Candles flickered in rusted holders along the hallway just beyond the door. Thick, damp air pressed into Mitch’s nostrils, laced with the stench of rot. Sheet metal, poorly installed, lined the rocky walls. Moisture seeped down and collected into puddles on the floor.

  A single, persistent sound echoed through the hall. The slow drip of some viscous liquid. Steady as a heartbeat. It drew Mitch forward.

  There was something twisted in the sound. Power lurked within each drip, feeding the dense, corrupted energy that seeped into every corner of this place.

  Hathgar is somewhere in this nightmare.

  Sable glared down the silent hallway. “This place,” her voice wavered, filled with disgust. “They tried to make it clean, but I can smell the souls over the rot.”

  As they moved deeper down the rusty, wet hall, no creatures approached them. Only the ever-present dripping filled the silence. Its steady beat was unsettling in the stillness.

  They rounded a corner, the sparse candlelight offering only glimpses of the path ahead.

  Without warning, a figure dropped from the shadowed ceiling. Its limbs far too long, body stretched as if pulled taught, and then pulled some more. It unfurled to its full length, slick with the moisture that clung to the walls. It unfurled to its full height. Its spindly arm whipped forward, slicing down with a narrow, rusted blade

  Rex, already wrapped around Mitch as thick shadowy plate, took the hit head-on. The blade drove into Rex’s side, but the Shadowshroud armor held, absorbing the blow without leaving a mark. Mitch felt the impact, and heard Rex’s hunting howl in his mind.

  “Hold it down!” Mitch yelled, his voice sharp.

  Sable was already moving. Her hands flashed as she shot out wires, metal firing around the creature’s limbs tightly. It staggered, caught off guard. The creature hissed as it faceplanted onto the wet floor.

  Piss and blood. Wonderful.

  Mitch stepped forward and raised Galadrith. A red aura seeped from the blade, an intimidating hue gained from Butcher’s soul, simmering with deadly intent. For good measure to scare his enemies, Mitch unleashed a roaring Deathhowl into the creature's body. The sound erupted and bounced off the walls, hurting his own ears. Green light exploded the creature’s side as he brought down Galadrith in an unmeasured hack. The creature’s head was sliced through in a single pass. It thunked on the ground in a ichorous heap.

  Settlement Amount: 345 Souls, 359 Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 499(+1) Flesh.

  He extended his Abyssal Vault, siphoning flesh and soul. It was twisted as it thrashed in his core alongside the others. Mitch sensed the rage of the creature as it smacked the walls of his core. The consumption left an empty husk on the floor.

  The dripping guided the path as Mitch and Sable continued.

  It wasn’t long before they rounded another corner and saw movements in the shadows above.

  More creatures, spindly and fast, dropped down from the ceiling. Faces were stretched into leering expressions with broken teeth. They landed in a shrill cry.

  Rex took the brunt of their attacks. The plate absorbed each strike, keeping Mitch’s strengthened body shielded from harm.

  “Tear them apart!” Mitch shouted, his voice charged with dark energy.

  Sable reacted, her hands flashing with energy as she fired Fracture’s at the creature’s legs. Beams of sharp energy lanced out, severing limbs and shattering bones.

  Mitch swung through one monster’s body, severing it in two. Galadrith bled a haze that radiated malice. He swung, and felt the satisfying weight of power behind every strike. The blade sliced through unnatural flesh and bone like paper. The monsters collapsed before him. Each strike accompanied by a dull thunk and the splatter of ichor on the floor and walls.

  Together, he and Sable cut a brutal path through the horde of elongated monsters. Mitch fell into a rhythm. Abyssal Sacrifice to keep him moving, Deathhowls to blow them apart in splattering green explosions. Ruthless swings as Rex took stabs head on, howling and frothing in his mind.

  “So many. All lacking honor to face us alone,” Galadrith mused dryly as Mitch hacked another monster apart.

  Mitch didn’t respond, too absorbed in the fight. He unleashed a furious Deathhowl, the scream erupting like a shockwave and tearing his throat. The closest monster exploded into fragments. Mitch tore through the rest, his hand sinking through a creature’s skull, ripping out its soft brain.

  Each soul he pulled filled him that much more. His movements were brutal, automatic, and each kill only blazed the fury hotter. The rush of Soul Sacrifice kept his energy levels sharp and lethal.

  Settlement Amount: 398(+56) Souls, 343(-16) Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 555(+56) Flesh.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Sable kept pace, feeding off the Soul Sacrifice’s that Mitch activated. She moved with precision, splitting legs and spines. There was no unease in her gaze. She hated the Abyss just as much, if not more than him.

  Mitch’s strength was inexhaustible. Bolstered by Agony’s Embrace and souls that he burned through with ruthless abandon. Another Deathhowl ripped apart several more creatures, leaving only remains of their spidery forms on the group.

  Rex had held firm the entire time. The drip still beckoned him forward.

  The horde was finally dead. Their souls and flesh zipped into his core.

  Settlement Amount: 419(+21) Souls, 339(-4) Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 576(+21) Flesh.

  The hallway finally opened into a larger room, dimly lit, with the drip echoing louder. The source of its rhythm lay just ahead. As Mitch and Sable stepped forward, the energy that led them intensified.

