The chamber was fire and shadow. Torches sputtered in their sconces, light scattering across blades slick with blood. Aric stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, violet tendrils rising from his skin as if answering the chaos without his command. Around him, comrades who had once fought side by side now tore at each other with the desperation of starving beasts.
Kael's laughter cut through the din, jagged and wild. His sword gleamed crimson, his eyes alight with something more than madness. It was hunger, but not his own—it belonged to the same presence Aric had heard whisper in the dark.
"You see?" Kael shouted, voice breaking like shattered glass. "This is the truth of your savior! He carries sorrow like a plague, and we are its harvest!"
The fighters closest to him turned their blades toward Aric, their faces twisted, not with hatred, but with despair so deep it carved lines into their flesh. They came not as soldiers but as vessels of something darker, driven by grief made flesh.
Aric raised his hand, shadows curling around it like a gauntlet. He could end them. Each strike would silence their suffering and feed his strength. The System pulsed eagerly, promising power, whispering hunger into his bones. But these were not demons—they were men and women who had trusted him, fought beside him, bled with him.
"Stop!" His voice tore through the hall, raw with fury. "This isn't you—it's the System feeding on your pain!"
Lira's voice joined his, sharp and steady even through the chaos. "Fight it! Don't give it what it wants!"
For a heartbeat, the madness wavered. A soldier's blade hesitated, her eyes flickering with recognition before sorrow dragged her back under.
Kael lunged at Aric, faster than thought, his sword screaming through the air. Aric caught it in a wreath of shadows, the steel quivering against the tendrils that bound it. The clash sent vibrations down his arms, the force threatening to buckle his knees.
"You can't fight what you are," Kael spat, his face inches from Aric's. "Every death, every scream—it makes you stronger. That's not salvation. That's damnation!"
Aric shoved him back, rage and fear twisting inside him. The System pulsed again, louder, insistent. [Sorrow Detected: Amplifying Host]
The tendrils lashed out on their own, sweeping across the chamber. Soldiers were thrown aside like dolls, crashing into walls and pillars. Their screams filled Aric's veins with fire.
He staggered, horrified. "No… I didn't—"
Lira caught his arm. Her silver eyes burned with something between fear and resolve. "Then master it, Aric! If you don't, it will master you!"
The voice came again, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade. "Yes. Master it. Or surrender. Either way, you belong to me."
The ground beneath their feet shuddered. Dust rained from the cracked ceiling as stones groaned under invisible pressure. From below, something stirred. A sound rose, not quite a roar, not quite a scream—something older, deeper, like the earth itself mourning.
The stronghold's foundations split. A surge of sorrow energy burst upward, knocking fighters to their knees. Aric's vision blurred violet as the System flared out of control, tendrils whipping wildly, feeding not only on the enemies, but on his allies' anguish.
Kael's eyes widened, and for a moment, his madness gave way to clarity. He whispered, almost reverent, "It's awake."
Before Aric could demand what he meant, the stone floor beneath the central chamber cracked open, darkness yawning like a throat ready to swallow them whole.
The voice thundered inside his skull, louder than ever, no longer just a whisper. "At last… the vessel trembles on the edge. Break, Aric. Break, and be mine."
And then the floor gave way.