The Shadowshroud peeled itself from his body, forming into a writhing mass of inky tendrils. One thin, black ribbon remained latched onto Mitch’s body, always keeping a permanent connection like an implanted dog leash. He could feel it, tugging at where his liver was. It stuck to him, permanently connected to his body.

  It stopped for a moment in the air, a single large, pupil-less eye forming at the center of its small mass. Wiggling erratically in the air, it floated amongst reaching tendrils, staring at the flesh it was about to consume. Taking its time, the tendrils spread out, twitching in anticipation before diving into the mutilated corpse.

  Giant black pom pom with an eyeball. Add a healthy splash of demon.

  Like a hungry dog, the Shadowshroud zipped toward the Abyssal-infected man and latched onto it, eye first. Mitch could see a tiny, razor-tooth mouth latch onto the cursed flesh and begin to gnaw. Sickening sounds filled the air as the shroud ate the flesh. It wasn’t quick or clean; it was messy, tearing muscle from bone, making squelching noises as it feasted.

  The sight of it would have made anyone nauseous, but Mitch just stood there. Emotionless and watching the disgusting display in morbid curiosity. He bent down and reached out with his Abyssal Vault, claiming the soul before it was lost.

  The body might be the Shadowshroud's, but the monster’s soul was his.

  Settlement Amount: 37(+1) Souls, 0 Credits, 28 Flesh

  The soul flowed out of the monster’s body like a twisted black bolt, frenzied and chaotic as it funneled into Mitch’s core. It was smaller than the others, and felt damaged, yet far more vicious. The Souls already imprisoned within, even the Grimmer souls, roared in unison, trying to subdue their new violent roommate.

  He gritted his teeth as he finally let himself feel his strength surging. The damage he had sustained from the fight had knit itself permanently into his body.

  Urgar groaned, coming to as he sat up behind Mitch, battered and bloodied from his berserk fueled fight. He wiped soot and blood from his face with the back of his hand and grimaced as he caught sight of the bodies he lay upon. The dwarf’s eyes cleared and settled on Mitch, “Ugh,” he grumbled. “Thank ye, you cold bastard. I knew I had it in me.” Urgar’s face split into a small grin.

  Mitch stood there, watching the Shadowshroud devour the corpse. He glanced over his shoulder at Urgar, his expression unchanging. “You were breaking, Urgar,” Mitch replied coldly, though his voice held no malice–just fact. “You needed to be pushed.”

  Urgar raised an eyebrow, his grin faltering for a moment before he let out a bark of laughter. “Aye, that I did. Still,” he winced, rubbing his side, “could’ve given me more warning.”

  Mith didn’t respond. His focus was drawn back to the Shadowshroud, still gnawing messily at the Abyssal-infected body. Urgar followed his gaze, watching the writhing black mass with a mix of fascination and disgust. “That thing…” the dwarf muttered, “needs a name.”

  Mitch’s eyes lingered on the shadowy tendrils, still latched onto him like a vicious pet tethered to its master. It had begun to morph as it fed, tendrils twisting and coiling. Its shape grew more defined. The vague form of a tiny hound emerged from the black mass. It gnawed furiously at the corpse with its tooth-filled muzzle.

  The disgusting sounds continued, as the Shadowshroud tore into the remaining flesh. Bone cracked and splintered beneath its relentless hunger. Slowly, it started to drag itself back towards Mitch, exhausted but satisfied from its feeding. He could feel it grumbling happily in his mind.

  Definitely dog-like.

  “Rex,” Mitch said as the Shroud latched back onto him, its tendrils wrapping around his torse once more. It clung to his body, thicker now, the material stretching down his arms like a long-sleeved swirling black shirt. Rex was a weight against his skin. He was heavier and much more substantial than before.

  Are you going to keep getting stronger the more you’re fed, Rex? Mitch felt Rex send affirmation to his mind.

  Urgar chuckled through a wince of pain. “Rex. A fitting name for a beast like that.”

  But Mitch’s mind wasn’t at ease any longer. The cracks in his Devoid began to grow wider, and the weight of what he had done–throwing Urgar into the fray without hesitation–chipped at him. He felt the guilt seeping in, despite the cold indifference that had shielded him during the battle.

  He looked frantically at Urgar, who was still recovering, his body scorched and scarred. And Sable…her glare was hard to ignore.

  “Back with us? You threw him into that mess like a sheep for slaughter,” she snapped coldly, her voice cutting through the moment. She glared daggers at Mitch as she applied ointment to Urgar’s burns. Warrick stood off to the side, looking troubled. “Do you even realize what you did?”

  Mitch’s real emotions flickered through the cracks in Devoid. He had treated Urgar like a disposable pawn. A tool for survival. It hadn't bothered him at the time, but now, the weight of it felt unbearable.

  Mitch closed his eyes, feeling the souls within him shift. Restless. Wanting to push forward again.

  Who am I becoming? Is this what I have to do to beat this?

  Swallowing hard, Mitch felt the cold indifference of Devoid cracking further. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. “Urgar, I–” he started, his voice low and strained, but Sable cut him off with a sharp glare.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Don’t you dare apologize,” she hissed, her multi-colored eyes blazing. She pulled away from tending to Urgar, her movements rough and agitated. “You used him like he was nothing. Like a tool.”

  Mitch’s gaze dropped, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to explain himself, to justify what he had done, but the words wouldn’t come. The certainty he’d felt during the battle was slipping away.

  Sable shook her head in disgust, turning her back on him as she stomped away. “Just clean up your mess, barback,” she spat over her shoulder, her tone venomous. “It’s what you know best, anyways.”

