"Yes, Lord Kaelos. By your will." Elwen spread his arms wide, bowing low to the black, smoky figure that floated ominously above the platform.
The figure's crimson eyes burned like embers in the dark, piercing through Elwen's soul with an intensity that made his skin crawl. Then, without a word, the figure vanished, leaving the chamber in an oppressive silence. The moment the presence lifted, Elwen felt the suffocating pressure dissipate, allowing him to finally draw a full breath.
Around him, pale figures—his thralls—lay trembling, their sickly bodies sprawled across the cold stone floor. Most were barely conscious, their minds broken by the overwhelming aura of the demon. Elwen paid them no mind, stepping over them with cold indifference as he climbed the platform. The ritual's aftermath was a mess, and he methodically began to wipe away the blood that had summoned his new master.
As he wiped away the last of the blood, Elwen's eyes gleamed with an almost manic excitement. He had done it. He had finally succeeded in summoning a being of true power. The slaves around him, their bodies broken and battered, were still. They had served their purpose, providing the blood needed for the ritual.
Elwen's gaze fell upon one of the thralls, a young woman with an expression of eternal terror frozen on her face. He remembered her screams as he had carved into her flesh, the way her warm blood had flowed so beautifully onto the platform. A shiver of pleasure ran down his spine at the memory, the power that had surged through him in that moment was intoxicating.
The other thralls, just as broken and lifeless, lay scattered around her. Their blood had drained into the dark stone, their purpose fulfilled. Elwen felt nothing for them, no remorse, no pity. They would recover in time, their cursed existence too stubborn to let them die from something as trivial as blood loss. Until then, they would remain where they fell, and he would use the next batch already prepared.
He turned to prepare for another ritual, when a soft sound behind him caught his attention. One of the slaves was stirring. A young man, once a prince, his eyes vacant, his body trembling. Elwen's gaze narrowed. This one had been particularly useful, his noble blood playing a special role in the ceremony.
"You," Elwen said coldly, his voice slicing through the air like a blade. "You still have a purpose to serve."
The young man looked up at him, his eyes unfocused, lost in the void that had consumed his mind. Elwen knew he was beyond saving, his spirit shattered by the torment he had endured.
"Come," Elwen commanded, his voice laced with malice. "Let us prepare you for the next ritual."
The young man struggled to his feet, his limbs trembling, his eyes locking onto Elwen with a mixture of fear and hatred. Elwen's lips curled into a cruel smile as he watched the pathetic display of resistance.
He retrieved a chisel, beginning the preparations for the next ritual when a noise echoed from behind him. He turned sharply, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of a little girl in black armor standing in the middle of the room. His mind raced, but he kept his expression neutral. 'How did she get in? Useless thralls, why didn't they warn me?'
He studied the girl, his thoughts already calculating. "Can I help you?" he asked, his tone coldly polite, masking the rising panic. 'That armor... an adventurer?'
The girl seemed hesitant, her wide eyes scanning the room before landing back on him. "What is this place?" she demanded, her voice firm despite the uncertainty in her posture. "What are you doing to these people?"
Elwen allowed himself a small, calculated smile. "I'm not sure how you got in here, but if you must know, we're extracting a valuable resource," he replied smoothly.
With a mental command, he activated the intruder alert to summon his security. He just had to keep the girl occupied until they arrived. "What resource?" she pressed, her voice stronger this time.
Elwen chuckled darkly. "Oh, I think you'll figure it out," he said with a patronizing tone. "You seem like a clever girl." 'If she found her way here, there might be more.'
The heavy doors at the far end of the chamber slammed open, and a squad of large men in dark red full plate armor stormed into the room, their presence oppressive and ominous.
Pale red eyes gleamed under the slits of their helmets as they raised their massive glaives in unison.
"Don't resist, little one," Elwen sneered, retreating behind the squad of undead vampires. "These are not mere warriors but revenants. They never tire, never falter. I'll make you tell me how you got in here."
Revenants—undead infused with the blood of a powerful vampire, ascending directly to a higher rank in the evolutionary hierarchy. Mindless, they did not hunger, did not feel, only answered the call of their master. These particular corpses had belonged to the elite warriors of an ancient dynasty that once ruled over lesser kingdoms.
The first revenant struck with his glaive...
And was instantly consumed in motes of purple light.
"Eh?" Elwen faltered, his eyes widening in disbelief as his elite warrior vanished into nothingness, swallowed by a massive shield that had appeared in the little girl's hand. 'Where did that even come from? She was unarmed a second ago.'
"So you're a bad guy, huh?" The girl took a stance, and Elwen felt the darkness in the already dim room deepen, like the air itself was thickening with malice.
