The sanctuary vein spat them out into a world that felt bruised.
The air hit first—thick with the stench of old blood, rendered fat, and wet fur. It clung to the lungs, oily and oppressive. Beneath it, a deeper rhythm rolled through the stone.
SFX: THUD… THUD… THUD…
War-drums. Distant. Relentless.
Totems lined the cracked causeways—towering spires of bone and iron. Skulls of beasts and Shadows alike were lashed together with sinew, painted in crude runes that pulsed a dull, angry red. Ribcages formed archways. Femurs rattled in the hot wind like chimes made for slaughter.
This wasn't the cold, methodical decay of the archives.
This was the Black Fang border.
Everything here screamed ownership through violence.
Mira wrinkled her nose. "Smells like a butcher's dream. Very on-brand."
Aria stayed close to Levi's side, eyes sweeping the bone fields stretching into the murk. "They mark territory with the dead."
"Warning and trophy both," Levi said.
His voice carried that low, weighted resonance now—calm, edged. The spear hummed faintly in his grip.
SFX: low thrumming…
Kargan stirred at the scent of blood.
Claim.
The first patrol found them within the hour.
Six berserkers—hulking hybrids wrapped in patchwork hide and rusted plate, axes broad enough to split pillars. Rage-wards burned red beneath their skin as they charged with guttural roars.
No formation. No caution.
Just momentum.
Levi stepped forward.
SFX: WHOOM—
Shadow-step folded space.
He reappeared inside their charge, spear carving the lead berserker from collar to hip. Blood sprayed hot across the bone road. Mira's illusions exploded outward, multiplying Levi into a dozen phantoms, axes cleaving empty air.
Aria slipped low, a whisper between giants. Her dagger kissed tendons, severed joints, disrupted rage-runes with precise, merciless cuts.
SFX: CRACK—HISS—SNAP—
Synergy sang.
Mira's veils hid Aria's movements.
Aria's disruptions opened gaps.
Levi's shadows shielded Mira as she wove death from a distance.
But Levi's choices bent the fight.
One berserker dropped to a knee, gut split, still swinging through sheer rage. Mira lifted her hand, violet fire coiling—
Levi waved her off.
He stepped in close.
The spear pinned the brute's arm to the ground. Shadows coiled tight, locking him in place. Yellow eyes burned with defiance.
Levi harvested him alive.
SFX: RIIIP—SCREAM—CHOKE—
Essence tore free in ragged, violent streams—hot, thick, intoxicating. The roar died into a wet rattle as the soul unraveled. Power flooded Levi, sharp and euphoric.
His features tightened another fraction. Beauty honed colder.
Mira lowered her hand slowly. "Could've ended him clean."
"Clean doesn't feed me," Levi replied.
No apology.
Just truth.
Aria said nothing—but her knuckles went white around her dagger.
They pressed deeper.
Two more clashes. Four berserkers. Then seven.
Each ended the same way.
Swift victory.
Lingering harvests.
Levi began prioritizing the wounded—pinning, draining, refining technique. The spear's whispers grew louder.
SFX: low growl… eager breath…
Kargan's battle-lust licked at his thoughts like flame.
By false dusk, they crested a ridge of shattered obsidian.
And saw the spire.
It rose from a crater of bones like a blackened needle—thirty stories at most, its surface veined with pulsing crimson script. Fang banners snapped in the heated updraft. Guards patrolled its base: perhaps twenty berserkers, a handful of shamans maintaining rage-wards.
A minor resurrection point.
Arrogant.
At the spire's mid-level, open to the air on a platform of stacked skulls, stood the shrine.
Levi felt it before he truly saw it.
An object rested on the altar.
A mask.
Forged in the shape of a dragon's skull, obsidian alloy etched with swirling runes that caught the red light like fresh blood. Great curved horns swept back from the brow—cruel, elegant. Fangs framed the lower edge, sharp enough to cut breath itself.
From its crown spilled a mane of white, ethereal flame—frozen mid-roar.
Kargan's mask.
Rebuilt. Claimed. Displayed as a trophy for the Fang champion shrine.
The spear trembled violently.
SFX: METAL SHIVER—
Kargan's whisper became a growl.
Mine.
Take it.
Wear me.
Levi's pulse quickened—not fear.
Hunger.
Mira crouched beside him, eyes calculating. "Light guard. They're spread thin—probably hunting us elsewhere. We could hit the outer ring, thin them, climb under veils."
"Or we circle wide," Aria said. "Avoid entirely. We don't need—"
"We do," Levi cut in softly.
His eyes never left the mask.
"That belongs to me."
He laid out the plan with cold precision—voice steady, almost eager.
"Mira—illusions on the eastern approach. Full raid. Noise, fire, twenty phantoms. Pull their main force."
She grinned. "Subtle."
"Aria—you're with me. West side, bone trenches. Disrupt ward anchors. I clear shamans."
He continued without pause.
"Spiral ascent. I take the shrine. Extraction south. If pursuit's heavy, collapse a support."
Mira arched a brow. "You've thought about this."
"I always think," Levi replied.
Aria searched his face—sharper now, almost inhuman in its perfection, eyes reflecting the spire's red glow.
"You're sure?"
"Kargan's essence is in me," Levi said. "The mask completes it. Strength for what comes next."
She nodded slowly. Trust held, despite the chill radiating from him.
Mira's grin widened. "Then let's steal a legend's face."
They melted back into shadow.
Below, the war-drums answered—deeper, faster, as if the territory itself had sensed the challenge.
SFX: THUD—THUD—THUD—
Levi flexed his fingers around the spear.
Kargan roared approval inside him.
Soon.
The mask would be his.
And with it—
Another step toward whatever he was becoming.