Erik held his sword tight in his hand, the soft, subtle curves of the black leather hilt etching into his palm, now stained with sweat and blood.
“Cover the sides!” Erik shouted, his voice cutting through the cacophony. The few wary troops staggered back, their movements sluggish against the looming eldritch horde that surged forward—an unnatural wave of gnashing teeth and clawing limbs.
Erik closed his eyes, gripping his sword tighter as he focused inward, deep toward his core. He pulled and pushed the energy within, creating a turbulent ocean of power ready to crash outward. With a sharp exhale, the energy burst from him like a crimson shield, forming a protective barrier that gave him the strength needed to push back against the oncoming tide.
“Hold the line!” he barked, glancing over his shoulder at the younger warriors struggling to form a defensive circle around Kaelara. Their earlier bravado had vanished, replaced by trembling hands and darting eyes. The stench of putrid infection and ichor from the eldritch abominations hung heavy in the air, causing one recruit to gag and stumble back, his spear shaking in his grip.
“Don’t falter now!” a veteran shouted, stepping in to steady the recruit. “You’ll die if you hesitate. Fight!” The horde pressed forward, claws slashing at the circle. The young warriors’ formation wavered, breaking into a bleeding crescent as panic set in. Kaelara, left exposed at the center, gritted her teeth and raised her weapon, her knuckles white as she prepared for the inevitable clash.
“Focus on their movements,” Erik called out, his tone sharp but steady. “Aim for the joints—disable them. If you lose your footing, recover fast or you’ll end up dead.”
An eldritch creature lunged through the breach, its elongated arm slicing cleanly through the silver and white armor of one defender. The soldier fell with a choked cry, blood pooling beneath him. Erik moved without hesitation, weaving through the crumbling line.
He swung his blade in a wide arc, channeling his energy into the strike. The attack severed the creature’s arm and leg, but it continued to claw toward him, ichor dripping from its gaping maw.
“Stay back!” Erik shouted as another recruit rushed forward, panic clear in their movements. Erik thrust his sword downward, delivering a killing blow to the writhing creature. He released a pulse of Demonic energy, obliterating its remains in a spray of ichor and bone. The nearby recruits recoiled, their faces pale with horror. “Get it together,” Erik growled, glaring at the trembling recruits. “They’re monsters, not invincible. Hold your ground, or we’ll all be corpses.”
Behind him, Kaelara’s eyes darted between Erik and the remaining horde. The tension in his stance and the glow of Aetherian energy radiating from him were unsettling, but also a beacon of hope in the chaos. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitating as Erik moved forward with a ferocity that seemed both calculated and raw, his focus unyielding. “Erik, what are you doing?” Kaelara called out, her voice tight with apprehension.
Before Erik could respond, the horde seemed to shift, an ominous groan rippling through the air. A surge of eldritch beings flooded forward, their grotesque forms writhing and clawing as they overwhelmed the defensive lines. Screams erupted as warriors were pushed back, their weapons glancing off the relentless wave of limbs and gnashing teeth. Erik grit his teeth, his Aetherian energy flaring to form a barrier that held back the worst of the tide. But even as he fought, the strain became palpable, sweat pouring down his face as his breathing grew heavier. His blade struck again and again, carving through the abominations, yet the horde seemed endless. “Fall back! Regroup!” Erik shouted, his voice hoarse but commanding. The recruits scrambled to comply, but many stumbled, tripping over their own fear as the relentless creatures pressed closer.
Kaelara’s voice cut through the chaos. “Erik, we’re losing ground! What do we do?”
Erik’s mind raced. He could feel the temptation clawing at him, the dark power within him urging him to unleash it. His grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white as he fought to resist. But the barrier faltered, cracks spidering through the crimson shield as the eldritch energy battered against it. “I don’t have a choice,” Erik muttered, his voice low but resolute. With a deep breath, he extended his hand, palm open. His skin seemed to ripple as a grotesque, demonic face formed in the center of his palm. Its jagged, rigid teeth curved into a twisted smile, and its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto the eldritch horde.
