Chapter 26
Harald placed the Dawnblade across his knees and forced himself to exhale. The febrile urge to leap up and plunge deeper into this level was almost overwhelming. The Demon Seed and his nature both demanded ever greater trials against which to hone his edge.
But no.
He wasn’t a foolish kid any longer. He wasn’t a greenhorn. If he were to go deeper, he would only do so on his terms and when he was ready.
“Patrol,” he commanded the Gauntlet Golem. It inclined its great oval head, mute as ever, and walked away, huge feet crunching gravel and smaller rocks beneath them.
Harald watched, curious, realizing he’d not stated the extent of the patrol loop, but was mollified when the golem stopped some fifteen yards away to scan the depths of the hall before turning to return.
It moved smoothly, fluidly, its warrior’s grace at odds with its own huge bulk, but it was his, and the knowledge gave Harald a quiet thrill.
Damn, but the golem was a fine acquisition.
Content that the Servitor was going to stay sufficiently close, Harald closed his eyes. Allowed his shoulders to settle. He’d fallen into a trap. Allowed himself to take the Crown of the Eternal Court’s reset of his levels too literally.
He might currently be an Abyssal Father 5, but that wasn’t the sum total of his reality. Actually. Harald frowned and summoned his window again to check his new Class title. Abyssal Father? That’s not what he’d been before. He’d progressed through levels of Abyssal Master.
Interesting.
And, well—there it was.
The clue the Fallen Angel had been providing him all along. To not think of himself merely as an impossibly powerful reflection of the Abyssal Master he’d once been.
But to realize he had it within himself to already become so much more.
Dark Vigor. Shadow Fortitude. Umbral Aegis. Veil of Shadows.
All the powers required with which to reforge the Form of the Black Throne.
One to fuel his body. One to help it exceed its own limits. Another to protect as armor. And the fourth to act as communion with the shadows themselves.
Harald sank into a trance. The path now was familiar. He sought the four powers and traced their source to that key epiphany he’d had before under Brauxis’ stern eyes. He wasn’t separate from the shadows. They emerged from within him. The shadows were his own.
He was the darkness.
A vortex swirled to life within him, and the powers flowed together, distinctions melting away. The shadows didn’t serve his body. His body didn’t wear shadows. Shadows didn’t fuel him. The distinction between darkness and Harald was a false boundary he’d been maintaining out of habit.
The truth was simple.
Harald willed himself to evolve, and felt the blessings of the abyss unlock within him.
Passive Ability Unlocked: Form of the Black Throne
Your flesh, shadow, and will have fused into a sovereign vessel of the abyss. Blows slip, pain dulls, and darkness gathers instinctively around and within you. Your body no longer fully abides by mortal limits.
+6 to Dexterity+6 to Strength +6 to Constitution
Satisfaction bloomed in Harald like a scent of a dark flower, luscious and rich.
The very substance of his body changed as darkness seeped into his flesh and rewrote its essence.
It had happened before, but this time, it felt more profound.
He felt himself rewoven in truth, such that the qualities of his previous Abilities were simply now the essence of what he was.
Harald rose smoothly to his feet, Dawnblade in hand, and considered.
He felt balanced, muscles sleek and compact and strangely dense.
He would no longer feel pain because an ability was suppressing it.
Rather, his shadow flesh simply couldn’t feel pain.
Wouldn’t require sleep in the same way a normal organism might.
Wouldn’t even take damage like other people; his body would react and harden before every blow, his very skin and muscle thickening at the point of impact.
He was other.
He was grown alien.
He was become… demonic.
Harald pursed his lips as he considered his free hand. Pale, callused, to all appearances normal. Human. But no longer. He made a fist, and wisps of shadow arose from between his clenched fingers.
Huh. Right. Veil of Shadows had been more powerful this go round. Which meant Form should be equally empowered. Could he generate that field of ambient shadow around himself like he’d just done in the fight…
Harald focused. Something within him, a gravitational, spiritual pull, was searching, reaching out for shadows. The ambient brightness foiled it, but he could sense how his new body yearned to be in constant communion with the dark.
But with a little effort?
Shadow began to arise from his skin like smoke, wafting outward and growing thicker. In moments, it formed a protective corona around him, extending perhaps only a few feet out in every direction, so that he had to appear a free-standing column of darkness.
