The dungeon groaned with age, stones damp and sweating, air suffocating in its stillness. Noctis drifted through the black like smoke, his shackles whispering faintly against the floor. Each step seemed to echo twice—his, and the phantom echo of prey he hadn't killed yet.
Through the Crimson Eye, he watched them. Another patrol—three zealots this time, marching side by side, with a priest walking close behind. Their bars hovered, vibrant and unbroken.
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 12]
Health: 655 / 655
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 725 / 725
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 15]
Health: 765 / 765
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 16]
Health: 510 / 510
Mana: 560 / 560
The zealots whispered in the hush, their voices sharp and frantic.
"Patrol three hasn't returned."
"Neither has four."
"Stop talking about it!" the priest snapped, his knuckles white on the censer. "He's nothing but a beast. The wards will hold. Keep moving."
But his words rang hollow.
Noctis shifted through the shadows above them, crawling along the stone ceiling like a spider, the Crimson Eye blazing. He could see the tremors in their hands. Their stamina bars flickered faintly as fear drained them just as much as battle would.
The torchlight guttered. One zealot glanced up, his breath catching. "Did you hear—"
A clawed hand shot down from the ceiling, piercing his helm.
–655 [Silent Kill]Health: 0 / 655[Essence Gained: +3 Blood, +1 Iron]
The body vanished upward into blackness. The others spun, shields raised, eyes wide.
"Where is he?!"
The corridor answered with silence.
The priest shook, voice cracking. "Saints preserve us… he's—he's everywhere."
A shadow peeled away from the wall, standing tall.
The second zealot lunged, spear thrusting—only to strike air. Noctis blurred—Wraith Step—and reappeared at his flank. The corrupted flail struck his ribs with a bone-splitting crunch.
–412 [Crushing Blow]Health: 313 / 725
The zealot screamed, blood spraying. Another swing silenced him.
–313 [Overkill]Health: 0 / 725[Essence Gained: +3 Blood, +1 Iron]
The third zealot stumbled back, shield trembling in his grip. "We—we can't fight this thing!"
His health bar flickered faintly as if fear itself had drained him.
Noctis stepped forward slowly, savoring the dread. His claws traced sparks along the stone. "You're right."
The zealot bolted. His bar dropped with every desperate step.
Stamina: 210 / 210 → 80 / 210
Noctis blurred again, reappearing in front of him. Claws sank deep.
–765 [Devour Critical]
Health: 0 / 765 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +4 Blood, +2 Faith]
The priest fell to his knees, whispering prayers that died in his throat. Noctis loomed behind him, fangs glinting.
–510 [Silent Devour]
Health: 0 / 510 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +2 Faith]
Silence reclaimed the corridor. Only ash remained.
Through the Crimson Eye, more outlines flickered further ahead—more patrols, more prey. Their whispers carried faintly, edged with panic.
"He's picking us off."
"No one's coming back."
"Light preserve us… the shadows are alive."
Noctis melted into the dark once more, the dungeon his hunting ground, their fear his feast.
The dungeon's corridors pulsed with fear. Zealot boots scraped stone in uneven rhythms, shields clattering nervously. Priests whispered prayers too quickly, their chants tripping over themselves. The air smelled of incense, sweat, and the metallic tang of fresh blood.
Through the Crimson Eye, Noctis saw the shift—patrols no longer roamed in pairs. They clustered into squads of six, shields raised, priests protected in the middle. Their health bars glowed like trembling candles in a storm.
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 725 / 725
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 15]
Health: 765 / 765
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 16]
Health: 810 / 810
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 16]
Health: 510 / 510
Mana: 550 / 550
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 17]
Health: 545 / 545
Mana: 590 / 590
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 18]
Health: 560 / 560
Mana: 610 / 610
The priests' voices cracked as they tried to steady themselves. "Together. Stay together. The ward will hold this time."
Noctis smiled, fangs flashing faintly in the dark. "Then I'll peel you apart slowly."
He sank into the shadows, mist curling low to the ground. A whisper of chains echoed—deliberate, taunting. The zealots spun, spears thrusting at empty walls. Fear drained their stamina bars by the second.
