In the distance, a [Nightwalker] ambled aimlessly through the streets. Its tall and slender form loomed large, but it wasn’t dissimilar to the [Shade] in appearance. The creature’s movements were slow, lazy, and without purpose. Unlike the [Shade], this giant lacked a spark of intelligence behind its pale green eyes.

From his previous observations atop the forge, Luke had noticed the [Nightwalkers] followed relatively predictable patrol routes around the cathedral.

Luke sprinted across the rooftops alone. He was relatively unencumbered, having placed both Fenn and his shield in his soul space. The hammer was too large to fit the tool belt any more.

As a pair of crossbow bolts hurtled towards him, he caught them with his [Brace] They plinked harmlessly against his armour, even though they had enough force to punch through stone, as proved by the third shot that went wide.

Leaping through the air, he landed on one of the viran shooters, smashing its face into the ground with a sickening crunch. Spinning around, he swept the legs out from under the second viran before punting it off the building like a golf ball.

Its body flailed helplessly as it plummeted to the streets below. Even within his soul space, he could feel Fenn pulse with delight as golden coins and blood scattered onto the streets below.

Luke waved at the elites below, their rat-like faces contorted with rage and frustration. He glanced behind himself to see a sizable portion of the warband in pursuit.

On the roof he had just left behind, a line of ratlings emerged onto the roof, blocking his escape route. Meanwhile, a similar group impeded his path ahead, their ranks bristling with a mismatch of weaponry.

Laughing, Luke doubled back to the group behind and leapt across the gap again.

[+1 Agility Cultivated]

As he landed, he tanked a mace strike to his side and dodged a sword aimed at his helmet. He smashed the large mace-wielding elite with a [Kinetic Strike], feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his hammer, then used [Epicentre] to pull a weaker-looking viran off the roof and onto the cobblestones below.

The thud of its body hitting the cobblestones cut a long scream short. A rank-up notification for his [Gravity] tickled his mind a second later. Luke opened it just to check if he could form another ability.

[Concept ranked up: Gravity - Bronze. Awarded for effective use in combat. +2 Empathy. What goes up must go down.]

Distracted by the notification, an axe blow to his helmet dazed him for a few seconds, and the other three elites knocked him to the ground.

Rurik’s armor was top-notch, particularly now that his soul had advanced to the initiate tier and could effectively empower the enchantments, but it wasn’t without its faults. These elites were a cut above the runts he fought before. They were stronger, faster, and more precise.

Despite that, Luke had more potent domains, and was still bigger than all of them, except the [Warlord], who had finally arrived on the streets below.

Luke could feel the density of Maruk’s [Marauder] laden aura even from up on the roof.

Time to go, he thought.

Luke dumped his free attribute point into [Endurance], and materialised Fenn from his soul space. He brought the claw down on a furry foot, before kneecapping another viran. There was a crowd of seven ratlings surrounding him, but this bought him enough space to get to his feet.

His [Brace] had stored a fair bit of momentum from being battered on the ground, so he had plenty of stored momentum to play with.

After a moment to reorientate himself, Luke picked a suitable target and ran at them. He charged straight at the bulky viran, activated [Kinetic Strike], and threw himself off the roof with the ratling in a bear hug.

He landed in a splat, crushing the elite beneath him as gold coins rolled down the street.

That works better in the movies, Luke thought as he gasped in pain. The boost to [Endurance] helped, but he was reasonably certain he had broken a rib, perhaps several.

Groaning, Luke rolled to his feet with a wobble.

He looked at his status screen.

Status:

Location: Dungeon - London Underground

Effects: Agility Potion (1 minute, 37 seconds)

Quests: Kill the Forgemaster, Kill the Three-Headed-Rat

Cutting it close, he thought and exhaled. The ripple of pain in his chest confirmed that he had definitely broken something.

With the countdown ticking, Luke made a mad dash through the streets, heart pounding as he pushed himself to the limit. He turned into an alley; the shadows closing in around him, only to find himself at a dead end.

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Luke materialised his shield, tightened his grip around Fenn, and prepared to make his stand. His heart raced as the warband cut off his escape. Gripping his hammer tightly, he eyed the snarling warriors, the aether thick with their [Marauder] domains.

“Maruk!” Luke called out, his voice ringing clear in the tense silence. “I have an offer for you!”

For a moment, the ratlings hesitated, their beady eyes flickering with uncertainty. The pause was fleeting, as a brute almost as large as Luke himself charged forward.

“Die defiler,” it roared.

Just as the hulking viran closed the distance, the ground beneath its feet trembled. Without warning, a jagged spear of stone erupted violently, impaling the brute through its midsection. Luke had been prepared to receive the charge, but his breath caught in his throat as blood splattered across his armour.

The spear retracted slowly, dragging the twitching body back into the cobblestones before unceremoniously dumping it onto the street in a crumpled heap. Not a single sound escaped the viran warband as the crowd parted, and a figure stepped forward.

Maruk, the [Warlord], cut an imposing figure. He was a foot taller than Luke himself, making him practically a giant amongst his savage kin. He wore armour, but instead of the power armour like plate, golden chain-mail adorned his lean frame, accented by massive pauldrons crafted from humanoid skulls. His face was visible, with several ridged scars running across it.