The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat as the face opened its maw wide, a low, guttural growl emanating from it. A shockwave of dark energy burst outward, and Erik’s eyes widened in surprise as the eldritch creatures closest to him screeched in agony, their essence being ripped from them while they were still alive. He had only ever known Sin Eater to consume the remains of eldritch beings yet to reanimate, but now it was pulling directly from the living abominations. The demonic mouth on his palm twisted into a wider, jagged smile as streams of green, otherworldly energy spiraled into it. The energy coiled around Erik, seeping into his body. His crimson aura deepened, transforming into a heavy, liquid-like mist. The blood-red haze spilled out from him, intangible yet oppressive, coating the battlefield in an eerie, menacing glow.
Kaelara staggered back, her eyes wide with fear. “Erik…?”
The mist thickened, pooling at Erik’s feet before erupting outward in a violent explosion. The air grew dense, heavy with an unbearable weight that pressed down on everyone in the square. The weaker recruits fell to their knees, gasping for breath, while even the veterans struggled to stay upright under the suffocating force. Erik stood at the center of it all, his crimson eyes glowing like embers in the mist. His voice carried over the battlefield, low and dangerous. “Stay behind me. I’ll end this.” His blade glowed as his movements shifted, becoming a symphony of calculated violence. He exploded into action with such speed and strength that it seemed inhuman, his strikes blurring into a whirlwind of precise destruction. Erik grappled one eldritch creature, twisting its limbs with ease before hurling it into another. His sword followed in perfect harmony, cleaving through abominations with fluid, almost artistic precision. His steps were measured yet blindingly fast, his combat resembling an orchestra of strength and grace where every strike was a crescendo of power.
The warriors around him froze, their disbelief etched into their faces as they watched Erik transform from a capable fighter into an unstoppable force. Astonishment and horror gripped them as he moved through the eldritch beings with ruthless efficiency, dismantling them one by one with no wasted motion.
“Is he even human?” one recruit whispered, trembling.
“He’s… something else,” a veteran murmured, his voice tinged with both awe and unease. The air around them seemed heavier, each clash of Erik’s blade reverberating through the square like thunder. The group could do nothing but watch as Erik carved a path through the chaos, his crimson aura flaring brighter with every step, a stark reminder of the immense power they had underestimated.
The sight drew murmurs from the group, fear and uncertainty rippling through the warriors. One of the veterans, Lawler, sneered. “Demon or not, at least he’s doing something useful. You lot could learn a thing or two.” Erik’s eyes swept over the battlefield, taking in the carnage. The recruits were faltering, their strikes clumsy and ineffective. Even the veterans were beginning to tire, their movements slowing under the relentless assault.
“Berndhardt! Vesper!” Erik shouted, motioning toward the left flank where the horde was pressing hardest. “Push them back. I’ll handle the center.”
Berndhardt let out a feral laugh, hefting his axe. “Finally! Some real fun!” He charged into the fray, his weapon cleaving through the abominations with brutal efficiency. Each swing sent ichor spraying across the cobblestones, his laughter ringing out over the chaos. Vesper moved with precision, her sword flashing as she danced between the creatures. She struck with calculated force, targeting weak points and bringing down her foes with deadly grace.
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“Oswin,” Erik called, “I need a barrier to hold the recruits together. They’re falling apart.”
The Grand Magus nodded, raising his staff. Intricate runes glowed as he chanted an incantation. A shimmering dome of light spread out, momentarily halting the horde’s advance. The recruits inside the barrier looked up, their panic giving way to tentative hope.
“You have your chance,” Oswin said, his voice steady despite the strain of maintaining the spell. “Make it count.”