Stamina: 210 / 210 → 160 / 210
Their priest hissed, "It's toying with us—"
A scream cut the thought in half from somewhere deeper down the hall.
Noctis's gaze flicked. Through walls, his Eye showed the outline of a lone survivor—a zealot breaking formation, sprinting ahead. His health bar glowed wildly with panic.
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 13]
Health: 655 / 655
Stamina: 210 / 210 → 70 / 210
"Run!" the zealot cried to no one. "Warn the chamber—he's coming!"
Noctis whispered, "You won't get that far."
He blurred—Wraith Step—but this time, the shadows carried him through stone itself. His form bled into the wall like smoke seeping through cracks.
The fleeing zealot's eyes widened as Noctis's silhouette materialized in front of him, crawling free of the dungeon wall like a nightmare made flesh. Shackles scraped stone as his claws reached forward.
"No…" the zealot breathed.
Noctis's hand clamped his face, dragging him back into the wall's shadow. His muffled scream was devoured by blackness.
–655 [Silent Devour]
Health: 0 / 655 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +3 Blood, +1 Iron]
Ash drifted faintly from the wall, scattering to the floor. Noctis stepped back into the corridor, licking blood from his fingers, his Crimson Eye pulsing bright.
"Run, hide, pray—your choices all end the same."
Deeper in the dungeon, the clustered squads stiffened at the sound of the echoing scream. Their formation tightened. Their prayers grew frantic.
But the shadows stretched long ahead of them. And their bars glowed like invitations.
Noctis melted back into the black, hunting once more.
The dungeon air was thick with incense smoke and fear. Torches guttered, throwing long shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally, whispering with every flicker.
Six enemies moved as one—three zealots in the front, three priests clustered tightly behind them, shields and chants overlapping. Their health bars pulsed in Noctis's Crimson Eye like trapped hearts.
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 725 / 725
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 15]
Health: 765 / 765
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 16]
Health: 810 / 810
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 16]
Health: 510 / 510
Mana: 550 / 550
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 17]
Health: 545 / 545
Mana: 590 / 590
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 18]
Health: 560 / 560
Mana: 610 / 610
"Stay together," one zealot growled, voice trembling. "He won't take us if we hold."
Behind them, the youngest priest muttered too quickly, his voice cracking mid-prayer. "He's watching. I can feel him—"
"Silence!" snapped another, though his own hands shook, spilling hot wax from the censer.
The corridor fell still. Only the sound of boots on stone and the distant drip of water.
Then came the clink. Shackles brushing against the wall.
The zealots froze.
"Form line!"
But the shadows had already moved.
Noctis dropped from the ceiling into their rear guard, his claws slicing across a priest's throat before the man could scream.
–510 [Silent Kill]
Health: 0 / 510 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +2 Faith]
The priest's body crumbled into ash, collapsing silently between his allies. For an instant, none of them realized he was gone.
Then the chanting faltered. "Brother…?"
The zealots spun, shields raised—but the gap was already there.
The second priest's health bar flickered. His eyes went wide as a clawed hand clamped over his mouth, dragging him into the shadows.
–545 [Silent Devour]
Health: 0 / 545 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +2 Faith]
Ash spilled between the zealots' boots. The front line staggered back, panic unraveling their formation.
"Saints above—he's inside the line!"
"Protect the last priest!"
The remaining priest screamed a prayer, golden light flaring around him as he raised a shaky barrier. Noctis's Crimson Eye read it instantly.
[Minor Holy Barrier]
Integrity: 700 / 700
Regeneration: +50/sec
Weakness: Corruption surge
Noctis smiled, stepping closer. "Your light is already numbered."
He lashed out with crimson veins—Blood Lash—and corruption poured into the barrier.
–382 [Blood Surge]
Integrity: 318 / 700
The priest shrieked, his Mana bar plummeting.
Mana: 610 / 610 → 270 / 610
The zealots rushed him in desperation. Their spears flashed, bars glowing full.
Noctis blurred—Wraith Step—slipping past their thrusts like smoke. His corrupted flail smashed one across the ribs.
–421 [Critical]
Health: 389 / 810
The zealot gasped, coughing blood. Another swing crushed his helm.
