnatural noise, something between the groan of shifting wood and the keening wail of a wounded animal. Its antlers twitched, the many eyes scanning. Sabo held still. Too still. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The entity scoffed. Sabo grit his teeth. Yeah? And get blinded by those cursed eyes first? He hadn¡¯t survived this long by taking the entity¡¯s reckless advice at face value. We don¡¯t know what this one can do yet. Plus, Maro and the others are still nearby hunting and the last thing we want to do is have this shade attract a whole damned horde! He watched as the massive shadow-deer stepped carefully between the twisted trunks of the forest, its body shifting and melting slightly with each movement, as if it existed only half in this world. The eyes on its antlers twitched and dilated. It had sensed something. Him. Sabo exhaled, shifting his weight. Stealth was no longer an option. Fine. He¡¯d do it the entity¡¯s way. Sabo focused his intent on summoning the maul and his arm parted into sinewy tendrils as the weapon was summoned from his flesh. In a second, his arm had reconstituted, wielding the gruesome hammer. He tightened his grip on the maul, feeling the energy surge as the weapon twisted in his grasp, its mouth yawning open, ready. The entity practically purred in satisfaction. With a single motion, Sabo burst from his cover, charging straight at the Maldrath. The Maldrath''s head snapped toward Sabo as he lunged, the maul gleaming in his grip. A sound¡ªlight, playful¡ªspilled from the creature¡¯s throat. It was a giggle. High and childish, utterly out of place in the darkened woods. Sabo grimaced, pulling aether into his limbs. Threads of power wove through his veins, igniting his muscles and making the God-Eater maul feel like a feather. Strength surged through him, raw and potent. He swung down, the maul¡¯s jagged mouth already twitching open, hungry for the strike. The eyes along the Maldrath¡¯s antlers flared wide. In a blink, a pulse of shimmering force blasted from its body. The air thickened. Sabo¡¯s momentum slowed¡ªlike he¡¯d leapt into a vat of syrup instead of empty space. Each heartbeat dragged on, the world stretching as his body strained against the invisible weight. He inched through the air, his limbs frozen in position. A blur. The Maldrath vanished, only to reappear in front of him, impossibly fast. Sabo barely registered its long, deer-like neck parting down the middle. Teeth. Rows of gleaming, needle-sharp fangs lined the inside of the fleshy opening. A flash of red lashed out¡ªa tongue, slick and cold¡ªcoiling around his waist. It yanked him closer. the entity inside the maul hissed in his mind. Its voice was rough, dripping with disdain. This time, the embarrassment Sabo felt in his mind was a torrent he couldn¡¯t fend off. Sabo clenched his jaw. ¡°Working on it,¡± he growled under his breath. The Maldrath¡¯s giggle rang out again, like a chorus of children delighting in a new toy. No. Not like this. He called on the aether again¡ªharder this time¡ªflooding it into his arms. If the creature wanted to slow him, fine. He¡¯d let the rest of his body remain sluggish, all while turning his arms into lightning. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The maul¡¯s mouth gaped wider as the entity within it sensed his intent. Teeth lengthened, dripping with dark ichor. ¡°Ahhh,¡± it purred. ¡°Better.¡± Sabo twisted his torso, pushing against the heavy drag of the Maldrath¡¯s power. His muscles burned as the aether pulsed through them, flaring to the point of pain. He swung the maul in a tight arc toward the serpent tongue binding him¡ªand whispered the command. Yggdrasil¡¯s System responded, the text flashing briefly in the corner of his vision. [DEVOUR.] The maul snapped forward, its jagged teeth closing over the tongue and biting deep. The Maldrath flinched, its giggle cutting off in a sharp, confused squeal. Shadow-stuff spilled from the wound, streaming into the maul¡¯s mouth as it gnawed hungrily. The tongue¡¯s grip slackened. Sabo didn¡¯t waste the chance. He ripped free and swung again¡ªthis time at the neck-mouth gaping open before him. The maul¡¯s jaws met the Maldrath¡¯s maw in what might¡¯ve passed for a twisted embrace¡ªif the maul hadn¡¯t started to eat. The Maldrath thrashed, legs kicking, antler-eyes darting in panic as the maul tore through it. Every bite dissolved more of its body, reducing the shadowy flesh to curling black particles. Its giggle bubbled back up, faltering and broken now, the sound slipping into something wet and guttural. the entity inside the maul crooned. Sabo held on, his breath coming hard as the maul feasted. The Maldrath¡¯s massive form shrank with each bite, swallowed by the ever-hungry thing in his hands. And still, it laughed¡ªhigh and soft¡ªuntil there was nothing left but black mist curling around Sabo¡¯s boots and then drifting away on an invisible breeze. The entity sighed in his mind, satisfied. The mouth on the head of the maul parted to speak. ¡°A snack,¡± it said, its voice low and indulgent. ¡°But a delicious one.¡± Sabo let out a breath, rolling his shoulders as the strain of the aether began to ease and seep out of his muscles. He let the maul hang at his side. He stared at the last wisps of the Maldrath dissolving into nothingness. If that was a snack, he didn¡¯t want to meet whatever counted as a meal. He felt a pulse within his core and notifications sprang into view¡ªneat, silver script flowing throw his vision. [Maldrath (Class: Walker) Devoured: 103] [Maldrath (Hydra-Arm) Devoured: 60] [Maldrath (Class: Abjuration) Devoured: 1 increased to 2] [New Spell: Slow] [Spell Level: B-5] [Description: The user is able to emit a pulse in a radius of twenty feet capable of slowing the movement of all targets within the spell¡¯s casting range. The force of this spell becomes stronger at higher levels and is capable of being resisted.] [Current Mana Cost: 12%] [Uses Remaining: 10 of 10] So, Sabo thought, taking in the flood of new information. That was an Abjuration Class Maldrath. Sabo wasn¡¯t exactly familiar with how the monsters were classified, though Abjuration was clearly a higher class than Walker. The bear-shaped Maldrath had also been Abjuration Class. And there were classes higher than Abjuration, until a Maldrath eventually became known as an Angel. Sabo shuddered at the thought. He read the description of the new spell again. That¡¯ll be useful. Only ten uses, though. Sabo slid down the moss-slick embankment, his boots (formerly the warden¡¯s boots) digging into the spongy earth as he moved toward the forest hollow where Maro and the others had set the snares. The air here was thick with the scent of damp wood and decaying leaves¡ªa welcome relief from the stale air and darkness he had known aboard the airship. He was happy to trade the beating of the drum for the sweet sound of birdsong. He flexed his hand, watching as the last tendrils of liquid metal twisted and melted into his skin. The God-Eater maul was gone, hidden beneath his flesh, but its presence lingered¡ªa weight in his bones, a hum just beneath his heartbeat. Over the past two days, he¡¯d learned that the weapon wasn¡¯t just a tool. It was a living thing¡ªone that had its own hunger, its own will. He understood¡ªat least generally¡ªhow it worked. He touched his side, where one of the bear Maldrath¡¯s snake-heads had sunk its fangs. The wound was gone¡ªhealed faster than it should¡¯ve¡ªbut a phantom ache lingered beneath the skin. After the standoff against the Maldrath horde, he had also been surprised to learn that his body hadn¡¯t been covered in burns from the Morduin knight¡¯s flames. Being the entity¡¯s host apparently provided him with improved natural recovery. Perks of being your vassal, I guess, Sabo thought, aiming the words inward. A rumble stirred deep in his mind, a voice that crawled through the marrow of his bones. Sabo rolled his eyes. ¡°You keep calling me that. Starting to feel like I should call you something too.¡± A ripple of discontent flickered along their connection. The entity didn¡¯t like being questioned¡ªhe¡¯d learned that much already. Sabo hopped over a fallen log, scanning the brush for any sign of their traps. ¡°I¡¯ve been calling you ¡®the entity¡¯ or ¡®God-Eater¡¯¡ªbut those aren¡¯t exactly catchy. You got a name, or am I supposed to keep coming up with stuff?¡± The voice was a low, bone-shaking growl. ¡°Yeah, yeah. You¡¯re ancient and mysterious. Still doesn¡¯t help when I need to yell at you in my head.¡± He paused, pretending to consider. ¡°What about something shorter . . . Eater?¡± The sense of displeasure was immediate¡ªa slow, simmering irritation that prickled against his thoughts. Sabo smirked. ¡°Eater it is. Unless . . . what if I make it fancy? Lord Eater. Huh? Eater for short, but I¡¯ll include the title if ever introducing you to someone.¡± The irritation shifted¡ªtwisting into something else. Something like . . . satisfaction? Not quite. It was more like begrudging approval. ¡°Hah,¡± Sabo muttered. ¡°I knew you had an ego.¡± The rumble in his mind faded, but the sense of presence lingered¡ªheavy and patient. He crested a small ridge and spotted movement in the clearing below. Maro crouched near a line of simple snares, his hands deftly working the cords. The others were scattered¡ªthree prisoners checking traps, one perched on a low branch as lookout. Sabo relaxed slightly. No signs of Maldrath. He had done his best to clear the area surrounding the crash site to make it as safe as possible for the others. Though Maro¡¯s wind magic was no joke, and he was more than capable of protecting a small group of prisoners. ¡°Anything good?¡± Sabo called as he slid down the hill. Maro looked up, his wild, gray-streaked hair hanging loose around his face. ¡°Couple of tree hares. Scrawny, but better than airship rations.¡± He held up the limp forms of the animals¡ªsmall, with long, spindly legs and twitching ears. ¡°Was starting to think you¡¯d gotten yourself killed out there.¡± ¡°Please,¡± Sabo said, dusting his hands off. ¡°I¡¯m too stubborn for that at this point.¡± Maro snorted but didn¡¯t argue. Two days ago, Sabo had shattered the Maldrath horde¡¯s leader with a single swing¡ªsomething even the freed Soulsingers¡ªMaro and Hiwot¡ªhad been impressed by. Whatever that weapon of his was, it had changed the balance of power among the prisoners. Sabo shifted his weight, glancing at the others. Most avoided his gaze, but Maro met it with a welcomed smile. ¡°We¡¯ve finished setting up the new snares. What say you we return to our base and present our feast to the others?¡± Sabo laughed. ¡°Please.¡± 16. Vitomir Chapter 16 Vitomir The trek back to the crashed airship was quiet. The usual murmurs of the other prisoners¡ªsmall jokes, bitter complaints¡ªhad faded in the last day. There was a quiet resignation over many of the survivors. Sabo understood. He had always been a survivor. Eventually, it hardens a person, until they¡¯re closed off from the world¡ªprotecting whatever may be left of them. Sabo walked a step ahead of Maro, his boots dragging against the uneven earth. The weight in his limbs wasn¡¯t just exhaustion¡ªit was the gnawing fear curling low in his gut. Let him still be there. The twisted wreckage of the airship jutted from the earth like the skeleton of some long-dead beast. Its hull, torn open by the crash, had become a ramshackle shelter¡ªa place where the survivors gathered when night fell and the Maldrath prowled. Smoke drifted lazily from the center of camp, and the scent of charred wood hung heavy in the air. As Sabo approached, he counted. Faces. Bodies. Some familiar, some not. Too many missing. The attack by the Morduin knights had left half of them bleeding. The Maldrath finished the job. Those who survived weren¡¯t unscathed. He swallowed hard, scanning the huddled figures for one in particular. Vitomir. Maro slowed behind him, his expression unreadable. ¡°He was still holding on when we left,¡± he said, voice low. ¡°You should check on him.¡± Sabo nodded and picked up his pace, weaving between the handful of prisoners that mulled about, tending to the airship-turned-campsite. His heart pounded against his ribs, a steady, heavy drumbeat. At the far edge of the camp, beneath the curve of broken hull plating, he found him. Vitomir lay on a bed of scavenged blankets, his once-broad frame wasted to a thin, fragile thing. His face¡ªdark, sunken¡ªtilted toward the sky, eyes half-closed. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow. Too shallow. Gods dammit, Sabo thought. He knelt beside the old man, his throat tight. ¡°Vitomir,¡± he said softly. The old man didn¡¯t stir. Panic crept in. He couldn¡¯t¡ªwouldn¡¯t¡ªlose him. Not now. Not after everything. Sabo reached out, his fingers trembling, and touched Vitomir¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Hey. You¡¯re not done yet.¡± A long, shuddering breath answered him. Then, slowly, Vitomir¡¯s eyes cracked open. Clouded. Weak¡ªbut still there. ¡°Sabo¡­¡± His voice was a rasp, brittle as dry leaves. But he was alive. ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Sabo said, forcing a smile. ¡°You¡¯re still too stubborn to die, I hope?