Gorgrik sneered, his broken English thick with disdain. "Erik... you fight well. But not enough!" He raised his rune-etched axe, muttering guttural words in the goblin tongue. Dark green energy crackled around the weapon, runes blazing to life with ancient magic.
Beside him, Grak let out a roar, hefting his massive iron maul. "We show you... true power!" With a guttural snarl, he slammed the maul into the ground, and a burst of flame erupted around him, wreathing the weapon in blazing fire. The flames licked hungrily at the air, painting the clearing with a hellish glow.
Erik stood his ground, the Shadowblade of Primal Resonance in his grip. He could feel the primal energy pulsing through the blade meeting the demonic within himself, waiting, and hungry for release. His demonic core thrummed with power, and he knew that this was the moment to let it out. The demon inside him, watching the display of goblin magic, was silent, almost reverent. “Show them,” it whispered. “Show them what true power looks like.”
Gorgrik and Grak advanced, their weapons blazing. Gorgrik swung his enchanted axe, and Erik raised his sword to block. The clash sent a shockwave rippling through the ground, the energy from Gorgrik's magic slamming into Erik like a tidal wave. Erik’s arms trembled from the force, but he held firm, teeth gritted in determination.
Grak charged in from the side, his fiery maul descending in an arc meant to crush. Erik twisted, using Primal Circulation to enhance his agility, and barely avoided the devastating blow. The ground where the maul struck exploded in a shower of dirt and flames. Erik countered, his blade lashing out to force Grak back.
The two goblins grinned, emboldened by their magic. "Human... still weak!" Grak taunted, flames dancing in his wild eyes.
But Erik had had enough. His demonic core flared, and he felt the primal energy surge through him from the sword, merging with the raw power of his pact. He lifted his sword, the shadowy energy churning and turning from primal into demonic. The output far exceeding that of which you would find normally, and due to Eriks enhanced meridians, the output was astonishing. Erik concentrated on the blade as if it was an extension of himself, and let his mind drift through the blade as if it was part of him.
The Shadowblade burst into flame, but it was no ordinary fire. The blade darkened to a shade that was blacker than the deepest void, yet it burned with an intensity that radiated a blinding, almost otherworldly light. The darkness seemed to consume all it touched, and the surrounding air warped as if reality itself was bending away from the blade’s demonic aura.
Gorgrik and Grak faltered, their confidence wavering. The brightness of Erik’s blade was a paradox, a light so dark and consuming that it felt like staring into an abyss that reflected the brilliance of the sun. The goblin warriors behind them took uneasy steps backward, their earlier bravado shattered.
With a roar, he surged forward. Gorgrik swung his magic-charged axe to intercept, but Erik’s blade cleaved through it effortlessly. The runes shattered, the magic dissipating in a burst of green sparks. Gorgrik's eyes widened in disbelief, but Erik didn’t give him a chance to react. His next strike cut the goblin leader down, the black flames consuming Gorgrik's body in an instant.
Grak bellowed in rage, swinging his flaming maul with all his strength. Erik met the strike head-on, his demonic sword slicing clean through the enchanted weapon. The maul shattered, and the flames extinguished as if snuffed out by the void of Erik’s blade. Grak’s expression twisted from rage to fear, but it was too late. Erik’s final blow struck true, ending the goblin’s life in a surge of darkness and fire.
Silence fell over the battlefield. The remaining goblins, seeing their leaders defeated, broke ranks and fled into the woods, their courage shattered. Erik stood amidst the chaos, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the Shadowblade of Primal Resonance still pulsing with demonic energy. The power was intoxicating, but Erik knew he had to control it. With a steadying breath, he willed the energy to subside, and the blade’s flames dimmed, leaving only the smoldering charred remains of his fallen enemies.
As the dust settled and the last echoes of the battle faded into the woods, Erik’s body shuddered. A wave of energy rippled through him, originating from his core and spreading to every fiber of his being. His vision blurred for a moment, replaced by glowing runes and an overlay of his demonic system.
Level Up Initiated
Erik felt his heart race, the energy filling him like a blazing inferno.
Current Level: 1
New Level: 2
Core Energy Increased: +5%
Demonic Energy Pool Expanded: +5%
New Skill Unlocked: Abyssal Surge
Abyssal Surge flashed across his vision, and the description followed: “Unleash a burst of demonic energy to amplify your next attack, dealing void-based damage and temporarily boosting speed and strength. Warning: Overuse may destabilize core
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Erik’s body pulsed with newfound strength, and he could feel his muscles brimming with power. The Shadowblade of Primal Resonance shimmered in his hand, the void-like energy woven deeper into the weapon’s essence. His senses sharpened, his awareness expanding as the Primal Circulation became more refined, more efficient. He continued to read however was interrupted when another critical system message prompted an immediate overlay.
Alert: Eldritch Presence Detected. Threat Level: Critical.
The notification blazed across his vision, and Erik’s head snapped up.
Beyond the decimated goblins and the shattered remnants of their weapons, the mist thickened, coiling like a living thing. Shapes began to materialize, grotesque figures stepping forward, their elongated limbs twisting unnaturally, their features distorted and horrifying. What had once been human villagers now moved like marionettes controlled by some dark, unspeakable force. Their skin was stretched and cracked, and their mouths twisted into silent screams.