Erik turned back to the battle, his gaze locking onto a towering eldritch creature emerging from the shadows. Its grotesque form pulsed with green light, multiple eyes fixated on him with malevolent intent. “This is it,” Erik muttered, tightening his grip on his sword. He glanced at Kaelara, who stood frozen nearby, her eyes filled with worry. It was massive and bloated, its misshapen body covered in coarse, greasy hairs that bristled as it moved. An elongated neck craned unnaturally, supporting a head that seemed almost too large, with a gaping, crooked mouth stretching far longer than it should. The creature’s maw quivered with anticipation, revealing jagged, uneven teeth, and its sunken, glistening eyes darted about with unsettling intelligence. The creature let out a piercing scream, high-pitched and guttural, but it was the laughter that followed—a distorted, mocking sound—that sent chills through the warriors. A low rumble rolled through the battlefield, and then the sound of a distant horde grew louder. The veterans and recruits, already huffing and battered, froze as the truth dawned on them. Horror etched itself onto their faces as the sound swelled into a cacophony of shuffling, growling, and screeching—the eldritch horde had arrived.
“Regroup!” Erik roared, his voice cutting through the growing chaos. “Hold the line and protect the wounded! Berndhardt, Vesper, rally the fighters. Keep them alive!”The recruits scrambled to obey, but their fear was palpable. As the horde closed in, the realization struck many of them at once: the creatures they were fighting bore familiar features. Twisted and disfigured, the eldritch beings had once been the townspeople. Cries of despair rippled through the ranks as the horrifying truth sank in. Erik’s stomach churned as recognition hit him. His mind raced back to the town he had passed through not long ago, now warped into this grotesque nightmare. His grip tightened on his sword, and fury built in his chest, burning hotter with each passing moment. The voice from within Erik’s sword echoed in his mind, deep and serpentine, dripping with malice. “Ah, wrath... such a delicious sin, isn’t it? Let it consume you. Harness it. Use it. You know you need more than this frail resistance to survive. Why not indulge a little?”
“Shut up,” Erik growled under his breath, his crimson aura flaring. But the demon’s laughter persisted, crawling under his skin.
“Why resist? Pride… wrath… they’re tools, Erik. Tools for those strong enough to wield them. You want to save them? Then embrace it. Don’t be weak.”
Erik knew better than to trust the demon, but the battlefield around him left no other choice. The barrier was failing, the fighters were losing ground, and the monstrous figure before him laughed again, mocking his hesitation. Erik’s thoughts spiraled as his body trembled with fury. “Why?” he whispered to himself, his voice low, barely audible over the chaos. “Why does this always happen? Every time I try to save someone, it ends like this. Towns burned. People twisted into monsters. Is there no end to it?” The image of Ebonfield flashed in his mind—the marketplace bustling with life, children running through the streets, and the warm smiles of its people. Now, those faces were unrecognizable, twisted into the eldritch horrors bearing down on him. His grip on the sword tightened. “If this is the price of survival, then so be it.”
The demon’s voice slithered back into his consciousness. “Yes… feed it, Let the anger flow. Let it burn away that fragile sense of restraint. You know what you are.”
Erik gritted his teeth, his body already surrendering to the surge of wrath. “ I’ll prove to you I’m more than just your tool.”
The demon chuckled, mocking. “Oh, you misunderstand. A sin isn’t a tool; it’s who you are. You think you fight it, but the truth is, it’s always been you. Let it rise within you, they will make you unstoppable.” “Yes, that’s it! But why stop there? This your birthright. Take it… take it and show them your true power.”
Without realizing it, Erik activated the sin of pride. The transformation was immediate. Demonic marks etched themselves across his skin, glowing faintly as his laughter deepened, matching the sinister tone of the demon’s. His movements became more fluid, more dominating, as if he were playing with the eldritch beings now.
Berndhardt, standing nearby, froze mid-swing, his usual bravado replaced with alarm as the ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force of Erik’s attacks. “Vesper…” he muttered, his voice trembling. “We need to get everyone out of here… now.”