¡± A faint chuckle¡ªmore breath than sound¡ªescaped Vitomir¡¯s lips. His hand twitched, reaching for Sabo¡¯s wrist. ¡°Listen . . . there isn¡¯t much time.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± Sabo snapped, the words harsher than he meant. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere.¡± Vitomir¡¯s grip tightened¡ªa flicker of the strength he used to have. ¡°They want it. Hecate¡¯s Tower.¡± Sabo froze. He had heard this before. In the past couple of days, when Vitomir had been at his most lucid, he used his little strength to convey the same message to Sabo. ¡°The Morduin¡­¡± He coughed, the sound wet and ragged. ¡°They want the Tower. Whatever lies at the top. They¡¯ll stop at nothing to claim it. If Boro made his move . . . It means, they¡¯ve moved first.¡± Confusion twisted through Sabo¡¯s mind, but he pushed it aside. ¡°Why? What¡¯s so important about it?¡± Vitomir¡¯s eyes burned with sudden intensity. ¡°Power. Knowledge. The kind that shouldn¡¯t belong to them¡ªor anyone.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°You¡­ You have the power now. You can climb it. You can stop them.¡± Sabo¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°Me?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not like them. Not like the others.¡± Vitomir¡¯s breath hitched, and for a terrifying moment, Sabo thought he¡¯d lost him¡ªbut the old man held on. ¡°Promise me.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Sabo hesitated. The weight of that promise¡ªof what it meant¡ªsettled like iron on his shoulders. ¡°I promise.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Vitomir exhaled slowly, his hand slipping away. ¡°Good¡­¡± Sabo sat there, watching as the man who had raised him drifted back into unconsciousness. For now, he was still here. But how much longer? A rustle behind him drew his attention. He turned to find the white-haired woman¡ªHiwot¡ªleaning against the hull, her strange, crimson eyes studying him. ¡°You heard that?¡± Sabo asked quietly. ¡°I did.¡± She stepped closer, her expression distant, thoughtful. ¡°He¡¯s not wrong. About the Tower.¡± Sabo frowned. ¡°You know about it?¡± Hiwot tilted her head. ¡°Hecate¡¯s Tower isn¡¯t just a place. It¡¯s a relic from the Age of the Gods¡ªolder than the Empire. Much like the Green Sea. The Tower is a fortress of knowledge and power. It stands in Valhadryan¡ªforty-five floors tall, each one filled with secrets no one else has ever unlocked.¡± Sabo blinked. ¡°Forty-five?¡± ¡°No one¡¯s ever reached the top,¡± Hiwot continued. ¡°Most can¡¯t even breach the upper floors.¡± The two crept away from Vitomir¡¯s resting place, towards one of the few campfires the prisoners were tending to. ¡°A Tower that is so mysterious and across the entire Empire, they haven¡¯t found anyone who is capable of climbing the entire thing?¡± Sabo snorted. ¡°Why not just fly an airship to the top?¡± ¡°No airship can approach¡ªthe aether storm surrounding the Tower tears anything that flies to pieces.¡± Her lips curved slightly. ¡°It¡¯s like the Autumn Wall that hangs over the Green Sea. Another boundary left behind by whatever came before us.¡± Sabo¡¯s mind spun. Aether storms. Forbidden floors. Why did they care that the Morduin were so interested in this damned Tower? Power attracted power, Sabo knew. It was the same reason the Empire plunged so deep into the Green Sea, to extract its powerful, magical resources. And why in the gods¡¯ names did Vitomir think he was the one who could stop them? ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± he muttered. ¡°Why would they risk so much for this place, this Tower?¡± Hiwot¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Because some powers are worth any risk.¡± She studied him, her gaze lingering on his arm¡ªthe place where the maul had vanished after the battle against the Maldrath horde. ¡°And because whatever¡¯s inside the Tower . . . it might be the only thing in this world stronger than what you¡¯re carrying.¡± Sabo¡¯s fingers curled into a fist. Eater stirred faintly at the edge of his thoughts, amused. ¡°Well,¡± he said, forcing the tremor from his voice. ¡°If they want it that bad, maybe I should get there first.¡±
The night crept in slow and mean, dragging the cold behind it. The kind that sank into bones and made you wonder if your blood had frozen while you weren¡¯t paying attention. Sabo sat near the campfire, its pale, flickering light casting jagged shadows across the wreckage and the faces of the few who¡¯d survived. The hares they¡¯d caught sizzled on spits, filling the air with the greasy, burnt smell of not-quite-enough. Someone muttered a prayer under their breath. A chant that seemed oddly familiar to Sabo¡ªfrom the Zircunwit faith in Olendar. Still, didn¡¯t seem like the kind of night for gods to listen. Maro sat across from him, turning a thin stick between his fingers. There was always a twitchiness to him¡ªlike he was half a breath away from sprinting into the woods in search of something¡ªbut now, after everything, there was something else too. Something heavier. Hiwot perched beside him, her pale hair catching the firelight, her expression unreadable as usual. Sabo chewed a bite of stringy rabbit, jaw working slow. ¡°Anyone got a clue where we are? Where we happened to crash?¡± Maro snorted. ¡°Course I do.¡± Sabo raised a brow. ¡°You do?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t let my abilities with the wind fool you. I¡¯m a Guide.¡± Maro tapped his temple like that meant something. ¡°I read aether signatures. Every place¡¯s got a feel to it¡ªlike a taste in the air, if you know how to sense it. Might not be able to guide someone through a complex dungeon, but it¡¯s a Talent I was born with.¡± The term stirred a distant memory. Guides¡ªor Navigators¡ªwere rare, even among Soulsingers. Sabo had only ever known one, a grim-faced woman who worked for the local thugs that oversaw things in Solstice. She couldn¡¯t sling wind like Maro, though. She¡¯d been a Canary¡ªthose poor bastards the Empire used to navigate the deep dungeons that sprung up wherever miasma was highly concentrated. Sabo wasn¡¯t aware there were some with the skill that were also capable of more versatile forms of Soulsinging. ¡°You didn¡¯t mention that before,¡± Sabo said. Maro shrugged. ¡°Wasn¡¯t your business. And we were a little preoccupied with survival, at the time.¡± He tossed his stick into the fire, where it snapped and popped. ¡°The airship was bound for Valhadryan¡ªthe northern tip, where they keep the aether mines and refineries. But the winds shifted bad after the Morduin¡¯s pets took a bite out of us. We¡¯re south of that now. Closer to the coast.¡± ¡°Serris,¡± Hiwot murmured, her voice light but certain. Maro nodded. ¡°Aye. Smells like Serris to me. Damp, salty, and crawling with things that¡¯d eat your face off if you blink too long.¡± Sabo stared into the fire, mind working. Serris. Border country. Too far south. Every instinct in his bones told him to head north. Straight into Valhadryan. The last thing he wanted to do was drag Vitomir deeper into danger, but¡ª He had to. He owed it to the old man. The old man¡¯s words still burned in his ears. The Morduin want the Tower. You can stop them. Sabo¡¯s knuckles tightened around the chunk of bone he¡¯d picked clean. He didn¡¯t know what the hell Hecate¡¯s Tower really was¡ªor why everyone seemed to want whatever was at the top. But if the Morduin wanted it, then keeping it from them seemed like the kind of thing worth bleeding over. Maro stretched his legs out, feet scraping the soft dirt. ¡°We should leave tomorrow. Head south. Hykaera¡¯s a long ways off, but we¡¯re less likely to get our throats slit or our souls eaten going that way. There¡¯s a future there for a bunch of refugees.¡± Sabo didn¡¯t answer. Just kept chewing slow and quiet, the taste of bitter game turning to ash in his mouth. He couldn¡¯t go south. Not while Vitomir still breathed. A shadow moved at the edge of the fire¡¯s glow. Rajka. Big man, thick shoulders, one arm wrapped in a torn strip of his own shirt. He¡¯d volunteered to stay close to Vitomir after the crash¡ªsteady hands, quiet type. Not the sort to waste words. He had tended to the old man while Sabo was out with the hunting parties. When Sabo met his eyes, he knew. Rajka didn¡¯t say anything at first. He just stood there, lips pressed tight together, like he wanted to swallow the words down. Keep them locked inside. But some things didn¡¯t stay buried. ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Rajka said, his voice rough. ¡°Vitomir . . . I¡¯m sorry, kid. Vitomir is dead.¡± The crackle of the fire was loud in the silence that followed. 17. Moving Forward Chapter 17 Moving Forward Sabo sat beside Vitomir¡¯s body long after the others drifted into uneasy sleep. The night pressed close, thick and heavy. The fire had burned low, its embers glowing like the last heartbeat of some dying thing, and no matter how close Sabo tried to stay to it, he couldn¡¯t get warm. Beyond the wreckage of the airship, the world stretched on in endless shadow. He should have said something. A prayer, maybe. Or words of comfort for a man too weak to speak them himself. But what comfort was there in that? What words could hold back the inevitable? It¡¯s too late now anyway. The old man looked impossibly small. Shrunken, hollowed out by days of fever and pain. Sabo had known this was coming¡ªof course he had¡ªbut knowing did nothing to blunt the raw ache spreading through his chest. The air felt too thin. Like if he breathed too hard, he might shatter completely. He reached out, fingers brushing against the frail, withered hand that had once hauled him out of the dirt and given him something to live for. Once, Vitomir had seemed indestructible. A force of nature wrapped in frayed robes and a half-dozen grumbling curses. That man had saved his life. More than once. And now, all that was left was this brittle shell. A fading warmth in a world too cold to care. Sabo clenched his jaw. He should have done more. Found medicine. Pushed harder. Hell, if he¡¯d been faster¡ªstronger¡ªmaybe none of this would have happened. Maybe they wouldn¡¯t be stranded in the middle of nowhere, huddled around scraps of food. But ¡®maybe¡¯ was a useless thing. A word for fools and dreamers. And Sabo had no use for either. His gaze drifted to the stars overhead. They hung bright and distant, like shards of broken glass scattered across the sky. His mind drifted back down to the earth and out towards the black mass of the horizon and silhouetted treetops. Somewhere beyond them lay Valhadryan. Hecate¡¯s Tower. And the promise of something he didn¡¯t quite understand. The Morduin want whatever lies at the top of the Tower. You can stop them. The words gnawed at him. What had that old man seen in him¡ªan orphan turned half-starved slave? What made him the one who could stop the Morduin priests and whatever it was they planned to do with the Tower? He didn¡¯t know. But whatever the answer, it lay to the north. And he would find it. If he had to drag himself across every blood-soaked mile between here and that damned Tower, he would find it. The wind shifted, cold against his skin. His limbs felt heavy. He hadn¡¯t meant to sleep¡ªbut eventually, it found him anyway. And he dreamed.
It began with a stair. He stood at the base of it, stretching endless into the sky. A spiral of black stone, each step slick with something that gleamed wet and red. The air was thick here¡ªthick like honey, thick like blood¡ªand it pulled at him with every breath. He started to climb. The steps were narrow, treacherous beneath his feet. He felt the weight of something vast pressing against his spine, pushing him forward. Higher. Always higher. And behind him¡ªdarkness. It ate at the edges of the world, unraveling each step the moment his foot left it. There was no turning back. No pause to catch his breath. There was only the climb. He didn¡¯t know how long he walked. Time stretched thin, slippery, meaningless. His legs burned. His lungs scraped against his ribs with every gasp. But the top was always just out of reach, hidden behind a veil of shadow and shimmering light. A sound stirred the air. A breath. A whisper. Something old and endless and hungry. The stairs crumbled faster. The void behind him yawned wide, swallowing the path in jagged, biting gulps. He tried to run¡ªbut his legs were too heavy. His strength poured out of him like water through cracked stone. Faster, he thought. Just a little farther. A laugh curled through the darkness. Low and guttural. It rolled over him like oil, thick and cloying, seeping into his skin. The steps beneath him shattered. He fell. The air was cold. Colder than death. And the void wasn¡¯t empty¡ªnot really. It had a shape. A mouth. A maw like the one that had swallowed the Maldrath whole. A maw that opened wide to greet him. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, something stirred. The word echoed through him, low and reverberating. Sabo reached for the thing inside him, the thing that now called itself Eater, the thing that had saved his life and devoured everything in its path. But the maw below was larger. Deeper. And as he fell, the last thing he heard was that same, distant laughter¡ªsweet and cold, like a knife sliding between his ribs.
