The battlefield trembled, but not from Erik’s power alone.

  A sickening, guttural sound rippled through the air—a deep, resonant churning that sent a shudder through the remaining eldritch forces. The creatures stiffened, their convulsing, broken bodies suddenly locking in place. Their soulless eyes, once filled with primal hunger, snapped toward something greater.

  Then, one by one, they began to scream.

  A black mass descended.

  It did not walk. It did not run. It collapsed into existence, twisting through the battlefield like an unfolding nightmare. Limb upon limb. Bone upon bone. Mouth upon mouth.

  An Eldritch abomination.

  Erik barely had time to react before the creature lunged—not at him, but at its own.

  It consumed.

  A clawed hand the size of a man’s torso lashed out, snatching a lesser eldritch horror from the ground. The creature screeched, writhing, struggling to flee from its grasp—before it was shoved into a gaping maw that jutted out from inside the abomination and from a point that it should not have existed.

  Crunch.

  A sickening squelch followed as black tendrils wrapped around the body, pulling it deeper, absorbing its form into the Captain’s ever-changing flesh.

  The other eldritch horrors tried to flee mid way through the first crunch.

  They did not succeed.

  Another limb lashed out from the void where the jutted mouth appeared—this time splitting like a serrated whip, impaling three eldritch creatures at once. Their bodies twitched violently as the Captain devoured them on the spot, their essence sucked into its grotesque, ever-expanding body.

  With each one it consumed, its form twisted, mutating into something worse.

  More eyes.

  More mouths.

  More hunger.

  The air around the Eldritch abomination thickened like molasses as its power surged.

  Erik narrowed his eyes. The Aetherian energy flowing through him pulsed in recognition, as if the very power he wielded knew was in direct opposition to the Eldritch being in front of Erik.

  The abomination moved with purpose and adaptability, consuming, and rapidly growing stronger before Eriks very eyes.

  And it had chosen to feast on its own kind to prepare for him.

  The insatiable Eldritch being hunched low, its elongated limbs cracking as they bent at unnatural angles as if ready to pounce on its prey. A ragged, sucking noise slithered from one of its many mouths, mocking laughter and screams gurgling from deep within.

  “You,” it rasped, its voice a guttural, layered growl. “You think your light will endure the Devourer?”

  Erik didn’t flinch. His boots dug into the blood-soaked earth, energy crackling up his arms like lightning caught in his veins.

  “I don’t think anything,” Erik said coldly. “I know you’re afraid.”

  The Devourer’s many eyes blinked in chaotic rhythm. A mouth peeled open along its flank, revealing rows of mismatched teeth—some still gnashing bits of the eldritch it had just consumed.

  “Afraid?” it hissed, the word rippling through the air like oil over fire. “I consume gods. I drank the marrow of your Ancients. I wear the screams of your dead like a crown. Fear is for things that end.”

  “Exactly,” Erik replied, lifting his now dormant demonic blade, with its hostage locked in place. The blade hummed with Atherian energy instead of the black demonic energy that normally donned its edge which was now vibrating in sync with Eriks heartbeat.

  “And you will end.”

  The Devourer let out a low, seismic groan that might’ve been laughter—or hunger.

  “Your light bleeds. Your world decays. You burn fuel in a dying flame.”

  Erik took a step forward. The air sizzled where his foot landed.

  “Then it will be you I use as fuel.”” Erik said taking another step closer to the Eldritch Abomination

  The Eldritch Abomination surged forward a fraction, limbs twitching, jaws chattering in unnatural synchronicity.

  “I will hollow you out,” it whispered, mouths speaking in unnatural overlapping echoes. “Turn your bones into keys. Use your flesh to open doors no man should ever see.”

  Erik raised his empty hand, palm outstretched toward the Eldritch Abomination, a grin slicing across his face.

  Sin Eater activated.