Vesper’s eyes widened as she watched Erik, his demonic aura now fully enveloping his blade. Each swing sent devastating shockwaves ripping through the battlefield, hurling eldritch beings and debris alike. The oppressive mist thickened, and with every step Erik took, the air became heavier, forcing some of the weaker fighters to their knees.
“Everyone, fall back!” Vesper shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. She grabbed Kaelara by the arm, dragging her toward the retreating warriors. “Oswin, cover the escape!”
Oswin, pale and sweating, raised his staff, chanting a protective spell that formed a shimmering barrier behind the fleeing group.
“Go, go!” he urged, his voice cracking with urgency.
Berndhardt planted himself in the path of the retreating fighters, barking orders. “Keep moving! Don’t look back!” He turned to Vesper. “We can’t stop him. He’s… not Erik anymore.”
Amid the chaos, Erik’s maniacal laughter rang out, chilling and otherworldly. The grotesque boss creature loomed over him, its massive, bloated form bristling with coarse, greasy hairs that seemed to twitch with malevolent intent. Its elongated neck craned unnaturally, and its gaping, crooked mouth stretched wide, emitting a chilling mix of laughter and guttural screams. The creature’s sunken, glistening eyes darted with unsettling intelligence, locking onto Erik as if recognizing him as a true threat.
Erik stood his ground, his sword cloaked in a blood-like aura that pulsed with power. He smirked, raising his blade in a taunting salute. “Look at you,” he said, his voice dripping with pride. “Big, grotesque, and loud. Is this all you’ve got? Come on, show me if there’s more to you than just your hideous face.”
The creature’s laughter deepened, its long mouth quivering as it lunged forward with terrifying speed, the force of its charge shaking the ground. Erik met the charge head-on, his sword crashing against the creature’s jagged claws in an explosion of crimson energy. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, hurling debris and smaller eldritch creatures aside.
“Is that it?” Erik taunted, his crimson eyes blazing. “I expected more from something that pretends to laugh at me. Come, let’s see if you can even keep up.”
With a roar, Erik surged forward, his blade carving through the air with blinding speed. The boss creature reared back, swinging its grotesque limbs in an attempt to crush him, but Erik weaved through its attacks, each movement precise and unrelenting. His strikes left trails of warped energy, cutting deep into the creature’s bloated flesh and eliciting shrieks of agony. The creature flailed, its massive form creating fissures in the cobblestones as it thrashed, but Erik remained a whirlwind of destruction, his laughter growing darker and more unhinged with every strike.
The grotesque boss lunged at Erik, its elongated mouth stretching wide in a horrifying scream. Erik met its charge head-on, his sword colliding with the creature in an explosion of force that sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The ground quaked, and a fissure split the cobblestones beneath their feet.
“Do you see now?” the demon’s voice purred in Erik’s mind. “This power, this rage… it’s who you are. They’ll never understand. But you don’t need them. Crush everything in your way. Let them see what happens when pride and wrath unite.” Erik’s laughter grew louder, more distorted. His words dripped with malice as he spoke, his voice overlapping with the demon’s. He turned to glance back at the fleeing warriors, his crimson eyes glowing like burning coals.
“Look at you all,” he sneered, his tone a mix of disdain and amusement. “Scurrying away like rats. Did you think you could stand with me? The weak have no place here… and you’ve proven exactly what you are.” The weight of his words struck like a hammer, the retreating fighters casting fearful glances at Erik’s form, a figure both horrifying and mesmerizing as he tore through the eldritch monstrosities without pause.
Vesper’s heart pounded as she pushed Kaelara toward the safety of the retreating group. “Berndhardt, we’re out of time! We have to go!”
Berndhardt hesitated, glancing back at Erik, who was now fully consumed by the sins he had unleashed. With a growl of frustration, he turned and ran, shouting to the others. “Move it! Now!”
The group fled as Erik’s onslaught continued, the battlefield shaking with the force of his attacks. Behind them, Erik stood alone against the horde, his corrupted laughter echoing into the night as he tore through the eldritch monstrosities with unrelenting fury.