Erik’s eyes widened as he recognized one of the figures—a woman he and Vesper had saved during their last visit to the village. Her limbs were grotesquely lengthened, her fingers clawed and trembling. But it was the figure behind her that made Erik's heart clench with a grief so profound it felt like a physical blow. It was her child. The small boy he had saved, who had once clutched a blanket in sleep, now stood as an eldritch abomination, his limbs twisted and his face expressionless, the blanket still clutched in his clawed hands as if the nightmare had swallowed him whole.
Erik’s breath caught in his throat, and his hands began to tremble. The grief was suffocating, but so was the fury. “No... not them. Not the child,” he whispered, his vision blurring.
A voice, cryptic and slow, echoed through the ranks of the eldritch beings. It resonated with a deep, hollow timbre, as if it were carved from the void itself. "You thought... you could destroy me? With a paltry trick?" The voice was hauntingly familiar, and it sent a shiver down Erik’s spine. The mist parted, and a shadowy figure emerged, flanked by three elite eldritch warriors wielding grotesque, serrated swords. Each warrior wore twisted, eldritch armor that had once belonged to paladins, which were now corrupted beyond recognition a testimate to the power of the corruption of the eldritch.
Behind them, a massive eldritch troll lumbered forward, dragging a broken figure. It was the High Paladin, his divine armor cracked and splintered, his eyes empty and lifeless. The troll’s hulking frame was a mass of sinewy muscles and pulsing, shadowy green veins, its maw twisted into a permanent, hideous grin.
Erik's mind raced as the figure stepped into the light. Dominion. The very thing he thought he had killed, now reborn again, twisted by eldritch power. Dominion’s eyes burned with a sinister light, and a cruel smile twisted its lips. "Look at what you’ve wrought," it said, its voice dripping with mockery.
The realization hit Erik like a sledgehammer. Dominion had returned, more powerful than before, and everything Erik had tried to protect had been twisted into a mockery of life. His fists clenched so tightly around the hilt of his sword that his knuckles turned white. His breathing grew heavier, ragged with grief and fury, as his body began to tremble.
The paladin commander’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the scene. "By the Divine," he whispered, his voice shaking. The elite quick-reaction warriors glanced at each other, the grim reality of what they were facing sinking in. Fear rippled through them, but they stood their ground, shields up and weapons at the ready.
Vesper’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes flicking from Dominion to the eldritch villagers. Her gaze settled on Erik, and her heart lurched. "Erik?" she whispered, but he didn't seem to hear her.
Berndhardt, usually so calm and composed, gripped his axe tighter. The grim realization was etched on his face.His eyes narrowed, watching Erik with growing concern. "Not good."
Erik’s vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the eldritch mother and her child. Crimson tears streamed down his face, mingling sorrow and rage. His chest heaved, the grief consuming him, but with it came a rage so fierce it threatened to burn him from the inside out. The crimson aura around him pulsed and bubbled like molten sap, tendrils of it spiraling upward, distorting the air with its heat reaching upwards towards the heavens.
The demon inside him stirred, alarmed. “Erik... you need to control it. This... this is dangerous.” But Erik couldn’t hear it, couldn’t process anything beyond the grief and the fury tearing him apart.
The system flared again
Sin of Wrath Activated: Skill Level Increased to 2. Restrictions engaged. Restrictions overridden. Royalty override approved
Vesper took a step back, her eyes wide as Erik’s aura erupted. It was no longer just a manifestation of rage; it was a living force, seeping into the very air, making the ground tremble. The energy coiled around him, so intense that even the seasoned warriors felt it pressing against them like a physical weight.
Erik let out a guttural scream, and the demonic energy surged into his sword. The Shadowblade of Primal Resonance began to melt into a black dripping blade, transformed, the metal darkening until it was blacker than the void. It radiated an impossible light, a demonic brilliance that dared anyone to look at it. The sword had become Soulbound Sword of Demonic Royalty, an extension of Erik’s rage and grief, its power binding to him in a way that surprised even the demon.
“What... ?” the demon whispered, a rare note of fear in its voice. “You’ve... bound us both to it? How?”
But Erik couldn’t hear it. He was enveloped in the Sin of Wrath, the grief and rage merging into a berserker fury that made his entire body tremble. He turned, crimson tears still streaming down his face, and locked eyes with Vesper and Berndhardt. For a moment, his expression was one of sorrow and confusion. The pain was palpable, and everyone felt it.
Then his face twisted, sorrow giving way to a rage so raw and consuming that it burned like fire. Red lines, glowing like molten veins, spread from his heart up his neck and into his eyes. His muscles tensed, and the air around him warped from the demonic overflow.
The system activated again
Berserker Mode Activated: Demonic Overflow at Maximum. Royalty Increase +5%. Circulating Excess Energy
Erik's eyes blazed with crimson fury, and his body surged with power. The grief, the rage, the loss—all of it fueled the storm inside him. With a roar that made the very earth tremble, he charged at Dominion and the eldritch warriors, his transformed sword blazing with black hellfire.
Dominion’s grin faltered, and the demon within Erik could only mutter one thing. “Oh... shit.”
The battle was about to reach a new level of chaos, and Erik Marlowe was ready to unleash hell.