The sun rose slow and sullen over the broken spine of the airship. Its light spilled across the wreckage in pale, gold ribbons¡ªtoo warm, too gentle for a place that had seen so much death. The wind stirred through the clearing, carrying the faint, metallic scent of what Sabo now associated with burned aether. Sabo stretched the stiffness from his limbs and rolled his shoulders, biting back a yawn. He hadn¡¯t meant to fall asleep beside Vitomir¡¯s body, but the weight of days without rest had dragged him under. Dreams still clung to him¡ªfragments of falling, a maw opening wide, that sweet, distant laughter curling through his thoughts¡ªbut he shoved them aside. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He had work to do. The others stirred around the camp. Hiwot knelt near the remaining supplies, binding the last of their scavenged food into bundles for travel. Maro, quiet and efficient, worked to dismantle parts of the airship hull they could carry¡ªscrap metal, strips of sailcloth. Things that might be useful if the wilderness decided to be crueler than it already was. Rajka stood farther off, face shadowed as he spoke to the few who remained. They all knew what needed doing. But no one wanted to start. Sabo stepped into the center of the clearing. The ground here was hard-packed and scarred from the crash. It would do. He held out his arm, feeling the pulse of something vast and heavy stir beneath his skin. ¡°Time to earn your keep,¡± he whispered. A ripple passed through him. His skin prickled with cold as the maul uncoiled from his flesh, sliding free with the same bone-deep wrongness it always did. The blackened steel glinted dully in the morning light, its jagged teeth shifting along the edges. Eater. The thing in his arm, the thing in his head. It rumbled low¡ªdispleased. Its voice scraped against the inside of his skull. ¡°You can eat monsters and magic alike,¡± Sabo muttered. ¡°Surely you can handle a little soil.¡± A pause. Then the maul groaned, the weight of it vibrating through his bones. Sabo swung the maul low, aiming at the earth. The moment the head touched the ground, a ripple spread outward¡ªa void that stretched hungrily across the surface. Chunks of soil and stone simply ceased to exist. No dust. No debris. Just an absence, as if the ground had never been there to begin with. The trench deepened with each strike. The air hummed with energy as Eater devoured the earth in vast, uneven bites. It worked fast¡ªfaster than any shovel¡ªbut the maul¡¯s irritation buzzed beneath Sabo¡¯s skin the entire time. Sabo gritted his teeth and ignored it. He focused on the swing of his arms, the rhythm of the work. There was something soothing about the work¡ªit was easy to get lost in, to ignore all of the pain. Each impact of the maul erased more of the world, leaving only a jagged emptiness behind. It wasn¡¯t long before the trench stretched wide and deep enough to hold the dead. When it was done, he let the maul rest against his shoulder. ¡°Happy now?¡± ¡°No.¡± This time Eater spoke from the mouth in the hammer¡¯s head, spitting out flecks of dirt as it did so. ¡°Of course not,¡± Sabo replied. Maro and the others came forward in silence. The bodies¡ªwrapped in torn sailcloth and whatever else they could find¡ªwere laid gently into the grave. One by one, they passed them down. Sabo took Vitomir¡¯s body himself, his hands tightening around the rough edges of the cloth. The old man weighed less than nothing now. As if whatever had made him him had already slipped free of those weak, mortal coils and left only a brittle husk behind. Sabo laid him to rest at the far end of the trench. When it was done, the others stepped back, their faces pale and worn. Hiwot murmured something soft¡ªwords Sabo didn¡¯t understand¡ªand the wind carried them away. No one else spoke. Sabo raised the maul again. He tapped into the pool of power that sat at his core. He was met by a single word that flashed in the corner of his vision. [Regurgitate.] The maul shuddered in his hands. Then, from its jagged maw, the earth poured forth¡ªthick, heavy, like wet clay. It fell in great clumps, filling the trench inch by inch. Each mouthful of earth spat back into the world was dense and strange, as though the process of being devoured and returned had made it other. He watched as Vitomir and the others vanished beneath the weight of it. When the grave was filled, Sabo released the maul. It shrank and slithered back beneath his skin, the weight of it retreating to his mind like a satisfied beast. It left behind silence. Heavy. Unyielding. Sabo stood there a while longer after the others drifted away. The fresh earth settled beneath his boots, warm from the maul¡¯s work. There was no marker. No names. Just a mound of dirt and the memory of the people who had fallen. He reached up and pressed a hand to his chest, fingers curling tight. ¡°I¡¯ll finish it,¡± he said softly. ¡°I¡¯ll stop them. I swear it.¡± The wind stirred again, colder now. And he turned away.
By midday, the camp stirred with the restless energy of people ready to leave. The last of the makeshift shelters were torn down, bundles of salvaged supplies hoisted onto weary shoulders. Those who remained¡ªfewer now, far fewer¡ªmoved with quiet determination. There was nothing left for them here but ash and graves. Maro stood at the edge of the clearing, tying off a pack. His hands worked with swift precision, but his expression was distant. Always thinking. Always planning the next step. Sabo approached, his own gear slung loosely across his back, the weight of it nothing compared to what he carried inside. ¡°You¡¯re heading south?¡± Sabo asked. Maro nodded, tightening a final knot. ¡°Southwest, toward Hykaera. There are border towns along the way. If we keep low and avoid the main trade roads, we should slip past any Imperial patrols.¡± His mouth twisted into a grim line. ¡°If they¡¯re looking for us.¡± ¡°They might be.¡± Sabo didn¡¯t need to guess. He knew from personal experience that the Ravaelian Empire didn¡¯t leave loose ends. And something told him they wouldn¡¯t let a ship transporting prisoners and that much aether sap harvested from the Green Sea go missing without further investigation. Sabo thought of the handfuls of the sap he had wrapped and placed into his makeshift pack¡ªa source of power richer than the ambient aether that was suspended throughout the atmosphere. Maro exhaled sharply. ¡°Yeah, figured as much.¡± He turned to face Sabo fully, a shadow flickering behind his usual calm. ¡°Come with us. You¡¯d be safer.¡± Safer. The word tasted bitter. There was no safety for people like him. Not anymore. Not since the empire burned his home to the ground. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Sabo said quietly. ¡°I¡¯m heading north.¡± Maro¡¯s hands stilled. ¡°To Valhadryan? Really?¡± Sabo nodded. ¡°To Hecate¡¯s Tower, if you¡¯re familiar. I have business to attend to.¡± For a long moment, Maro said nothing. The wind brushed between them, cool against the heat of the sun. Finally, Maro let out a breath, somewhere between frustration and acceptance. ¡°You saved my life,¡± he said. ¡°More than once. I owe you for that.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t owe me anything.¡± ¡°Maybe not.¡± Maro held out a hand. ¡°But if you ever need a Guide¡ªif you ever need a friend¡ªyou know where to find me. Seek me out.¡± Sabo clasped his hand, firm and steady. ¡°You take care of them. Get them out of here.¡± Maro¡¯s lips curved into a faint, lopsided smile. ¡°I will. You¡ªtry not to get eaten by anything, yeah?¡± ¡°No promises.¡± Sabo said, forcing a small smile. They parted without another word. Sabo turned his steps toward the north, the weight of the maul thrumming faintly beneath his skin¡ªthe constant pull to summon it picking at the edges of his willpower. He had barely crossed the edge of the clearing when a voice rang out behind him. ¡°You weren¡¯t going to leave without me, were you?¡± Sabo stopped, half-turning. Hiwot stood a few paces back, her pale hair catching the sun like threads of silver. She held a small pack slung over her shoulder, her expression calm, almost bored¡ªas if she had decided on a whim to follow a boy marching toward death. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me?¡± he asked. She shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing left here. Nothing left anywhere, really. Might as well follow the most interesting thing I¡¯ve seen in years.¡± She tilted her head, a spark of amusement in her dark eyes. ¡°And right now? That¡¯s you.¡± Sabo let out a breath, shaking his head. ¡°You know where I¡¯m going.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. ¡°I do.¡± She stepped closer, her boots light against the earth. ¡°And I¡¯m not afraid of a tower, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not worried about the Tower,¡± he muttered. Hiwot smiled¡ªsharp, like a blade slipping from its sheath. ¡°Good. Wouldn¡¯t want things to get dull. And you¡¯ll need me, if you really intend on entering and climbing the Tower.¡± Sabo shook his head again, but he didn¡¯t argue. If she wanted to come, she would. And truth be told, he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to walk this road alone. Without another word, he turned and started north. Hiwot fell into step beside him, a half-step behind. The wind shifted at their backs, carrying the scent of earth and smoke and something else¡ªsomething older, deeper. Ahead lay Valhadryan. Hecate¡¯s Tower. And whatever waited for him at the heart of it. 18. POV: Radulf, Grand Prior of the Morduin Order鈥檚 Paladin Corp, Khed Division Chapter 18 POV: Radulf, Grand Prior of the Morduin Order¡¯s Paladin Corp, Khed Division Radulf sat on the broken carcass of a stone arch, the heat of dying embers curling against his boots. The ruins stretched around him¡ªblackened bones of what had once been something proud. A temple? A stronghold? It didn¡¯t matter. Everything burned the same. Everything was eventually destroyed. He rolled the scrying mirror between his fingers, the enchanted piece of polished bronze catching the firelight in dull flashes. The silhouette in the mirror droned on. Some Deputy Prior from the Order. A sharp-voiced little man who spoke like he thought words could make up for a lack of spine. Radulf had stopped listening after the only words that mattered. Eskinder is dead. He had known it was coming. Everyone in the Order had. Eskinder, the Grand Prior of the Holrac Division and wielder of the Divine Mark called God-Eater, had been dying for years¡ªthin as paper, his voice growing softer with each passing season. But Eskinder had been the kind of man who took his time with everything. A slow death seemed fitting. Peaceful, they¡¯d said. In his sleep. Of course it was peaceful. Eskinder had already fought every battle worth fighting. And now he was gone. A strange hollowness opened in Radulf¡¯s chest, unexpected and unwelcome. He had thought himself past grief. He had buried too many comrades, seen too much blood. But Eskinder¡ªEskinder had been different. The old bastard had taught him everything worth knowing. How to be a leader of men. How to break a man with a glance. How to bend the Roots of Yggdrasil to his will without letting it bend him back. How to walk away from the wreckage and never look over his shoulder. For a moment, just a moment, the anger didn¡¯t touch him. Just the weight of that absence. A silence where something should have been. And then the Deputy Prior¡¯s voice shifted¡ªquieter, tighter. Radulf focused on the words again. ¡°¡­upon his death, the God-Eater was released from his soul and returned to Artifact form, as expected. But before we could secure it¡ª¡± Radulf¡¯s fingers froze on the edge of the mirror. ¡°¡ªone of our own knights took it. A betrayal. A Holrac knight by the name of Boro. Two knights were dispatched in pursuit, but¡­¡± The man hesitated, like he knew how the next words would sound. ¡°They failed. We received aetheric signatures indicating they have both perished. . . We have agents en route to locate and retrieve their bodies.¡± The world went very still. For a long while, Radulf said nothing. The fire crackled around him. Wind stirred the ash. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. Too soft. ¡°You sent two knights. Only two knight to retrieve the God-Eater?¡± ¡°¡­Yes, Grand Prior. The artifact was taken under unusual circum¡ª" Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°You sent two knights.¡± The words cut through the air like a razor. ¡°For a Divine Mark. One of our Orders four holiest and most powerful Celestial Treasures?¡± ¡°They were among our best¡ª¡± ¡°No Deputy Prior. No Division Commander. Two knights.¡± The Deputy Prior fell silent. The sort of silence that came when a man realized he had already lost and it was better to hold his tongue lest he lose his head. Radulf set the mirror down on his knee, staring at the hazy reflection of his own face. His knuckles burned where they gripped the edge. ¡°Do you understand what you¡¯ve allowed?¡± His voice stayed low, even. He didn¡¯t raise it. He didn¡¯t need to. ¡°You let a traitor walk out with one of the most dangerous weapons in the known world. And your solution was to send two men. And now, we all sit in the ashes of their failure.¡± ¡°Grand Prior¡ª¡± Radulf stood, the scrying mirror still in his hand. ¡°Failure is the price we pay for ambition. I understand that. I expect it.¡± He crushed the mirror between his fingers. The bronze plate groaned, then cracked, the magic inside sputtering out in a shower of golden sparks and colorful plumes of concentrated aether. ¡°Incompetence, though? I do not abide incompetence.¡± The false wind picked up, sending a cloud of cinders spiraling around him. He had no use for words. No use for excuses. The scrying mirror flickered, the Deputy Prior¡¯s silhouette wavering in the dim light like a candle about to go out. His voice, already thin with uncertainty, crackled through the dying enchantment. ¡°The knights¡¯ last confirmed location was near Valhadryan. That¡¯s where their signatures faded.¡± Radulf¡¯s ears perked up at that. Valhadryan. The place where all lost things seemed to end up. He rolled his shoulders, the weight of the God-Slayer within him a familiar pressure, ever-thrumming, ever-ready. He harmonized the emanation of his own soul with the resonance of destruction. He tilted his head. ¡°Do I need to leave the Tower and handle it myself?