The provincial capital bustled with a veneer of normalcy, its ornate chambers of governance filled with the rhythmic shuffle of documents and the hushed murmur of officials. Yet, beneath the surface, unease rippled through the corridors of power. The High Council convened in the grand assembly hall, an austere room lit by towering windows that cast angular shadows across the marble floors.

Seated at the long table were the capital’s highest authorities: a mix of scholars, military commanders, and provincial governors. At the head sat Chancellor Kreyden, a stern figure whose sharp eyes betrayed his unease as he addressed the gathering.

“We face a grave situation,” Kreyden began, his tone clipped.

“The western districts of the capital have suffered a coordinated attack; an act of sabotage. The damage is significant. The apparent primary target, the former governor of that province, was extracted.”

Murmurs swept through the hall, a ripple of alarm that grew louder as Kreyden’s next words cut through the air.

“And the attacker used an Aetherian ship.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Aetherian technology, dormant for centuries, was a subject of reverence and fear. While small relics of their advanced magic lingered as artifacts of power, a functioning Aetherian vessel was a myth; a legend whispered in the halls of scholars but dismissed as impossible.

“A fully operational Aetherian ship?” one of the scholars whispered, his voice trembling.

“Do you understand what that means? These ships weren’t just transports; they were weapons. City-killers. They could level continents.”

“We need confirmation,” a military commander interjected, his tone gruff.

“Who is behind this? What do they want?”

Before Kreyden could respond, one of the scholars stood abruptly, a wiry man with glasses that glinted ominously in the light.

“This is no ordinary adversary. An Aetherian ship in the hands of an unknown commander could destabilize everything we’ve built. We must act decisively.”

“Decisively?” a treasury official countered, her tone sharp.

“Do you suggest we strike at something we don’t understand? Do you want to provoke it?”

The debate grew heated, voices overlapping in a cacophony of fear and authority. It wasn’t until the heavy oak doors creaked open that the room fell silent once more.

Erik strode into the hall, his presence a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. He wore an intricate suit of Aetherian regalia, its sleek black and crimson fabric shimmering faintly as if woven with living magic. Subtle patterns shifted across the material, pulsing in rhythm with Erik’s own movements, hinting at its intrinsic connection to its wearer.

To most, the garment was unknowable, a marvel of lost Aetherian craftsmanship. But to one scholar, the significance was clear. He paled as realization struck.

Erik’s crimson eyes swept the room, his movements deliberate as he took a seat at the table without waiting for an invitation.

“I hear you’ve been talking about my ship,” he said, his voice calm yet heavy with unspoken authority.

Kreyden stiffened. “You’ve caused quite the disturbance.”

Erik’s lips curled faintly. “Disturbance? If securing my father’s freedom and stopping a potential eldritch outbreak is a disturbance, then yes….I’m guilty.”

Gasps and whispers erupted at his words. Kreyden’s brow furrowed.

“Eldritch outbreak? Explain yourself.”

Erik leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

“The man you held. He was infected with eldritch corruption. Every breath he took was spreading it. How many weeks was he in your custody?”

The council exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of Erik’s words sinking in. A scholar, emboldened by the tension, stood and addressed him directly.

“You claim eldritch corruption, but we’ve seen no signs. These are wild accusations, meant to distract us from your actions.”

Erik turned his gaze to the scholar, his tone deadly calm. “Distract… from my actions? What would I have to gain from distraction, when I am sitting in front of you?”

The scholar smirked, his hands beginning to weave a subtle spell. Erik’s demonic eye flared crimson as he watched the magic form; an assassin’s strike cloaked in the guise of an academic’s inquiry. The attack came quickly, a thin, deadly lance of magic aimed directly at Erik’s heart.

Without hesitation, Erik raised his hand, activating Sin Seater. A grotesque mouth opened in his palm, devouring the magic in an instant. The spell dissipated, its energy drawn into Erik’s core.

The room froze as Erik’s crimson eyes scanned the assembly, his demonic sight revealing traces of eldritch energy clinging to three individuals; two at the table and a support staff member in the background. Erik’s expression hardened.

He rose to his feet, his voice cold and deliberate.

“You all think you’re safe. You think I’m the threat because I wield power you don’t understand. But the real danger is already here; rotting your foundations while you argue and posture.”

He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as his demonic core activated. A translucent system message appeared before him, visible only to him:

Sin of Wrath Engaged. Full Demonic Capabilities Active. Engagement Time: 10 Minutes.

