The putrid miasma of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air, the orc's fear palpable as I held him captive in the fleeting seconds that ticked by. Just then, the second orc, his green skin adorned with a fiery orange mohawk, lumbered across the inn towards us, his movements clumsy and slow. "Release him!" he bellowed, his voice strained with desperation. "He's mistaken you for someone else!"
I gave Drill a nod, signaling him to relinquish his grip as I withdrew my dagger, the cold steel glistening with the orc's blood. "As you can see, this was merely a misunderstanding," I drawled, my voice a sinister lullaby. "Now, I suggest you take your leave...peacefully."
With trembling hands, the two orcs downed the remnants of their ales and made a hasty retreat, casting fearful glances back at us as they stumbled towards the exit. My lips curled into a sardonic smirk, savoring the taste of their cowardice.
"Thanks for the assist," Drill murmured, his disappointment evident. "It seems green orcs are more arrogant than I remembered."
I chuckled, though in the darkest recesses of my soul, a part of me yearned to have spilled their entrails across the wooden floor, to have painted the inn with a macabre masterpiece in their blood. But for now, my blade would remain sheathed, my dark desires kept at bay—or so I thought. I felt the ring tighten around my finger, a slow, steady pulse as though it, too, tasted my desire for carnage. Were these urges mine, I wondered, or was this the ring's influence twisting my thoughts into something darker? The line between us blurred, and a chilling realization crept in: the longer I wore this cursed relic, the more it felt as though the ring's bloodlust was merging with my own, a sinister dance I feared I might never escape.
"Why the age-old animosity between green orcs and red orcs?" I inquired, wrenching myself from the intoxicating allure of my bloodlust.
Drill's shoulders rolled in a nonchalant shrug. "I believe it stems from our divergent beliefs. Green orcs and red orcs have clashed for countless centuries. Red orcs, like myself, were willing to form alliances with elves, dwarves, and humans. But the green orcs, stubborn and insular, trusted only their own kind," he explained.
I stroked my chin contemplatively as Rudo and Opol staggered to our table, their hands weighed down by overflowing tankards of ale. "Drink up, boys. You lot have caused quite the commotion," Rudo slurred, his breath redolent of alcohol and pungent herbs.
Opol appeared decidedly more composed than the rest, while Petre rested his head on the table, his snores resonating throughout the inn. "Let's avoid drawing any more attention to ourselves," Opol advised as he settled into his seat.
Drill defended our actions, "They started it."
"I've already paid for the rooms," Opol continued, "so you should get some rest. We'll need all the energy we can muster for tomorrow's hunt."
As the words settled in the air, I felt the weight of the coming day, knowing that the hunt would test not only our physical prowess, but also the darker aspects of our souls.
As the crew retired to their rooms deep into the night, all except for Petre, who lay face-down on the table, snoring away, I decided to indulge in a late-night stroll. The city, bathed in the warm, inviting glow of its lights, exuded a sense of security and comfort foreign to me. In Ravenside, one had to be ever-vigilant, watching one's back with every step taken. But here in Phanta, beneath the veneer of perfection, I could sense a darkness lurking.
I wandered through the bustling night market, observing the cheerful faces of traders and customers haggling over myriad goods. The scene evoked memories of home, albeit with fresher air and happier people. Pulling my black, hooded cloak tighter around me, I brushed past some late-night stragglers when I collided with a small child.
The child, an elven girl with pale skin, was bruised and cut, clad in tattered rags. Her golden hair framed her tear-streaked face, her bright blue eyes filled with pain. The sight of this fragile being twisted my gut, and I knelt to examine her more closely.
"Are you alright?" I asked, but she remained silent. As I pondered the cruel reality of survival, even in a city as pristine as Phanta, she ceased her crying and pointed in a direction beyond the market stalls.
Following her gesture, I spotted a narrow, dark alleyway tucked between the glowing façades of market stalls. As I approached, I glanced back to see if the girl would follow, only to find that she had vanished. A chill washed over me, her sudden disappearance amplifying the strange allure of the alleyway. Shadows pooled in the narrow space, their edges sharp and unyielding, as if even the dim light feared to intrude too far.
I took a step forward, my senses sharpening with every inch. The bustling clamor of the main street began to muffle, the shouts and laughter reduced to distant echoes, swallowed by the alley's oppressive silence. A faint metallic tang lingered in the air, mingling with the sour undertone of rot, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. My footsteps seemed unnaturally loud, each tap of my boots against the cobblestone swallowed by the dense darkness that closed around me.
