The deeper ruin networks were a monument to forgotten ambition.
Tunnels twisted and folded back on themselves like the burrows of some colossal, dying worm. Their walls were veined with faded script—old authority sigils and half-dead incantations—that pulsed weakly when brushed, responding out of habit rather than will.
SFX: thrum… thrum…
The air thickened the farther they descended, heavy with the metallic tang of old blood and spent magic. Each breath tasted stale, like rust scraped from a blade.
Levi led the way.
His spear rested easily in his hand, shadows trailing behind him like patient hounds waiting for a signal. Mira followed a step behind, illusions woven so finely that even dust seemed to forget they were there. Aria brought up the rear, her movements lighter now—no longer frantic, but purposeful. Freedom had settled into her bones, tempered by caution.
They had been moving for days.
Or what passed for days beneath the Abyss's artificial cycles.
Protocol patrols thinned as they descended, replaced by the scavengers and predators that thrived in neglected depths. These ruins belonged to the Black Fangs now—a berserker pack rumored to answer the Devourer's most primal whims.
In a vast gallery where the ceiling vanished into darkness, they found the murals.
The walls rose three stories high, carved in living relief. The figures moved when viewed from the corner of the eye—breathing stone shaped by an artisan who had understood fear intimately.
Levi reached out, fingers brushing the carving.
A colossal figure dominated the mural—half shadow, half void. Its maw yawned eternally open, tendrils spilling forth to coil around smaller figures: Shadows, Mages, rebels, commanders. All were being drained, their forms hollowed into nothing.
SFX: whisper… whisper…
"The Devourer," Mira murmured. Her usual edge dulled. "Not just a myth. That's what the Protocol farms us for. It sleeps in the core layers… dreaming of souls."
Aria stepped closer, eyes wide. "And these?"
She pointed lower.
Ranks of armed figures charged a fortified citadel. Administrators met them in perfect formation. Chained Shadows followed, blades raised. The charge broke. Again. And again.
"Failed rebellions," Levi said quietly.
The tactics etched into the stone were familiar. Pincer formations. Feigned retreats. Sacrificial vanguards. Dozens of strategies—now his, stolen from harvested commanders long dead.
"Three major ones," he continued. "All crushed. Each time the Devourer woke a little more."
Hungrier.
Mira exhaled sharply. "Cheery bedtime reading."
But Levi lingered.
He studied the Devourer's hunger—the sheer scale of it. Power without refinement. Endless consumption.
If one could channel even a fraction—
He tore his gaze away.
Later.
The first skirmish came soon after.
Black Fang scouts—four hulking figures clad in bone-armor, axes slick with venom—guarded a narrow choke point. Levi sensed them before they appeared: rhythm in their steps, sloppy aggression layered over practiced brutality.
SFX: heartbeat—slow, steady
"Ambush," Levi whispered.
"Mira—veil the left."
"Aria—disrupt on my mark."
No questions.
Levi stepped from shadow as the lead scout rounded a pillar.
SFX: shhk—CRK
The spear punched through throat and spine. The roar never escaped.
Mira's illusions detonated into chaos—phantom attackers slashing from every angle. Aria's crude but effective script pulse shattered a ward mid-cast.
SFX: crackle—WHUMP
Minutes later, silence returned.
Three bodies lay cooling.
The fourth knelt, bound in shadow chains, yellow eyes burning with hate.
"Talk," Levi said evenly. "Positions. Numbers. Intent."
The scout spat blood. "Rogue filth. The Pack will flay you."
Levi crouched, gaze level.
Efficiency tugged at him. A harvest now would strengthen him immediately.
But information was leverage.
Mira's illusions turned cruel—pain without wounds, terror without scars. The scout broke fast.
A forward camp. Two sectors down. Twenty strong. Hunting him.
Levi stood. "Useful."
Then he cut the chains.
"Run," Levi said calmly. "Tell them we're coming."
The scout fled into the dark, panic tearing at his footsteps.
Aria stared after him. "You let him live."
"For now," Levi replied. "Fear spreads faster than corpses."
Mira smiled thinly. "Cold. Efficient."
The next encounter received no such mercy.
Two stragglers.
Levi dropped from the ceiling—
SFX: BOOM—SHNK
The first died before he understood he was under attack.
The second tried to flee. Mira's violet bolt shattered his leg.
He begged.
Talked about pups. Promised silence.
Levi harvested him without a word.
SFX: low hum—absorption
Essence flowed in, steady and clean. Strength settled deeper into his frame. Tactical clarity sharpened further.
Mercy, Levi decided, was a tool.
Used when it served purpose. Discarded when it didn't.
That night, they camped in a sealed alcove.
Aria cleaned her dagger beside him, firelight from Mira's glow-orb dancing across his face.
"You look… carved now," Aria said softly. "Like obsidian shaped by a careful hand."
Levi tilted his head, attempting humor. "Trying to impress you. Is it working?"
She laughed quietly—but worry lingered. "Just don't lose what's underneath the edges."
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm still me. Just upgraded."
Inside, he felt it.
Power settling into bone. Features refining. Strength coiling tighter with every harvest.
Across the alcove, Mira snored lightly.
Levi leaned back, spear resting across his lap.
For the first time since the breaking, it stirred.
Not reacting.
Whispering.
SFX: low murmur… distant roar…
Blood. Battle. Glory.
Kargan.
The ancient berserker soul—once shackled by the Protocol—pressed against his thoughts, eager and unrestrained.
Levi closed his eyes, allowing the whisper to linger.
Mercy was calculated.
But power—
Power was eternal.
And he had only begun to taste it.