I awoke the following morning to blinding sunlight slashing through the gaps in the decrepit buildings towering over the alley. My head throbbed, my body burning as if fire had replaced my blood. The events of last night came back in fragments—the colossal figure, his scarlet eyes, the sigil he'd given me. I glanced at my hand, and there it was: Orphease's ring, its ruby center gleaming with an unsettling, crimson light.
"So, it wasn't a dream," I muttered, trying to shake the last vestiges of sleep. But suddenly, a surge of pain wracked my body, radiating from my chest and clawing through my gut like molten iron. The sensation was unlike anything I'd known, not hunger or thirst but a ravenous ache from within, scraping at my bones.
"Feed us," a faint voice whispered, barely audible, but persistent, like claws scraping against the back of my mind.
I clutched my chest, feeling the pain deepen, as if the voice demanded something beyond my understanding. I thrashed against the alley wall, struggling to resist. "What...what is this?" My voice was a hoarse whisper as the pain became unbearable, echoing Orphease's presence.
Just then, I heard the crunch of footsteps. Through my pain, I counted them: six beings, approaching slowly, leisurely, like predators savoring their prey. I forced my head up, and there they stood—two towering orcs and four goblins with green, twisted features and grins that promised violence.
"Look what we have here, boys," one of the orcs sneered, his tusks jutting from his lower jaw as he sized me up. "A stray, ripe for the taking."
The goblins cackled, inching closer, each step reverberating through my agony. "Why today of all days?" I gasped, half to myself, but the creatures took it as an invitation.
"Today is the day you die," one of the goblins taunted, his high-pitched laughter scratching at my ears.
The first blow came fast and brutal. An orc's boot collided with my chest, driving the air from my lungs. But even as I doubled over, something inside me snapped—a surge of dark energy rushing through me, flooding my senses. The ring on my finger burned with fierce intensity, a voice echoing in my mind, growing louder with every heartbeat.
"More...give me more," it whispered, urging me forward, filling me with a strange, twisted hunger of my own.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet, eyes blazing. My senses sharpened, each detail of the alley crystal clear, every sound amplified. One of the orcs charged, brandishing a black metal club, but I moved without thought, my body a blur. I sidestepped, seized his neck, and twisted. His head snapped with a sickening crunch, and his body crumpled to the ground.
The voices in the ring screamed with glee, chanting, "More…more!"
I grabbed the fallen orc's club and turned to face the second one. His eyes, once filled with cruel amusement, now glistened with terror. He swung a short sword, barely missing my neck as I ducked and retaliated with a savage strike to his knee. He roared in pain, collapsing as I wrenched the sword from his hand and drove it into his throat. His blood spattered the walls, staining them with streaks of crimson.
Pain flared in my legs as two goblins drove their daggers deep into my flesh. "You'll die for this!" one snarled, his hands tight on the dagger's handle. My vision darkened with rage, and I smashed the club down, crushing his skull with a single blow. I yanked the dagger from my leg and hurled it into another goblin's head, silencing his twisted grin forever.
As I approached the last two goblins, their eyes wide with terror, I felt the words rise within me, words I didn't recognize but somehow knew. I whispered an incantation into the ring, and warmth spread through my legs, sealing the wounds and numbing the pain.
One of the goblins stammered, "W-what are you?"
I stared down at him, my voice cold and steady. "I am nobody that matters, but I am somebody to you. I am your doom." The words poured from me, not of my own will but as if channeled from something deeper, something darker. With brutal efficiency, I dispatched the goblins, scattering their limbs across the alley floor like discarded rags.
Their souls, pale and ghostly, drifted from their lifeless bodies, swirling into the ruby ring. I could feel their essence flowing into me, fueling something vast and insatiable. Orphease's voice echoed in my mind, his tone laced with dark satisfaction. "Ah, Leon, well done indeed."
Breathless, I stood over the carnage, my heart pounding with exhilaration and horror. I had never killed before, yet here I was, surrounded by the lifeless forms of those I had slaughtered. And though it sickened me, I could not deny the thrill it brought. I reveled in it.
I rummaged through the bodies, finding a pouch with two hundred gold coins. "Greed," I muttered, wiping the blood from a dagger, "it'll get you killed every time." Clutching my spoils, I slipped out of the alley, whispering to myself, "You won't be needing these anymore."