When Erik opened his eyes, they glowed with a brilliant, intricate pattern of red interwoven with streaks of green and blue. The oppressive weight of his demonic aura filled the chamber, forcing the gathered officials to their knees as if gravity itself had doubled.

His voice was a deadly whisper that cut through the room.

“Did you know the man you condemned to die was my father? Did you know what you were doing when you left him to waste away in a cell?”

Kreyden, struggling to meet Erik’s gaze, stammered. “We—he was a liability! A waste of resources! He should have been executed!”

Erik’s lips curled into a faint smile, his aura pressing harder.

Erik’s faint smile deepened as Chancellor Kreyden’s words hung in the air, heavy with contempt. The oppressive weight of Erik’s aura kept most in the room glued to their seats, but the sound of hurried boots echoed from the hall. Five guards stormed into the chamber, each wielding an assortment of magical weapons; runes glowing faintly along their enchanted spears, blades shimmering with fire, and a staff brimming with crackling energy.

From the table, two officials rose, one a high-ranking mage whose hands glowed with pulsing magical glyphs, the other a wiry man with daggers that shimmered with a faint, deadly light. They fanned out, joining the guards as they began to encircle Erik.

The room’s fifty other occupants, scholars, bureaucrats, and lesser officials stepped back, forming a wide circle to watch. Erik’s crimson eyes scanned the room as if weighing each person’s worth, his calm demeanor unnerving in the growing tension.

“Surrounded already?” Erik mused aloud, his tone laced with mock curiosity.

“How very predictable.”

One of the guards, a burly man with glowing runes etched into his armor, sneered.

“You think you can just walk in here and threaten us, Aetherian? Your kind doesn’t belong in this world.”

The wiry man with the daggers added, his voice dripping with disdain,

“You’ve made a fatal mistake showing your face here. Did you really think you could intimidate us and walk away unscathed?”

Erik turned his gaze to the dagger-wielder, his expression one of faint amusement.

“A fatal mistake, you say? Is that what you tell yourselves, just before you overstep your limits?”

The mage, already weaving a spell, hissed,

“You’re arrogant and that will be your undoing.”

Erik tilted his head slightly, his voice calm and precise.

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“Arrogance is assuming you understand the forces you’ve been toying with. You sit here, playing god with the people under your rule, oblivious to the consequences of your actions. Do you even hear yourselves?”

The crowd murmured uneasily, but Chancellor Kreyden slammed his hand on the table.

“Enough! You don’t dictate what happens in this chamber. Kill him.”

The guards lunged forward, their enchanted weapons flashing as they struck. Erik moved smoothly, sidestepping a glowing spear thrust as if he had all the time in the world. His sword was in his hand before anyone saw the motion, its blade gleaming faintly in the chamber’s light.

The first guard swung a flaming blade toward Erik’s midsection, only to meet air as Erik twisted gracefully out of the way. With a flick of his wrist, Erik parried another spear strike, sending its wielder stumbling backward.

A third guard thrust forward, his rune-covered spear aimed for Erik’s chest. Erik spun, his cloak swirling as he deflected the strike with his sword and pivoted into a sweeping kick that knocked the guard off his feet.

From behind, the wiry man with daggers closed in, his movements fast and precise. Erik turned just in time to intercept the strike, his blade flashing upward to block both daggers. He twisted the blade, forcing the man’s arms wide before delivering a sharp elbow to his sternum. The man staggered, gasping for breath.

Around the room, whispers began to grow.

“He’s toying with them…” one official murmured.

“Look at his movements. it’s not even a fight,” another added, awe creeping into their voice.

“He’s not breaking a sweat.”

The guards regrouped, two flanking Erik while another charged from behind. Erik sidestepped the first, his blade whirling in a clean arc that disarmed the second. The third guard’s blade was inches from Erik’s back when Erik twisted impossibly fast, leaving a faint afterimage behind him.

The crowd gasped.

“He’s leaving afterimages!”

one of the scholars exclaimed.

“They’re not even fighting him….they’re chasing shadows!”

The mage at the table unleashed a torrent of magical fire, the flames roaring toward Erik with deadly intent. Erik’s crimson eyes flared as he raised his hand, a faint shimmer surrounding him. He moved so quickly that the flames passed harmlessly through his afterimage, leaving the mage exposed as Erik appeared beside him in a flash.

The mage barely had time to react before Erik struck with the flat of his blade, sending him sprawling to the ground. Erik’s movements were precise and methodical.

