The first Grimmer lunged, slashing a knife through the air. Mitch’s body moved on instinct–his body’s memories serving him well. He sidestepped the attack and swung his Soul Sword in a brutal arc, cleaving cleanly through the creature’s neck. Its body collapsed, head rolling. But more followed, rushing over their fallen kin like hungry insects.

Every strike was precise, deliberate. His blade cut through bodies of underfed Grimmers with his unnatural strength, the Souls within him screaming for more as bodies piled around him. The Shadowshroud’s hunger was growing as it growled in the back of his mind, but so was his fury.

Trapped in the tunnel with him, this wasn’t a fight. It was a slaughter. The stream of rushing Grimmers didn’t stand a chance.

He didn't want to use his Dominion of Shadows Skill, which allowed him to assert control over lesser Abyssal beings. Even if it worked on Grimmers, he wanted to test himself now and the Skill later, rather than in the heat of battle.

Mitch’s body hardened with every blow he took, pain amplifying his strength. Before long, he was covered in open wounds from the teeth and knives of the surrounding horde. Instead of faltering, he started to get a feel for his Affliction Skills. Every slice he took only fueled his body, and his battle rhythm.

He drove his sword into one Grimmer’s chest, siphoning the flesh and souls of the fallen addicts that clogged the tunnel he fought within. The fresh, black colored souls were sequestered into his core to mingle with the others. Flesh was applied to his body using his Agony's Embrace, healing the gaping wounds from the hits he did take, while the bodies withered and then cracked beneath his feet.

As he siphoned more and more bodies around him, a path back to the cavern opened. He leapt at it to get back to his squad. The horde of Grimmers hurled their bodies forward, rushing after him. Mitch flicked away the notification that blocked his vision.

Affliction Skill Upgraded

Abyssal Vault

Level 3

Collect, Siphon, and store Souls, Flesh, and Credits within. A living account for your Abyssal Debt.Meet a Collector to transfer the sum.

Settlement Amount: 36(+21) Souls, 0 Credits, 31(+21) Flesh

Back in the cavern, Mitch saw that the horde of Grimmers had piled into the open space. The pits spewed more out, their bodies twisted, faces held in a permanent grimace, and eyes filled with malice. Mitch’s muscles burned, his chest heaved, but he didn’t stop moving.

Warrick was phasing in and out of existence, his spiked gauntlets slamming into Grimmers with lethal precision. Each time he appeared, another enemy was brained by his fists.

Sable’s wires gleamed in the dim light, trapping the Abyssal infected man on the ground as she tried to lash as many Grimmers together as possible. Her dagger ripped the throats of any that got too close. The transformed man thrashed on the ground, howling against his restraints.

But Urgar had cracked.

“Too many! Too many!” Urgar’s voice was shrill as he pressed against a wall. His eyes were wide with terror. The dwarf was stumbling around as he searched for an escape. “We’re going to die!”

Mitch saw the fear in his eyes, the breaking point. All human emotion had been pressed into his Devoid Skill. He saw a liability–a weakness. And in Mitch’s current state, he couldn’t afford weaknesses. The squad needed Urgar to ignite his berserker skill.

A cold, calculated decision formed in his mind.

He kicked off and ran towards Urgar.

The horde of Grimmers swarmed between them, bodies piling on top of each other as they lunged for Mitch. He swung his sword in savage arcs, cutting down the twisted people in front of him. As he ran, he siphoned the fallen bodies and souls within him. Blood splattered across his face as each swing severed limbs, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming. He slashed, stabbed, and swung. Slicing bone and splitting bodies apart.

A larger Grimmer, saggy and hulkling, lunged at him from the side. Its short sword swiped across Mitch’s torso, slashing deep into his ribs. Pain seared as he felt the muscle split open.

Thankfully, Agony’s Embrace responded, feeding power into him as he twisted his sword into the large Grimmers chest and out its back. With a shoulder check, he shoved the Grimmer off.

The injury burned, blood soaking his body, but the Shadowshroud refused to take any of its owner's flesh in. It clung to him, growling to be let out, almost angry that it didn’t provide more protection. For now, it was immaterial blackness that merely shrouded Mitch, melding back into the shape of a shirt regardless of the slashes it took.

Mitch clenched his jaw and reached into the Abyssal Vault as he ran. Flesh flowed into the deep wound, knitting the torn skin and bone back together.

Finally, he reached Urgar. The dwarf was still pressed against the wall. Surrounded by Grimmers, paralyzed by fear.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Without a lick of hesitation, Mitch grabbed the dwarf by his metal collar and shoved him forward into the horde. “Now or never, Urgar,” Mitch’s voice was ice to his own ears, the absence of emotions from his Devoid Skill leeching all feeling.

For a brief second, as he finished the shove, a piece of guilt clawed at the edges of his mind. Devoid swallowed it whole, leaving only cold certainty.

The horde swallowed Urgar in seconds, their twisted limbs reaching and beginning to tear apart the dwarf’s armor. Panic flashed in Urgar’s eyes, but before the Grimmers could crack his metal shell of plate, a primal roar erupted from the dwarf’s throat.

