He woke before dawn in his rented room, sheets tangled around him like something had fought during the night. Maybe something had. The dreams were getting worse. Blood and feeding, the ecstasy of draining life from the Alpha bear playing on repeat behind his eyes.
Marcus sat up and examined his hands in the weak light filtering through the window. The blackened veins were still there, darker than two days ago. They'd spread past his wrists now, tracing up his forearms in patterns that looked almost deliberate. Almost alive.
He clenched his fists and the veins pulsed.
When did I last feed?
The thought came unbidden, and he shoved it away with something like revulsion. Two days. The answer was two days, in the Undercity nest, when he'd drained an Alpha to survive.
That was the only time. That was survival. He'd needed it.
But you want it again.
Marcus crossed to the cracked mirror above the washbasin and studied his reflection. The man looking back was leaner than the guard who'd left Serenfold. Harder. Scars on his arms from barrier crossing and weeks of brutal travel. Eyes that had seen too much death.
His eyes flashed red for a heartbeat. Just a flicker, there and gone.
That was new. In the nest, they'd only done that during the feeding. Now it happened without warning.
He splashed cold water on his face and checked his dimensional compass. Elena's signal pulled northeast, steady and strong. Four point one miles. The same reading as yesterday, and the day before. She hadn't moved.
Which meant she was hiding somewhere. Waiting. Or captured.
Either way, he needed Kira Vex's information to find her. Two hundred silver.
Marcus counted his coins for the third time that morning. One hundred thirty. Seventy short, with five days until the broker's deadline.
Another contract. That's all he needed. Earn the silver, buy the location, find Elena.
Whatever it took.
The Ironbound Company guild hall was quiet at dawn. A few mercenaries nursed drinks at corner tables, sleeping off night contracts or preparing for morning ones. The posting board dominated the east wall, covered in notices ranging from simple escort jobs to dangerous extermination contracts.
Marcus scanned them with practiced efficiency.
Escort duty, two days: 15 silver.
Too slow.
Merchant protection, city patrol: 12 silver.
Not enough.
Sewer nest extermination, giant rats: 15 silver. Low difficulty.
He stopped. Giant rats. Level 27-29, according to the contract details. Eight targets confirmed, probably more in the nest. Low difficulty for a Level 30 Adaptive Fighter with combat experience.
Easy money. No risk. No need for desperate measures.
Marcus signed the contract and collected the map from the guild receptionist. The woman, scarred and Level 35 by her bearing, watched him with guarded eyes.
"Your veins are darker than last time you were here."
"Just the light."
"Sure." She slid the map across the counter. "Sewer entrance is three blocks east. Proof of extermination gets you fifteen silver. Don't die down there."
The sewers beneath Dameris were old and wrong.
Different realm architectures merged at impossible angles where the Shattering had fused buildings together. Tunnels that should have been straight curved in directions that made his head hurt. Water flowed uphill in places where gravity had forgotten its purpose.
Marcus descended the maintenance shaft with his alchemical light, sword drawn, [Combat Awareness] active. The skill painted threat vectors across his perception, highlighting movement in the darkness ahead.
Eight shapes. Rats the size of large dogs, their eyes reflecting his light in red pinpricks. Level 27, 28, 29. Easy targets.
He could handle this. Clean kills, no complications, no need for anything else.
The first rat charged from the shadows. Marcus sidestepped, blade coming up in a guard stance honed through thousands of repetitions. The slash opened the creature's throat before it could adjust trajectory.
+165 XP
Three more attacked simultaneously. Marcus pivoted, reading their patterns with [Analyze Opponent]. The left one favored its right leg. The center one was slower than the others. The right one was the real threat, faster and more aggressive.
He killed the right one first, a clean thrust through the skull. The center one died next, hamstrung and finished. The left one he dispatched with a backhand slash that felt almost casual.
+165 XP +155 XP +165 XP
Four down. Four left. Easy.
Marcus pressed deeper into the nest, feeling the familiar pulse of combat settling into his blood. This was what he was good at now. Not guarding gates in peaceful Serenfold. Fighting and surviving, adapting to whatever came next.
The fifth rat came from a side tunnel, teeth snapping at his arm. Marcus blocked with his bracer, felt the impact jar through bone, and riposted with his sword. Another clean kill.
+170 XP
But the sixth rat got past his guard. Its teeth sank into his calf, a white-hot flare of pain that dropped him to one knee. Health dropped by maybe five percent. Minor wound. He'd taken worse a dozen times.
Marcus kicked the creature off and killed it with a savage overhead strike.