¡± The Deputy Prior hesitated, choosing his words like a man picking through a field of broken glass. ¡°N-no, Grand Prior. The team we¡¯ve dispatched will locate the God-Eater. We will keep you updated, of course.¡± Radulf exhaled through his nose. The logical part of him agreed. His work at the Tower was important¡ªmaybe more important than the God-Eater. A strange thought, but not one he could dismiss outright. The Tower held secrets. And secrets, in the right hands, were worth more than any Divine Mark. ¡°Fine,¡± he said, closing his fingers over the cracked mirror. ¡°Use one of the others from my team if you need to reach me. There¡¯s an issue with mine.¡± ¡°Yes, Grand Prior.¡± The mirror gave one final flicker, then dimmed, its magic spent. Radulf let it drop from his fingers, the shattered bronze plate landing with a dull clink on the scorched stone. He stood, brushing ash and debris from his coat. The air reeked of charred flesh, burnt ozone, the lingering stench of magic spent in violence. Behind him, the body of the dragon lay in ruin, its scales still smoldering, smoke curling from deep gouges in its flesh. Once, it had been a thing of majesty. Now, it was just another corpse. Radulf had long accepted that his path to glory was littered with corpses. Such was the fate of the one who wielded the God-Slayer Mark. His subordinates had already descended on the carcass like carrion birds, prying loose scales, extracting venom glands, hacking off whatever parts would fetch a price on the open market, or otherwise be useful for the Artificers of the Morduin Order. One of them, a wiry man with a scar splitting his brow, glanced up as Radulf strode past. ¡°Move out,¡± Radulf ordered. The subordinate barked the command, and the rest of the team snapped into action, leaving the dragon¡¯s remains behind. They all wore the black robes of the Paladin Corp, and the black masks of the Khed Division. The wiry man donned his own mask, coughing an apology for having taken it off. Only the Grand Priors were truly permitted to not wear the mask while on official business of the Order. Their position and title was the greatest mask of all. When you became a Grand Prior, you buried your old identity. By that time, there was no one in the world who truly remembered what you looked like under the mask, anyways. Radulf barely noticed. His mind was already elsewhere¡ªturning over the pieces, fitting them into place. He would reclaim the God-Eater. That much was certain. But first things first. He had a tower to climb. 19. Miniature Lectures Chapter 19 Miniature Lectures [Access Granted: Yggdrasil] [Soulsinger Designation: Sabomir] [Class: God-Eater] ATTRIBUTES: PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: Strength: E-4 Dexterity: E-5 Endurance: E-4 Vitality: E-3 Physical Sub-Level: E-4 MENTAL ATTRIBUTES: Intelligence: E-2 Reactivity: E-3 Perception: E-2 Willpower: C-1 Mental Sub-Level: D-5 SPIRITUAL ATTRIBUTES: Power: E-1 Reserves: E-1 Versatility: E-1 Control: E-1 Spiritual Sub-Level: E-1 Sabo blinked, stepping back from the glowing lattice of information that had hovered before his eyes just moments ago. The System¡¯s¡ªHiwot explained it was known as Yggdrasil¡ªinterface faded, the intricate lines of light dissolving into the air like mist burned away by the sun. His head ached, not from the effort of accessing the interface, but from the overwhelming truth it had laid bare. His Attributes, a numerical representation of his natural abilities, were low. Pitifully low. Hiwot had explained to him that all Soulsingers and practitioners of magic that relied on accessing the power of Yggdrasil had access to their Attributes. Attributes were ranked from E, on the lowest end, to SSS+ on the highest end. Within each rank, generally, there were then sub-ranks from 1, being the lowest within such rank, and 9 being the pinnacle of the rank. So, E-1 was the lowest of the low. A deep, grinding rumble echoed through his skull, a voice ancient and jagged, like stone scraping against stone. Sabo sighed through his nose, adjusting the strap of his pack as he trudged forward. His boots squelched in the damp earth beside the river they¡¯d been following northward for the last two days, ever since finally emerging from the darker depths of the forest. The water ran fast and cold, cutting through the landscape like a silver scar. The trees that lined its banks were gnarled and old, their roots half-submerged in the rushing current. What do you expect me to do? he shot back mentally. I destroyed every Maldrath we ran into back in the forest. Eater¡¯s tone carried a note of disdain, as though the act of speaking with Sabo was an indignity in itself. Sabo clenched his jaw but said nothing. He had no interest in playing Eater¡¯s games. He focused on the path ahead instead, the river winding like a serpent through the valley. Hiwot walked beside him, silent as ever, her white hair gleaming in the midday light. Two days. Two days of hiking northward, of following the river in hopes that it would lead them to some semblance of civilization. So far, no such luck. The skin at Sabo¡¯s neck stretched, pulling apart until a fang-filled mouth formed. When the mouth opened, Eater spoke, ¡°Hiwot, tell my vassal he is far too weak to properly serve me.¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Sabo, Lord Eater is correct, you¡¯re far too weak,¡± Hiwot said without affectation. Eater had enjoyed speaking to Hiwot, and Hiwot was always obliged to take the entity¡¯s position on any matter. Sabo suspected it was largely because she knew that it annoyed him. He was constantly outnumbered two-versus-one in any conversation. Still, when she wasn¡¯t harassing him alongside Eater, Hiwot had been an extremely useful source of information. She was an experienced Soulsinger with military training, and had explained to Sabo the basics of accessing Yggdrasil. She had also attempted to impart a deeper understanding of Soulsinging. ¡°The fundamental elements that compose the material plane¡ªFire, Water, Air, Stone, Wood, Cold, Light, Dark, and Celestial¡ªare also known as the Roots of Yggdrasil, conduits of energy through which Soulsingers can draw power from the Aethereal Sea.¡± Like most of the times Hiwot had attempted to educate Sabo, it all went absolutely over his head. He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not sure why any of that matters. The God-Eater devours things, I gain some skills and the ability to cast magic. Rinse, repeat.¡± Hiwot simmered with frustration. She ran her fingers through her white hair, as though attempting to shake out the mounting anger she was feeling towards Sabo. ¡°This God-Eater that you wield is unlike anything I have ever seen, and to think it has fallen in the hands of someone whose soul didn¡¯t even have the capability for magic. Forced ignition¡­ Hard to believe. If I didn¡¯t witness it myself, I probably wouldn¡¯t.¡± Over their two day trek, Hiwot had attempted these kinds of miniature lectures a number of times. Sometimes, Sabo would just let her talk endlessly, silently listening along, just to have something different to listen to while trudging forward. Some of the topics¡ªthe portions Sabo had actually listened to¡ªhad been quite interesting. For example, Hiwot had explained the different types of Soulsingers. While there was a near endless number of sub-types with specialized, unique powers, there were only a handful of Classes. Evoker was one of the most common: Soulsingers capable of bending and manipulating the elements. ¡°This is what I imagine those two Morduin paladins might have been. Definitely the one who summoned and controlled fire,¡± Hiwot had said. ¡°And you? What kind of Soulsinger are you?¡± Sabo had asked. He still thought of the gigantic skeletal demon she had summoned back when the prisoners were defending the crashed airship against the horde. ¡°I¡¯m a Conjurer,¡± Hiwot responded. ¡°Most Soulsingers draw their power through Contracts with beings from the Aethereal Sea, called Sheyd or Shedim, and Conjurers are able to temporarily summon aspects of those Shedim into the material plane.¡± ¡°So that¡­ thing, you summoned. It was a Sheyd?¡± Hiwot¡¯s mouth quirked into a subtle smile. ¡°Indeed. Ugur.¡± Now, Sabo would have preferred a miniature lecture. Instead, he was being reminded of how weak he was. ¡°Even this mortal agrees that you are weak, my servant,¡± growled Eater, using the mouth that now crawled up his neck and was now on the side of his face. The feeling of his cheek opening up, and almost meeting the corner of his own mouth, was unsettling. ¡°I get it, I¡¯m weak¡­ Can we speak about anything else?¡± Sabo said. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, little vassal.¡± Eater¡¯s voice curled like smoke, thick with amusement, sharp with promise. ¡°I shall help you grow stronger. And in an expedited manner, no less.¡± There was a satisfaction in its tone that made Sabo¡¯s skin crawl. Hiwot, walking a step ahead, suddenly stopped. She turned to him, one pale brow arched. ¡°Are you speaking of Physical Enhancement?¡± Sabo exhaled sharply. The look in her crimson eyes made him feel slightly worried about his own safety. Eater growled, the deep, rattling sound reverberating in Sabo¡¯s bones. ¡°Indeed, mortal,¡± it purred, smug as a cat with a fresh kill. Hiwot¡¯s expression shifted. Not quite fear, not quite excitement. Curiosity, perhaps. Surprise. Her mouth parted, as if she meant to say something¡ª Then they each heard it. The sound came through the bend in the river above. First a splash, and then voices. People, Sabo thought. Distant, but close enough to carry through the trees. Sabo stiffened and then forced his body to relax. It had been a natural reaction from his time as an indentured prisoner of the Empire. Something that, unfortunately, had to be unlearned one hard lesson at a time. You need to trust people, you fool, he thought. Not everyone is trying to kill you, or enslave you. Still, he knew they would need to be cautious. Hiwot turned her head toward the sound, listening. A handful of voices, speaking low, clipped tones. Not quite urgent, but not relaxed, either. Not the lazy, meandering chatter of travelers stopping for a meal. At least, that¡¯s how it sounded to Sabo. Hiwot¡¯s gaze flicked to him. ¡°Do we¡ª¡± He held up a hand. She fell silent. When he spoke, it was in a careful whisper. ¡°I should go ahead and survey the situation. If it seems safe, we can re-approach.¡± Sabo crouched low, moving through the underbrush with practiced silence. The river shimmered in the midday light, cutting a winding path through the land. Near the bank, four figures stood¡ªtwo men, two women¡ªdressed in sturdy travel leathers. Their garuda, great flightless birds with sleek feathers in hues of umber, greens, and gold, drank lazily from the water, their long necks dipping in rhythmic motions. The birds were well-bred, their powerful legs corded with muscle. Garuda were popular mounts throughout Iardyss, prized for their endurance and speed. He recognized the signs of careful training¡ªthe way they barely twitched at the movements of their riders, the way their saddlebags were evenly packed to avoid discomfort. Sabo felt an unexpected pang of familiarity. There had been a ranch outside of Solstice, a small family-run place that raised garuda and giant beetles for labor and food. He¡¯d spent time there as a boy, earning extra coin brushing feathers and tending to the younger birds. He knew how they smelled, the sound of their low warbles, the way they kicked when spooked. Eater whispered in his mind. Sabo¡¯s lip curled. No. Sabo exhaled through his nose, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. No! He ignored the entity¡¯s sulking and prepared to slip back toward Hiwot. The travelers looked harmless enough. No visible weapons. No sign of them being soldiers or bounty hunters. This might be an opportunity to seek some direction and information. They¡¯ve had to come from somewhere close enough to get to, even by foot. Then a cold blade touched his throat. Sabo went still. A deep baritone rumbled near his ear. ¡°What are you doing, sneaking about?¡± Damn. 20. Strangers Chapter 20 Strangers Sabo¡¯s jaw clenched. No. The blade pressed firmer against his skin, just enough to remind him how fragile flesh could be. The man behind him smelled of sweat and leather, with a faint whiff of iron. A soldier once, perhaps, but definitely someone who was accustomed to using the weapon in their hand. The kind of man who kept his knife sharp, his boots worn, and his trust nonexistent. ¡°My friend and I are traveling northward,¡± Sabo said, keeping his voice steady, keeping his hands relaxed. ¡°We¡¯re somewhat lost. We heard your party but wanted to make sure you weren¡¯t of a dangerous sort before we approached.¡± He flicked his eyes toward the blade at his throat. ¡°So. Are you of the dangerous sort?¡± A pause. The blade didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Might be.¡± The man¡¯s voice was a low hiss, close enough that Sabo could feel his breath against his ear. ¡°If I must.¡± Sabo slowly turned his head, just enough to catch a glimpse of the man¡¯s face but not enough to make a potentially twitchy hand cut his throat. Hard angles. A nose that had been broken and never quite healed right. Stubble peppered with gray. Not old, but seasoned. The man had seen his share of fights, and he looked like he hadn¡¯t lost many. Sabo recognized something else in the man¡¯s eyes, something that he saw in Vitomir. The man was tired. Tired of fighting. ¡°Two travelers, lost? On foot?¡± the man pressed. ¡°This close to the Feltura Badlands?¡± His grip on the knife tightened. ¡°Do you take me for a fool? How many of you bandits are there? Tell me, and I might not slit your throat.¡± Sabo let out a slow breath. ¡°Not bandits,¡± he said, choosing his words carefully. A thought struck him. ¡°We actually ran into bandits passing northward from Hykaera. Left us without our mounts. But we had no choice but to press forward, we need to reach our destination in Valhadryan and weren¡¯t left with much of a choice, you see.¡± That got a reaction. A flicker of doubt, a slight shift in the man¡¯s stance. ¡°Bandits, near the Hykaeran border?