From somewhere deeper within, faint voices echoed—a low, raspy murmur followed by harsh laughter. I crouched behind a rusted trash bin, my instincts honed from Ravenside's dangerous streets urging me to move quietly, each sound sharper, clearer as the voices became more distinct. The air thickened with a tension I couldn't quite place, as though something sinister waited just beyond the shadows, its presence threading through the silence with an icy grip. My pulse quickened, but I pushed forward, every step bringing me closer to whatever secrets lay hidden in the depths of this forsaken alleyway.
Crouching low behind a trash bin, instincts honed from years of surviving Ravenside guiding me, I listened to the conversation unfolding. A hulking green orc clad in a spiked brown leather vest gripped a battle-axe, while a one-eyed dwarf dressed similarly stood beside him. They were guarding a heavily chained door.
"The girls will be ready to ship. Four hundred a pop, and we got ten of 'em. We're gonna be rich!" the dwarf cackled into the night.
As I knelt there, fury ignited within me. What were these two discussing? My fist clenched, I rose to my feet, my hand moving to the hilt of my giant sword.
With the deliberate, echoing footfalls of a harbinger of death, I crept closer. Unaware of what drove me to intervene, I knew only that it felt right. These creatures, the orc and the dwarf, were monsters in disguise, not unlike myself.
"Hey, kid! You lost or somethin'?" The dwarf bellowed, drawing a gleaming silver revolver from his waist. The alley's darkness seemed to coalesce around us, a palpable tension that would soon be shattered by violence.
Closing the distance between us, words seemed unnecessary, a mere distraction from the violence that would soon unfold. The orc's grin revealed his anticipation, while the dwarf, with a look of determination, fired his revolver. The bullet seemed to slow in its trajectory, allowing me to dodge it with a graceful sidestep. As the projectile grazed my cheek, I charged the dwarf, my armored shoulder connecting with his chest.
He stumbled back, gasping for breath, only for my forehead to crash into his chin, sending him to the ground, his revolver slipping from his grasp. The orc wasted no time, driving his battle-axe into my back with a snarl of triumph. Pain flared, my sword clattering to the ground.
"Tiny human," the orc sneered, raising his axe for the final blow. But I was quicker. Whirling around, I drew Dream Ender and aimed it at the orc's face. The gunshot echoed through the alley, brain matter splattering against the chained door. The dwarf, struggling to his feet, met a similar fate as I turned the weapon on him, a bullet to the leg sending him crashing down once more.
"What the fuck!" he screamed, his voice laced with pain and fear. The ruby ring on my finger tightened, a slow pulse that matched the thrumming of my own heartbeat. It yearned for the bloodshed to come, an eager hunger pressing into my skin, and I felt its darkness bleed into my own instincts, pushing me forward. Towering over the wounded dwarf, I pressed the gun to his forehead, my voice flat, devoid of any trace of compassion. "What's behind the door?" The words left my mouth, cold and detached, yet the thrill of the ring's influence burned in my veins, whispering that the answers I sought were worth every ounce of pain I could inflict.
The dwarf grunted, refusing to answer. I pulled the trigger once more, obliterating his arm. His screams pierced the air. "Elves... they're just lowlifes, useless!" he pleaded, desperation etched on his face.
"Useless?" A sinister grin spread across my face. "Listen, kid, you can kill me, but he'll come for you," the dwarf warned, coughing up blood. "Who?" I asked, my voice cold and uncaring. "Zozo. Those girls are his property," he managed to choke out.
A dark laugh escaped me. "What a coincidence. I'm actually going to be coming after him." My tone was menacing, filling the night with foreboding. Pulling out my dagger, I knelt beside the dwarf and plunged the blade slowly into his chest. I savored the sensation of his life force ebbing away, his soul consumed by the ruby ring.
Rummaging through his pockets, I found a small key – the tool that would grant me access beyond the chained door. The dark alleyway seemed to hold its breath, bracing for the carnage that was sure to follow.
The key slid into the lock, the chains falling away as I pushed open the door. A sickening stench of sweat and blood invaded my senses as I stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Flickering light revealed another set of doors ahead, which I forced open, my sword scraping against the floor.