+160 XP
He knelt in the sewer muck, breathing hard, blood running from his calf. The last two rats circled at the edge of his light, wary now. They'd seen their packmates die.
Seventy-five health remaining, he estimated. Minor wound. He had healing potions if needed.
But the blood...
His eyes found the pooling crimson around the dead rats. Something stirred in his chest. A hunger that had nothing to do with food.
You could heal that wound. Right now. No potion needed.
Marcus gripped his sword tighter.
Just one use. You're injured. It's efficient. Saves potions for when you really need them.
The rats attacked together. Marcus killed the first with a textbook parry-riposte, blade sliding between ribs. But as the second one closed, he felt his hand move on its own.
[Blood Feast] activated
The skill surged through him like liquid fire. His sword carved through the final rat and kept going, and then the blood came. It flowed toward him, drawn by unnatural force, touching his skin and being absorbed. The wound in his calf closed. His stamina replenished. His body hummed with stolen life.
+175 XP
Marcus stood in the carnage, breathing hard. Not from exhaustion. From the rush.
Eight rats dead. Health fully restored. No potions used.
See? Efficient.
He looked down at his hands. The blackened veins were darker now, pulsing with absorbed life force. He could feel the corruption settling deeper into his blood.
The notification appeared:
[Blood Feast] Level 1 → Level 2 Corruption: 3.0 CP → 3.2 CP
A two-tenths increase. Barely anything. And he'd healed his wound without wasting resources.
It made sense. It was practical.
Marcus collected proof of the extermination and climbed back toward the surface. The hunger settled into a quiet pressure behind his eyes, temporarily sated but not satisfied.
Never satisfied.
Fifteen silver richer, Marcus returned to the surface as the three suns reached their noon configuration. He collected his payment from the guild receptionist, who noted the fresh bloodstains on his armor but said nothing.
"Good work. Fast."
"Easy contract."
"Your eyes flash when you talk now. Might want to get that checked."
Marcus left without responding.
The Shadow District was crowded at midday, merchants and mercenaries filling the streets with the chaotic energy of a city that never truly slept. Marcus navigated through the crowds toward Kira Vex's information den, counting his coins as he walked.
One hundred forty-five silver. Fifty-five short.
The broker's establishment occupied a nondescript building between a weapons shop and a tavern. No sign marked its purpose. Marcus knocked on the door in the pattern Kira had specified during their first meeting.
The viewing slot slid open, revealing suspicious eyes.
"Password."
"Three questions for the one who knows."
The door opened.
Kira Vex waited in the same cluttered room where they'd first negotiated, buried under maps and documents that covered every surface. She was a slight woman, Level 41, with eyes that missed nothing and a smile that promised nothing good.
"Mr. Galen. You're earlier than expected." Her gaze traveled to his arms, to the visible veins despite his long sleeves. "You've changed since we last spoke."
"I have one hundred forty-five silver. I need more time."
"Information goes stale, Mr. Galen. Five days remain on our arrangement." She leaned back in her chair. "Two hundred silver for Elena's exact location. That was the price."
"I'll have it. I just need—"
"I can offer a partial arrangement." Kira's smile sharpened. "Fifty silver for her general location. Which district she was last seen in. You'd have to do the rest yourself."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Marcus calculated. Fifty silver would leave him with ninety-five. Enough to survive, maybe hire help with the search. But searching a district in Dameris could take weeks. Months.
Elena was less than five miles away. He could feel her through something he didn't want to examine too closely. A pull in his chest that had nothing to do with the compass.
"I'll have the full amount."
"Then I'll see you in five days. Or fewer, if you're efficient." Kira's eyes lingered on his veins. "A word of advice, Mr. Galen. Free of charge."
"What?"
"The Conservators have been active in the Trade District. Scanning for recent forbidden skill acquisitions." She tapped her fingers against her desk. "Might want to avoid that area for a while. Unless you enjoy their particular brand of attention."
Marcus felt cold despite the humid air. "I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm sure you will. Five days, Mr. Galen. Don't keep me waiting."
He left the information den with fifty-five silver still to earn and the weight of addiction pressing against his thoughts.
The next contract was waiting on the board when he returned to the Ironbound Company.
Rift Guard Duty: 20 silver. 12-hour shift at unstable dimensional rift. Occasional creature incursions. Level 30+ recommended.
Twenty silver. Twelve hours. Combined with the rat nest, that would put him at one hundred sixty-five. Thirty-five more would be manageable.
Marcus signed the contract.
The rift was located outside Dameris's walls, in a section of corrupted wasteland where reality hadn't fully stabilized since the Shattering. Guard stations ringed the unstable area, manned by mercenaries who rotated through shifts that most sane people avoided.