–389 [Overkill]
Health: 0 / 810
[Essence Gained: +4 Blood, +2 Iron]
The last priest's barrier shattered with a cry. Noctis seized him by the throat, his claws glowing red.
–560 [Devour]
Health: 0 / 560 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +3 Faith]
The final zealots broke. One raised his shield, trembling. The other turned to flee.
Noctis's shadow swallowed them both.
–765 [Overkill]
Health: 0 / 765
[Essence Gained: +4 Blood, +2 Iron]
–725 [Silent Kill]
Health: 0 / 725
[Essence Gained: +3 Blood, +1 Iron]
The corridor was quiet again, bodies reduced to drifting ash, prayers extinguished in their throats.
Noctis stood alone, blood mist curling around his ankles, the Crimson Eye burning like a predator's lantern.
"They gather in herds for comfort," he whispered to the silence. "But herds are only easier to cull."
The dungeon corridors reeked of incense and sweat, the stink of fear clinging heavier than blood. The torches sputtered in their sconces, smoke curling like warning fingers in the dark.
Through the Crimson Eye, Noctis tracked them: two patrols merging, desperation driving them together. Nine men now—six zealots, three priests—shoulder to shoulder, shields scraping in tight formation. Their health bars glowed in jagged clusters, pulsing in nervous rhythm.
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 13]
Health: 655 / 655
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 725 / 725
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 720 / 720
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 15]
Health: 765 / 765
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 16]
Health: 810 / 810
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 16]
Health: 805 / 805
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 16]
Health: 510 / 510
Mana: 540 / 540
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 17]
Health: 545 / 545
Mana: 590 / 590
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 18]
Health: 560 / 560
Mana: 605 / 605
Their voices cracked as they argued in the dark.
"He's bleeding us out, one by one!""Stay together! He wants us scattered!""He's not a man! He's—"
Clink. Shackles in the dark.
All nine spun at once, shields raised, priests hissing frantic prayers. The sound had no source. Only echoes.
A torch flickered, dimmed, and went out.
"Behind us!" one zealot shouted, thrusting his spear wildly. The point pierced his comrade's shoulder, blood spraying.
–142 [Friendly Fire]
Health: 663 / 805
The struck zealot howled. "Idiot! You struck me!"
"I—I saw him!" the first stammered, panic in his eyes.
The priests tried to chant louder, their mana bars draining in jagged chunks, but their words tangled with each other. The shield wall faltered.
Noctis watched from the shadows above, crouched like a spider, Crimson Eye burning bright. He didn't need to strike. Fear was the blade.
Another zealot panicked at the sound of rattling chains, swinging his sword wide. The blade cut deep into the nearest priest's arm.
–191 [Friendly Fire]
Health: 369 / 560
The priest shrieked, his barrier spell shattering mid-chant. Golden fragments scattered like dying fireflies.
Chaos exploded. Spears and shields slammed, comrades grappling in blind terror. Their health bars drained red from friendly strikes, numbers flashing above their heads in frantic succession.
–210 [Friendly Fire]
Health: 555 / 765
–389 [Friendly Fire Critical]
Health: 0 / 655 [Killed]
The first zealot collapsed, throat opened by his own ally's blade. Ash spiraled upward.
The surviving priest screamed, "He's inside us! He's controlling you!" His Mana bar dropped as he hurled a ward blindly, the light exploding against the wall.
Noctis chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through stone. His voice was smoke and fangs. "I don't have to kill you. You'll do it for me."
The formation broke, zealots turning on zealots, priests shrieking prayers drowned by steel.
Above them, Noctis crouched in the ceiling shadows, watching health bars collapse one after another.
–382 [Friendly Fire]
Health: 0 / 720 [Killed]
–415 [Friendly Fire Critical]
Health: 0 / 810 [Killed]
Ash swirled in a storm, screams choked into silence.
When it ended, only two remained—a zealot and a priest, backs to each other, panting, blood dripping down their armor.
Noctis dropped silently behind them, his Crimson Eye glowing like a hunter's lantern.
They never saw him move.