Two master swordsmen among the guards advanced next, their blades glowing with intricate enchantments. Erik smiled faintly, his demeanor unshaken. As they lunged in tandem, Erik shifted, his speed leaving the crowd struggling to follow his movements. He weaved between their strikes with effortless grace, his blade clashing against theirs in a symphony of steel.

With a burst of power, Erik moved faster than the eye could follow, appearing behind one swordsman and delivering a precise kick that sent him flying across the room. The other swordsman hesitated, only to be disarmed by Erik’s sudden and impossibly fast strike.

Erik stepped back as the final guard lunged at him, her blade arcing toward his chest. He caught the strike with his free hand, twisting her wrist and sending her weapon clattering to the floor. As she stumbled, Erik delivered a clean, controlled punch to her stomach, dropping her to her knees as she gasped for air.

He turned to the last standing mage, who trembled under his gaze. Erik’s crimson eyes burned as he appeared before the man in a blink. The mage flinched, but Erik didn’t strike. Instead, he reached out and plucked the man’s staff from his hands, snapping it cleanly in two.

The room fell into stunned silence as Erik surveyed the broken weapons and incapacitated guards. He moved to the last fallen swordsman, catching him gently before he hit the ground and setting him down carefully.

He stepped toward Chancellor Kreyden, his aura still oppressive.

“You think I’m a monster?” Erik said peering into the Chancellors eyes only an arms length away.

Erik sighed, and turned back to the room, his voice calm and sharp.

“I could have killed every one of you in this room. But I didn’t. Do you know why?”

No one answered. The tension in the air was suffocating.

“Because I’m not here to destroy. I’m here to show you the truth; your games of power, your disregard for those beneath you, have let something much worse enter unnoticed… A real Monster”

The room grew heavier as Erik closed his eyes, his aura, already oppressive, began to shift no longer encompassing the entire room, but narrowing with surgical precision onto the three individuals. Green-tinted auras around them flared briefly, as though resisting Erik’s focus, before yielding to his power.

The crowd watched, stunned, as Erik raised his hand. The grotesque mouth of his Sin Eater skill opened in his palm, its jagged edges gleaming with malevolent hunger. A slow, chilling pull began as Erik drew the eldritch essence from the three individuals. The green energy swirled through the air like mist, coiling and writhing as it was siphoned toward him.

The individuals screamed as the energy left them, their bodies jerking violently. With each second, their carefully maintained human façades began to disintegrate. Skin peeled away like paper, revealing slick, sinewy forms beneath. Green ichor seeped from their pores, dripping to the marble floor and sizzling on contact.

The air became suffocatingly thick, a palpable dread spreading through the room. Erik’s crimson eyes opened, glowing brighter than before, as he watched their grotesque transformations unfold.

The closest body elongated unnaturally, their limbs twisting and cracking until they resembled gnarled branches. Their jaw unhinged, stretching impossibly wide as a guttural moan escaped, a sound that made the nearest onlookers stumble backward in horror.

The second began to convulse, their spine arching grotesquely as their arms split into multiple writhing tendrils. Their once-human face melted into an eyeless, featureless mask, their mouth a jagged maw leaking more green ichor.

The third, a smaller figure, shuddered violently before sprouting spiked protrusions across their back. Their fingers elongated into talons, each dripping with an acidic green substance that hissed as it fell to the floor.

The room erupted in chaos. People screamed, scrambling toward the edges of the chamber. Chairs were overturned, papers scattered across the floor, and several individuals pressed themselves against the walls as though trying to melt into the stone.

“What is this?” Chancellor Kreyden shouted, his voice quivering as he stood frozen.

“What have you done?”

Erik turned his gaze toward the Chancellor, his expression cold.

“I didn’t create this. You did. Through your negligence, your arrogance. These monsters were already here, hiding in plain sight.”

One of the guards, still trembling from his earlier defeat, managed to stammer,

“How… how could this have gone unnoticed?”

Erik’s voice cut through the noise, calm and razor-sharp.

“Because you weren’t looking. While you played at power, the real threat was festering beneath your noses.”

The transformed creatures let out guttural screeches, their grotesque forms writhing as if in agony. Their glowing green eyes turned toward Erik, erratic yet menacing. The weight of Erik’s presence filled the capital meeting room, his calm authority contrasting sharply with the chaos around him.

The onlookers stood frozen, too terrified to move. Even Chancellor Kreyden, who had moments earlier ordered Erik’s death, seemed paralyzed, his face pale with disbelief.

One of the eldritch horrors lunged, its elongated claws swiping toward Erik with unnatural speed. With a fluid motion, Erik sidestepped the attack, his sword flashing in an elegant arc. The blade severed the creature’s arm in a single, precise strike, green ichor spraying across the marble floor as the monstrosity howled in pain.