Marcus reported for duty as the evening suns began their descent.
"First time on rift guard?" The station commander was a weathered man, Level 38, with the thousand-yard stare of someone who'd seen too much dimensional bleeding.
"Yes."
"Simple job. Creatures come through the rift every few hours. Usually small stuff. Phase hounds, rift stalkers. You kill them, log the kills, collect your silver at the end. Questions?"
"What's the average encounter rate?"
"Five to seven incursions per shift. Sometimes more if the rift destabilizes." The commander gestured toward a chair overlooking the rift. "Take post. I'll check on you every few hours. Try not to die."
Marcus settled into position, sword across his knees, eyes fixed on the tear in reality that pulsed like a wound in the air.
The first incursion came two hours in.
Four Phase Hounds, Levels 28 and 29, burst through the rift in a blur of translucent flesh and too many legs. They moved wrong, phasing in and out of visibility as they covered ground toward the guard station.
Marcus was already moving.
[Combat Awareness] tracked all four targets simultaneously. [Analyze Opponent] fed him data on their movement patterns and preferred attack angles, highlighting the weaknesses in their coordination. He met them in open ground, sword humming through air.
The first hound died quickly, a clean decapitation that felt almost routine. The second took longer, phasing through his initial strike and requiring a combination to finish. The third and fourth attacked together, and Marcus found himself working harder than expected.
He killed them. Took damage. Minor wounds, scratches from claws that existed in two realities at once.
+185 XP +190 XP +185 XP +195 XP
Marcus checked his health. Eighty-five percent. Manageable. He had healing potions if needed.
Or you could heal right now. Efficiently.
He ignored the thought. Bound his wounds with strips from his kit. Logged the kills.
"Nice work." The commander's voice came from behind him. "Most new guards take damage on their first incursion. You handled them clean."
"Training."
"Right." The commander studied Marcus's arms, now partially visible where his sleeves had ridden up during combat. "Get back to post. Next wave usually hits around hour four."
The second incursion was harder.
Five Rift Stalkers, Levels 29-30, came through in staggered formation. They were smarter than the hounds, working as a pack, probing his defenses before committing to attacks.
Marcus fought them for ten brutal minutes. He killed two quickly, using the aggressive openings they created in their coordination. But the third wounded him badly, claws raking across his ribs before he could adjust his guard.
Health: 85% → 62%
The pain was sharp and immediate. Blood ran freely from the wound.
He had potions. Could drink one now, stabilize, finish the fight clean.
Or...
The stalker that had wounded him was circling for another attack. Marcus felt the hunger surge, felt [Blood Feast] whispering at the edge of his consciousness.
Just this once. To heal. To save potions.
[Blood Feast] activated
He killed the stalker in a savage rush, sword opening its throat while the skill drained its life force. The wound in his ribs closed as stolen vitality flooded his system. The fourth and fifth stalkers died in quick succession, each death feeding him, healing him, making him stronger.
+210 XP +215 XP +205 XP
Health: 100%
Marcus stood in the aftermath, blood coating his sword, his eyes glowing faintly red in the darkness. The corruption notification appeared:
Corruption: 3.2 CP → 3.6 CP
He'd used the skill three times in one fight. More than necessary. The first stalker would have been enough to heal the wound.
But it had felt so good.
Just saving potions. Being efficient.
The commander approached, slower this time, more cautious. "Your eyes are doing that thing again."
"Side effect of my class." The lie came easily. "Adaptive Fighter. Red eyes during combat."
"Uh-huh." The commander didn't look convinced. "Log your kills. Next wave in two hours."
By the time Marcus's shift ended at dawn, he'd fought through six incursions. He'd used [Blood Feast] during four of them. Each time the justification came easier. Saving potions. Being efficient. Staying at full health for the next wave.
Each time the feeding felt better.
[Blood Feast] Level 2 → Level 3 Corruption: 3.6 CP → 4.8 CP
The blackened veins had spread to his shoulders now. When he checked his reflection in his blade, his eyes showed a permanent red tinge even when he wasn't using the skill.
Twenty silver earned. One hundred sixty-five total. Thirty-five short of Kira's price.
Marcus collected his payment and walked back toward the city as the three suns rose. Other guards watched him pass with something between curiosity and unease. He heard whispers behind him.
Corrupted.
Look at his arms.
Don't make eye contact.
He ignored them. The hunger had settled into a quiet pressure again, temporarily satisfied. He told himself he was in control. That he could stop whenever he wanted.