  Energy surged as dead Eldritch bodies—those not yet reanimated—were yanked toward him, their stolen power siphoned away before the Abomination could feast. The air crackled as that energy was ripped free, a swirling pull against the momentum of the battlefield.

  The Abomination convulsed in response. From the top of its formless body, thick black tar began to rise—bubbling, coalescing, defying gravity. It pulled from the very essence of what remained, forming a rippling sphere of pure, writhing life-force. The mass churned, alive with stolen strength.

  The atmosphere thickened again, like the suffocating heat of a midsummer wildfire—wet, hot, and full of smoke and brimstone. Wounded soldiers nearby stumbled, coughing violently as the air burned their lungs and made their eyes weep.

  Then, everything stilled.

  The Abomination froze.

  A moment of silence, deeper than death, fell over the battlefield.

  Without warning, one of its jagged mouths lashed upward —too fast to follow—and devoured the orb in a single, gluttonous snap.

  Silence cracked.

  The earth groaned beneath them as the pressure snapped like a sealed vault finally giving way. Searing cold slammed into the battlefield in rolling bursts—frozen waves that sliced through armor and soul alike. The sky rippled with dark energy. Erik stood firm, but behind him, Vesper having just appeared began staggered back, shielding her face from the storm with the other soldiers far behind already on their knees from the unseen impact. Her breath hitched. Her confidence, gone as she glanced at the much different battle scape than what she had ran away from earlier.

  The Abomination spasmed once more—then let out a scream.

  A scream that wasn’t a sound, but a wound. It pierced flesh, bone, and mind. A frequency that didn’t echo but invaded, sharp as needles in the eyes, the ears, every open cut. For one agonizing moment, even the frozen air felt merciful.

  And then, just like that—it collapsed.

  The formless black mass crumpled to the ground, limp and silent. No shockwave. No explosion. Just the quiet sound of something final.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  But something stirred.

  From within the wreckage, a single obsidian orb reflecting the ambient light from above the building began to rise, dragging wisps of smoke and shadow with it. Black tendrils curled upward, weaving themselves into a crooked spine. Bone followed. Then sinew. Then flesh—gray and green, torn, peeling, impossibly old, but unmistakably new.

  A presence returned to the field.

  Not the mindless hunger of the Abomination. No. This was will. This was command.

  The battlefield still simmered with cold static as a new being emerged—fully formed, alien and regal in its monstrous anatomy. Not twitching like the others. Not feral. Focused.

  Erik stood ready, though the chill in his chest betrayed the stillness of his blade.

  Then came the voice—low, multi layered, heavy with knowing.

  "You feel it, don’t you?" the Devourer said. "That pull. That hunger."

  Erik didn’t answer.

  "You’ve felt it since the fall of your kind. Since your world burned. And you never asked why."

  Erik’s eyes narrowed.

  The Devourer slowly stepped forward, black tendrils trailing behind like smoke in water.

  "You think us mindless. Beasts. But we were born from design. From desperation. The others—your enemies—couldn’t fight you in your realm. Couldn’t stop your kind. So they reached somewhere else."

  Erik frowned.

  The Devourer nodded, pleased.

  "A thin place between death and life. A corridor where even souls lose direction. They found it. They whispered to it. Called it magic. But it was us that answered."

  Vesper stepped up beside Erik, blood on her hands, eyes wide.

  “You’re saying this was… planned?”

  The Devourer turned its head, slow and deliberate.

  "A gift. A curse. A miracle. The researcher who gave them the weapon didn’t create us—he invited us. A vial. A soul. A willing host. From there, it spread. And when your soldiers returned home..."

  Erik’s jaw tensed. “They brought it with them.”

  "A touch. A breath. And then we fed. Eldritch essence hiding inside the shell of your own men. Within a month, your world sang with screams."

  The Devourer straightened.

  "And one among us did more than remember. The first to awaken. The Great One."

  The name hit the air like a curse.

  Vesper’s breath caught.

