“Where is Hathgar?” Mitch asked steadily while he looked down on Butcher.

  The pigman’s mouth twisted into a broken smile beneath the bugs. His laugh was a wet gurgling that echoed off the quiet prison walls. “Little bugs don’t scare me,” Butcher said as if it were a joke. Blood bubbled with spit as his laugh turned into a choking cough.

  Mitch’s face darkened. He didn’t have time for the man's games. Hathgar was waiting.

  At Mitch’s command, the bugs burrowed their pincers and small teeth into his face skin. Through the bond, Mitch felt the sensation of countless legs piercing flesh, and he could almost taste the man’s agony. Behind him, Sable’s intake of breath was sharp and edged with dismay.

  Butcher’s laugh turned into a strangled scream as the bugs dug deep into the open wounds they created.

  “Feel them,” Mitch said coldly.

  He could feel the bugs tearing at Butcher’s flesh. Crawling into the open sores on his cheeks. The man howled, jerking in place, and his broken body did not allow him to brush them away as they burrowed deeper. Each scream turned more and more hoarse.

  “Mitch…” Sable’s voice was tight and uncertain. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Mitch shot her a glare that silenced her. “He’ll talk.” His words were clipped. He tightened his hold on the bugs, and sent a command through to them.

  They responded immediately, their pincers working deeper. Butcher howled and rolled his eyes wildly from the pain. The bugs tore flesh from the man's temples, nostrils, and forced their way with sharp mandibles into his tiny ears.

  Mitch leaned in closer, letting Butcher feel the weight of his presence. “Last chance, Butcher. Where is Hathgar?”

  Butcher’s screams turned to gurgles, his body shuddering as the bugs carved in deeper. Finally, his bloodshot eyes met Mitch’s, raw terror etched across his face. Mitch paused the tearing of the bugs with a command.

  “You…you won’t find the same man,” he managed to spit out.

  Mitch’s jaw clenched. His anger had turned to cold, unrelenting fury. “I didn’t ask for riddles, Butcher. What did you do to him?”

  Butcher’s eyes flicked with a hint of defiance, even as blood poured from the fresh wounds. Mitch commanded the bugs to bite deeper. He felt their unending hunger through the bond.

  Butcher screamed again, the sound high and desperate. Sable turned away, visibly uncomfortable. “Mitch…enough,” she pleaded.

  Mitch didn’t look at her. “We’re nowhere near done,” he said, low and menacing. He ordered the bugs to pierce near Butcher’s eyes. His friend was somewhere nearby, and he would not be clouded. Every time he felt a pang of guilt at what he was doing to Butcher was quickly shoved inside his Devoid Skill.

  Butcher’s screams began to die down into a series of strained gasps. His strength was draining as the bugs continued to gnaw away at his face. His skin had turned even more pitted and bruised from the bugs Mitch commanded.

  “Where is he? Tell me!” Mitch roared.

  Butcher, barely coherent, let out a mirthless laugh. “The farm! He’s at the farm!” he rasped, each word followed by a rattling breath. Even through his torment, his words dripped with cruel satisfaction.

  Mitch narrowed his eyes, but paused the bugs to let the pigman speak. “Farm? Where is it? What did you do to him?”

  Butcher’s head lolled, his face barely recognizable under the layers of blood and bites. The pigman rolled his eyes upwards, and gestured towards the back of the prison. “There, that way,” he choked out, a twisted grin breaking his face further. “You won’t recognize him though.”

  Mitch’s patience snapped. With a silent command, the bugs shifted, and dug deeper. He felt the bugs’ every movement through the bond as they ate towards Butcher’s skill. This piggish man–who had inflicted unimaginable torment on countless creatures–felt the same agony tearing through him.

  Sable’s voice broke through Butcher’s screams. “Mitch…enough!”

  “Let him feel it,” Mitch responded, almost to himself. The bugs obeyed, clawing their way into Butcher’s mind. Snapping into the delicate nerves with ferocity.

  Butcher’s eyes rolled back. His face was a mask of pain, until his screams were silenced. His body jerked one last time, and then went still.

  The room fell silent as Butcher’s body went limp. Only the scurrying of Mitch’s bugs as they crawled away from the lifeless form.

  Mitch extended his Abyssal Vault and pulled at the lingering presence. Butcher’s soul–warped, twisted, and red like raw, infected meat–emerged from the remains. It flowed into his core, and thrashed wildly amongst the others he held.

  Even in death, Butcher roared and radiated pure malice.

  But Mitch had plans for the soul. Butcher would not sit within his core. He turned his attention to his soul sword, Galadrith.

  “This one is yours,” he said lowly.

  Galadrith pulsed in his grip, a thrill of dark energy vibrating in Mitch’s hand. Mitch tugged the thrashing red soul and guided it down toward the blade. The tendril of red pulled back momentarily with the steel. The sword trembled, and Mitch felt Galadrith’s presence grow heavier.

  Stolen story; please report.

  With a flash of red light, Butcher’s soul was pulled into Galadrith. The sword drank in Butcher’s twisted essence.

  “Mine now, Butcher.” Galadrith said smugly as he consumed the soul in a snap.

  The blade’s edges sharpened with a menacing shing, and a faint red mist began to seep out of it. Galadrith spread an oppressive aura that filled the space. The air thickened with a new intensity. Fear spread, so strong that the watching minions lingering took a step back, instincts kicking in.