That the next contract wouldn't involve feeding at all.
The Ironbound Company was quiet when Marcus returned to collect his payment. The scarred guild master counted out twenty silver without comment, but her eyes tracked the blackened veins now visible above his collar.
"Rift duty's done. Clean work, the commander says." She slid the coins across the counter. "Fast kills. Efficient."
"That's the job."
"Mm." She didn't release the coins when Marcus reached for them. "You remind me of someone."
Marcus met her eyes. "Who?"
"Woman named Vyra. Came through here about fifteen years back." The guild master's expression was unreadable. "She was like you. Strong. Determined. Had that same hunger in her eyes."
The word hunger made Marcus's stomach tighten.
"Started taking contracts nobody else would touch. High-risk, high-pay. Said she needed the silver for something important." The guild master finally released the coins. "Within six months, she wasn't taking contracts anymore. Wasn't earning silver. Was just... hunting."
"What happened to her?"
"They call her 'The Hound' now. Hunts people through the corrupted territories. Not for bounties. For sport." The guild master's voice dropped. "Last I heard, her corruption was past thirty. Doesn't look human anymore. Doesn't think human. Just feeds."
Marcus felt cold despite the humid air. "I'm not her."
"That's what she said too. Back when she still used words." The guild master turned away, organizing papers on her desk. "Your eyes flash when you're not fighting now. Did you know that? Used to just be during combat. Now it's all the time."
Marcus said nothing.
"Four uses of forbidden skill in one shift. The commander counted." She glanced back at him. "You're not using it to survive anymore. You're using it because you like it. That's how it started with Vyra too."
"I appreciate the history lesson." Marcus pocketed the silver. "But I have contracts to complete."
"I'm sure you do." The guild master's voice followed him to the door. "Just remember: The Hound started somewhere. Started as someone who thought they were in control. Someone with a good reason for everything they did."
Marcus pushed through the door into the fading light.
One hundred sixty-five silver. Thirty-five short of Kira's price.
He walked back to his rented room as the three suns set. The guild master's words echoed in his mind, mixing with the whispers of hunger that never quite faded.
Vyra. The Hound. That's what she said too.
In his room, Marcus stood before the cracked mirror, studying his reflection. The blackened veins had spread to his shoulders. His eyes held a permanent red tinge now, flickering brighter when he thought about the feeding, the rush, the power.
Am I still in control?
The question echoed in the silence. The hunger whispered its answer.
Day fifty-five. Marcus took a contract that paid twenty-five silver.
Corrupted Knight Elimination: Single target, Level 33 Elite. Haunts the ruins outside Dameris walls. Multiple bounty hunters have failed.
Dangerous. High risk. But twenty-five silver would put him at one hundred ninety. Ten short of Kira's price.
He could do this.
The ruins were located three miles from the city, in a section of wasteland where corruption had taken root after the Shattering. The stone structures that remained were wrong in subtle ways, angles that hurt to look at, shadows that fell in impossible directions.
Marcus entered with his sword drawn and [Combat Awareness] active. The corruption in the air made his marks burn. His eyes flashed red without his permission.
The Knight was waiting for him in what had once been a great hall.
It stood eight feet tall in corrupted armor that had fused with its flesh. Once human, maybe. Now something else. Something that radiated power and wrongness in equal measure.
[Identify]
Name: Corrupted Knight Rank: Elite Level: 33 Threat Assessment: SEVERE
Three levels higher than Marcus. Elite rank. The same classification as the bear that had nearly killed him.
But he was stronger now, better equipped. Weeks of brutal combat had honed him into something the Knight couldn't anticipate.
And he had [Blood Feast].
The Knight raised its corrupted blade and charged.
The fight was brutal.
Marcus used every skill he'd developed over fifty-five days of travel. [Combat Awareness] tracked the Knight's movements. [Analyze Opponent] fed him pattern data. [Advanced Swordsmanship] let him execute combinations that would have been impossible weeks ago.
None of it was enough.
The Knight was faster than something that large should be. Its blade moved like an extension of its will, crashing against Marcus's guard with impacts that numbed his arms. His ripostes glanced off corrupted armor. His footwork barely kept him ahead of killing blows.
Two minutes in, the Knight's sword caught his side. A glancing blow, but enough to send him staggering.
Health: 100% → 72%
Pain lanced through his ribs. The corruption in the wound burned like acid.
Now. Use it now.
Marcus activated [Blood Feast].
The skill surged through him as his next strike connected with the Knight's less-armored leg. Blood flowed. Vitality drained. The wound in his side began to close.