It was more compact than what he’d manifested under Veil, but that was fine. It would grow as he leveled.
Next.
Harald closed his eyes. There was no reason he had to wait for his other powers before beginning the consolidation process. All would ultimately be folded into his four consolidated powers. Even partial consolidation would be more powerful than individual and fragmented expressions.
Harald delved deep into his center again and turned his attention to Aching Depths and Thronebound Mantle.
So dread and authority without his suppression field.
Still, they were twinned, fountaining from the source.
Harald melded the powers, melded their expressions into one new and lethal form, and felt his very Cosmos adjust.
Passive Ability Unlocked: Tyrant’s Halo
Where you stand, dread deepens and courage withers. Enemies feel the weight of your authority as a physical force, their resolve crumbling beneath the cold hunger of the void. But your domain is felt, not enforced—those with the will to resist may still act freely within your shadow.
One last consolidation.
Harald blended Abyssal Grasp and Shadow Dominion together. Both were abyssal tendrils, one drinking, the other commanding. Together, Grasp would feed Dominion’s hunger—not completely, it was no substitute for the Well, but enough to enhance both powers.
Passive Ability Unlocked: Abyssal Tether
Your tendrils no longer merely grasp or command—they do both. Shadow filaments extend to multiple targets, draining vitality from each while binding them to your will. The more you hold, the more you endure.
Harald rose to his feet.
“Golem.” The Servitor turned to look back at him over its broad pauldron. “We’re going hunting. Take point.”
The golem crunched its way back and led the way down the hall.
Harald followed after, blade resting over one shoulder. Then, on instinct, he dismissed the golem back to his Cosmos.
Silence fell upon the hall. Harald drifted forward, footsteps soundless, hidden in his own cloud of darkness, his body at last feeling more familiar, more powerful, an instrument that could execute his instinct for destruction.
Shadowpaw was almost ready to return.
No sense in entering battle without him.
So Harald moved slowly, cautiously, listening intently and watching the entrance to each angled hall that intersected with his own for movement. At each he paused and slowly peered around the corner, searching for signs of danger before pressing on.
Going straight had served him well thus far. He’d not begin taking random turns.
Silence.
Continuous pale radiance. The starkness of the broad hall was growing oppressive. Harald found himself yearning for corners, ledges, narrow passages. Means to approach subtly and to control the encounter.
Alas.
To his surprise he didn’t encounter any more Zenith Tide golems. Not until he reached at last a great chamber with the look of a temple.
A frieze of carved figures ran along the walls at head height, depicting battle between angels and demons.
Columns supported the high ceiling and surrounded a pentagonal pool set in the center of the floor whose waters glowed with a subtle blue radiance.
This was different.
Five Zenith Tide golems were arrayed about the chamber, all of them facing outward as if defending the glowing water. They were akin to his own Servitor; seven feet tall, massively armored, eyes bored into their smooth oval heads like dark holes in which he could stick his fist.
Five.
Harald drew back.
Five was a lot.
He’d barely survived against three.
But there was something he wanted to try. Something new he was bringing to the table.
And it wasn’t his Form of the Black Throne.
Harald stepped into the room.
The five golems immediately oriented on him, oval heads swiveling silently. The weight of their regard fell upon him like a mantle of stone.
Harald dropped smoothly to the ground to sit cross-legged, placed his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes, even as he summoned his Gauntlet Golem before him.
His purpose was singular.
Success would require everything he could muster.
His four Thrones had already been smoldering, but now he awoke them to their full raging power.
As one, they blazed to life, pouring the Fallen Angel’s benevolence into his mortal form.
Over this raging river of puissance he layered Eclavistra’s own Endowment, and her demonic presence surged around and within him, an endless ocean of inflected power to boost his own.
The golems shifted, began to stride toward him.
Any second now, the ground could erupt. The ceiling. The walls. They would begin hurling flashes of white fire, four, five of them coming at once—
Harald banished the thoughts and, taking up all that might, every ounce of power, drinking as deeply as he could from more Thrones than even Brianna Hammerfell could claim, he poured it into Tyrant’s Halo.
His dread authority washed out over the chamber, suffusing the golems with fear and reluctance to challenge his might.