Chapter 22 #3
Harald let loose a savage bark of satisfaction and forced himself to sprint the remainder of the way, cutting through the converging ranks just as they closed behind him.
Gasping, sweat coursing down his face, heart hammering like a mad thing, he staggered up the steps and turned, back to the well, black blade before him.
“Come on, then,” he hissed at the approaching horde of withered faces. “Come see how I’ve changed.”
The sound of metallic stars ringing out against the void filled his mind.
The Demon Seed Has Stirred
Your Constitution has risen from 7 to 8
His five Thrones burned brightly deep within him, and Harald realized he’d unconsciously drawn his aura in close as he’d run.
But he had power to spare. With deliberate intention, he expanded his aura, pushed it out wide so that it encompassed all of the dais and steps, and felt the chill wash out, the green mist grow leached of vibrancy, the hunger of his own heart becoming manifest all around.
The Crypt Keepers rushed the aura, and died.
The front rank simply collapsed as they reached the third step, keeling over, the giant flesh withering over their skulls, eyes bleaching white, to tumble, lifeless and lost within their own robes.
The second rank scrambled up, and died upon their brethren.
Harald fought to catch his breath, forced himself to breathe deeply, nostrils flaring. Turned in a wary circle as more Keepers closed.
Thank the angels they had no ranged attacks.
A fourth wave collapsed upon the circular mound of dead Keepers, many of them falling back to roll to the first steps.
Harald drank deep of Eclavistra’s Crown. Flickers of lavender appeared in the deep abyssal zone. His own breath ghosted before him, and the concept of nothingness drank from each Keeper that tested its bounds.
More died.
Hundreds of Copper Crescents already glittered in the air.
“Come on!” yelled Harald, raising his blade. “I’m right here! Come get me!”
The Crypt Keepers gnashed their teeth, slashed at the air, and kept coming.
The mound of the dead grew and then toppled inward, bodies rolling onto the dais. Harald stepped forward and shoved at the brittle bodies with his boot, spilling them down the steps, and then waded into the fray, slashing methodically at the Keepers who raced in only to lose momentum and focus.
Harald lost himself to the butchery. Settled into performing the Dungeon Square, his blade taking a life with each swing. As the bodies piled up, he began to work his way clockwise, the patch of bare stone around the well shrinking.
The sound of metallic stars ringing out against the void filled his mind.
The Demon Seed Has Stirred
Your Strength has risen from 8 to 9
Your Dexterity has risen from 8 to 9
Your Constitution has risen from 8 to 9
The boost filled him with fresh vigor, but it wasn’t going to be enough. He was already panting, his sweat soaking into his armor, his right shoulder burning, a cramp deep in his side.
Constitution 9 was a vast improvement over his starting stat of 5, but it meant he was still below the mortal average of 10, which every hale adult in Flutic could claim.
He frantically wiped at his brow and staggered back to rest against the well. A veritable ocean of Copper Crescents glittered before him, a surreal bounty dancing over the surging cowls and wispy pates of the Keepers who just kept coming.
It wasn’t going to be his Thrones that failed. Nor his aura or blade.
It was his own weakened body.
How long had he been fighting? Half an hour? Seraphina must have possessed a massively stronger body when she’d undertaken this trial.
Fierce rejection of his own weakness filled him. He surged forward and booted corpses back down the stairs, stepped into the breach and resumed swinging, but his slashes were wild now, each accompanied by a grunt of effort.
For an eternity he fought on.
Behind him he heard an ominous rustling series of thumps, and realized the corpse wall had collapsed inward, spilling bodies right up to the far side of the well. Reckless, furious, he spun, saw Keepers climbing high over the ramp of their own brothers, and snarled.
It was time to go.
Time to jump in the well.
To quit.
To admit defeat, and slink away.
He’d been here—what—less than an hour?
There was no telling.
Harald slashed again, missed his foe, reeled away as if suffering the effects of his own aura.
Took a deep haggard breath, dashed sweat from his eyes, then straightened.
No.
One more minute.
He could fight just a little longer.
A message appeared before him, translucent and superimposed over the advancing horde of Keepers.
The abyss has marked your ferocity.Your tenacity knows no bounds.
By the decree of the Fallen Angel, you are returned to the next echelon of your destiny.
Abyssal Acolyte 2
Active Ability Unlocked: Dark Vigor
Infuse your mortal frame with fell energies not of this earth, but drawn from the very depths of the abyss.
+4 to Dexterity while activated+4 to Strength while activated+4 to Constitution while activated
Passive Ability: Shadow Fortitude
Your weak flesh shall become insensate to the clawing hands of agony, even as the shadows reduce your need for rest and ennoble your endurance.