  “Delicious. Thank you, Mitchell.” Galadrith said warmly.

  Mitch looked at the transformed weapon. He noted the gleam on the jagged edge. So sharp he was sure the sword could cut through shadows. The aura surrounding Galadrith thrummed with malice. It was a fitting reflection of Butcher’s dark spirit now imbued in Galadrith’s steel.

  The rush of the Affliction Skill upgrading hit Mitch a moment later. New power settled into Mitch’s own soul.

  Affliction Skill Upgraded

  Abyssal Vault

  Level 4(+1)

  Collect, Siphon, and store Souls, Flesh, and Credits within. A living account for your Abyssal Debt.Meet a Collector to transfer the sum+ Command Souls for Use.

  Settlement Amount: 353 Souls, 359 Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 497 Flesh.

  Use…hmm. How many uses are there?

  The sword hummed in his hand. Deadly and still growing. It was a vile weapon, Mitch knew that. Alive and cold. It held a fearsome energy that would make all opponents think twice before he dealt with them. Mitch felt nothing but excitement at the prospect of testing Galadrith's new strength in battle.

  Mitch’s gaze shifted to Sable. She watched him with a wary look. He didn’t need her approval. He knew the path he was on.

  Always forward, right?

  He turned to Rex, the hound’s shadowed form bearing remnants of Butcher’s damage. Wounds still gaped along his ribs and legs.

  Mitch extended a hand towards Butcher’s body. “Rex, heal yourself. Eat what remains,” he commanded.

  Rex leapt forward without hesitation. He lowered his snout to Butcher’s chest, single eye wide open as he latched onto the flesh. With each crunch, Mitch felt Rex’s health return quickly.

  The sight brought grim satisfaction to Mitch. His own dog was growing stronger alongside him. Rex’s form grew denser, the wounds along Rex’s side healing closed as he feasted noisily.

  Turning away from Rex, Mitch faced Varak and the other minions gathered along the edges of the room. A plan had been forming in his mind.

  “Varak,” Mitch began, and the creature perked up excitedly, her children holding themselves tightly against her body. “Take the others and go through every cell in this prison. Sort through them. Any of them show loyalty, let them free. Bring them to me.”

  Varak’s many eyes widened at the command. But she nodded eagerly. She looked back at Mitch. “How open cell?”

  “Use these.” Mitch sent the command and the Abyssal Bugs scurried forward around her.

  “And…if refuse?” she asked, head tilting.

  Mitch’s gaze was unwavering. “Then we’ll deal with them after.”

  Sable shifted beside him, but she said nothing.

  “Yes! Follow me, pretties.” Varak answered and began to walk away, but the bugs didn’t follow. She looked back at the waiting bugs. “Come!”

  The bugs waited for their orders from Mitch.

  He considered the situation. Pressing against his Abyssal Bind, he felt the bond with the Abyssal Bugs stir as he focused his intent.

  Pushing, he directed them to heed Varak’s every order.

  Immediately, he felt the bond intensify. A surge of power shot through his body as Abyssal Bind expanded. Accommodating a new depth of control.

  The Skill’s nature had shifted.

  Abyssal Bind

  Level 5(+1)

  Exert command over Abyssal beings and draw others into a permanent bond.

  Followers: Create lasting connections with chosen beings. Extend your influence and power over them.

  + Guardians of Will: Grant trusted minions the authority to command.

  Requirements: True allegiance must be granted willingly.

  Minions: Abyssal Mice: 4, Abyssal Fodder: 4(-1), Abyssal Bugs: 423

  Followers: Sable (The First Follower)

  + Guardians of Will: Varak (+1)

  Varak froze as power filled her. She blinked all her eyes in unison. The connection solidified between herself and the bugs. Mitch knew he could still command the bugs if he wanted to. But so could Varak.

  The creatures scurried closer to her, obediently responding to her presence. A twisted approximation of a smile broke across her face.

  “Yes! Pretties listen now!” She let out a crooked laugh. Reaching down, she pet the bugs as they crawled up her arms. Their legs and pinchers clicking across her stony skin.

  Tenderly, she placed one on her shoulder, where it perched and twitched. Attuned to her every whim.

  “Guardian of Wills, Varak. You’ve shown trust in me, so I will show trust in you,” Mitch said, feeling the title settle over Varak like a cloak.

  The monster straightened, something like pride shifting in her many eyes as she nodded and scampered toward the cells. Bugs and minions trailed her like an obedient swarm.

  As Varak and her company disappeared into the shadows, Sable turned to Mitch. Her expression was still shadowed with the unsettling events she had witnessed. “What now?”

  “I had to do that, you know. For Hathgar,” He said honestly.

  “I know, Mitch. It’s still fucked up. Not as much as what they do, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to watch,” she responded, nodding at him in understanding.

  He considered her look, trying to come to terms with his own decision from her reaction. She seemed to accept his choices, which is the best he could hope for right now.

  With a low whistle from Mitch, Rex leapt to his side. The hound had finished feasting, and Butcher’s body was now a small puddle of gristle and blood.

  Rex shifted back into the dense armor that covered Mitch’s torso. The plate was thicker, and seemed to clink into place. Encasing him in a shadow-forged armor that felt even stronger than before. Mitch felt Rex’s strength hum against his own. The hound’s loyalty anchored him back to his situation.

  Mitch turned and began walking towards the far end of the prison. His footsteps echoed with the weight of his determination.

  “Now we get Hathgar.”