The scraping grew louder by the heartbeat, as the shadowreaver climbed the stone terraces and started walking to the temple. Edge had less than a minute to come up with a plan and set it in motion.

The prospect of his imminent death sent his mind racing like never before, considering and discarding a dozen ideas in as many seconds. None of them would work and he was almost out of time.

Then, in the heart of that dark moment, inspiration struck.

The last time the reaver saw me, I was severely wounded. Both the prisoners are dead, and it needs to keep me alive to feed its spawn. I can use that to get past its guard. It will have to be gentle when it tries to pick me up.

With no time for doubt, Edge reached down and scooped a double armful of gore off the floor. He sat down in the corner, then spread the crimson mess across his lap, holding his arms to his stomach like he was trying to keep his guts from spilling out.

He had no way of knowing if this would work, only that he was dead if it didn’t. The blood was a good start, but it wasn’t enough. If his deception was going to have any chance of panning out, he needed to put on the best performance of his life.

Look terrified and weak, like you’re helpless and in shock. The scared part was easy, since Edge already was. For the rest, he unfocused his eyes and started moaning and shaking, just as the monster sauntered into the room.

The reaver flowed into the chamber wreathed in living shadow, examining each of its prey in turn. It took its time, savoring the moment. The fiend chittered to itself as it stopped before the armless man, appreciating the carnage it had wrought.

When the tall man didn’t cower in its presence, it caressed his cheek with the tip of one claw. It worked the point below his skin and then dragged it across the bone.

When the monster realized that the prisoner wasn’t reacting to its torture, its entire posture shifted. All the satisfaction drained away until only fury remained. The creature bent down to prod the man’s body with the blade of its beak, carving a ragged gouge across his chest to make sure that he was dead.

It let out a growl of disgust, like it couldn’t believe that the convict had expired so quickly. Then it opened its maw and began to feed. Evidently, while the shadowreaver needed living meat to nurture its spawn, it had no problem consuming a corpse itself.

It was a horrifying, grisly affair. Edge had to watch, pretending to be too out of it to care, as the creature devoured the jailbird bite by bloody bite, until its bright yellow beak was stained ruby with glistening gore.

He wanted to scream. To run for his life. To throw up everything that he’d ever eaten.

But he knew that if he did any of those things, he would join the tall man in the monster’s belly. Instead, he bit his lip and prayed to anyone who might be listening. Edge repeated his plan over and over in his mind so that when the moment came, he would be ready to act.

When the monster was done with its meal, it moved on to the other prisoner. It started probing the big man’s torso with its claws, clearly confused as to why the wound was no longer healing.

In the end, the result was the same. It let out a shrill shriek and began gnawing away at the corpse. The reaver watched Edge all the while, making sure that he still drew breath. He sat there, doing his best to keep it together while waiting for an opening to appear.

It was a sight that would haunt his dreams, yet he couldn’t look away. He had to time the next part just right and hope that his desperate plan would bear fruit.

He was betting everything on the fact that the reaver thought he was mortally wounded. That it would want to carry him back to its lair as soon as it finished its meal. That it would be careful when it grabbed him, so he didn’t die on the way.

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The tortured moment seemed to stretch on forever, as the creature tore pieces free from its victim and then swallowed them whole like a bird. But it must have really only taken a couple of minutes until it was done devouring the big man, bone and all, and only scraps of bloody armor remained.

Every instinct Edge had was urging him to rise. To run. To get away while he still could. But he refused to listen to those relics of his prior existence. He knew this was the only way.

It was time to gamble with his life, and Edge was going all in.

At last, the reaver let out a bloody belch and turned to face him. Its anger had begun to cool, and he could tell it was pleased that he was still alive. That it wouldn’t return empty handed.

It began sauntering over to him, drawing closer step by step, leaving gore-studded footprints behind.

It took everything he had not to flinch. To act like he was so far gone that he no longer cared about the world around him. Please don’t kill me. Just come in close to pick me up.

The monster came to a stop in front of him, reeking of old death and new. It flexed its claws, trying to decide if it should carve off more pieces before dragging his body back home. That was when he remembered. Oh shit. I don’t have to be alive if the meat is still fresh.

In that moment, Edge was sure that he was dead. That the last thing he would feel would be those black blades carving him up again. But then the fiend lowered its hands and crouched down low. It must have concluded that he was light enough to carry already. It tilted its head and opened its beak, looking for the best place to grab hold.

He knew in that instant that whether he lived or died would be decided within the next handful of heartbeats.

He braced himself, not daring to breathe, waiting until the monster was within arm’s reach, so that he wouldn’t be able to miss. He sent his intentions into his core, getting ready to activate his newest skill.

The reaver came close, then closer still. Another few inches to go.

Just when its beak was about to touch his leg, the creature started to rear back instead. In a flash of panic-stricken clarity, Edge realized it had noticed that he was no longer bleeding. That events weren’t proceeding as planned.

It was further than he’d planned, but he didn’t have a choice. The monster would end him in between the drawing of one breath and the next. He had a split-second remaining, and he needed to make it count.

Edge gathered his will and sent his remaining magicytes into his reactor. His core flared to life, pushing mana through elemental blade, giving the magic form as it went surging into his intact hand.

A blade of frost six inches long emerged from his right palm, glowing with a pale blue light. A paltry knife compared to the mighty sword that the tall prisoner had wielded.

The monster screamed at the sight, claws flashing down to cut him in half. But as close as those living weapons were to his body, Edge was closer still.

Before the reaver could lash out, he struck, his hope for tomorrow riding alongside the mist-shrouded blade. Knowing that his rank-one skill could never hope to kill the creature unless he stabbed a vital area, he thrust his hand forward… straight into the monster’s blood-smeared jaws.

He reached out and grabbed its neck with his remaining half-hand, gripping those oily feathers with everything he had. The monster was so surprised that it tried to pull back instead of shredding him to ribbons, creating the narrowest of openings.

Edge didn’t hesitate. He tightened his grip, then jammed his iceblade straight into the roof of the fiend’s mouth, penetrating the soft tissue of its palate and then spearing its skull.

The reaver screamed and threw itself back, slamming its body into the wall. The impact nearly cast him aside, and the serrations along its beak sliced into his arm.

He held on with every scrap of his strength, prepared to sacrifice his hand if that’s what it took.

While elemental blade was small, it was still a formidable weapon, formed from magic far colder than ice. But it consumed mana at a rapid rate, and it wouldn’t endure for long. Edge didn’t know who would live and who would die, only that it was going to be close.

The monster bucked and writhed, thoughts sluggish and steps ponderous as the blood in its head congealed. He kept the subzero blade lodged in its skull, until he felt the tissue beneath his fingertips freeze, half its brain encased in a layer of ice.

He leapt back when the skill faltered and faded away. The monster came crashing to the ground a heartbeat later, wounded or dying, Edge didn’t know.

Either way, by the narrowest of margins, his plan had worked. In this moment, the monster was still alive but vulnerable. Unable to resist an intrusion into its core. It’s checkmate, you big freaky bastard.

Roused by the sight of fresh prey, Skill-Eater roared to life. It rendered him ravenous in an instant, the core’s insatiable appetite resonating with his own.

Edge shut out the pain radiating throughout his body. The blood coursing down his arms. He reached out with both hands with the last of his strength.

Extraction. He willed the final charge of his ultimate ability to activate.

Black chains slithered free from his wrists like a pair of serpents, as living links surged forth to devour shadow.