Health: 72% → 78%
Not enough. But a start.
The fight became something different. No longer about winning clean. About surviving. About feeding enough to outlast.
Every hit Marcus landed drained life. Every wound he took healed through stolen vitality. The Knight realized what was happening, tried to fight defensively, but Marcus pressed the attack with desperate aggression.
Ten minutes. Twenty. Each exchanging wounds, but only one of them healing.
The Knight's movements slowed as blood loss accumulated. Its attacks became sloppy. Marcus adapted, found openings, exploited weaknesses.
Finally, his sword found the gap between helmet and gorget. The blade sank deep.
The Knight fell.
Marcus stood over it, breathing hard, blood coating every surface of his body. His own blood, the Knight's corrupted blood, all of it mixing together. He could feel the vitality still flowing, the last dregs of the creature's life force entering his system.
Health: 100%
[Blood Feast] Level 3 → Level 4 Corruption: 4.8 CP → 5.5 CP
Level Up! 30 → 31
+5 Attribute Points Available
Marcus dismissed the notifications and sat on the blood-soaked floor. The feeding ecstasy was fading, replaced by something colder. He looked at his hands. The veins were visible on his neck now, creeping toward his jawline.
In the corrupted glass of a broken window, his eyes glowed solid red.
What am I becoming?
The question didn't have an answer he wanted to hear.
Day fifty-six.
Marcus returned to Dameris with the Knight's corrupted core as proof of extermination. The guild receptionist paid him without comment, though her eyes lingered on the marks now visible above his collar.
"Twenty-five silver."
One hundred ninety total. Ten short.
He could take another contract. Just a small one. Finish what he'd started.
But the hunger was whispering again, louder than before. Telling him to find another fight. Another feeding. Another rush of stolen life.
I'm in control.
Marcus allocated his new attribute points with trembling hands.
Strength: +2 (42) Dexterity: +1 (43) Constitution: +1 (48) Wisdom: +1 (34)
The wisdom increase felt like a joke. Like trying to bandage a hemorrhage with tissue paper.
He found a simple escort contract on the board. Merchant protection, city patrol, twelve silver. No combat required. Just walking and watching.
Twelve hours later, he had two hundred two silver.
Enough.
Marcus walked back to his room as the suns set. His veins pulsed. His eyes flickered red. The hunger prowled at the edges of his thoughts, dissatisfied with a day of no feeding.
But he'd made it. He'd earned the money.
Tomorrow, he'd pay Kira Vex and learn where Elena was hiding.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
That night, Marcus dreamed of blood.
He was back in the Undercity nest, standing over the Alpha bear's corpse. But this time, instead of horror, he felt only satisfaction. Only hunger for more.
The dream shifted. He was fighting rats, stalkers, the Knight. Each battle ending in feeding. Each feeding feeling better than the last.
Then he was standing in a hall of mirrors. His reflection looked back at him with solid red eyes and veins of pure black crawling across skin gone ash-gray. It smiled with too many teeth.
We're the same, the reflection whispered. Becoming.
Marcus woke to cold sheets and the taste of copper in his mouth.
Dawn light filtered through his window. Day fifty-six was ending. Four days until Kira's deadline, and he had the silver.
He checked his status one final time, cataloging what he'd become:
Name: Marcus Galen Level: 31 Class: Adaptive Fighter (Crystallized)
Attributes:
- STR: 42
- DEX: 43
- CON: 48
- INT: 25
- WIS: 34
- CHA: 28
- Total: 220
Active Skills:
- [Advanced Swordsmanship] - Lvl 3
- [Combat Awareness] - Lvl 24
- [Endurance] - Lvl 24
- [Analyze Opponent] - Lvl 8
- [Survival] - Lvl 8
- [Dimensional Sense] - Lvl 5
- [Tracking] - Lvl 3
- [Stealth] - Lvl 3
- [First Aid] - Lvl 11
- [Danger Sense] - Lvl 1
Forbidden Skills:
- [Blood Feast] - Lvl 4
Status Effects:
- [Corruption - Moderate]: 5.5 CP
- [Blood Feast Hunger]: Psychological compulsion toward violence
- [Physical Corruption]: Blackened veins (spreading), red eyes (frequent)
Equipment:
- Quality Longsword
- Enchanted Dagger
- Leather armor (damaged)
- Dimensional compass
- Knight's Corrupted Core
Wealth: 202 silver
Four days of contracts. Six uses of [Blood Feast]. Corruption nearly doubled. Garran's warnings echoing in the dark.
But he had the money. And Elena was close.
Tomorrow, he'd find out where.
Whatever it took.