The chase led Eziel into the maze-like alleys of Arkasol's underbelly, where the city's gleaming veneer gave way to shadows and decay. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint stench of rot from forgotten corners. He moved swiftly, the golden glow of his dagger casting flickering light against the graffiti-covered walls.
The orc was fast—too fast for someone so wounded. Whatever magic fueled him, it was potent, and Eziel could feel its residual energy lingering in the air like an invisible trail. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of the scene he had just witnessed. The crystal, the blood-streaked armor, the desperation in the orc's glowing eyes—it all pointed to something far more significant than a simple bar brawl.
As Eziel rounded a corner, the orc's figure came into view again, his movements now erratic. The creature stumbled into a dead end, his broad shoulders heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The crystalline shard in his hand pulsed with an ominous blue light, casting eerie shadows on the brick walls.
"End of the line," Eziel called out, his voice steady but laced with tension. He slowed his pace, his dagger held at the ready. "Now, how about we talk before you do something you'll regret?"
The orc spun around, his green eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance and fear. "You don't understand," he growled, his voice thick with urgency. "They're coming."
"Who's coming?" Eziel asked, his gaze flickering to the crystal. "And what the hell is that thing?"
Before the orc could respond, the air around them grew cold—unnaturally so. A low, guttural hum filled the alley, vibrating through Eziel's bones. He turned sharply, his instincts screaming a warning. From the shadows, a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness so profound it seemed to swallow the faint light of the crystal.
The newcomer's presence was oppressive, an almost tangible weight pressing down on Eziel's chest. Its form was humanoid but indistinct, as though reality itself struggled to define its edges. Two pinpricks of crimson light burned where eyes should have been.
"Hand it over," the figure intoned, its voice a hollow echo that reverberated through the alley. The orc clutched the crystal tighter, shaking his head violently.
"No," he snarled. "You'll destroy everything."
Eziel's grip on his dagger tightened as he took a step forward, positioning himself between the orc and the shadowy figure. "Hey, I'm not a fan of cryptic threats, so why don't we all take a breath and start explaining? What's so important about that shiny rock?"
The figure tilted its head slightly, as if considering Eziel's words. Then, with a suddenness that defied comprehension, it lunged. Tendrils of darkness shot forth, writhing like living shadows, aiming directly for the crystal.
"Move!" the orc bellowed, shoving Eziel aside. The mage stumbled but recovered quickly, raising his dagger to slash at the nearest tendril. The enchanted blade met the darkness with a flash of golden light, severing the appendage, which dissolved into black mist.
The alley erupted into chaos. The orc roared as he unleashed a surge of green energy, the raw magic forming a protective barrier around him. Eziel weaved through the fray, his dagger a blur of light as he deflected the shadowy tendrils. Despite their combined efforts, the figure pressed forward, its movements relentless and unyielding.
"We can't hold it off!" the orc shouted, his voice strained. "It's too strong!"
"Then give me the d*mn crystal!" Eziel snapped. "Unless you've got a better idea!"
The orc hesitated, his glowing eyes locking onto Eziel's. For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Then, with a resigned growl, he tossed the crystal to the mage. "Don't let it fall into their hands!"
As Eziel caught the shard, its energy surged through him, sending a jolt of raw power coursing through his veins. The runes on his dagger flared brighter, reacting to the artifact's presence. He barely had time to process the sensation before the shadowy figure turned its full attention on him.
"Great," Eziel muttered under his breath. "Guess I'm the main course now."
Drawing upon the crystal's energy, he raised his free hand and began to chant, the words of an ancient spell flowing from his lips. The air crackled with arcane power as a blinding sphere of light erupted from his palm, pushing the figure back and illuminating the alley in dazzling brilliance.
When the light faded, the figure was gone, leaving only a lingering chill in its wake. Eziel stood panting, the crystal still pulsing in his hand. He turned to the orc, who had collapsed against the wall, his strength spent.
"Start talking," Eziel said, his voice firm. "What did I just get myself into?"
The orc looked up, his expression grim. "You've just made an enemy of the Voidborn," he rasped. "And trust me, mage—they don't forgive."
Eziel frowned, his mind racing. The Voidborn. He had heard whispers of them—shadowy entities from the dimensional rifts, said to be remnants of worlds devoured by The Shattering. If they were after the crystal, then its power was far greater—and far more dangerous—than he had imagined.
"This just keeps getting better," he muttered, slipping the crystal into a pouch. "Alright, big guy. Let's get you patched up, and then you're telling me everything. No more secrets."
The orc nodded weakly, and together they began to make their way out of the alley, unaware that unseen eyes were watching their every move.
---
As they emerged from the labyrinthine alleys, the city lights seemed almost blinding. Eziel flagged down a nearby hover-cab, its sleek metallic surface marred with graffiti. The driver, a wiry elf with a cybernetic eye, raised a skeptical brow at the sight of the battered duo.
"Not my usual clientele," the driver muttered. "Where to?"
"Lower Crescent Ward. Fast," Eziel ordered, helping the orc into the cab. The elf shrugged and accelerated, the vehicle gliding smoothly above the cracked pavement.
Inside, the orc leaned back, his breaths shallow. Eziel took a moment to study the crystal, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat. Despite its ominous aura, there was something hypnotic about it, a pull that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.
"Stop staring at it," the orc grunted. "That thing'll rot your soul if you're not careful."
Eziel smirked but didn't look away. "Coming from the guy who was carrying it like his life depended on it. What's the deal? Why is everyone so desperate to get their hands on this?"
"It's called a Riftcore," the orc said after a long pause. "A fragment of the Voidheart itself. Whoever controls it can tap into the rift's power."
"And that's a bad thing because...?" Eziel prompted.
The orc shot him a withering look. "Because the last time someone tried, it nearly tore this city apart. The Voidborn aren't the only ones who want it. You've just stepped into a war you can't walk away from, mage."
Eziel leaned back, the weight of the revelation sinking in. "Great. Just another day in paradise."