  Warrick’s face was unreadable, his posture tense as he watched.

  Mitch stepped closed to Urgar, ignoring the way his chest tightened. “Can you stand?” he asked quietly, tone regretful.

  Urgar winced, but managed a half-smile, “Aye, I’ll live. Seen worse, believe it or not.” He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a pained wheeze. Mitch bent down, carefully lifting the battered dwarf off the pile of Grimmer bodies. Urgar was much heavier than he expected.

  Warrick, standing a few paces away, spoke with a gruff calmness that belief the tension in his gaze. “You know,” he said, voice measured, “there’s more than one kind of beast in this place.” His eyes flickered to Mitch. “And not all of them try to kill you. Right away, at least.”

  Mitch felt a flush of anger at Warrick’s words, but he swallowed it.

  I deserved that. Deserve worse.

  “We need to keep moving,” Sable said sharply, voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. She had already moved ahead, scanning the darkened passageways with impatience. “Can Urgar walk?”

  The dwarf, on his feet with Mitch’s help, gave a weary nod. “I’ll manage,” he said, as he leaned heavily on Mitch. “Worked out, didn't it?” His smile was weak, but looked genuine.

  Mitch nodded back, but it felt hollow.

  “Good,” Sable said, her tone clipped. “Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowing as they locked onto Mitch. “And while you’re at it…clean up the bodies, like the beast you seem to want to be. You made this mess…at least deal with it.”

  Mitch’s jaw clenched, a flare of anger sparking in his chest, but he bit back a retort. The squad walked ahead, Urgar leaning on Warrick, as he knelt in front of the piles of bodies.

  She was right, in a way. He had chosen his path, for better or worse. The notification from Devoid upgraded settled the matter.

  Affliction Skill Upgraded

  Devoid

  Level 3

  Lock away undesired emotions and thoughts. Feel only what you wish.

  + Your sacrifices are rewarded with power.

  All emotions and thoughts must be addressed eventually.

  Rewarded with power?... I’m rewarded? They are?

  As he siphoned the remaining flesh into his Abyssal Vault, most of the bodies were empty–no souls left to claim. Only twisted ruined shells.

  “Most of them are gone,” he muttered to himself, but it was loud enough for Warrick to hear. The orc’s expression softened, understanding coming over his face as he saw Mitch siphon flesh.

  Settlement Amount: 37 Souls, 0 Credits, 109(+81) Flesh

  His body felt stronger, heavier the weight of his Afflictions growing. From that fight alone, he knew he had gained serious strength from Agony’s Embrace, and the strength from the collected souls.

  He was surprised that he hadn’t received another upgrade for Abyssal Vault as well. From the cavern fight, he had gained two levels in Devoid, and just one in Abyssal Vault. He wondered and hoped he would receive more, as well as for the right opportunity to test his Dominion of Shadows. The fact that Rex was well fed and upgraded was welcome, but Mitch still wanted more.

  I need something that’s more explosive. How do I get more Skills?

  Once he was finished siphoning the flesh of the fallen Grimmers around him, he followed the squad into the tunnel they traveled down. They discussed which way to travel down the splitting passageway.

  Sable’s gaze was cold as he approached, but she said nothing more. “Which way?” Mitch asked, his voice level.

  “Forward,” she answered tersely, nodding to the path ahead. Warrick opened his mouth, likely to suggest retreating, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  “We can’t go back,” Sable said firmly, though her voice carried an edge of strain. “Not yet. We’re sitting targets here. If more Grimmers come, we’re dead. And if we turn back now, we’ll leave with nothing to show for the fight, no results, no progress—just a beaten-up dwarf and a bigger mess waiting for us. Crae will lose it.”

  Warrick folded his arms, frowning. “And what happens if Urgar doesn’t hold up?”

  “We move forward until we know,” Sable replied, her gaze flicking to Urgar’s battered form. Her voice softened, just slightly, as she added, “If he can’t keep going, we’ll reassess. But for now, we keep going. We find a better position. Something we can work with. You know I’m right.”

  The dwarf groaned from his spot, waving weakly. “I’m not dead yet,” he muttered, his words slurred. “I’ll walk. Just…might need a hand.”

  Sable’s lips pressed. Her exhaustion showed in the slump of her shoulders, but her tone stayed resolute. “Good. We’ll get to the next point, regroup, and make the call then. Standing here arguing isn’t going to fix anything.”

  She turned away, brushing past Mitch as she gestured for the group to follow. “Unless you’d rather stay here and take bets on how long it takes for the next swarm to find us.”

  Her steps were brisk, her back straight, though Mitch noticed the twitch of her hands. The leader mask was still in place, but cracks were beginning to show.

  Deeper into the Depths and Abyss they traveled. Mitch found it strange that she was determined to go forward, even with Urgar injured.

  Mitch and Warrick switched out aiding Urgar limp along. The orc was a silent presence amidst the shadows.

  As they moved, the echoes of their footsteps stretched endlessly. Mitch’s mind whirled with the consequences of his actions. Rex, now fully settled after his meal, sat on Mitch’s torso like a long sleeve shirt. The beast let out a satisfied hum in the back of his mind at his meal, but to Mitch, it felt as if he relished the tension.

  Mitch knew one thing, despite his guilt. Whatever lay ahead, he couldn’t afford to hesitate. Not anymore.

  In the distance, Mitch could hear the groaning of rocks, and something else. A light scratching sound wound its way towards them as they traveled on. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was hearing ghosts or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

  The sound persisted as they traveled deeper. Something about the noise rubbed Mitch the wrong way, setting him on edge.

  “Is that someone scribbling on parchment?” Warrick asked, gazing down the tunnel.