–765 [Silent Kill]
Health: 0 / 765
[Essence Gained: +4 Blood, +1 Iron]
–560 [Silent Devour]
Health: 0 / 560 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +2 Faith]
The dungeon was quiet again. The stench of incense mixed with blood, thick as a shroud.
Noctis stepped through the drifting ash, whispering to no one:
"Paranoia is sharper than any fang. I simply sharpen it for them."
The ash of slaughter still drifted like dust motes in the dungeon air. Broken weapons clattered on the floor where zealots had fallen, their steel stained with panic as much as blood.
Noctis crouched among the remains, his claws brushing aside ash until they struck something solid. A gleam caught his eye: a longsword, its edge notched but serviceable, faint runes still glowing along the fuller.
[Sanctified Longsword]
Damage: 68–92Effect: Bonus vs. unholy targets
Integrity: 87%
Noctis smirked, lifting it. "Fitting. A blade meant to slay monsters… now wielded by one."
Further scavenging revealed more—iron-forged shields, spare spears, a dagger still warm in its sheath. From the priests, he found fragments of armor: a half-crushed breastplate, a gauntlet with faded script, a belt heavy with incense vials.
But what caught his attention most were the robes, still intact, draped across the ash of a priest he'd consumed. Golden thread ran through them, faintly luminous in the dark.
Noctis ran a claw across the fabric. His grin widened. "Robes to walk among them. A skin not of my flesh, but close enough."
He draped them over his shackled frame, the hood casting his face in deeper shadow. The golden trim glowed faintly, masking the red shimmer of his Crimson Eye.
The Blood Grid pulsed in his vision, responding to the feast of essences he had gathered. Crimson veins twisted outward, nodes glowing bright—some red with Blood, others tinged gold with Faith.
[Essence Balance Available]
Blood: +35
Faith: +9
Iron: +6
Three new nodes shimmered into focus, their costs etched clearly:
Blood Forging (Tier I)
Shape scavenged weapons and armor with your essence; repair, corrupt, or evolve gear.
Cost: 10 Blood, 5 Iron
Req: Must have corrupted a weapon before.
Veil of Piety (Tier I)
Disguise aura and appearance; pass among priests and zealots undetected.
Cost: 8 Blood, 8 Faith
Req: Must have consumed at least one priest.
Crimson Arsenal (Tier II)
Summon temporary weapons made from blood, forged mid-battle and dismissed at will.
Cost: 15 Blood, 5 Faith
Req: Crimson Eye unlocked.
Noctis's eyes narrowed, weighing each carefully. The sword in his hand gleamed. The robes on his shoulders whispered of infiltration. And the Grid burned with promise.
He whispered to himself, fangs glinting. "Now… which evolution will carve the path forward?"
The Blood Grid throbbed before him, its lattice of crimson and gold veins humming like a living thing. Nodes pulsed in steady rhythm, waiting.
Noctis's claws hovered. He had decided.
"First, the mask. Then, the forge."
His hand closed around Veil of Piety. The node shattered, gold threads unraveling into his body. Cold light seeped into his veins, a foreign purity corroded into crimson.
[Skill Unlocked: Veil of Piety]Disguise aura and appearance; infiltrate human formations.
Cost Paid: –8 Blood, –8 Faith
Essence Remaining: Blood 27 / Faith 1 / Iron 6
The next node flared. He seized Blood Forging, and molten threads of red and black iron seared into his arms. His claws tingled with weight, his veins hot with the memory of steel.
[Skill Unlocked: Blood Forging]Shape scavenged weapons and armor with your essence; repair, corrupt, or evolve gear.
Cost Paid: –10 Blood, –5 Iron
Essence Remaining: Blood 17 / Faith 1 / Iron 1
The Grid dimmed, satisfied.
Noctis's grin widened. "Now let's see what I can make."
He lifted the sanctified longsword. The runes along its fuller pulsed faintly, resisting him. He pressed his claws to the blade, letting Hunger and forging essence surge. Veins of red spread along the steel, drinking in the holy light until it fractured.
[Weapon Forged: Bloodrend Longsword]Damage: 88–124Effect: Scales with Blood Essence, siphons minor health on hit.