  But it wasn’t the drip alone that awaited their arrival.

  Hundreds of pods lined the walls. Each encased a twisted figure in flickering, purple shells. Elves, dwarves, orcs, humans, gnomes—all locked within their translucent prisons. Their faces contorted in soundless screams. Mouths stretched wide, eyes bulging in agony as cuts layered upon cuts marked their bodies.

  Their skin was flayed, raw, and marked with hundreds of razor-thin wounds. Limbs withered, eyes glazed with a torment that seemed endless. Each figure shook, though they were clearly bound in place by some magic. Trapped in a nightmare with no escape.

  As Mitch examined one pained person, barely a man, he saw a fresh wound split on his shoulder. The man screamed silently with newfound vigor. His blood dripped down his body and pooled at the bottom of the pod.

  Beside every pod, a single glass jar hovered, capturing the faint, ghostly outline of a soul. Souls bound by fading tendrils to their suffering bodies, weakened connections shivering as the souls fought to survive. Along each of those spectral threads seeped a viscous, black sludge.

  Grimlace.

  Mitch’s stomach churned. He could see it. Feel it in the air. Smell the sweet aroma under the blood and damp. The blackened drops of Grimlace wept from the tortured bodies and souls. Sitting there, waiting to be collected. Like tears of the souls.

  And scattered across the floor lay the tool for collection. Knives, sharp and stained, covered in the slick sludge, lay waiting to scrape the drug from the soul tendril. Every cut, every incision on those helpless figures fed the Grimlace drip from the souls.

  Thank you, Rex. Would not want to get stabbed with a grimlace covered knife.

  He scanned the rows, his gaze locking onto tortured faces.

  How am I going to destroy all of this?

  Beside him, Sable had gone silent. She paused before one of the pods, staring at the man trapped within. His body convulsed, torn apart by fresh, razor-thin cuts, blood trickling down to the dark pool beneath him.

  “What…what is this?” Sable’s voice broke.

  The rows stretched endlessly, a prison of tormented bodies and poisoned souls being farmed.

  “This is where it comes from, Sable,” Mitch answered, his voice low with disgust. “This is how that shit is made.”

  The steady drip continued. The silence thickened, pressing against their ears, until a familiar oily voice sliced through the stillness.

  “Hello, again, doggy,” The voice drifted through the chamber, heavy with mockery. “How thoughtful of you to bring me more souls. And a delightful little Patchling. How fun.”

  Mitch’s head snapped to the side, scanning the darkness for the source of the Warden’s voice.

  “Where are you, you coward?” Mitch growled, pointing Galadrith at nothing.

  A cold, emotionless chuckle echoed back, winding through the pods. “Oh, so eager to bring me such treats. There’s no rush. So much here to… savor.”

  Sable stepped closer to a row, her expression horrified. There wasn’t a single Patchling in sight among the imprisoned. With the lack of a soul, it would be useless in the Farm. But it did nothing to settle her anger.

  The voice slithered closer, almost playful. “Oh, you noticed.” There was a slight pause, a cruel delight coating his next words. “Patchlings? Their lacking souls? They have other uses, my dear. Just not here. You won’t find yours, your soul, I assure you. It’s somewhere very special.”

  Sable’s face drained in color. Mitch caught the look in her eyes. Horror and fury. Whatever fate awaited Patchling bodies, and their lost souls, it was something beyond even the torment of this twisted Farm.

  I’m going to end this. All of it.

  The Warden’s voice resumed, smooth and taunting. “But enough idle chatter… Why don’t you stay right there, doggy? Let’s see if you can keep your little souls safe for me.”

  A hum pulsed through the chamber. Before Mitch could react, a glimmering purple barrier surged up from the floor, snapping around him in a flash of light. He was trapped, encased in a pod identical to those holding the other people.

  His arms felt pinned, immobilized. And before he could summon his strength, sharp, slicing pain ignited beneath Rex’s armor. Dozens of invisible blades dug into his flesh, cutting deeper with each second. Each slice burned with agony, twisting his mind in torment. For just a moment, he panicked, unable to think properly.

  “Mitch!” Sable shouted, darting toward him.

  The Warden’s voice oozed with twisted delight. “Does that sting, doggy? Consider it… motivation. Oh, and your dwarf friend. He’s quite lively today. Perhaps I’ll turn his dial up a notch for you. Can you hear him?”

  From somewhere in the Farm, Hathgar’s screams cut through the air. Mitch recognized that gruff voice. It twisted in raw, helpless pain. The Warden’s laughter grew, a poisonous melody that clawed at Mitch’s trapped form.

  Through the pain, a familiar warmth coiled within him. Agony’s Embrace flared to life, cycling the torment into raw power.

  You idiot, Warden.

  Every agonizing cut only fueled him more. Mitch let the cuts ravage his body, as his strength sharpened with his will to endure the torment.

  His sliced lips twisted into a grin, teeth bared as he glared into the darkness.

  Oh, I’m coming for you. This pod would be incredibly useful though.

  Mitch activated Soul Sacrifice, feeling the power surge against his growing strength from Agony’s Embrace.

  The game had just begun. And Mitch had already cheated.