¡± There was something in his voice now, something uncertain. Sabo caught the way his fingers flexed slightly on the hilt of his knife, the way his eyes darted toward his companions by the river. If they were headed south, toward Hykaera, that little bit of news had just made their day a whole lot worse. Sabo could be a source of information for them, if he could seem trustworthy enough. Sabo almost smiled. Eater murmured. For a moment, Sabo thought the man might actually lower the knife. Then¡ª The blade jerked away. Yanked through the air as if plucked by an unseen hand. Reiner sputtered, eyes wide. His confusion turned to rage in a heartbeat. He head snapped back towards Sabo, eyes burning with rage. Any sense of the exhaustion from violence burned away by that anger? ¡°You lying bandit bastard!¡± Well, shit, Sabo just had time to think before he was met with the man¡¯s fist. The punch caught Sabo square in the temple. White-hot pain exploded in his skull, and the world spun sideways. He hit the ground hard, ears ringing, cheek scraping against dirt and stone. Sabo groaned, pushing himself onto his elbows, still dazed. Then, he felt it. The sharp parting of skin, a twisting sensation at the side of his face. A familiar, terrible pressure. ¡°I would not recommend you continue your assault on my vassal, mortal,¡± Eater¡¯s voice oozed through the air like thick tar. Reiner stopped mid-step, his breath hitching. He screamed. Raw, primal horror tearing through his throat as he stumbled backward. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Reiner?!¡± One of the four travelers near the river called, alarmed. Great, Sabo thought. The situation had gotten so, so much worse. Was that Hiwot that had stolen the man¡¯s¡ªReiner¡¯s¡ªblade? Sabo forced himself up, staggering out of the underbrush. The four figures turned toward him, startled. None reached for weapons¡ªyet. But their eyes flicked between him and the cursing, panicked Reiner still lost in the brush. Sabo barely had time to register them before another figure came into focus. A fifth man stood on the riverbank, apart from the others. His hands were steady on a fishing rod, the line drawn taut. At the end of it, gleaming and swaying, was Reiner¡¯s dagger. How had Sabo not noticed this newcomer before? Was he here the entire time? The man was tall, nearly as tall as Sabo, his ocher skin kissed by the warm hue of afterglow. Long black curls fell in unruly waves around a bearded face, his pale eyes creased at the corners in quiet amusement. A sheepish grin tugged at his lips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, is this blade yours?¡± He lifted the fishing rod slightly, letting the dagger dangle from the line. ¡°I seem to have overcast my line!¡± The four travelers recoiled, looking at the man as if he¡¯d just grown a second head. They looked like a group of hares being cornered by two foxes. The man with the fishing rod was definitely not with this group. Reiner crashed through the underbrush behind Sabo, breath ragged. His face twisted with fury and fear. ¡°Stay away from them, you demon!¡± Sabo stiffened. His heart pounded. The man on the riverbank lifted a thick brow at the accusation, his gaze flicking to Sabo with renewed interest. He pointed a finger up at himself and then moved it in Sabo¡¯s direction before pointing at himself again. Then, again, back at Sabo, confused as to whom Reiner was referring to as a ¡®demon.¡¯ Sabo clenched his teeth. He felt his skin again¡ªwhole. Eater¡¯s mouth had already vanished. Thank the gods. ¡°He¡¯s no demon!¡± The voice rang out sharp and clear. A voice that promised violence. Hiwot strode forward, calm as a queen surveying her court. ¡°Though, if you would like to see a demon, please, continue these needless hostilities.¡± The air around her shimmered, warping like heat rising from a forge. Red arcs of energy danced over her arms and shoulders, snapping and crackling like a gathering storm. The light caught in her dark eyes, twin embers smoldering in their sockets. ¡°A sorcerer,¡± one of the women gasped, stepping back. Sabo groaned. Just what they needed. He threw his hands up, palms open. ¡°Really, we mean no harm. We just need directions and we¡¯ll be on our way.¡± Silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring. Then the oldest of the travelers¡ªgrey in the beard, lined in the face¡ªsighed and raised a hand. ¡°Enough. If they mean us harm, there won¡¯t be much we can do about it.¡± He gave Reiner a hard look, then turned back to Sabo and Hiwot. ¡°Directions, you say?¡± Tension bled from the group, slow and cautious. Hands drifted from saddlebags, no doubt containing stashed-away weapons. Garuda feathers ruffled as the birds shifted, sensing the change in mood. One of the giant birds resumed drinking from the river, content that whatever tension had built was now sufficiently drained from the situation. Sabo nodded. ¡°You¡¯re coming from the north, yeah? We need to know if we¡¯re heading in the right direction. We¡¯re looking for Hecate¡¯s Tower.¡± The old man clicked his tongue. ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re seeking the Tower. Not surprising. Everyone heading into or out of Valhadryan is either setting out towards or leaving the Tower.¡± He scratched at his beard. ¡°We¡¯re coming from there ourselves. Sold our wares at the base of the Tower and are heading to Hykaera to catch a ship back home. We¡¯re from Broceliande, you see.¡± ¡°How many days to the Tower, then?¡± Hiwot asked. ¡°By foot?¡± The old man snorted. ¡°A good while still. But you¡¯re perhaps two days away from Ramsmeade, which is the closest outpost to the Tower. Just follow this river, you¡¯ll reach it. Once there, I¡¯d recommend finding yourselves some sturdy garuda. Three days by bird to the Tower.¡± Sabo frowned. ¡°And it¡¯s safe? The journey from Ramsmeade, I mean. Your friend here seems a little skittish.¡± He eyed Reiner, who was still stiff with fear at witnessing Eater¡¯s mouth form on the side of his face. Sabo didn¡¯t blame the man. The old man chuckled, adjusting the straps on his saddle. ¡°Safest stretch of land in all of Valhadryan. Imperial Road runs through it. Plenty of traffic and patrols. Bandits tend to stick to the wilds where it¡¯s easier to slit throats and disappear.¡± Sabo and Hiwot exchanged glances. Two days on foot to Ramsmeade. Three by bird to the Tower. He wondered if she was as nervous at the mention of Imperial patrols. Would they be able to recognize two escaped prisoners? What makes you think anyone would be able to trace you to the crashed airship, or that anyone would assume there had been survivors? He thought. He gave a slight bow at the waist, ¡°Thank you. We appreciate it.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± said the old man. The travelers mounted their garuda, Reiner grumbling as he clambered up behind one of the women, still throwing Sabo the occasional dirty glare. ¡°One last thing,¡± Sabo said, catching the old man¡¯s attention. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°There are a number of Maldrath we¡¯ve ran while traveling through this forest. I would be careful.¡± The old man¡¯s face darkened. ¡°Maldrath?¡± ¡°I imagine there may be a Deep¡ªa dungeon¡ªsomewhere deeper in the forest. We didn¡¯t have time to investigate. In any case, be careful friend.¡± ¡°Thank you for the warning,¡± the old man said, face softening. ¡°The least I could do.¡± Then, with a few sharp clicks and a tug of the reins, the garuda took off, kicking up dust as they darted southward, quickly disappearing into the trees. Sabo exhaled. ¡°Well. That could¡¯ve gone worse.¡± Hiwot crossed her arms. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡± Sabo rolled his eyes. ¡°I had it under control.¡± Hiwot smirked. ¡°Sure you did, demon.¡± ¡°That man forgot about his dagger.¡± Sabo and Hiwot both startled at the sound. It was the other man, with the fishing rod. He had pulled the blade from the end of his line and was dangling the dagger between two fingers. His mouth was twisted into a disappointed frown. ¡°Shame.¡± How did I forget he was even here this entire time? Sabo¡¯s mind raced. Hiwot had clearly not noticed the man at all. The man gave the two a wide smile. ¡°Did I hear that you two are headed to Hecate¡¯s Tower? Mind if I joined you on your journey?¡± 21. A Fisher of Men & Daggers Chapter 21 A Fisher of Men & Daggers Hiwot turned her attention to the fisherman, arms still folded. Sabo could tell she was doing her best to hide the fact that this man¡¯s sudden presence had surprised her as well. ¡°And where exactly did you come from?¡± The man grinned, his pale eyes bright with amusement. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a tricky one. I like to think I was born in a river. Or at least, I swear I remember rushing water. Maybe I¡¯ve just grown so accustomed to the sound, walking alongside this one for so long now. He lifted his fishing rod, examining the empty line. ¡°Not that it¡¯s done me much good. You¡¯d think I¡¯d be better at this by now, but alas.¡± He sighed dramatically, then flashed another sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Clearly, I¡¯m a better fisher of men than actual fish. And, apparently, blades as well.¡± He tossed Reiner¡¯s dagger over his shoulder. The blade spun through the air, landing somewhere in the brush behind him. ¡°Strange talent to have, but we take what we can get, eh?¡± Sabo stared. This man is insane. Growing up, he had occasionally heard of the wild man who would live in the woods. Though most people in Solstice chalked it up to a drunk farmer or rancher, and not an actual wise man wandering the wilderness. Sabo had imagined they would be much like this man, though he didn¡¯t quite convey ¡®forest¡¯ vibes. In fact, he looked more shipwrecked or stranded. He wondered if that¡¯s what he and Hiwot looked like. He glanced at the white-haired young woman, who had, for everything they¡¯d been through, seemed fairly well put together. Hiwot, however, wasn¡¯t amused in the slightest. Her eyes narrowed. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. I asked how you got here. Just now. You weren¡¯t with that group, were you?¡± The man¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Oh, no! I wasn¡¯t with them. That would¡¯ve been quite sad, wouldn¡¯t it? To be abandoned by my own party like that?¡± He chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°No, no, I came from the coast. Been traveling inland for some time. Funny that you mention Hecate¡¯s Tower, though¡ªthat¡¯s actually where I¡¯m headed as well. Glad I ran into you two. Seems like it¡¯d be better to join some folks rather than wander alone.¡± His grin widened, and he extended a hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Gagan. Either of you any good at fishing?¡± He gave his fishing rod a little shake. Sabo just blinked. Hiwot didn¡¯t take his hand. She didn¡¯t even look at it. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her posture rigid. Yeah, she¡¯s not buying this either. Sabo sighed. This was going to be interesting. Hiwot¡¯s glare hardened. ¡°You¡¯re dodging the question.¡± Gagan tilted his head. ¡°Am I?¡± ¡°Yes. How did you sneak up on us?¡± Hiwot pressed. ¡°I swear you weren¡¯t here. And then, suddenly, you were.¡± Sabo crossed his arms, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°I noticed him. But then¡­ it was like he vanished from my mind until he spoke again.¡± ¡°Oh! Right, my apologies,¡± Gagan said, snapping his fingers as if just now recalling something trivial. ¡°You two are Soulsingers, yes? I dabble in the craft myself. I have a Skill called [Fade on the Horizon]. It¡¯s not quite an illusion¡ªmore like a . . . gentle push on the mind. Makes people¡¯s attention slip right past me, focus elsewhere.¡± He grinned, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Truth be told, I¡¯m not great at controlling it. Sometimes it¡¯s on when I don¡¯t mean it to be. Other times, I really want it to work and¡ªpoof, nothing.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Bit embarrassing, honestly. You¡¯d think the amazing power of being forgettable would be a little more cooperative.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Sabo and Hiwot locked eyes. A silent conversation passed between them. Sabo turned back to Gagan. ¡°Would you mind giving us a moment?¡± Gagan raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender and took a few steps away, whistling as he wandered toward the riverbank, his fishing rod swaying in his grip. Sabo leaned in close to Hiwot. ¡°I think we take him with us.¡± Hiwot¡¯s brows shot up. ¡°Are you insane?¡± she whispered harshly. ¡°A man with a Skill like that? He could slit our throats while we sleep, and we¡¯d never even know he was there.¡± Sabo hesitated. A part of him knew she was right. But still¡­ there was something about Gagan. Something that felt trustworthy, even if the man himself was¡ªwell, clearly not all there. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if the trust was another effect of a Skill or Spell. Was he being manipulated in that very moment? He sure as hells hoped not. ¡°It would be better to have someone like that right where we could keep an eye on him,¡± Sabo reasoned. ¡°As opposed to trailing us unseen.¡± Before Hiwot could respond, a familiar sensation crawled across Sabo¡¯s chest. The skin just below his collarbone split apart, revealing the grotesque maw of Eater. ¡°We should eat him,¡± Eater rasped, its voice thick and hungry. ¡°That Skill would be useful and it should be ours.¡± Hiwot smirked. ¡°Lord Eater does make a valid point.¡± Sabo scowled. ¡°We¡¯re not eating him.¡± Eater¡¯s many teeth curled into something resembling a frown. Sabo sighed. ¡°He¡¯s an innocent man. And he saved my life, even if by accident.¡± Hiwot crossed her arms. ¡°That remains to be seen.¡± Sabo crossed his arms, mostly to cover Eater¡¯s mouth and shut the damned thing up. ¡°You said you wanted to follow the most interesting path. I think having this man with us would be interesting. Or were you lying before?¡± Hiwot paused and considered. ¡°You¡¯ve got me there . . . Fine. But we should be cautious. I¡¯m not a fan of anyone or anything that could sneak up on me like that.¡± And so, it was settled. Sabo looked over his shoulder and shouted at Gagan, who had wandered decently farther down the bank of the river during his and Hiwot¡¯s sidebar. ¡°Okay, you¡¯re coming with us!¡± Gagan did a leap of joy, clicking his heels together in the air.