Beyond lay a horrifying sight: three cages, each imprisoning battered, half-naked elven girls. Nausea twisted my gut as I recognized the fear permeating the air—a fear I had inflicted upon my own victims in the past. Their hollow eyes locked onto mine, pleading and haunted, and for a moment, I felt a tightness in my throat that I couldn't explain. Images of Marley flashed unbidden in my mind—her face, her warmth—cutting through the walls I'd built within myself. The memory struck hard, like a punch to the gut, weakening my resolve.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, forcing myself to steel my mind. But the sight of them, so fragile and trapped, clawed at something deeper—a faint echo of the person I used to be, a man who once felt the weight of every soul he crossed. Yet, here I was, standing in the heart of horrors that demanded a justice I was all too willing to give. Seven girls, but the dwarf had mentioned ten.
Frantic screams and moans from behind another door snapped me out of my thoughts, urgency flooding through me. Heart pounding, I kicked the door down to reveal the remaining three girls, bound and hanging from the ceiling. Two were lifeless, their bodies swaying slightly with each movement, while the third was held captive by a green-skinned orc who grunted with each vile motion.
Rage surged within me, obliterating any hesitance. With no pause, I charged the orc, my blade cleaving him in half, unleashing a torrent of gore and entrails that spilled across the floor. The elven girl fell free, her vacant eyes drifting to the bloodied remains of her captor, staring into a void that I could almost feel.
Kneeling beside her, I gently untied her, my movements slowed by the dawning realization of what I was about to do. She slumped to the ground, her gaze fixed on nothing, a faint, haunted smile playing on her cracked lips. The sight of her, broken yet somehow still alive, wrenched at me. My hand shook as I reached for Dream Ender, the weight of the decision pressing heavily upon me.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Kill me," she begged, a slight smile breaking through her vacant stare. "Kill me, please." She pleaded with a desperation that hit me harder than any battle wound, cutting deep. I remembered Marley, his kindness, the life I'd known before darkness consumed me, before I was led down this twisted path by vengeance and the ring's curse.
I raised Dream Ender, my hands steadying as the grip on the weapon felt heavier than ever. One last moment of silent pleading passed between us before I aimed at her heart and pulled the trigger. Her body fell, her face softening in release—a smile I knew would haunt my memory as the final echo of what little innocence I had left.
I released the other girls from their cages, each one pleading for the same fate. I moved slowly, my eyes meeting theirs one by one, each gaze hollow, pleading. My hand hovered over Dream Ender, reluctant, as their voices became a quiet chorus of despair, blending into one ceaseless plea.
A familiar ache tightened in my chest—a feeling I hadn't let myself feel in a long time. Was I any different from the monsters I'd just defeated? Their blood still coated my blade, yet here I was, playing the judge, deciding life or death in a world already so brutal. The memory of Marley flickered in my mind, his voice echoing softly, urging restraint, mercy… humanity. The thought brought a bitterness to my throat. If he could see me now, would he recognize the man standing here?
But as I looked again at the shattered faces before me, I knew there was no mercy left for them in this world. I closed my eyes, the weight of my decision heavy on my hand as I finally let the ring's hunger guide me, aligning with a quiet resolve.
With each pull of the trigger, the night echoed with finality, silencing their suffering one by one.
I found containers of oil and gasoline, dousing the building before igniting it with a single shot. As the flames roared to life, I pulled my cloak around me, sword dragging behind as I left the scene. The ruby ring sang in satisfaction, a twisted lullaby to the night.
A creature of the endless night, I stalked the shadows, a devourer of souls, an embodiment of death. As I reflected on the killings, a twisted sense of justification gnawed at me. Was their fate in my hands worse than the torments they would have suffered? Was I merely a harbinger, a conduit for oblivion?
As I left the burning building behind, the ruby ring pulsed with a low, searing warmth, almost like an approving heartbeat echoing against my skin. Its dark satisfaction intertwined with my own fury, creating a twisted harmony that seemed to vibrate through my bones. Every throb of the ring matched the relentless beat of my own anger, our desires momentarily aligned.
One name echoed in the darkness of my thoughts as I made my way back to the inn: "Zozo." I whispered it under my breath, feeling the syllables coil around my resolve like a pledge of blood. The ring's heat flared, as if sealing the vow. This rage was raw, searing—mine and not mine. It surged from somewhere beyond the ring's power, stemming from an abyssal depth within me.
For a moment, I couldn't tell where my rage ended and the ring's dark hunger began. And for once, I didn't care.