The scattered armor fragments followed. Breastplate, gauntlet, and belt warped under his grasp, veins lacing across steel, broken pieces fusing into one cohesive shell. The metal pulsed faintly, alive with his blood.
[Armor Forged: Bloodforged Carapace]
Defense: +42
Effect: Minor regeneration when drenched in enemy blood.
Finally, Noctis pulled the priest's robes across his shoulders and whispered the new command. Veil of Piety ignited. Golden threads shimmered across his body, masking his aura. The crimson light of his eyes dimmed beneath the hood, replaced by the illusion of weary piety.
A censer hung at his hip, faintly glowing, disguising his shackles. To the torchlight, he was no longer the Crimson Inheritor—he was just another priest.
He flexed his hand, claws hidden beneath the guise of human fingers.
"From monster to shepherd," he whispered, voice low and edged with amusement. "Let's see how long the flock takes to realize the wolf wears their robes."
The dungeon whispered ahead. His disguise was armed. His forge was active. And the hunt had only grown more dangerous.
The dungeon's silence broke with the sound of boots and murmured prayers. Another patrol rounded the bend ahead—two zealots with shields raised, a single priest walking between them. Their torchlight pushed back the dark in feeble halos, smoke curling like incense.
Through the Crimson Eye, Noctis read them instantly:
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 14]
Health: 725 / 725
[Inquisitor Zealot – Lv. 13]
Health: 655 / 655
[Sanctum Priest – Lv. 15]
Health: 490 / 490
Mana: 560 / 560
Their voices carried low, sharp with unease.
"Where are the others?" one zealot muttered. "No patrols have returned."The priest's censer shook faintly in his hand. "They… they're still searching."
Noctis stepped forward. Hood drawn. Robes draped. The Veil of Piety shimmered faintly around him, golden threads masking the crimson storm beneath. To mortal eyes, he was nothing more than another weary priest.
The zealots stiffened at first, shields braced—then their shoulders eased. One bowed his head slightly.
"Brother. We feared you lost."
Noctis lowered his chin, letting the hood shadow his face. He forced his voice into a rasp, soft but steady. "I walk in the light. And I bring… warning."
The priest hurried closer, relief breaking across his pale face. "What happened to the others? Speak!"
Noctis's Crimson Eye glimmered behind the veil. He could see the priest's health bar pulsing steadily, unaware that its numbers were already marked for zero.
"Lost," Noctis whispered. "Swallowed by the dark."
The zealots glanced at one another nervously. One gripped his spear tighter. "The monster?"
"Yes."
The priest raised his censer to his lips, murmuring frantic prayers. "Then we must retreat, call the chamber together, reinforce—"
Noctis's smile curled, hidden beneath the hood. He stepped closer, the illusion of human hands reaching as though to clasp the priest's shoulder. Instead, claws broke through the veil, sliding silently into flesh.
–490 [Silent Devour]
Health: 0 / 490 [Consumed]
[Essence Gained: +5 Blood, +2 Faith]
The priest's body crumbled into ash in his arms, the censer clattering to the floor. The zealots froze, disbelief painted across their faces as their bars trembled.
Noctis lifted his hood, the Veil flickering for a heartbeat, revealing crimson-gold eyes blazing with hunger. "Your light doesn't save you. It feeds me."
He blurred forward, the corrupted longsword singing through the air.
–421 [Critical Strike]
Health: 234 / 655
The zealot gasped, blood spraying across the wall. The second roared, thrusting his spear—but Noctis vanished into shadow, reappearing behind him.
–382 [Backstrike]
Health: 343 / 725
Both stumbled, bleeding, bars flashing red. They barely had time to register the horror before the flail swung wide.
–234 [Finisher]
Health: 0 / 655 [Killed]
[Essence Gained: +3 Blood, +1 Iron]
–343 [Overkill]
Health: 0 / 725 [Killed]
[Essence Gained: +4 Blood, +1 Iron]
Ash drifted through the corridor. The censer's incense sputtered and died.
Noctis stood amidst the remains, Veil shimmering faintly as it reformed, robes falling neatly back into place. From a distance, he looked like a lone priest still standing vigil.
He chuckled low, voice curling like smoke. "The mask holds. And the hunt is even sweeter when they welcome the wolf."