A wave of fiery energy burst out from Urgar’s body, igniting the air around him. His berserk Skill, Forgeheart, flared to life. The immediately surrounding Grimmers were lit ablaze as Urgar’s skill engulfed them. Burnt meat filled the air, sending smoke billowing.

Urgar’s muscles swelled, veins glowing with molten heat as his axe ignited in searing flames. With a furious swing, he screamed and cleaved through the Grimmers that surrounded him, his body a whirlwind of steel and fire.

See? It was a good idea.

The horde pressed into him, his body taking lashes, but Urgar’s rage only intensified. He cut down Grimmers with a fiery vengeance, blood leaking onto the floor. His axe left scorched bodies and severed limbs in its wake.

Mitch stepped back, eyes cold and calculating as he watched the dwarf tear through the horde. Urgar was taking a lot of damage from the onslaught, but ignored it in his berserker state. Flames roared higher, incinerating them as his axe swung in wide, lethal arcs.

Warrick phased into existence besides Mitch. The orc’s spiked gauntlets were covered in viscera, dripping blood. He glanced at the carnage, then at Mitch, his voice a deep, rumbling judgment. “That was cold.”

Mitch’s face was emotionless, guilt subjugated into his Devoid lockbox. “He wasn’t going to make it without a push.”

Warrick stared at him for a moment, judging, before grunting and phasing out again. The orc's judgement hung in the air as Urgar’s flames raged on. Even though Urgar’s fighting was endless, and he was covered in wounds, Mitch had a feeling the dwarf would be fine. Mostly.

It worked, didn’t it?

Mitch turned, spotting Sable across the cavern. She had the mutated Abyssal-infected man pinned to the ground. Her metal wires coiled tightly around him, trapping him like a beast, but unable to kill him outright. Her face was tight with concentration, body straining against the man’s thrashing.

Mitch rushed over, leaping across the cavern as the horde thinned. The Grimmers were being cut down by Urgar’s fiery wrath and Warrick’s fists.

As Mitch approached, the infected man’s glowing eyes locked onto him, a sinister grin twisting his mutated face.

“Welcome back, boy,” the monster rasped, his voice dark and distorted.

Mitch’s grip tightened on the hilt of his Soul Sword, but instead of striking the monster down, he knelt besides the thrashing, mutated man. He leaned in close, cold eyes studying the writhing mass of flesh and metal.

“Tell me,” Mitch growled, his voice low and dangerous, “Why am I tied to the Abyss? Why me?”

The monster’s eyes flickered, a dark grin spreading across its grotesque face, but it didn’t answer.

Mitch pressed the blade against the creature’s chest, pushing it down until it screamed. He twisted the blade, feeling corrupted flesh yield beneath the dwarven steel. The Souls inside Mitch howled in excitement, feeding off the pain radiating from the creature. But the monster only barked back a laugh.

“That’s all you have? You think what you do is worse than the Abyss and its methods?” it moaned through ragged breaths, its voice filled with madness.

Mitch pressed harder, grinding the blade into its chest. “Why do I have this debt?”

The monster’s laugh turned into a choking gasp as black blood bubbled forth from its mouth. But it still refused to answer. Its eyes shined with knowledge, lips curling into a taunting grin even in the face of death.

“Answer me.” Mitch’s voice was ice.

Sable, still holding the wires taut, glared at Mitch, her expression having shifted from grim determination to fear. The calm exterior she had built around herself faltered as she watched him toy with the monster.

It was clear the creature wouldn’t speak, and Mitch’s expression darkened.

“If you won’t answer, then you’re no use to me,” he hissed.

Without another word, he raised his sword high and brought it down in a powerful arc. The Soul Sword sliced effortlessly through wire, flesh, and bone. Mutated head severed in one swift stroke.

Everything was still. Bodies littered the ground, blood soaking cracked stone.

Sable’s multi-colored eyes lingered on Mitch. She had seen something in him. Something dark, and detached. She didn’t speak as she let the wires she had cast loosen.

Warrick’s deep voice cut through the stillness. “Guys! Urgar’s down!”

Mitch turned, his attention shifting to where Urgar’s form lay atop a pile of slain Grimmer bodies. The dwarf’s berserker rage had finally ceased, the Skill sputtering out. He panted heavily, his body covered in slashes and burns. Some part of Mitch was happy that Urgar had survived, but the unnatural coldness of Devoid won.

He will live. Good.

Sable rushed past him, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and urgency. “You cold bastard…” she muttered under her breath. Barely audible, but Mitch caught it. She knelt beside Urgar, pressing sewn together hands against burned skin, her focus entirely on the dwarf.

“Urgar, stay with me,” Sable's voice cracked as she pulled a vial from her pouch, applying the liquid to the worst of his wounds.

Mitch took a breath, then looked down at the decapitated body at his feet. The hunger that tickled his brain, the pull of the Shadowshroud, demanded its prize. It gnawed at him, begging to be let loose.

Mitch closed his eyes, and prodded the Shadowshroud to feast.

A savage howl, like a starved dog, rang out in the cavern. The clinical emotion Mitch felt kept his eyes locked onto the process.