The cramped prison stretched, cloaking the group in its suffocating heat. The fetid breath of creatures who hadn’t seen freedom in gods knew how long lingered in the air thickly. From behind rusted bars, their eyes watched hungry and watchful. Mitch was tired of the scent of torment. Varak had been drip feeding them Bugs he summoned from the walls, but it had always been a temporary solution, nothing more.

  Heat pressed against his skin as he led the group deeper, toward the back of the prison—toward the very spot where he, Sable, Varak, and the other minions had first broken in.

  A wheezing snarl rose from one of the cages, a misshapen Abyssal thing of jagged bone and sinew pressing its face against the bars. Mitch didn’t so much as glance at it. For now, he had claimed the prison. For now, he had claimed the prison, but it wasn’t friendly territory—at least, not yet. The creatures within watched him with hunger and eerie patience.

  It weighed on him, though not as heavily as the hollow ache at his stomach. Without his First Follower, Sable, to check him, Mitch felt…incomplete. Like something vital had been carved out.

  The Abyssal Bind offered no comfort. He couldn’t feel her presence, couldn’t sense her at all. The connection that had anchored him through the Pit in this reborn nightmare was stretched too thin to grasp. Her absence wasn’t just unsettling–it felt wrong. A deeper instinct nagged at him, a brain tickle that something wasn’t right.

  Hope you’re safe, wherever you are, Mitch thought grimly. He knew full well she was somewhere in Shadowreach, digging through the tangled mess surrounding Warrick, Urgar, Crae, and the Front.

  Eventually, he would have to follow her trail, to see the Front for himself—and to find out why Mathilda had vanished. But for now, the massive door at the far end of the prison loomed ahead, heavy and immovable.

  “Damned furnace in ‘ere,” Hathgar grumbled beside him, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a calloused hand. His heavy boots clanged against the rock floor. “Always us, eh? Gettin’ stuck with the dirty work. Eh? Eh?”

  Varak scuttled alongside them, her chitinous limbs clicking softly against the stone. Her brood trailed after her, scurrying ahead to peer into cages with childlike fascination.

  “Ye really do think this lot will be useful if ye’ can get a good chunk to join? Hmm,” Hathgar continued, his voice low before the door as he scanned the cages and the following leader and new minions that followed. “Varak and this new group, they’re useful, Varak is damned near the best, but most of em? Half dead already.”

  Before Mitch could answer, Galadrith’s voice slid in. “I agree with the small man. Desperation can be ugly... but it can also be molded. Properly forged, it becomes something sharp.”

  Mitch’s lips twitched under his mask. “You’re still up to help? Even if you do complain at every chance?”

  The dwarf grunted, but nodded and nodded at the door. “Course. Someone’s got to watch your big ass.”

  The massive scared slab of metal loomed above them. Mitch’s Abyssal Mice had chewed through the lower edges during their first invasion, but the thick metal had held—warped, yes, but not broken.

  Mitch stepped forward, his fingers flexing as he felt the raw power coursing through his body. This strength wasn’t something he had been given—it was something he had earned. Through pain, through the Pit, through endless fights and the agonizing pods that had burned new life into his flesh.

  He smiled, thinking of how much further he could go. Strength had become his language. And he knew there were stronger creatures waiting beyond these walls. He welcomed the thought. Welcomed the chance to push himself further. Eventually, even the Abyss itself would have to reckon with him. Eventually.

  With a grunt, he gripped the edges of the door with both hands and pulled. The metal groaned in protest, echoing down the length of the prison, but it yielded to his strength. Slowly, it swung open, revealing the dark corridor beyond. Towards the path that led to the Perch overlooking the Pit.

  The corridor gave shifted the heat to the standard icy chill of the Abyss. The walls ripped from rock narrowed around them, and the erratic glowstones didn’t offer much light.

  Varak and her brood shot ahead, limbs clacking against the stone floor. The newly bound Abyssal minions followed in silence, postures showing their anticipation.

  The leader followed, but slowed his pace, and cast a look back at Mitch and Hathgar. His translucent skin caught the strange light and gave him a spectral appearance. He approached with a cautious gait, as if unused to such freedom.

  “I’ve decided,” he said, voice off tune and clipper. “Call me Yarg.”

  Mitch felt the weight of the creature’s name–a claim to identity after tears of being nothing but a slave owner and likely a slave himself. A tool of torment.

  “Yarg,” Mitch repeated, testing the name in his mouth. “It suits you, I think?”

  Yarg’s lipless mouth curled into an approximation of a grin. He turned, and glanced down the corridor ahead where the other Abyssal creatures had disappeared. His long fingers twitched in an ache for action.

  “Its been years since I’ve seen anything beyond the walls of the prison,” Yarg growled bitterly. “Too long.”

  Without waiting for a response, Yarg shot forward, long strides carrying him around the bend as he caught up with Varak and the others.

  Hathgar grumbled. “Stange one, that Yarg. Don’t trust him a synch, but he’s got fire. Could be useful.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “We’re going to need powerful people in this…Faction against the Abyss. Yarg is strong, smart, and clearly knows how to lead. We’re just going to adjust his methods.” Mitch responded.

  Mitch knew what it felt like to be trapped, the weight of walls pressing in on all sides.

  As they approached the Perch, Mitch slowed. His gaze drifted downward, scanning the Pit.

  The withered bodies of the fallen and siphoned still littered the ground. The pool of blood was long gone, stored in his core.

  The sight stirred the memories he had received in the Cathedral when he donned the Mask.

  He saw them: humans, elves, dwarves, Abyssal monsters… all standing together. United under his command. His bodies command. The had followed him once, trusted him to fight against the Abyss and its soul recycling.