They followed the river as it wound through the landscape, its murky waters a constant, sluggish companion. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, the sun starting its slow descent behind the trees. Gagan, ever the optimist, tried his luck at fishing three more times during their trek. The first attempt saw his bait, a worm he had dug up that morning and kept in the pocket of his jacket, stolen right off the line. The second attempt ended when he cast too enthusiastically and snagged his own tunic, nearly toppling into the river trying to free himself. ¡°Either of you want to give it a go?¡± he asked, shaking his line free. ¡°No,¡± Hiwot answered flatly. Sabo just shook his head. He had no patience for fishing and had also never done it before. On the third attempt, Gagan¡¯s rod bent sharply, nearly yanking out of his hands. ¡°Ah-ha! See? I knew I had it in me!¡± Then the line snapped. The rod split. Whatever he had snagged pulled away, taking the end of the line with it. Gagan fell onto his back, the broken stick clutched in his hands. He blinked at the sky, as though processing what had just happened. Sabo and Hiwot exchanged a glance. Gagan sighed. ¡°I spent hours making that rod.¡± He stood, dusting himself off, then unceremoniously chucked the remains into the river. ¡°Well! I think I might be a better forager anyway.¡± He grinned, as if he hadn¡¯t just wasted an entire afternoon failing spectacularly. Foraging, however, did not yield much either. Gagan returned triumphantly with a handful of strange-looking mushrooms, which Hiwot promptly batted from his hands before he could shove them into his mouth. ¡°Those would have killed you,¡± she muttered, brushing past him. ¡°Would¡¯ve been an interesting way to go,¡± Gagan said, watching the mushrooms roll down the hill. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m bad at foraging too¡­¡± By nightfall, they reached the forest¡¯s edge. The land sloped into a valley where the river widened, its banks smooth and flat. A suitable place for camp. Sabo built a small fire, feeding it dry twigs and bramble they had collected while moving through the last stretch of forest. Hiwot worked methodically, dividing the last of their rations¡ªa task she had taken to doing with no small amount of irritation. Sabo knew they had been low, but still insisted they shared with Gagan, much to Hiwot¡¯s chagrin. Gagan sat cross-legged, watching her work. ¡°Would this be a bad time to admit I¡¯m also bad at cooking?¡± Hiwot shot him a withering look. Sabo sighed, staring into the fire. The road ahead was long, and food was running out. At least they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about company. He poked at the fire. ¡°So, Hiwot, before we stumbled upon that party back there, we¡¯d been talking about Soulsinging. Something about Physical Enhancement?¡± Gagan raised a thick eyebrow at the mention. Hiwot sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve given it some thought. At first, I thought you were too new to the craft to attempt it. But if we¡¯re going to climb Hecate¡¯s Tower, we might not have time on our side. So, that¡¯s what we¡¯ll be doing tomorrow.¡± 22. Enhance Chapter 22 Enhance The fire crackled in the quiet of the valley, a faint breeze carrying the scent of damp earth and charred wood. The sun had risen hours ago, but Hiwot had wasted no time. She had woken him while it was still dark out, and the two started Sabo¡¯s journey towards Physical Enhancement. Sabo sat cross-legged, hands on his knees, trying¡ªand failing¡ªto focus on his breathing. ¡°Physical Enhancement is one of the foundational aspects of higher-level Soulsinging,¡± Hiwot had explained earlier, her tone matter-of-fact, like a teacher repeating a lesson she had drilled into her own mind countless times. ¡°During my training at Brightwash Military Academy, it¡¯s what separated the elite from those sorry excuses for Soulsingers, who were shipped off to the frontlines early. It¡¯s also what weeded out recruits. Most people can¡¯t handle what it demands of their bodies, and even if done successfully, the quality of one¡¯s Physical Enhancement means everything.¡± That part, Sabo could believe. Brightwash Military Academy was infamous, training the best Soulsingers and soldiers in the entirety of the Ravaelian Empire¡ªturning them into living weapons, forged to be unleashed in humanity¡¯s never-ending war against the Maldrath. ¡°Beyond Physical Enhancement, there¡¯s also something called Spiritual Refinement,¡± she continued. ¡°But that¡¯s a step you¡¯re definitely not ready for. Yet.¡± Sabo cracked an eye open. ¡°You don¡¯t think I can handle it?¡± Hiwot smirked. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can handle this yet. So, let¡¯s start with meditation.¡± Sabo scowled. ¡°What¡¯s meditation?¡± Hiwot provided a brief explanation of the exercises, which frankly confused him. He wasn¡¯t sure how breathing and sitting still was going to make him stronger, but if this was the first step, then fine. He¡¯d do it. Gagan, surprisingly, had joined them. He sat opposite Sabo, back straight, looking absurdly peaceful. ¡°This is actually pretty fun,¡± he said, eyes still shut. Within seconds he was frozen in that position, gently snoring. Sabo sighed. Hiwot continued walking them through the process. Breathing in. Holding it. Breathing out. Slow, controlled, methodical. Then, after a while, focusing¡ªnot on the world, not on the night air or the fire¡¯s warmth, but inward. On the flow of mana through his body. At first, he could only feel the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart. Then, the pumping of blood through his body¡¯s circulatory system. He continued to breathe, focusing more inward. It was like trying to listen for a single voice in the middle of a storm. The mana was there¡ªhe could feel it, a distant thrum beneath his skin¡ªbut it was subtle. Slippery. Whenever he reached for it, his thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. It was so much easier to sense his mana when he was channeling aether, pulling on the power now within him, to burn it. Like a forge of power at his core. This, however, was like trying to draw a forge from a firefly, using only his breath. An hour passed. Then another. At some point, Sabo stopped fidgeting. Stopped sighing. Stopped thinking so hard. And then, finally, something shifted. The mana wasn¡¯t so distant anymore. It was a current, moving within him, like a river just beneath the surface of his skin. He could feel its flow now, tracing the paths it traveled, wrapping around his limbs, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He opened his eyes. ¡°Alright. I think I¡¯ve got the meditation part.¡± Hiwot gave him a look. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if you can actually do something with it.¡± A slithering rasp curled against his ear. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°This is where I can be of assistance,¡± Eater growled, its fang-filled maw parting along the skin of Sabo¡¯s neck, stretching like an impossible wound. Its many teeth gleamed in the firelight, as if grinning. ¡°You have been drinking deep of power, yet you have not even begun to properly devour it.¡± A pulsing sensation pressed against the inside of Sabo¡¯s skull, and then Yggdrasil¡¯s interface flickered into view¡ªneat lines of silvery script scrolling across his vision like an unseen scribe was writing directly into the air. [Maldrath (Class: Walker) Devoured: 162] [Maldrath (Hydra-Arm) Devoured: 60] [Maldrath (Class: Abjuration) Devoured: 2] Sabo blinked. He hadn¡¯t realized how many Maldrath he had consumed using the [Devour] Skill. It wasn¡¯t just the act of devouring and destroying the Maldrath itself¡ªEater had been hoarding these pieces of power like a miser counting his gold. ¡°At this point, you understand how the powers I lend you function,¡± Eater continued, its voice vibrating along his spine, silk and venom woven together. ¡°But you have never asked why I have not transfigured this Maldrath energy into more Skills and Spells. Why your new connection to Yggdrasil has not blossomed further. This is why.¡± Sabo frowned. It was a good point. He had simply assumed that the process was automatic, that whatever Eater absorbed would just occasionally manifest into something new. But the fact that Eater had been choosing what to transfigure¡ªor not¡ªwas something he hadn¡¯t considered. He wondered if Eater was able to control the transformation process. He wondered if he could gain access to some of that control, if he really tried. It wasn¡¯t the time to explore that line of questioning, but he tucked the thought away for later. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°So, why were you saving all this, then?¡± Eater¡¯s many fangs gleamed wider. Sabo could feel his skin grow taught in response to the entity¡¯s large grin. ¡°Because, my little vassal,¡± it purred, ¡°not all power should be spent cheaply.¡± ¡°Begin the process, Hiwot,¡± commanded Eater. Hiwot stood from her own meditative position and approached Sabo, taking a seat directly in front of him. Her crimson eyes locked onto his own. ¡°Typically, specific Artifacts are used to trigger the process of Physical Enhancement. However, I will have to do. You will fall into a meditative trance, focusing on your mana flow¡ªjust like we¡¯ve been practicing¡ªand then I will send spikes of my own mana into your system. Whatever you do, keep focusing and breathing. If you break the trance, the consequences could be disastrous. There will be pain¡­ a lot of pain. Work through it.¡± ¡°Now or never¡­¡± he said, though his voice sounded half as confident as he wanted it to. The world around him faded, slipping away into darkness as Sabo let himself sink into the stillness of meditation. His breathing slowed, his mind focused, and the flow of mana inside him became something he could feel¡ªlike threads of warmth threading through his limbs, coiling in his chest, surging at the base of his spine. Then, Hiwot¡¯s fingers pressed against his sternum, right above his heart. A spike of warmth. Sharp, invasive. The foreign mana slithered into his channels like oil spreading through water, thick and heavy. ¡°Your body will resist,¡± Hiwot¡¯s voice came from somewhere above, distant and controlled. ¡°Good. Let it. You must learn to fight back, Sabo. To claim your power.¡± Then the pain began. Sabo¡¯s entire body seized. His muscles clenched, his skin felt like it was being pierced from the inside by a thousand invisible needles. His mana recoiled, writhing against the intrusion, lashing out in desperate, instinctive defense. He gasped, but his breath hitched¡ªit was like drowning, like being swallowed by his own body. Hiwot didn¡¯t stop. Another pulse of mana, another sharp lance of agony rippling through his core. His bones ached, his blood burned. He wanted to thrash, to shove her hand away, to make it stop¡ª And then a voice slithered into his mind, rich and dark. Eater. The words were meant to be reassuring, but Sabo barely had time to process them before everything exploded within him. A torrent of something¡ªraw, searing, endless¡ªrushed through him. It was as if the battle raging inside him had suddenly been thrown into chaos, his own mana surging like a storm, Hiwot¡¯s invasion pushing harder, and Eater¡¯s power ripping through everything in its path. Heat. Fiery, unbearable heat. His skin felt like it was blistering, his veins like molten rivers tearing through flesh and bone. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles convulsing with raw, unchecked power. His mind teetered on the edge of oblivion, torn between the pain and the inferno swelling inside him. He was burning. He was dying. No¡ª He was becoming. And then, suddenly¡ªit broke. [Devour] His eyes shot open, his lungs dragging in a breath, deep and pure and real. Sweet, like the first inhale of air after nearly drowning. The world sharpened. The pain was gone. For the first time in his life, Sabo felt whole. Steam curled off of his body, but the silver, glowing text in his vision cut through the veil of steam. [Physical Enhancement: Complete] [Soulsinger Body: Titan] [Physical Attributes enhanced!] [Mental Attributes enhanced!] [New Passive Skills available!] [Soulsinger Body Improved: Titan upgraded to Hunger Titan] [Physical Attributes enhanced!] [Mental Attributes enhanced!] [New Passive Skills available!] Sabo blinked away the notifications and found Hiwot¡¯s eyes as the steam cleared. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. Gagan, who had apparently woke up from his nap¡ªer, meditation¡ªwhistled. ¡°Would you look at that!¡± Wait, Sabo thought, looking down at Hiwot. Did she just shrink? The entity within Sabo rumbled in satisfaction. 23. Titan Chapter 23 Titan Sabo¡¯s breath still came fast, his lungs adjusting to the new weight of his body. He blinked, the world around him sharp in a way it hadn¡¯t been before. He looked down. Hiwot was watching him carefully, her brow furrowed, but there was something else in her gaze¡ªsomething almost approving. Sabo¡¯s hands still looked the same¡ªscarred from hard labor, roughened by callouses. But as his gaze traveled up his arms, he sucked in a sharp breath. His forearms had doubled in size. Thick cords of muscle pulsed beneath his skin, veins visibly snaking their way over the slabs of strength. He lifted his arms experimentally, flexing his fingers, feeling the power thrumming just beneath the surface. Slowly, he stood. The movement was effortless. Fluid. It felt like he¡¯d been crawling through the world with weights strapped to his body, and now, for the first time, those weights had been removed. He was lighter, despite the undeniable bulk in his limbs. Taller, too¡ªhis perspective had shifted. He rolled his shoulders, marveling at how right it felt. His imprisonment had stolen so much from him, had hollowed out his body and left him brittle. But now? Now, he felt whole. More than whole. Even at the peak of his time as a blacksmith¡¯s assistant, and training with Vitomir and Mags, he had never felt like this. No, just a shadow of what I could have truly been. With that thought, he called on Yggdrasil. The system¡¯s interface materialized in front of his vision in neat, silver script. His mind instinctively flicked to his Attributes window. [Access Granted: Yggdrasil] [Soulsinger Designation: Sabomir] [Class: God-Eater] ATTRIBUTES: PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES: Strength: B-1 Dexterity: B-5 Endurance: A-2 Vitality: A-1 Physical Sub-Level: B-7 MENTAL ATTRIBUTES: Intelligence: B-1 Reactivity: A-4 Perception: B-5 Willpower: A-1 Mental Sub-Level: B-5 SPIRITUAL ATTRIBUTES: Power: E-1 Reserves: E-1 Versatility: E-1 Control: E-1 Spiritual Sub-Level: E-1 Sabo frowned at the last section. His Spiritual Attributes were abysmal compared to the rest. A dark chuckle echoed in his mind. Eater¡¯s voice coiled through his thoughts, its satisfaction palpable. Sabo swallowed. He could feel it¡ªthe raw, untapped potential still locked within him, like a deep well waiting to be drawn upon. Sabo scowled. