Eshrod had been given the name Dark Flame by the Voice of God. The description was ominous:
[A wandering soul tainted by the decay of Entropy. A kind heart burning with the curse to devour, to feed the unknown, and to twist the world into chaos. Offering flesh, bones, and soul will bestow the blessings of the tainted one.]
She had some idea why Entropy had taken root in her heart. Her family were wandering knights, exploring the Depths and never settling anywhere they could call home. It was a chaotic environment to grow up in, but also incredible.
The call to adventure.
No one would realistically call the Depths a pleasant vacation—it was perilous and unpredictable. But there was meaning in the days there, a constant drive to explore and discover.
Eshrod usually traveled with her father and older brother. Her mother had died giving birth to her—a perilous situation in and of itself, as they had been stuck in the Depths with no healers or doctors to help.
By all rights, the Gremlin should have died as well. Even a baby born from two Unlocked parents cannot normally survive the Entropy; its soul would be far too weak. But unlike her mother, she survived. She didn't know it at the time, but something had taken hold of her soul—something dark, with unknown goals. It clung to her heart like a black flame and slumbered until her soul awakened at eighteen.
This became her ability—or at least, the Voice of God had registered it as such.
All in all, it was a boon. It had shielded her from Entropy while growing up and now granted her a way to grow stronger, a way to survive. Still, its methods were too vile and its purpose too unclear. She had been wary of it ever since she learned of its existence, but she couldn't deny that it might be the only thing that could save her now.
As Eshrod's sword slid across the onyx blade of the High Lord, power surged through her body. It was clear her opponent was merely a clone of the original—created by the unknown sorcery of the High Lord—but even so, it was a formidable foe.
If placed in the Unlocked ranking system, the assassin would likely stand at the top of the Third Fingers. She might even be able to hold her own against the likes of Golden Thread or Kalandra, at least if all her clones were present.
Eshrod stepped to the side, using her off-hand—now missing two fingers—to throw a devastating uppercut. The High Lord dodged with footwork unlike anything the Gremlin had ever seen: shadowy, elusive, light as air. Her steps made no sound, and her breathing was imperceptible. It made her wonder if she even needed oxygen.
Unpredictable. Completely unpredictable.
Eshrod stepped back, ensuring Alphons was out of harm's way.
The High Lord wasted no time. Her fighting style was a relentless torrent of steel, so fast it felt like fending off multiple opponents at once.
But Eshrod wasn't alone. The thing in her heart stirred, its dark roots slithering through her being, granting her strength.
Black scales crawled along her arms, devouring the light like tiny black holes. The sinister energy ran up her blade, reinforcing it with unmatched power.
The veins on her neck pulsed black as she lunged, aiming for the High Lord's neck. The speed of her strike seemed to catch the assassin off guard—forcing her to block at an awkward angle, something such a master fighter would rarely allow.
The Gremlin spun low, trying to sweep the High Lord's legs. The assassin leapt just in time, lunging for Eshrod's ribs. Her black-scaled arm caught the blade, stopping it cold—though not without cost.
Vile black blood stained the onyx blade.
This… isn't my blood.
Though now wasn't the time for an identity crisis. The High Lord caught Eshrod's wrist, preventing her from swinging her sword. Then, moving in a blur, the assassin drove her knee into the Gremlin's stomach.
Fuck.
Without the enhancements from sacrificing parts of her body, Eshrod's ribs—already weakened from the fight against the King's Envoy—would have shattered. Even so, the blow was agony.
But pain was no stranger to her. She knew how to manage it in ways that unnerved even seasoned fire walkers.
Her off hand shot forward with crushing force, breaking the High Lord's grip and closing around the assassin's neck.
Leonard—battered but not beaten—saw an opening and charged. Her sword crackled with electricity.
While Eshrod swung from one side, the lightning wielder lunged from the other.
The High Lord, for all her skill, couldn't avoid both. She chose to take Eshrod's strike, knowing that lightning straight through her flesh—or whatever made the clone's flesh would mess her up too much.
Dangling in the air from Eshrod's chokehold—Darth Vader style—she twisted her body, using momentum to escape and barely dodge Leonard's blade. But she didn't avoid the Gremlin's sword.
It bit deep into her ribs, cutting through her tough flesh. The shadowy energy disrupted her own powers.
"Looks like you should've taken the lightning blade, huh?" Eshrod grinned, though pain twisted her face.
A low, almost playful chuckle came from behind the High Lord's mask. Shadows poured from her wounds. They thickened until they swallowed the light entirely, plunging the world into total darkness.
What—what is that?!
The darkness seemed to feed Eshrod's ability, making a euphoric power course through her veins—but she couldn't see. Fighting blind against such an opponent was simply a death sentence.
No, really—how did Elion deal with her?
She focused on the faintest shifts in air. Just in time, she raised her arms to protect her neck. Pain lanced through her forearms as the High Lord's blade sliced across her hardened skin.
A lightning strike flashed past her face, hitting the onyx blade.
How could she sense her?
The sword glimmered briefly before the darkness swallowed it again.
Eshrod tried to track the air's movements, but she couldn't defend forever. The next time she sensed motion, she struck forward—only to hit empty air.
A blade brushed her back. Pain followed, then a jolt of electricity. Her muscles spasmed—but so did the High Lord's, ruining her strike.
Thanks, Leo.
But the assassin's next target would be the Zeus wannabe, who lacked the Gremlin's resilience. She'd be killed in a single blow—and Eshrod had no idea where she was.
Last she remembered, Leonard was approximately four steps away from her, though she moved for sure.
Still, she lunged toward the slight shift in the air, desperately hoping to stop the assault. A bolt of lightning zipped past her face. A hint of confusion found her, but it didn't last.
Clever girl.
By shooting that bolt of lightning, she revealed her exact position to Eshrod—and now…
Another flash lit the onyx blade as it deflected the electricity, giving the black-handed swordswoman the exact position of the enemy.
With that information, the Gremlin successfully managed to position herself and block the High Lord's strike.
"Did you think your little trick would actually work?" she taunted, only to realize no sound came from her mouth.
There was simply no sound at all anymore; she couldn't even hear her heartbeat or her breathing.
A primal fear gripped her heart as if she was being stalked by an unseen predator, and now was the moment of silence before it lunged.
Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
The feeling of death watching over her grew tenfold, threatening to stop her very heart from beating.
Is this it?
Something was coming, and it was aimed at her life.
She tried to block, knowing even impossible luck wouldn't save her—unless…
The darkness shattered as deafening explosions roared all around, making the silence retreat.
The High Lord turned toward where the invisible base should have been—now fully revealed. In the distance, Keill's group emerged; fire laced with blue lightning billowed into the sky.
The eccentric woman strolled calmly, somehow sporting a pair of sunglasses to look as badass as possible.
Eshrod smiled weakly.
"'Bout time."
The High Lord glanced at her once more, then vanished—off to deal with the four lunatics who had just blown up her base.
By the time she reached them, Keill's group disappeared in a flash of blue light. The High Lord turned back toward where Eshrod had been standing—but she was gone, too, along with her group.
The assassin cursed and sprinted toward the base to limit the damage.