Emerging into the city's heart under the noonday sun, Ravenside seemed different. The shadows cast by its rotting buildings felt less oppressive, the grit and grime somehow beautiful in their brutality. I walked toward Marley's Inn and Bar, a place that had once seemed so out of reach. The memory of begging for scraps there still stung, though now I had no reason to beg.
When I entered, the usual patrons—a motley collection of thieves, mercenaries, and travelers—paused to stare. Ignoring them, I tossed two gold coins onto the counter. "A room and some food."
Marley, the stout, grizzled dwarf behind the counter, eyed me warily. His thick beard, littered with scars from a life of battles across distant planets, twitched as he looked me over. "Where'd you get the gold, Leon?" he asked, suspicion woven into his gruff tone.
I met his gaze with cold indifference. "Never mind that. Just take it."
The dwarf studied me, his eyes narrowing. "Something's changed in you, lad. A darkness, perhaps. But whether it's for better or worse, only time will tell."
He retreated into the back, returning with a steaming plate of roasted chicken and potatoes, along with a mug of cold fairy beer. I tore into the food ravenously, ignoring his scrutinizing gaze.
"Easy there, lad," he chuckled. "You'll choke."
A mocking voice cut through the clamor of the bar, dripping with disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Leon Cross, the little gutter rat. What brings a wretch like you here?"
I didn't have to look to recognize that nasally sneer. Jin Liwoth, an exiled elven mercenary with white hair pulled into a ponytail, glared at me, his ice-blue eyes narrowed in disgust.
"What do you want, Jin?" I asked, forcing myself to remain calm, though the urge to plunge a fork into his throat nearly overwhelmed me.
He sneered, his lip curling in contempt. "Just wondering how a lowlife like you managed to afford such a feast."
I turned to face him, my gaze boring into his, every ounce of fury and hatred pouring from my soul. "Is there a problem, Jin? Shall we take this outside, or can I get back to my meal?" My voice was cold, each word a threat.
His face paled, his bravado crumbling under my glare, but before he could respond, Marley's voice cut in. "Enough!" the dwarf barked. "A paying customer's a paying customer. I won't have any fighting in my establishment."
Reluctantly, I backed down, unwilling to anger the old dwarf I respected. However, I wouldn't hesitate to redecorate Marley's Inn with Jin's blood and viscera. "I'll see you around, Leon," Jin sneered, his grin taunting me as he departed. I eagerly anticipated the day I would spill his entrails beneath the moonlit sky.
Visions of Jin's slow demise played out in my mind, a symphony of suffering. Rousing myself from these dark musings, I explored the modest chamber Marley had provided. The novelty of a proper bed and shower was not lost on me, a filthy urchin of the streets. I stood beneath the cascading hot water, feeling it cleanse my grime-streaked skin and tangle of hair. When I emerged, it was as though I had been born anew.
After I finished my meal, Marley led me to a small chamber upstairs. I took in the modest bed, the chipped washbasin—luxuries beyond anything I'd known. Stripping off my blood-stained clothes, I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and filth of Ravenside. The sensation was overwhelming, as though each drop melted away the last remnants of the boy I'd once been.
As I lay down, my thoughts drifted to Jin and the others who had tormented me in my youth. Their cruelty, their laughter, it all simmered beneath my new power, fueling a fire that I could barely contain. I fell asleep with the image of Jin's twisted smile, vowing to wipe it from existence.
When evening fell, I left the inn with a clear purpose. "Out so soon?" Marley called after me.
"Just some errands," I replied, a hint of menace lacing my voice. Marley squinted, his gaze skeptical, but he let it go with a grunt, muttering to himself, "That boy's up to no good…"
The air was thick with the stench of Ravenside's filth and decay as I headed deeper into the slums. Here, elven prostitutes prowled the alleys, casting sidelong glances, while shadows moved under the watchful eyes of orcs, goblins, and other lowly creatures lurking in the gloom. Yet the city's sordid underbelly felt like home to me, now more than ever, a twisted sanctuary where darkness was currency and fear was king.
I made my way to Grim's Weapon Shop and Armory, a shadowy establishment tucked between two towering heaps of crumbling brick. The dim glow of enchanted lanterns cast an eerie light across the glass windows, behind which an arsenal of deadly creations lay on display. I pushed through the heavy door, the scent of metal and oil hitting me as I entered.
