Victor's eyelids snapped open. Dark chains clamped around his wrists and ankles, the cold metal biting into his flesh. He stood barefoot on a narrow obsidian pillar suspended in an endless void, stars and distant galaxies swirling beneath him like an ocean of black ink and scattered embers.
His last memory, hot blood jetting from his slit throat, fingers slipping on his own slick windpipe, flashed behind his eyes. He flexed his hands. No wounds. No pain. Just the crawling awareness of something vast and unseen watching from the darkness.
A voice reverberated through the abyss, deep enough to make Victor's ribs vibrate. "How profoundly... ordinary." The words dripped with disdain, amplified a hundredfold yet eerily intimate, a god whispering directly into his skull. "Ten thousand potential heirs, and the first to reach me arrives stumbling and broken."
A blue rectangle materialized before Victor, the words RESURRECTION PROTOCOL pulsing in crimson. Beneath it, smaller print scrolled:
TOTAL VICE POINTS: 93REVIVAL COST ACCEPTED (50 VP DEDUCTED)REMAINING VP: [Wiped]PERK UNLOCKED: MAGIC SURGE (WEAK MANA CHANNELING CAPACITY)
Victor's jaw tightened. No points left. His entire ledger wiped clean like a gambler's debt after a bad hand.
The chains rattled as he twisted against them. "Who the hell's talking?"
The void shimmered. An enormous golden eye, easily larger than Victor's entire body, materialized in the darkness above him, its vertical pupil contracting as it studied him. A deep, bone-shaking chuckle rolled through the emptiness. "No screaming. No begging. Just blunt pragmatism. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, little sinner."
Victor spat over the edge of the pillar. His saliva vanished into the abyss without trace. "If you're looking for groveling, you picked the wrong corpse."
"Oh, you'll grovel eventually." The voice dripped with poisoned amusement. "They all do. But for now... enjoy your trinket."
A searing heat exploded in Victor's chest, the crown mark over his heart glowing white-hot. His nerves lit up as though molten lead had been poured into his veins. He bit down on a snarl, refusing to give the unseen presence the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
His vision swam with new notifications:
WARNING: NEXT REVIVAL COST INCREASED TO 100 VP
PERK ACQUIRED: MAGIC SURGE (UNSTABLE MANA REACTOR CORE)
DESCRIPTION: ALLOWS PRIMITIVE SPELLCASTING AT RISK OF PHYSICAL COLLAPSE
The chains shattered without warning. Victor's boot skidded on the obsidian as he caught his balance at the pillar's edge. The golden eye dilated, looming closer.
"I do so love watching you strut about, playing king." The voice oozed mock-admiration. "But kings who fall to knives in alleyways make for poor entertainment. Do try to last longer this time."
The pillar crumbled beneath him.
Victor plummeted into the void, the choking scent of blood and smoke flooding his nostrils as the universe inverted-
Victor's fingers closed around a shattered wine bottle protruding from the filth. The jagged edges bit into his palm, but the sting barely registered. He rolled the shard between his fingers, studying how the weak dawn light caught the streaks of dried blood still caked on the glass. His blood.
He pressed a hand to his throat, no wound, just tacky streaks flaking off under his nails. The same at his wrists. His knees. Nothing but phantom pain and the stench of rotting garbage clinging to his skin.
"Fancy resurrection," he muttered to no one. The system's cold blue text still hovered in front of him:
MAGIC SURGE ACTIVATED (MANA RESERVES: 8%)
WARNING: UNSTABLE CHANNELING MAY CAUSE-
He swiped the notification away.
The pit was deep, walls slick with mildew and old vomit. Victor tested one foothold, then another, hauling himself up inch by inch. His boots slipped twice, sending cascades of spoiled cabbage and broken crockery clattering to the bottom. When he finally dragged himself over the edge, he spat out a mouthful of rancid liquid and took stock.
Alley. High stone walls on three sides. No windows. A single iron gate at the far end, rusted shut.
Victor wiped his hands on his ruined shirt. The cloth was stiff with blood, but the cuts beneath had vanished. He flexed his fingers. Closed his eyes. Something prickled beneath his ribs, not pain, but a low, buzzing static. The system showed again:
ATTEMPTING MANA ATTUNEMENT…
His fingertips sparked. Once. Twice. A weak flicker of blue flame sputtered to life, then died. Victor exhaled through his nose. Pathetic.
The gate rattled.
Victor crouched behind a rotting barrel as two figures trudged into the alley. Guards, maybe, cheap leather armor, clubs at their belts. The taller one kicked a rat carcass.
"Pain in my ass," he grumbled. "Third dumping this week. Bitch noble could've at least left the coin purse on the corpse."
His partner laughed, nudging a broken chair with his boot. "Though the creature chewed this one up extra good. You've seen the state it left his body? It barely held together"
Victor's jaw locked.
The tall guard yawned. "Whatever. Dump the new one and let's go. The smell makes my eyes water."
They heaved a wrapped bundle off their cart. It hit the pit with a dull thud.
Victor moved.
He didn't think. Didn't strategize. Just pivoted on the ball of his foot and drove the broken bottle into the nearest guard's kidney before the man could blink. The guard wheezed, fingers scrabbling at the glass jutting from his side. His partner fumbled for his club, too slow. Victor wrenched the bottle free and slashed upward, splitting the man's cheek to the bone.
"Who the f-"
Victor grabbed his hair, smashed his face into the brick wall. Once. Twice. The guard crumpled.
The second man was already running, clutching his gut. Victor let him go.
He crouched beside the fresh corpse in the pit. Peeled back the burlap. It was a boy, eighteen, maybe. Face beaten purple, throat crushed. No visible wounds, just like Victor's own body after the weird shadow thingy.
Victor yanked the taller guard's bloodstained vambraces free and strapped them over his own forearms. The leather reeked of sweat and rust, but it'd block a glancing blade. He wiped the bottle's edge clean on the dead boy's shirt, studying the alley gate.
Harroway's shadow guard had torn him apart like butcher's scrap. But it hadn't stopped him.
Victor crouched beside the groaning guard, pressing the glass to his throat. "How many patrols check this dump?"
The man spat blood. "Go to hell."
Victor drove the bottle through his hand. The guard screamed. "Wrong answer." He twisted. "Try again."
"Two! two patrols! Sunrise and sunset!" The guard panted, eyes wild. "But the gates are locked at nigh-"
Victor slit his throat mid-sentence. Blood pooled black in the dirt.
He stood, rolling his shoulders. Time to pay Harroway another visit.