In his hand, Maruk gripped a massive spear, its shaft crafted from solid obsidian that glinted with an otherworldly sheen. The wicked point, cruelly barbed and serrated, still glistened with the fresh blood of the fallen elite. The [Warlord] touched the blood with his finger, and drew a line across his cheek. As he did Nemangor came into view behind him, the fat rat visibly out of breath, gut heaving with exertion.

“The slave isn’t here,” the [Master] said.

“I have eyes, brother,” Maruk replied. “Perhaps if your aura was as strong as Sanara’s you would do a better job tracking your thralls. It matters not. This is the one we need.”

Nemangor bristled at his brother’s words, but did not challenge him.

“What do you need me for?” Luke asked, a little twitchy. He didn’t know how well his armour would hold up against another spear of earth erupting from the ground, particularly with all the hits he had already taken.

“To break free of this place. The dungeon overflows with aether, all it needs is a nudge to break,” Maruk said.

“Maybe we can work together then, I just want to get out of here too,” Luke said.

Maruk smiled, and Luke noticed that his yellow teeth had been filed down to points. “That will be hard when you are dead.”

From the other end of the alley, Maruk stabbed down with his spear, and as he did the obsidian melded into the cobblestone, and a fraction of a second later an obsidian stalagmite almost impaled Luke from below. He managed to roll out of the way, but a second earthen spear slammed into him from the stone wall to his left. It didn’t penetrate his armour, but the force of the attack sent him sprawling.

An underground city made of stone was a bad place to fight someone with an [Earth] domain.

“Wait!” Luke tried, narrowly avoiding a third spear.

“Oh yes, you had a deal to offer me, yes? Speak.”

Luke scrambled to think of something; he hadn’t planned this far ahead. “I have information you need, about a powerful heretical domain.”

The [Warlord] clearly didn’t think Luke knew anything useful, because the next spear would have hit him in the head, had he not got his shield up in time. [Brace] absorbed the blow, but his soul struggled to express the [Bulwark] effectively from overexertion.

Maruk laughed. “I can smell the heresy in you, sure enough. Fear not, Sanara will talk all about it with you when she comes back.”

Luke felt an odd sensation as the [Warlord] smelt his aura.

Though the Maruk wasn’t pulling punches, neither was he going all out. He held back the rest of his warband from joining in, and Luke was fairly sure he could hit harder if he wanted to.

With this in mind, Luke risked taking a peek at Maruk’s soul.

[Level 19 Viran - A psion that walks the path of the Seismic Warlord. Core Domains: Marauder, Tyrant, Spear and Earth.]

Luke felt a chill run down his spine as he glimpsed Maruk's level. The [Warlord] was a formidable opponent, even if levels were only an indicator of what stage of cultivation a soul was at, not an absolute measure of power.

He couldn't keep tanking hits.

The Path of the Indomitable Dreadnought was equal parts [Bulwark] and [Warhammer], offensive and defensive.

Luke was neither unbreakable nor unstoppable, but he was working on it.

Gritting his teeth, Luke charged forward, hammer raised high. He brought Fenn down in a charged [Kinetic Strike].

Maruk nimbly sidestepped the attack, but Luke couldn't stop the strike while it was still in motion. The force of the blow cracked cobblestones, sending shards flying. The [Warlord] didn't give Luke a moment to recover, lunging forward with his obsidian spear to take advantage of his overextension.

The side of Maruk’s obsidian spear slammed against Luke's helmet, followed by a stab at his ribs.

Pain flared, and Luke managed to get his shield back up to catch another jab.

Instead of erupting spikes from the ground, Maruk engaged Luke in a flurry of jabs and slashes. Each strike chipped away at Luke's [Bulwark]-empowered armour, the runes struggling to disperse the impacts. Without the armour's protection, Luke would have been utterly outclassed.

A few martial arts lessons didn’t make him a warrior, and neither did morning jogs and protein shakes.

Even if the [Warlord] was a shadow of his former self, the man’s technique made Luke look like a drunk in a bar fight. He supposed this was the difference between [System] shortcuts, and hard earned cultivation.

The back-and-forth continued, with Luke forcing Maruk to evade his powerful hammer strikes while the [Warlord] countered with a relentless barrage of spear thrusts and sweeps. Even with his armour on and [Brace] active, he took one hell of a beating.

Luke could feel himself tiring, both physically and spiritually.

"Nemangor," Maruk called out, his voice laced with cruel amusement. "Shackle him."

Luke felt the iron grip of the [Master] take hold of his soul.

Before he could find out exactly what kind of unpleasantness was in store for him, a rumbling sound echoed from behind the assembled warband. The ratlings parted, their beady eyes widening as a colossal figure rounded the corner.

A hundred-foot colossus of swirling shadows towered over the street, each thunderous step propelling it a dozen feet forward. Luke caught a glimpse of Frank narrowly avoiding being crushed, the ratling diving into a nearby alley.

About fucking time, Luke thought.

The slender giant bent down and looked into the alleyway, as if considering if it was worth squeezing its fluid body into the narrow space to pursue Frank.

In a jerky motion too fast to see properly, the giant turned its head ninety degrees, and looked right at the warband.

[Level 30 Nightwalker - An aetherling created by a Shadowmancer, this creature walks the path of the Boundless Night. Domains: Shadow, Vastness.]

Then there was darkness as the giant flared its aura.

Who turned out the lights?