The monsters were the size of small dogs, their forms resembling human toddlers, but the sharp black eyes and jagged fangs marked them as something far deadlier. Imps. Hairless, corded with muscle, and vicious.
Vale's clothes were already streaked with brown blood, and five of the creatures lay crumpled around him. Not bad, he thought. I can already feel the essence in my core increasing, but it'll take time to fill completely.
He moved carefully, ears attuned to the faintest sound. He considered standing still, letting the monsters come to him, but shook his head. No, not yet. I don't want to go too deep too fast.
A scraping noise reached him, of clawed feet across stone. Vale spun, alert, only to hear another sound from the wall beside him. Or was it the roof?
He rolled just as a blur surged past, the air rippling around it. Darkness and writhing flesh flashed claws at him.
Vale leapt backward, raising his pickaxe. His heart pounded. This wasn't like the usual Imps, they had somehow combined, climbing over and into each other to form a single, writhing wave of teeth and claws.
The wave almost reached the tunnel roof. What did they say? Imps are weak individually, but together they can stop anyone from exploring further.
He muttered aloud, partly to focus himself. Numerous beady eyes blinked at him. Then the wave wavered, sank into the wall, and disappeared.
Vale blinked. Oh, right. They can pass through solid objects… But how did that work? Are they a hive mind or something?
A tremor beneath his feet warned him. He rolled forward just as the wave erupted beneath the ground, this time cracking stone and sending shards flying.
A shallow cut ran across his cheek, but he was otherwise unscathed. The Imps had vanished again. Vale realized then: he couldn't win without his Knight power—the abilities granted to a Squire.
All of a Squire's techniques involved shaping pure essence into the desired effect, unlike other ranks, whose powers required specific aspected essence.
It shouldn't be that hard, he grimaced, as the wave surged forward again. Coiling his hand, he flung his pickaxe where the monsters would move next. The weapon slammed into the wall, cracking stone and sending debris cascading down.
The creatures were too focused on him to notice in time. Stones smashed into them, causing a brief recoil. But the wave reformed quickly, tossing aside the crushed Imps, its many eyes locking on him.
Vale shuddered. I shouldn't have come alone. And I've been starved of essence until recently… How am I going to get out of this?
The wave closed in, surrounding him. Their gaping mouths aimed for his flesh. His heart thundered, drowning out everything but their hissing. He reached inward blindly, seeking essence as the wave collided with him.
Crouching, he tucked his head between his hands and legs, bracing. Pain flared, white-hot, as the creatures tore at him, and he screamed.
But Vale turned inward, reaching for his core. Essence was slippery, fleeting, like trying to catch water with a knife. He grasped what he could, but it dispersed before he could control it.
Desperation guided him. He reached for something else—a line, or lines, coursing with essence. Instinct told him these lines carried power to his body.
He tugged, drawing the flow into his core. Essence surged like water from a broken dam, and Vale let it converge in his chest. Then he unleashed it.
The wave of Imps had him surrounded, but their hesitation to strike proved fatal. The essence erupted around him, coating his body in blue-white light, blasting outward in a shockwave. Stone cracked, walls splintered, and blood and flesh painted the tunnel.
Vale's head throbbed as he staggered upright, resting against the wall. The essence from the fallen monsters rose and settled in his core, filling it a quarter of the way. Mental fatigue weighed on him; even with his core replenished, he was far from ready for more.
I have to get out of here. This will attract more monsters.
He hesitated briefly, then chose retreat. I'll recover first. Make do with what I have. I'll come back later.
Carefully, he navigated the bloodied ground, retrieved his pickaxe, and hoisted it onto his shoulder. Vale moved quickly but cautiously back through the tunnel.
Silence returned, heavy and oppressive. Then the air shifted. The space gleamed, as though a great beast were inhaling. Air sucked in, drawing blood, flesh fragments, and residual essence together.
Time seemed to freeze. Everything grew hazy. And then, just as suddenly, the moment passed, and the tunnel returned to normal.