"Welcome! How may I assist you?" A small, orange-scaled reptilian creature greeted me, his voice high-pitched but commanding. His keen eyes narrowed as he looked me up and down. "I am Grim, and this is my shop. If you're not here to buy, you must leave."
"Armor, swords, and a pistol—the best you've got." I pulled a pouch of gold from my pocket and tossed fifty coins onto the counter. Grim's eyes glinted with greed as he reached out, his scaled fingers tapping the coins one by one.
"Well, it seems the lad means business," he murmured, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.
He led me behind a thick black curtain into a dimly lit back room. From a heavy titanium case, he revealed a sleek set of armor, dark as midnight with crimson accents that shimmered in the faint light. "DeathseekerXT," he said, admiration evident in his voice. "Crafted with dragonhide and alloyed with stardust. It's light as leather, strong as steel, and embedded with ancient engravings for protection. It's been waiting for someone…worthy."
I ran my hands over the armor, feeling its smooth, cool surface and the faint hum of its enchantments beneath my fingertips. This was no ordinary armor; it was a promise, a dark mantle of power that felt as though it had been forged just for me.
I turned to Grim. "And the weapons?"
With a reverent flourish, Grim revealed a greatsword, the hilt adorned with etched runes, its blade exuding a dark energy that seemed to pulse with life. "This here is Haven Light. Not legendary, perhaps, but a masterpiece crafted on the planet Sargoon. Its edge is keener than any blade in Ravenside, and its aura…" He trailed off, grinning wickedly. "Let's just say it's not for the faint of heart."
He then presented a silver revolver, the handle engraved with skulls. "Dream Ender. It's taken many lives, this one. Belonged to a mercenary before he met his end. It's quick, lethal, and cursed, if you believe in such things."
I felt a rush of excitement as I held the pistol in my hand, sensing the weight of its history, the blood of countless victims still clinging to it. I slipped it into a holster on my hip, feeling a surge of purpose. These weapons weren't just tools; they were extensions of myself, amplifying the violence that now ran hot in my veins.
I handed Grim five more gold coins as I donned the armor and strapped the sword to my back. "I'll be back," I said, my voice steady with the thrill of newfound power.
"Looking forward to it," Grim replied, eyes gleaming as he watched me leave.
Outside, night had fully descended, casting Ravenside in a cloak of shadows. The crimson moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the city with an eerie, otherworldly glow. Tonight would be the night that Jin Liwoth paid his dues.
I knew Jin's usual haunts well enough—places where filth like him reveled in cruelty and excess. I decided to start my search at Darry's Brothel, a decaying establishment where misery was bartered and lives were cheap. I'd heard rumors about Jin, whispers of girls disappearing after a night spent with him. He was the kind of rot that festered within Ravenside, a parasite thriving on the city's suffering.
As I approached the brothel, the scent of incense and stale wine filled the air. A pair of elven women stood outside, their eyes weary but alluring. One of them—a slender woman with hair as pale as moonlight and emerald eyes—looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and pity.
"Welcome, young one…are you certain you've found the right place?" she asked, her voice soft, almost maternal, as if sensing something broken beneath my armor.
"I'm here for an elf named Jin Liwoth," I replied, my voice a low growl.
At the mention of his name, a flicker of fear crossed her face. Her once-bright eyes clouded with dread, and she cast a wary glance over her shoulder before speaking in a hushed tone. "He was here…an hour ago. He left in a hurry, like something was haunting him."
I clenched my fists, the memory of his mocking laughter and the torment he'd inflicted fueling my anger. "Where did he go?" I demanded, my voice barely more than a whisper.
She hesitated, her gaze flickering between my eyes and the blood-red glint of the ring on my finger. "There's a warehouse on the edge of Ravenside. He has a hideout there, or so I've heard. Be careful, child. The darkness that surrounds him…" She shivered, taking a step back.
Without another word, I turned and left, my path set. The hunger within me had grown, gnawing at my core, a voracious need for blood and retribution that no meal could satisfy. The ring's whispers filled my mind, soothing yet sinister, urging me on.
"Yes, Leon," Orphease's voice echoed, coiling through my thoughts like smoke. "This is your purpose. Let his blood mark the beginning of your rise."