Without hesitation, Erik shifted, catching a second creature that charged him from the side. His blade cleaved through its chest, the corrupted form collapsing into a heap with a final, grotesque shriek.

The last remaining horror hesitated, its twisted form twitching as though deciding whether to flee or fight. Its glowing eyes flicked to the shattered bodies of its brethren, and with a screech of desperation, it turned and bolted. Leaping toward the nearest stained-glass window, it shattered through the intricate panes in an attempt to escape.

Before the horror could fully disappear, its momentum was reversed with a violent crash. The creature was hurled back into the room with incredible force, its grotesque body smashing into the far wall. A massive axe protruded from its chest, pinning it in place like a grotesque trophy.

Berndhardt vaulted through the broken window, his grin as irrepressible as ever. He landed heavily, brushing shards of glass from his broad shoulders as he surveyed the room.

“You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, Erik,” he said, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

Erik spared him a glance, his expression unreadable. “I was handling it.”

Berndhardt smirked. “Oh, I know. I was getting tired of the dramatics.”

Erik turned back to the room, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd of officials who now stood plastered against the walls, their fear palpable. Slowly, he raised his hand, his aura flaring once more. The oppressive weight in the air returned, forcing the few who had dared to move back to their positions.

“Stay where you are,” Erik commanded, his voice low and resonant. “Watch.” As he pointed down towards the corpses of the eldritch horrors.

The room grew deathly silent as the green ichor pooling on the floor began to shift. Slowly, unnaturally, the shattered bodies of the slain horrors started to twitch. Tendrils of corrupted flesh slithered toward each other, binding and twisting as the creatures’ forms began to reassemble. The limbs Erik had severed crawled back into place, and their mutilated torsos began to knit together.

Gasps and cries of horror echoed through the chamber as the abominations slowly regained their grotesque shapes. One by one, the monstrosities stirred, their twisted forms shuddering as they prepared to rise again.

Erik stepped forward, the glowing mouth of his Sin Eater skill opening in his palm once more. A deep pull began as he focused his power, drawing the eldritch energy from the creatures. The green ichor recoiled violently at first, but Erik’s will was unrelenting. The energy coiled like smoke, twisting through the air as it was siphoned into Erik’s hand.

The monstrous forms contorted, their movements growing erratic as their corrupted cores were ripped away. One by one, the creatures collapsed, their once-powerful bodies crumbling into blackened ash.

The final eldritch core hovered briefly in the air, glowing with malevolent intensity, before Erik crushed it in his hand. The oppressive energy in the room dissipated instantly, leaving only silence in its wake.

Erik turned back to the assembled council, his gaze piercing.

“This is the threat you’ve ignored. The danger you’ve allowed to fester while you play your petty games of power. Do you see now? Do you understand what you’ve let in?”

Chancellor Kreyden opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.

Erik’s aura receded slightly, but his tone remained sharp.

“This isn’t about me. This is about what’s coming. You think I’m your problem? Just wait until you have an entire town or city full of these…”

Berndhardt, leaning casually on his axe still lodged in the wall, broke the tension with a low chuckle taking a swig of his classic Viking Blood.

Erik smirked faintly, turning toward the shattered window his crimson eyes scanning the cityscape beyond.

“Time to leave,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Berndhardt grinned, yanking his axe free from the wall with a sharp motion. “I was wondering when you’d say that.”

Erik cast a final glance back at the room, his gaze lingering on the stunned council members, their faces pale and frozen in fear. He tilted his head slightly

“You’ve been warned.”

With that, he and Berndhardt leapt from the window, disappearing into the night.

Seconds later, a soft hum resonated from outside, faint at first but growing steadily louder. The council members hurried to the broken window, peering into the darkness with a mix of curiosity and dread.

From the shadows, a brilliant blue light emerged, illuminating the city below. The Aetherian ship came into view, its massive, sleek form shimmering with an otherworldly glow. The intricate runes along its hull pulsed rhythmically, casting patterns of light that danced across the buildings.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as the ship began to ascend, its sails unfurling like wings of liquid light. It hovered above the city for a moment, its presence an undeniable display of power and precision, before slowly rising higher into the sky.

“It’s… magnificent,” one of the scholars whispered, their voice trembling with awe.

Chancellor Kreyden said nothing, his face tight with a mix of fear and frustration. The room remained silent as the ship sailed upward, disappearing into the clouds, its hum fading into the night.