The air was thick with blood and decay of the tormented creatures within. Butcher’s mark felt like a permanent fixture over the prison, and Mitch still spotted the dead pigman’s crooked scrawl on the stone.

  From within the cells came their chaotic cries. Abyssal creatures of every grotesque variety snarled, wheezed, and slammed against the iron bars. Some clawed mindlessly, others leaned into the shadows. It was hard not to see only the evil in their forms.

  There were screams, and low growls, and the occasional sound of flesh tearing as the captives turned on one another in frustration and hunger. Mitch had Varak keep a steady stream of Bugs. But many of these creatures craved only flesh.

  The souls within Mitch thrummed eagerly, vibrating his core. They pushed at him, urging him towards the call of the challenge.

  Hathgar’s heavy boots clanged against the stone as he came to a halt beside Mitch. “Bloody right mess, this is,” he grumbled. “But efficient, I’ll give it that. You sure you want to slowly bring these things into the fold? Varak and Mook, and the others, they’re alright, but these?”

  He pointed towards a cage where a spindly creature drooled at them. “That one ain’t fit for anything but nightmares.”

  Mitch took in the prison while he summoned Abyssal Mice to search for Varak with a mental command. They emerged from their hiding spots and scurried off in search of Varak and her children.

  Minions: Abyssal Fodder: 4, Abyssal Bugs: 3089, Mook, Abyssal Mice: 5

  Followers: Sable (First Follower), Leonardo XI

  Guardians of Will: Varak

  Galadrith’s voice rumbled. “Do not underestimate what the Abyss can twist into usefulness. Even the ugliest of beasts may hold value, Mitchel.” he added, “though, this prison reeks of desperation. It dishonors you. You must either bring them into the fold or kill them.”

  Mitch knew Galadrith was right. He couldn’t just keep these prisoners here indefinitely. The space would be useful, and he didn’t want Varak to feed them from a constant stream of bugs.

  Can some of these creatures serve a purpose? He sure hoped so. Some of the prisoners were hulking, others were frail. The thought of bringing them into his fold was equal parts enticing and dangerous.

  “Some will serve,” Mitch said. “Or we’ll be forced to kill them.”

  “Hope ye know what you’re doing, lad.” Hathgar said but followed Mitch.

  In the Abyss, hesitation meant death. Mitch started forward, as the mice he sent to find Varak had found purchase. The Abyss wanted him to falter. He wouldn’t give it the satisfaction any more.

  They wove through the chaos despite the barrage of noise and hostility. Misshapen hands reached through iron bars, broken fingers scrapped against the air. Sharp teeth snapped and grinded.

  The iron bars rattled under the weight of enraged beasts.

  Each step brought Mitch closer to something primal. The energy of the Abyssal creature’s wasn’t oppressive anymore. It was intoxicating to him.

  Turning a corner, he spotted Varak. Her spider-like, chitinous form crouched near a massive cell. Bugs crawled endlessly over her segmented carapace, and one even rested atop her head. Unfazed, she plucked one from her arm and popped it into her mouth, crunching casually.

  Her children played around her. They were miniature Varak’s, and tossed a fat, wriggling bug back and forth like a hackysack.

  Despite the surroundings, Varak seemed entirely at ease.

  “Challender,” she choked out. She lifted one long arm and pointed toward the largest cage at the far end of the room. Her voice held a note of excitement. “Tradition.”

  Mitch followed her gesture. His eyes glowing red locked onto the massive cage. Its iron bars were thicker than the other.

  Inside, dozens of Abyssal creatures cramped in.

  But one figure stood apart, towering at the front of the cell like their leader.

  The creature’s skin was translucent, setting it apart from the other prisoners. It had an unnatural sheen and flowing horns that curled from its head. Its eyes were black voice, empty and endless, and its mouth was little more than a slash across its face. Its sheer size dwarfed the others in the pen. Its broad shoulders and muscular frame exuded raw power.

  Its energy hit him like a force. This wasn’t just another Abyssal monster–it was a leader.

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  “What custom?” Mitch asked Varak. Hathgar moved to stand and watch next to the Abyssal brood mother.

  Varak’s mandibles twitched in amusement. “Musrut,” she said, the name clicking in her alien voice. “Tormentors…Faction. Only slave…or leader.”

  Mitch’s blood ran cold for a moment. The Tormentors. The name churned up fragments of memories he had unlocked since donning the Mask. They were among the worst of the Abyssal factions—brutal, sadistic predators who thrived on the suffering of others. They didn’t just conquer; they desecrated. Their power came from the vilest methods imaginable, leaving nothing but despair in their wake.

  These creatures weren’t just another obstacle; they were a grotesque reminder of the Abyss’s cruelty. One day, he would have to confront them in their own territory. One day, he would ensure they paid for their atrocities. But for now, the challenge before him demanded his focus.