"I hate bad guys." The girl raised her shield, and it morphed in a way that defied logic and reason.
|| Devour ||
The surface of the shield rippled like water, a small purple crystal appearing at its center, distorting the air around it. Elwen's eyes widened as the true nature of the girl's shield became apparent. If her words were to be believed, this was no ordinary shield. It was a Devouring Shield, capable of consuming any attack directed at it. The revenants, sensing their master's unease, hesitated before charging again.
The girl stood firm, her shield glowing with a malevolent energy. The revenants struck, their glaives cutting through the air with lethal precision. But as soon as they made contact with the shield, they were consumed, swallowed by the purple light. They disintegrated into nothingness, leaving behind only new crystals embedded in the shield's surface.
Elwen's face twisted in rage and fear. He had never seen anything like this before. The girl was not just any ordinary adventurer—she was a threat.
"You may have power," Elwen sneered, trying to mask his growing panic, "but you are no match for me!" He spat the words, raising his hand to summon another wave of minions.
But before he could utter the incantation, the girl charged, her shield glowing with an intense, ominous light. Elwen stumbled backward, caught off guard by her ferocity. The girl was relentless, her attack filled with a raw, primal rage that he had not anticipated.
He staggered, his eyes locked on the shield as it bore down on him. He knew that if it touched him, he would be consumed, just like his revenants. Elwen turned to flee, but it was too late. The shield struck him with incredible force, sending him crashing into the far wall.
Elwen frantically ran his hands over his body, searching for the telltale signs of being devoured, but the pain never came. He wasn't consumed by the strange shield. Realizing he was at a disadvantage, he immediately scrambled to his feet and bolted through the doors the revenants had entered from.
///
Maple watched the bad man flee, a frown creasing her brow. She could have easily ended him, but she needed to find the stolen supplies first.
She turned to the other figure still standing in the room, a thin, sickly man dressed in tattered rags, just like the others chained behind her. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle despite the cold fury simmering beneath the surface.
The man looked surprised, as if he hadn't expected her to acknowledge him at all. Maple pressed on. "Is this all of you?" The man hesitated, then shook his head slowly.
Maple understood. "So there are more of you, huh? I'll find them, I promise." She smiled, trying to offer some comfort. The man continued to stare at her warily. Maple returned her shield to her inventory, causing it to vanish into thin air, an action that only seemed to further unnerve him. "I'm Maple. What's your name?" she asked softly.
The man stayed silent for a few moments, then finally spoke in a rasping voice, "Li...Linux."
"Nice to meet you, Linux." Maple smiled warmly at him, but he continued to look at her with a mix of fear and confusion. The silence stretched on, tense and uncomfortable, before Linux spoke again.
"If... If you're going to kill him," Linux rasped, his voice trembling, "ple...please make him suffer." His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.
~
Maple felt something shift inside her at those words, a strange, unfamiliar thrill that danced at the edges of her consciousness. If she could see her own face, she would find herself smiling—a dangerous, cold smile that had only appeared once before in her life.
Linux's fall brought Maple back to reality, snapping her out of her shock. She bolted towards him. "Are you alright? Can you move?"
"I'm just exhausted," Linux replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he let his head rest on the cold, hard floor. His breathing was shallow, his body drained. "But... I need to ask you a favor."
Maple, still kneeling beside him, nodded, her expression tense with worry. Linux managed a weak smile, his eyes glistening with a desperate, haunted light. "Then please... kill us."
Maple froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes widened as his words sank in, her mind reeling from the sheer weight of his request. "What do you mean?" Her voice was barely audible, trembling with disbelief.
"We're Thralls, Maple," Linux said, his voice cracking with the burden of truth. "Nothing more than tools, puppets for monsters like Elwen. We're broken... mere blood bags for his rituals. There's no saving us. We're beyond redemption, beyond human. All that's left is this... this existence."
As he spoke, Maple could see it—the emptiness in his eyes, the deep, soul-crushing void where hope once lived. The thought chilled her to the core, a frigid dread clawing at her insides.
"But... I can help you," she stammered, a flicker of determination igniting within her. "I can find a way to fix this, to make you whole again."
For a brief moment, a shadow of sorrow crossed Linux's face, dimming his weary smile. "You can't," he whispered, his voice laced with despair. "No one can. We're too far gone. But you can end our suffering... Please, Maple. End it."
Her grip on her sword tightened, knuckles turning white as his plea tore at her resolve. She couldn't just kill him, not after everything he had endured, after all that had been stolen from him. But what if he was right? What if there truly was no other way to save him from this living hell?
She stood there, frozen in the weight of her indecision, as Linux's eyes bore into her soul, pleading. "Please," he whispered again, his voice barely more than a breath.
And then, something inside Maple hardened, a cold, resolve. "I won't do it," she said, her voice firm, steel in her tone. "I'll find a way to fix this, to save you all. But first, I need to find that bastard. I need to make sure no one else suffers like you."