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with my spirit?¡± he muttered. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Sabo exhaled, steadying himself. He clenched his fist, feeling the sheer strength in the movement. More. He could become more. And for the first time in his life, he believed it. Gagan whistled low, eyes sweeping over Sabo¡¯s newly bulked-up frame. ¡°Well, damn. Now I¡¯m definitely glad I found you two. A man like that? We could march straight up to Hecate¡¯s Tower and knock the damn thing over with our bare hands.¡± He gave Sabo an approving nod. ¡°No tower¡ªor any other form of architecture¡ªcan stop you! No fortress, no keep, no sacred temple stands a chance!¡± Sabo snorted. ¡°That so?¡± Hiwot sighed, rubbing her temples. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot.¡± ¡°But a correct idiot,¡± Gagan countered. ¡°And don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re not impressed, miss military elite. He looks like he could punch the moon out of the sky. No¡­ no, no. Better yet, my man Slavo¡ª¡± ¡°Er¡ªSabo,¡± Sabo chimed in. ¡°Sabo¡ªlooks like he can swallow the sun! So, I ask how can you not be impressed by this!¡± Gagan threw both of his hands at Sabo, exasperated. Hiwot crossed her arms. ¡°I am impressed. But I¡¯m also concerned.¡± She eyed Sabo like he was a weapon fresh from the forge, still cooling, still uncertain if it would hold its edge. ¡°Most Soulsingers improve their bodies, yes, but nothing that extreme. Not all at once, and usually not ever. Whatever Lord Eater did, it was¡­¡± she hesitated, ¡°. . . unique.¡± Sabo flexed his fingers, feeling the strength in his hands, the weight of them. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you two don¡¯t have bodies like this?¡± Hiwot shook her head. ¡°Not like that. My enhancements are more refined, subtle. Speed, endurance, but in balance.¡± She glanced at Gagan. ¡°And you?¡± ¡°Oh, me? No, no, no,¡± Gagan waved a dismissive hand. ¡°My gift is avoiding work. Physical labor? Terrible. I much prefer trickery and charm to solve my problems. I have the enhanced physical form of a sea lion.¡± Sabo laughed. What the hell was a sea lion? Gagan grinned, clearly happy to have received the reaction he was seeking. ¡°So, who the hell is Lord Eater, anyway?¡± he asked. Sabo hesitated. Then, he let it happen. With a wet, tearing sound, his skin parted. The flesh of his chest peeled back like the petals of some terrible flower, revealing the cavernous, fanged maw embedded beneath his collarbone. A single, luminous red eye snapped open just above the gaping mouth, pupil dilating as it swiveled toward Gagan. ¡°I am Lord Eater.¡± Gagan screamed. Not a dignified yelp, not a startled gasp¡ªa full-bodied, high-pitched, flailing shriek as he staggered backward and fell flat on his ass. Scrambling up onto his elbows, his eyes were wide with horror. ¡°You¡ªyou¡ªyou¡¯re some kind of Bonesinger?¡± Hiwot¡ªstoic, deadly, composed Hiwot¡ªgiggled. Sabo blinked at her. Gagan blinked at her. Hiwot cleared her throat and schooled her features back into something resembling normalcy. ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, straightening. ¡°That was just¡­unexpected.¡± Gagan was still staring at the monstrous thing in Sabo¡¯s chest. ¡°Unexpected? That¡¯s one way to put it! Does¡ªdoes that thing just live inside you?¡± ¡°He is my mortal vassal,¡± Eater rumbled. ¡°And I, his lord and teacher.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Gagan wiped his forehead, still breathing hard. ¡°Okay. That¡¯s fine. That¡¯s normal. You¡¯re a terrifying monster-man. No problem.¡± He dusted himself off and let out a ragged sigh. ¡°You know, I was just thinking to myself, ¡®Hey, Gagan, maybe you should travel alone again. Maybe finding new friends isn¡¯t worth it.¡¯ But no, I had to tempt fate. And you know what, Slavo¡ª¡± ¡°Sabo.¡± ¡°Sabo¡ªI¡¯m still glad I tempted fate so. Even if you are more disgusting than I originally assessed. That¡¯s okay.¡± Sabo grinned. ¡°Okay, okay. Sure.¡± He mentally, and politely, asked Eater to hide itself again and the entity kindly obliged, the mouth vanishing from his chest. The entity¡¯s eye lingered for just a moment longer before also winking out of existence. Sabo walked over and offered the other man a hand. Gagan happily took it. Sabo pulled and nearly threw the other man into the air and over his shoulder. He quickly adjusted, using his other hand to steady and still Gagan. ¡°Woah!¡± Gagan exclaimed. ¡°Sorry,¡± Sabo said. ¡°I need to get used to this new strength.¡± ¡°Yes, we still have the rest of the journey for you to adjust to it. But likely, your body won¡¯t be tested until we reach the Tower,¡± Hiwot said. She was putting out their fire and breaking down the meager camp the three had set up. Sabo moved to lend her a hand.
A couple of hours after setting off from their camp, the three spotted the road northward to Ramsmeade, which would then continue on to Hecate¡¯s Tower. The road north was a sorry thing¡ªcracked and uneven, its stones half-swallowed by dirt and creeping weeds. Every so often, a wooden post jutted up from the ground, its faded markings barely legible. Hiwot eyed the path ahead, frowning. ¡°We should reach Ramsmeade by midday tomorrow. If the road holds.¡± Gagan kicked a loose cobblestone. ¡°If it holds? This thing hasn¡¯t been maintained in years. I think I saw a family of rabbits paying tolls to use it.¡± Sabo snorted. ¡°Gagan, I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you something.¡± ¡°And, what might that be my monstrous companion?¡± ¡°Earlier, you called me something. A Bonesinger? What is that?¡± Hiwot interjected. ¡°A Bonesinger is a specific type of Soulsinger. Each variety of Soulsinger uses a different aspect of themselves as a conduit for their magic. An Evoker uses their soul. A Conjurer their mind. A Forger their heart. And, Bonesingers use their bodies. They are transform and control their physical forms in special ways. I¡¯m not surprised someone might think you¡¯re a Bonesinger. Though, with that maul of yours, someone might take you for a Forger. You¡¯re indeed an anomaly.¡± ¡°A maul, you say?¡± Gagan asked. ¡°I guess you¡¯ll always be ready to hammer home your point in an argument¡­¡± Hiwot just palmed her forehead. They pressed on, following the winding road as it sloped gently through the land, cutting into a dense stretch of forest. The trees pressed close, their branches forming a jagged canopy that cast long, shifting shadows across their path. The air grew thick, damp with the scent of moss and earth. Then, ahead, they spotted it. A cart¡ªmore of a rickshaw, really¡ªleaning at an awkward angle on the side of the road. One wheel shattered, its spokes splayed like a broken ribcage. A man crouched beside it, inspecting the damage with a weary expression. A woman stood nearby, wrapped in a tattered shawl, clutching a bundled infant against her chest. Gagan¡¯s steps quickened. ¡°Well, that¡¯s unfortunate. Let¡¯s see if they need a hand.¡± Hiwot didn¡¯t move. ¡°Wait.¡± But Gagan was already striding forward, his hands raised in a gesture of easy goodwill. ¡°Hey there, friend. That¡¯s a real mess you¡¯ve got¡ªwhat happened?¡± The man looked up, his face lined with exhaustion. ¡°Wheel broke. We were heading to Ramsmeade, but now¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t know.¡± Hiwot stayed put. Sabo did too. Something was wrong. The feeling crawled up Sabo¡¯s spine like a whisper of cold breath against his neck. The hairs on his arms stood on end. His skin prickled. The wrongness wasn¡¯t obvious¡ªit wasn¡¯t in the man¡¯s voice or the woman¡¯s posture. It wasn¡¯t in the broken wheel or the lopsided cart. It was somewhere else. Sabo¡¯s gaze flicked past the couple, toward the trees flanking the road. A flicker of movement. Then another. Dark shapes crouched in the underbrush, half-hidden among the tangle of roots and ferns. Others lurked in the branches above, shifting just enough for Sabo to catch the glint of steel. Not travelers. Not a stranded family. An ambush. 24. Bandits Chapter 24 Bandits Sabo moved before thought. Instinct, sharpened by suffering and tempered in blood, took hold. Twelve of them. He could feel them¡ªlike pressure points against his senses, as if the world itself whispered their presence into his mind. The two by the rickshaw, their deception barely a mask. Three in the brush to the left, four on the right, three more above, perched in the trees like carrion birds. The three in the trees each had their bows drawn and pointed towards the path. Aether surged in his veins as he continued to channel more and more of the energy. This is what it was like to truly see! The maul bloomed from his shoulder in an instant, growing from nothing, expanding into reality like a piece of the world being rewritten in flesh and steel. The haft slammed into his palm, the weight settling like an extension of his will. Sabo couldn¡¯t explain what he was feeling. It was like he and Eater were now mor compatible. Before, they were two dancers, stumbling through the steps, making their way through the music but only barely avoiding each other¡¯s toes. Now, the entity¡¯s will spun and moved in perfect synchronization with his own. The arrows came, flying from the treetops in response to the maul¡¯s appearance. A sharp hiss. Streaks of black, cutting through the air, aimed for his chest, his throat, his head. Sabo breathed in¡ªaether roaring through his body like fire through dry leaves. His aura flared, snapping outward in a pulse of raw energy. [Passive Skill Activated: Hydra Shell] Something within him shifted, an unseen force rippling out. The first arrow reached him¡ªand stopped. The air around him buckled as an invisible tendril lashed out, striking the arrow mid-flight, sending it spinning harmlessly to the ground. Another. Then another. His aura moved, lashing out like unseen serpents, snapping shafts in half, sending them careening wildly off course. He activated his [Aura Vision] and indeed, the shroud of aura surrounding his body reminded him of the bear-shaped Maldrath he had fought. Dozens of serpentine-like heads extended from his body, writhing through the air, alive and ready to attack anything that dared to pose him harm. A bandit screamed, clutching his own arrow as it buried itself in his thigh. The bandits from the brush charged the road, blades drawn, snarls on their tongues. Sabo grinned. He charged to meet them. Hiwot sprung forward like a cat. Gagan looked around. Confused. The first bandit barely had time to widen his eyes before Sabo leapt¡ªhis improved muscles coiling like steel, propelling him high. He twisted midair, bringing the maul overhead in a two-handed arc. The rickshaw exploded. Wood, cloth, and dust blasted outward as the hammer struck home, shattering the cart like it was made of twigs. The man and woman standing near it dove aside, barely escaping the impact, their act of feigned innocence disintegrating along with the rickshaw. The ¡®baby¡¯¡ªa sack of potatoes¡ªwent sprawling, spilling across the forested path. Then the real fight began. Hiwot whispered a word, her voice a razor through the din. Bones erupted from the earth. Fiery skeletal hands clawed up from the dirt, grasping at ankles, seizing legs, dragging bandits down. One shrieked as he fell, his sword clattering away as skeletal fingers gripped his arms and wrenched them apart with a sickening pop. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Gagan moved like water, slipping between attacks, flowing through the chaos with effortless grace. A sword lunged for him¡ªhe twisted, let the strike slide past, then nudged the attacker just so, sending him sprawling straight into a dagger meant for someone else. ¡°Pardon me,¡± he said apologetically, as though inconveniencing the bandits. ¡°Manners, really?¡± Sabo called to the man as he blocked swipes from two bandits with the large head of his maul. The bandits were unfortunately surprised by the maw that tore open from the hammer¡¯s head, a tongue lashing out to grab one of them by the arm. The arm was torn off with a sickening crunch. Jebati, Sabo silently swore. Despite his efforts, Eater¡¯s hunger and bloodshed was impossible to entirely avoid. ¡°Oh, I love when they do all the work for me,¡± Gagan said, laughing. ¡°But a battle¡¯s no excuse to be rude, my friend!¡± Sabo had no more time for banter. He moved, every new fiber of his enhanced body working in tandem¡ªhis muscles coiling, his reflexes sharpening, his mind processing every movement before it even happened. He swung the maul, clearing the two bandits from his path. The now one-armed bandit fell to the side, body limp and quickly bleeding out. A man charged him, blade raised. Sabo saw the mistake before he made it. He pivoted, hammer spinning, slammed the weapon into the man¡¯s midsection. The impact was like a thunderclap. The bandit folded in half midair, sent flying twenty feet before landing in a crumpled heap. Another came at him. Sabo ducked under a wild swing, grabbed the man¡¯s wrist, twisted¡ªand snapped his forearm like a dried twig. The bandit howled, dropping his sword. Sabo finished it with a casual backhand from the maul¡¯s haft, sending him sprawling. Too easy. Eater stirred in his mind. Sabo believed it. Sabo turned, his enhanced senses stretching outward. The three archers, the ones who had loosed those first, futile arrows, were scrambling down from the trees. One had already hit the ground running, boots kicking up dust as he sprinted toward the underbrush. One¡ªthe one with an arrow in his thigh¡ªwas struggling to even get down the tree. Cowards. Eater stirred, coiling around his thoughts like a great serpent. A window of Yggdrasil¡¯s interface flickered into view, silver letters forming in the air before his eyes. [Improved Aura of Fear] Sabo exhaled. Mana surged through his core, draining away like liquid fire, feeding into something unseen. The world shuddered. A pulse of power rippled from him in all directions, unseen but felt¡ªsomething ancient, something instinctual. The bandits froze mid-step. The first archer tripped, collapsing onto his knees. The others halted where they stood, muscles rigid, breath caught in their throats. Their hands trembled. Their eyes darted in panic, but their bodies refused to obey them. Sabo strode forward, his maul resting against his shoulder. ¡°Come here,¡± he commanded, voice low, steady. ¡°You will not be harmed.