  The leader’s black eyes locked onto Mitch, and it smiled as it spoke with a commanding voice. “Power is born from pain, boy. The more you suffer, the stronger you become. That is the truth of the Abyss. That is the truth of us. Only the truly powerful lay claim to pain—and wield it.”

  With a sharp gesture, he barked a command at a frail copy of himself.

  The other creature scrambled forward with its head hung low. Its eyes were locked in fear and obedience. Mitch studied it, noting its malnourished form and trembling limbs. This was no warrior. This was a tool, beaten and starved into submission.

  The creature raised its hand to its own mouth. Bone crunched as it bit down on its fingers, severing them in a single bite. It didn’t spit out the flesh. Tt swallowed it whole. Black blood dripped onto the stone floor as the creature swayed,

  Another sharp order rang out. A smaller creature knelt, trembling. The leader stepped forward, its foot descending onto the creature’s skull. A sickening crack echoed as the facebone splintered, leaving the creature crumpled in submission.

  Mitch’s stomach turned. This creature was sick in the head. The Tormentors thrived on breaking others, turning their suffering into displays of control.

  The leader turns his black eyes toward Mitch, grinning and lipless. “You win? We follow. We listen. We serve. You lose?” It let the silence linger. “You’re mine. As are your followers. That is the way of the Tormentors. A challenge.”

  Mitch met the creature’s look. “If I let you out, you’re all going to rush me and Varak and Hathgar.”

  “He’d be writing his own death ticket! Ye’ don’t know what yer doing, but Mitch will put ye’ in yer place.” Hathgar rumbled out.

  The leader laughed, filling the prison with cruel mirth. “Rush you?” he said disdainfully. “You dishonor me with your presumptions, young Masked Lord. Even we have codes of conduct. You versus me. For it all.”

  Mitch was caught off guard. The creature knew. It knew what he was—who he was.

  Realization flickered in his mind. He glanced over at Varak, who was tossing her children into the air with playful delight, utterly unbothered by the gravity of the situation.

  The leader’s voice continued. “A young, untested Lord… already with a following. It is time we see the truth of power. I will either command you, or I will follow you. There is no middle ground. To pass up such an opportunity would be a dishonor I cannot bear.”

  Mitch’s mouth curled into a welcome smile. “Here’s the deal. We’ll fight, and if you win, I will surrender myself, and everyone here under your rule,” he measured the leader. “But if you lose, you’ll follow me, subject yourself to my Binding Skill, and help me in the fight against the Abyss. Starting with the Factions.”

  The leader smiled at Mitch with slitted teeth. “A fair deal. I accept.”

  Mitch sliced through the lock with Galadrith. “Then let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Galadrith spoke to him with approval. “Even Abyssal know honor. Twisted, yes. But there, nonetheless.”

  Mitch glanced once more at the leader, and the lock separating them. He didn’t just want the fight–he needed it. To test himself. To show them all.

  He raised Galadrith and sliced through the lock.

  The cage grinded forward, and the leader stepped forward. The others hung back.

  It's gait was confident and unhurried. “You’ll come to regret your decision,” it said.

  Mitch prodded Rex, and after a moment of confusion from the hound, the Shadowshround peeled himself off in a swirl of black smoke. The hound bounded to the sidelines near Varak, watching his Master.

  Galadrith glowed faintly as Mitch set the blade down against the wall. His voice was calm as he took in the size of the Abyssal leader infront of him. “No armor. No weapons. Just skin.”

  Surprise flashed across its face before being replaced with a smile. “Brave and foolish.”

  The leader then barked another command, its voice echoing throughout the loud prison. One of the frail creatures within the cell stumbled forward, its head bowed low in submission.

  The creature charged at Mitch with downcast eyes. As it moved in a shamble, the leader smeared. “You think you’re the only one with soul powers?”

  Before Mitch could react, the creature’s body convulsed and exploded mid-charge.

  Chitinous carapace shattered outward, a hailstorm of Abyssal bone slicing through to air towards him.

  The shards embedded themselves in Mitch's arms, chest, and legs. Pain lanced through his body as blood dripped.

  Mitch grunted, but didn’t flinch. Agony’s Embrace flared to life, emboldening him yet again.

  The leader’s skill was interesting however.

  Did he just burn the soul as a bomb? Interesting.

  He met the eyes of the leader, and pulled an arms length shard out of his stomach. The chunk of body clattered to the floor. Mitch didn’t even bother healing himself. He needed to get stronger, and the leader was a worth training partner.

  The leader’s smile faltered, confidence shifting to a snarl.

  “Is that all you’ve got?” Mitch taunted.

  The prison walls trembled from the onlooker’s noise. Varak and Hathgar watched with raised eyebrows as Mitch took a step forward.

  The leader snarled and leapt at Mitch.