Linux's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, Maple saw a glimmer of hope in them. Then, his face relaxed, and he nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Maple."
////
Elwen sprinted down another dark, twisted corridor, his breathing ragged, as more revenants surged past him, their lifeless eyes locked in the direction of the intruder. His heart pounded, a mix of fear and frustration clawing at his sanity.
"Everything was going perfectly," he hissed between gasps, his eyes wild with panic. "Just a little more, and I would've gained power from a demon of the Era of Gods." His words were tinged with desperation as he bolted up a massive spiral staircase.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he was alone. The only living soul in a building filled with death and darkness. He was beginning to regret working alone now, the weight of his isolation pressed down on him, every echo of his footsteps a cruel reminder.
At the top of the stairs, he threw his weight against two massive doors, pushing with all the strength his fear could muster. As they creaked open, he felt it—a burst of demonic energy, raw and malevolent, shaking the very foundations of the building. He stumbled, dread curling in the pit of his stomach.
The doors finally gave way, revealing the dim interior of a cathedral. Elwen didn't stop to admire its grandeur; he sprinted toward the altar, his eyes wide with manic determination.
Behind the altar, on a raised platform, stood a large wooden coffin, the wood an unnatural, milky white, its surface smooth and cold like polished bone. His heart pounded with anticipation and fear as he approached it.
The cathedral shook violently, and Elwen's panic grew as the demonic energy from below surged, stronger and closer than ever before. How could this be happening? How was this possible? He had ended the ritual, so Kaelos couldn't be the one emanating such malice.
But now, it seemed that something had gone terribly wrong. The energy was growing stronger by the second, and Elwen could feel its power headed towards him.
He turned his attention to the coffin, his heart racing with adrenaline. This was not part of the plan, but he could not delay any longer. The progenitor vampires, a member of the oldest and most powerful of their kind, lay within. And with the preparations he had made, Elwen saw a chance to claim that power for himself. Of course he needed a different power to restrain the vampire's will, that's why he spent all these years and resources summoning a prime demon, with the low cost of his entire house hold, and the lives of everyone in his entire demesne.
He reached out, trembling, his fingers brushing against the cold wood of the coffin. The vampire's presence was suffocating, an ancient power slumbering within, waiting to be awakened.
But now, there was no time for caution. He was too close to stop. The demon's power was supposed to be his to command, yet he had been cheated, robbed of his victory by some meddling adventurer.
His lips twisted into a cruel, desperate smile as he lifted the coffin's lid, revealing the vampire's still, serene form. Elwen's eyes burned with ambition, his desire consuming him whole. He had sacrificed everything—his household, his entire demesne—just to stand here at this moment. And now, with the vampire's power within his grasp, he couldn't allow failure. It didn't matter anymore, he didn't care. He could do it, he could subdue the vampire's will with his own. After everything he'd sacrificed, he had to. This was his destiny, his story and he would come out on top.
From within his robes, he retrieved Dominion's Edge, a plain-looking dagger with a steel blade. Its unassuming appearance belied its true nature—the power to possess the body of whoever it pierced.
Elwen's hand shook with a mix of fear and anticipation as he raised the dagger. Its blade caught the flickering candlelight, casting ominous shadows across the vampire's pale face.
Before he could strike, the cathedral doors burst open with a deafening crash, splintering into fragments as black, demonic creatures erupted through the entrance. Their frenzied howls echoed off the stone walls, their four-meter bodies slamming against each other in their mad rush to reach him first.
Elwen's heart skipped a beat, terror flashing through his eyes as he turned to face the onslaught. For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze as he stared into the abyss of his own impending doom.
With a strangled cry, he plunged Dominion's Edge into the vampire's chest, feeling a surge of dark energy explode from the blade. The coffin erupted in a wave of power, halting the demons in their tracks, their rage suddenly silenced.
Elwen's body crumpled to the floor, his consciousness fading as the vampire's body rose, levitating above the altar. Power radiated from the coffin, an overwhelming force that filled the cathedral with a cold, suffocating presence.
From the shattered remains of the doors, Maple stepped into the cathedral, flanked by demons on either side. Her gaze swept across the scene, locking onto the floating figure. She narrowed her eyes, scanning the room for any sign of the man she had been chasing.
The vampire's eyes opened, and Maple felt her breath catch in her throat, her gaze drawn to those ancient, piercing eyes. An unknown force gripped her, freezing her in place but only for a moment. She felt it crawling over her skin, cold and unyielding. She didn't like it.
"To think he could control me... subdue me..."
The voice was not a whisper but a presence, a weight pressing down on Maple in a futile effort to hold her in place.
"What a fool."