  The memories felt distant but vivid and real.

  “You alright, lad? This is where ye’ were? Before?” Hathgar’s voice broke through.

  “Yes. This is where the Warden kept me and Sable. Where Varak came forward.” Mitch smiled at the brood mother, and her pincered mouth opened in her best smile. “The Warden thought he’d break me. Keep me here as his pet. Instead, he just made us stronger. Now it’s time to use that strength.”

  Varak’s children were already peering over the edge of the Perch, high voices echoing in the vast chamber. Yarg watched Mitch, gazing into the Pit and nodding at him in respect.

  Varak herself added. “Of course Master strong. Now what meeting…about? Need to…feed children.”

  Mitch cast a look down into the empty blood pool and withered bodies around it. This was his domain now–broken, brutal, but him to command.

  “You’re right Varak,” Mitch said. He knew she was right, and nodded before continuing. “You will guard the Pit. You’re also in charge of Abyssal food production.”

  Varak tilted her head. “Varak can…command Bug now. Only few…Not enough. Not yet. Still levelling.” She exhibited her new Skill. She was a Guardian of will, and he could pass control of Bugs under Abyssal Bind to her. But he had also noticed her pulling bugs out of walls for snacks. A few gathered around her feet. It seemed that Varak was growing just like him.

  Mitch smiled and raised a hand. He pulled and stretched Abyssal Bind, which extended much further than before. Out of the walls with a rumble, thousands of Abyssal Bugs began to stir. From cracks and crevices, from unseen tunnels, they poured forth. A living tide of dark chitin.

  Minions: Abyssal Fodder: 26(+22), Abyssal Bugs: 6,214(+3132), Mook, Abyssal Mice: 5

  Followers: Sable (First Follower), Leonardo XI

  Guardians of Will: Varak

  The bugs swarmed toward Varak, pooling around her as he passed their wills to her.

  Her children squealed in delight, diving into the swarm with reckless abandon. They rolled and tumbled, devouring the bugs with sharp clicks.

  Varak watched with approval. “Master smart. But bug..eat meat.”

  Mitch turned to the empty pool below. He reached within himself and pulled into his Flesh reserves.

  A dark ripple of red energy and flesh spread out from his fingers. It curled and trailed and left a faint metallic tinge to the air as it flowed toward the empty pool.

  Settlement Amount: 353 Souls, 335 Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 621(-200) Flesh

  The rock pool filled rapidly, dark gore chunks bubbling the surface. The Bugs, without their orders, immediately surged toward the pool in a thick trail.

  “Feed them with this,” Mitch said. “Your job now extends to grow the Bug reserve. Leonard and Patty and the others? We’re going to need to figure out human food.”

  Varak clicked her mouth once, looking impressed. “Smart. I collect Bug, find more meat…hmmm…Maybe master give more meat. Can work.”

  Her children scuttled along the trail of bugs that rushed toward the pool.

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile. The little Abyssal children leaped in bug-like cannonballs into the slurry of gore and bugs, sending splashes of red across the stone floor. Even in the Abyss, the children of the dark found their fun.

  Yarg approached, heavy steps alerting Mitch of him wanting his own orders.

  “And my job?” Yarg asked.

  “You will fight the prisoners. Challenge them. Bring them into the fold.” Mitch answered. The other minions surrounding looked approvingly at Mitch and his assessment. “I want you in charge of bringing them in, training them up,” Mitch gestured with his hand over the small crowd of previous slaves turned minions. “Including all of them. Turn them in to fighting shape.”

  Yarg smiled. “And if they won’t come into the fold? With or without a challenge?”

  “Then you kill them. Their bodies will serve as food. Their souls…back down.”

  Yarg grinned even wider. He gave an almost childlike nod of approval. “Good. I like that.”

  Hathgar muttered under his breath at Yarg’s horrifying smile. “Ye’ll have to work on that smile, Yarguh. Looks like you’re about to eat someone.”

  Yarg tilted his head, confused, already eager to begin his task. The other minions surrounded Yarg, clearly eager to begin their own training.

  “And me? What about ol’d Hathgar, eh?” the dwarf asked?

  Mitch clapped a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “You’re with me. Sound good?”

  Hathgar grinned, hefting an iron fist into the air. “Always, lad.”

  Mitch turned and began walking back to the prison with Hathgar, following the eager Yarg and minions. Varak and her children played in the pool and ate bugs.

  As they walked back, Hathgar gave Mitch a sideways glance. “Didn’t ye’ tell Mook to come here? About the portal doors?”

  Mitch chuckled darkly. “Figured the chubby scholar could use a little exercise.”

  He felt the presence of the scholar. On cue, the faint wheezing of Mook echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the shuffle of his short legs.

  The Abyssal scholar appeared seconds later, Abyssal face sweating and panting, but carrying a scroll tucked under one arm.

  “Where,” Mook spluttered as Mitch and Hathgar ran past him. “Where are you going? The meeting? The doors? Don’t you want to know about the solution to open the doors?”

  Mitch called over his shoulder. “Yep. Catch up! Just needed you to breathe some…fresh air first.”

  The air back towards the Estate was different. Yarg had the minions cataloging the prisoners. Varak played with her children and grew the bug farm. Leonard and Patty were somewhere experimenting with plants. The lesser intelligent minions kept watch in the tunnels.

  Mitch’s forces were growing, plans forming, and he smiled as Mook heaved on the run back to the Estate. Sable would be fine, hopefully. He worried about her, as if something was letting him now.

  After we see what Mook has to say about the Doors, perhaps I’ll make an appearance in Shadowreach. Can’t have Sable in danger, and Mathilda…