¡± The archers obeyed without hesitation, stumbling forward like marionettes caught in invisible strings. They emerged onto the road, dropped to their knees before him, their faces drained of color. One was shaking so violently he could barely hold himself upright. The other bandits¡ªthe ones who were alive and uninjured enough to obey¡ªdropped beside their companions. Hiwot stepped forward, arms crossed. ¡°How many of you are there?¡± No one spoke at first, until Sabo let his aura pulse again. The lead archer shuddered and blurted, ¡°Twelve! It was just twelve of us!¡± ¡°No others nearby?¡± Hiwot pressed. ¡°No, I swear it! We¡ªwe were desperate! The roads are empty these days, barely anyone comes this way. We thought we¡¯d get lucky.¡± ¡°Terrible luck.¡± Gagan clicked his tongue. ¡°Also, terrible marks. I mean, really, what were you hoping to find? We don¡¯t even have saddlebags. We¡¯re walking! Were you gonna steal my boots? . . . I do love these boots.¡± The lead archer hesitated. ¡°You¡ªyou looked like you had coin. Possibly.¡± Gagan scoffed. ¡°Clearly, you need better eyes.¡± Sabo ignored the banter, tilting his head. ¡°Did you come by foot?¡± One of the archers hesitated. Then, finally, ¡°No. We bunker down in a cave, not too far from here.¡± ¡°Answer his question,¡± Hiwot said. ¡°Garuda¡­ We have garuda.¡± Sabo narrowed his eyes. That changed things. ¡°Where?¡± The man swallowed, then pointed toward a thick copse of trees just beyond the road. ¡°There. Tethered just beyond the ridge.¡± Sabo let his aura wash over them again, sending another shiver of terror through their spines. ¡°Stay put.¡± He, Hiwot, and Gagan moved into the trees, stepping carefully over roots and low brush. Then, past the ridge, they saw them¡ªsix garuda, saddled and restless, their large, feathered bodies shifting against their tethers. Their sharp beaks clicked in agitation, but they were trained mounts, accustomed to riders. Gagan let out a low whistle. ¡°Now that is a proper prize.¡± Sabo ran a hand along the feathers of the closest garuda, feeling the creature shudder beneath his touch. ¡°We can reach the Tower far more quickly with these.¡± Hiwot nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s go before those bandits find their spines again.¡± Within minutes, they had mounted three of the garuda, and with a sharp kick, the creatures took off, talons clawing into the dirt before launching into a smooth, bounding sprint. The forest blurred past them, and soon the road stretched ahead, winding toward the distant Tower. 25. Purpose Chapter 25 Purpose The garuda finally approached the outskirts of Ramsmeade as the sun began its slow ascent, gilding the fields and rooftops in burnished amber. The three had traveled through the cover of darkness, eager to reach their final stop before the Tower of Hecate. The town itself was small, but lively, with squat stone buildings and timber-framed homes leaning into one another like gossiping old men. A scattering of market stalls lined the main street, their proprietors still hawking their wares despite the hour. The smell of fresh bread and roasting meat curled through the air, mingling with the sharper scents of tannery and horse dung. Sabo shifted in his saddle, still unaccustomed to the powerful gait of the garuda beneath him. He eyed the passersby warily. Ramsmeade was no grand city, but it was bustling compared to the lonely roads they had traveled and was larger than anything he had ever known. Solstice¡ªby comparison¡ªhadn¡¯t been much. His hand twitched, as though it reflexively wanted to extend and summon the weapon that waited just beneath the surface. People stared at him, wide-eyed, like they were witnessing a wolf riding on the back of the garuda. He wanted to shrink away and disappear from their prying eyes. But he couldn¡¯t¡ªespecially with this new form. He settled for slouching over his reigns, and avoiding eye contact. Gagan, of course, seemed right at home, grinning as he dismounted and stretched. ¡°I say we trade one of these beauties for some proper coin. We can ride double on the way to the Tower.¡± He clapped the nearest garuda¡¯s feathered neck. ¡°Besides, I doubt we¡¯ll find a stablemaster willing to board three of these for free.¡± Hiwot nodded, already unfastening her saddlebags (technically, they were the bandits¡¯ saddlebags, but through proper means were now hers, she had explained). ¡°Agreed. We need supplies, and unless you fancy sleeping on the roadside again, an inn for the night.¡± Sabo followed as they led the garuda to the largest stable in town, an aging but sturdy structure of weathered wood and thick stone. The stablemaster, a wiry woman with shrewd eyes, appraised the creature with the kind of look a butcher gives a prize calf. ¡°Fine beast,¡± she murmured, running a calloused hand over its flank. ¡°Well-trained, from the look of it. I''ll give you thirty.¡± ¡°Thirty?¡± Gagan scoffed. ¡°For a garuda like this? It could carry a man from here to Olendar without breaking stride. Forty.¡± The stablemaster snorted. ¡°Maybe in its youth. Thirty-five.¡± Gagan hesitated, then nodded. ¡°Done¡­ If you can also stable our other two for the night.¡± The stablemaster spat into her palm and extended the hand towards Gagan, who happily spat into his own then took hers in a tight embrace. Sabo blinked. Thirty-five gold. The stablemaster counted the coins into Gagan¡¯s hand¡ªthe dry one¡ªand Sabo stared at the pile as if he had been handed a king¡¯s ransom. He had seen coin before, of course, but never so much in one place, never in his possession. Gagan split the gold between them with a practiced ease, handing Sabo his share without ceremony. Sabo ran his thumb over the edge of a coin, feeling the weight of it, the cool bite of metal against his skin. His gut churned. This was more wealth than he had ever held, and Gagan and Hiwot were already discussing where to spend it as if it were nothing. By the time the sun had made its journey and was settling into the horizon, the three of them were newly outfitted¡ªsturdy boots, thick cloaks, travel packs filled with dried provisions and water skins. Sabo flexed his fingers against the fabric of his new jacket. It was simple, but warm, better than anything he had worn in years. He stripped off his old clothes in the alley behind the inn, tossing the tattered rags into a heap. As he did, he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. Gagan, standing beside his own discarded coat, retrieving something from an inner pocket. A small booklet, its cover stained and worn from water damage. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Sabo frowned. Gagan tucked it carefully into the breast pocket of his new jacket, his fingers lingering there for a moment before he turned away. Sabo hesitated. He had never seen Gagan with a book before. The man was loud, flippant, never one to dwell on things for too long. And yet, the way he had handled that booklet¡­ Sabo didn¡¯t ask. Not yet. Instead, he pulled his new cloak around his shoulders, letting the weight of the gold in his pocket settle against his hip. The road to the Tower still lay ahead, and something told him they would need every coin, every resource, before they reached their destination.
The inn was small but well-kept, its wooden beams dark with age, its hearth flickering with a low, steady fire. The common room bustled with the last of the evening¡¯s patrons¡ªtravelers nursing cups of mead, a merchant haggling with a tanner, a trio of local farmers trading gossip. The scent of roast duck and spiced cider clung to the air, mingling with the earthy musk of too many bodies packed into too small a space. Hiwot had taken a room for herself, retiring early with little more than a nod, while Sabo and Gagan found themselves sharing a cramped but serviceable chamber upstairs. It held a single narrow window, a squat wooden dresser, and two straw-stuffed mattresses laid out on low frames. Simple, but leagues better than the cold dirt of the road. Or the cramped quarters he had been given while a prisoner. Sabo sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the golden glow of the oil lamp on the nightstand. He rolled a coin between his fingers, the metal still strange in his grip. Across from him, Gagan flopped onto his mattress with all the grace of a man who had never worried about personal space. He let out a long sigh, folding his arms behind his head. ¡°Gotta say,¡± Gagan mused, tilting his head toward Sabo, ¡°for a first-time garuda thief, you did well back there.¡± Sabo snorted. ¡°You¡¯re the one who actually stole them.¡± ¡°Details,¡± Gagan said with a lazy grin. Then his eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Is it stealing if it¡¯s from bandits?¡± ¡°S¡¯pose, not.¡± ¡°You never did say where you were from, you know.¡± Sabo hesitated, the coin pausing in his palm. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he answered. ¡°Olendar.¡± Gagan gave a low whistle. ¡°You¡¯re a long way from home, then.¡± Sabo nodded. ¡°Not much of a home left.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure why he kept talking. Maybe it was the warmth of the inn, the comfort of a real bed beneath him. Maybe it was the way Gagan listened¡ªnot with pity, but with that same casual curiosity he gave to everything. Like it was just another story, another thread in the weave of the world. ¡°My village was called Solstice,¡± Sabo said, his voice steady. ¡°Maldrath ravaged it. One of the largest hordes I¡¯ve ever seen. Poor village didn¡¯t stand a chance¡­ Two Angels appeared that night.¡± ¡°Angels, you say?¡± ¡°I do.¡± Gagan was quiet for a while. ¡°You¡¯re lucky to be alive¡­¡± he finally said. ¡°So were a surprising amount of others. The Imperials finished the job. The Crown Coalition arrived the morning after the attack.¡± He clenched his jaw. ¡°They made sure nothing remained.¡± Gagan sat up slightly, watching him. ¡°Damn,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Sabo exhaled, slow and measured. The rage was always there, buried deep, but speaking of it brought it closer to the surface, like embers stoked into a flame. Not just for the village. Not just for the people. But for him. Vitomir. His fingers tightened around the coin. ¡°Then, after months of struggling to survive¡­The Morduin Order took the last thing I had left,¡± he muttered. ¡°Vitomir. He raised me. He was the only family I had left, and they took him.¡± Silence stretched between them. Gagan shifted, scratching absently at his jaw. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, ¡°I know something about losing people.¡± Sabo looked up. The memory of the booklet in Gagan¡¯s pocket came back to him, the careful way he had tucked it away. ¡°That book,¡± he said. ¡°The one you kept. What is it?¡± Gagan pulled his jacket off the back of the chair, fishing into the inner pocket. He retrieved the booklet, turning it over in his hands. It was small, the cover cracked with age and water-damaged at the edges. ¡°Don¡¯t really remember,¡± he admitted. ¡°Most of my memories are gone. But this?¡± He tapped the cover with his thumb. ¡°This was mine. I wrote things down, left myself notes. I know I was looking for someone¡ªmy little sister. She went missing, and I was searching for her. I think I know where to find her now.¡± Sabo frowned. ¡°You think she¡¯s in Hecate¡¯s Tower?¡± Gagan flipped the booklet open, skimming the pages before holding it up for Sabo to see. A single line was scrawled across one of the crinkled sheets, written in bold, uneven script. She¡¯s there. She has to be. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m going,¡± Gagan said, closing the book. ¡°To find her.¡± Sabo stared at the page a moment longer before leaning back against the headboard. ¡°That¡¯s a noble thing.¡± Gagan chuckled. ¡°Noble? Me?¡± Sabo shrugged. ¡°More than me. I¡¯m going for revenge. To get to whatever the Order wants before they can.¡± He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. ¡°It feels small, compared to your reason. But it¡¯s all I have. The only thing I can do for Vitomir now.¡± Gagan was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached out and clapped a hand on Sabo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Then we¡¯ll do it together,¡± he said simply. Sabo hesitated, then nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll help you find your sister. If I can.¡± Gagan grinned, leaning back onto his mattress. ¡°Appreciate it, mate. And I¡¯ll help you steal from the Order. If I can.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not stealing if we get whatever it is before it¡¯s technically theirs.¡± ¡°Details.¡± Sabo didn¡¯t respond. He stared at the ceiling, the firelight from the lamp flickering in the dim room. The Tower awaited them. And whatever lay within it¡ªwhether vengeance or salvation¡ªthey would face it together. AUTHORS NOTE: Update - Hiatus Thank you for reading DEVOUR. If you were excited to see that a new chapter has been released on Royal Road, then I am so sorry. I wanted to write and update you all that there will be no regularly scheduled updates on DEVOUR for a little while. I have essentially finished and posted the first Arc (the Introduction Arc), which introduces a lot of pieces onto the board but unfortunately ends before the first move of the game can be made. I am placing the story on hiatus while I do some re-writes of the first Arc and re-plot the tower-climbing portion of the story. The story has some significant flaws in both the writing, plotting and character building. Ultimately, I don''t think I can currently do this story justice and you, the reader, deserves better. I hope that the story, once re-worked, will capture my full vision for this story. But, rest assured, Sabo''s story is one that will be told. It''s been in my mind ever since the early days of imagining him and Mags sparring outside the orphanage in Solstice, before their lives changed forever. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. I hope the re-written story will be worth the wait. And hope you''ll return to read it when it''s here. I don''t want to make any promises on when that might be, as I am planning on writing the entire volume before releasing (to ensure the story, mystery elements, and emotional moments all work). Thank you, again. Cheers, RM