  "He speaks," the Devourer said softly. "To us. Through the Veil. Across every world we’ve touched. He watches. Waits. And when the time is right..."

  It looked straight at Erik.

  "He will come through."

  Erik stared back. “Why tell me this?”

  The Devourer tilted its head.

  "Because he wants you. And I serve him."

  Erik’s voice dropped cold. “Why?”

  "You’re the last key. The only remaining Aetherian. You are not just magic. You are passage. You can cross between worlds."

  “And if I refuse?”

  The Devourer’s mouths twitched, some smiling, some salivating.

  "You’ll keep running. Keep feeding. And piece by piece… we’ll have you anyway."

  Vesper stepped forward, voice cracking. “Is it true? Erik… your power, Sin Eater… is it built from them?”

  He didn’t answer.

  The silence was answer enough.

  The Devourer’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  "You’ve already begun the transformation. Every time you feed on us, we grow stronger in you. Every time you kill, he sees."

  Erik raised his hand, Aether swirling at his fingertips.

  “No more stories.”

  The Devourer smiled.

  "It’s not a story. It’s your origin."

  The energy surged around Erik like a living storm. Silver-blue light cracked from his skin, arcing off his shoulders, dancing across the broken battlefield. His eyes burned with fire—part fury, part fear he refused to show.

  “You talk too much,” Erik growled.

  The Devourer said nothing.

  It simply moved.

  It was fast. Too fast. It didn’t leap or sprint—it shifted, bending space as it surged forward, appearing in front of Erik like the blink of an eye. A massive, serrated limb shot out like a harpoon.

  Erik raised his arm just in time—clang—his glowing demonic shield from consuming Eldritch energy with Sin Eater caught the blow, but the impact hurled him backward. His boots scraped dirt and bone as he skidded across the battlefield.

  Vesper moved without thinking.

  “Fuck!”

  She rushed in, blade drawn, a spell at her fingertips.

  The Devourer didn’t even look at her.

  A tendril whipped sideways from its ribs, faster than thought. It struck Vesper mid-air with a sickening crack—armor shattering, air leaving her lungs in a burst. She flew like a ragdoll, landing hard against a jagged stone outcrop. Her sword clattered away.

  She didn’t get up.

  Erik’s heart thudded as he watched her crumple. “Vesper—!”

  The distraction cost him.

  The Devourer was already there. A wall of claws and mouths and tendrils collapsed around him. He rolled, barely dodging one spiked limb—but a second slammed down and drove him into the dirt.

  BOOM.

  The earth cratered beneath Erik’s body.

  He coughed, blood on his teeth, as he shoved back with a blast of Aether. The explosion threw debris everywhere—but when the dust cleared, the Devourer still stood. Unburned. Unmoved.

  It raised one hand, almost curious.

  "This is the power of an Atherien?" it said, voice low, amused. "The final survivor. The last king of ash."

  Erik shouted and hurled himself forward, blade lashing in a wide arc. Energy trailed behind it in a gleaming crescent.

  He struck true—cutting into the Devourer’s chest.

  The wound opened. Black liquid hissed and steamed.

  For a heartbeat, it looked like victory.

  Then the Devourer laughed.

  The wound folded shut.

  Its hand lashed out—grabbing Erik by the throat. He tried to blink-step away, but the magic fizzled in its grip.

  "You are powerful," the Devourer said as its eyeless face came closer to Erik. "But power without purpose is just noise."

  It slammed Erik into the ground again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Bones cracked. Aether sparked wildly, uncontrollably, spilling into the air like broken wires.

  The Devourer leaned close, its many eyes glowing.

  "You were meant to open the door. Not guard it."

  Erik tried to speak, but his mouth filled with blood.

  And still—he summoned his blade, dragging it up with a trembling hand.

  The Devourer smiled.

  "Good. Keep fighting. It will make the breaking that much sweeter."

  It lifted Erik high.

  And began to squeeze.

  write?

  really write it out.