The Border Marches smelled of scorched ozone and ancient, rotting earth.
The "Sun-Worshippers" were a desperate lot. They believed that by burning the "Tainted Blood" of the Empire, they could summon back a sun that had been dead for a thousand years. To the Inquisition, they were nothing more than a localized infection that needed to be cauterized.
The battle was not a war; it was an execution.
From behind a charred stone pillar, Silas watched as Evelyn stepped from her carriage. She didn't use a sword. She simply raised a hand, and the very air seemed to curdled. Crimson thorns of pure Void energy erupted from the ground, impaling the white-robed heretics before they could even finish their prayers.
"Cleaner! Get in there!" Vane shouted, shoving Silas toward the smoldering ruins of the heretic camp. "The Arbitress wants the 'Radiant Shards' collected before the miasma settles. Move, or I'll use your hide for a rug!"
Silas stumbled into the smoke, a wicker basket clutched in his trembling hands. But as soon as he was veiled by the thick, black haze, his eyes changed. The dullness vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory gleam.
[Warning: Massive concentration of scattered spiritual energy detected.]
[Multiple sources of 'Light' and 'Void' resonance.]
[Protocol: Mass Harvesting Initiated.]
Silas didn't just pick up the shards. He walked through the dying, the fallen, and the broken. Every time he passed a corpse, a wisp of energy that no one else could see was sucked into his fingertips.
[Mana +5... Mana +12... Mana +8...]
[New Fragment Detected: 'Photonic Resistance' (0.1%).]
He came across a dying priest, his eyes burned out by his own "Holy" fire. The man reached out, grasping Silas's ankle with a bloody hand. "The... Light... will... return..."
Silas looked down at him, his expression void of emotion. In the Inquisition, he had learned that mercy was a luxury for the dead. He gently tapped the priest's forehead. A tiny pulse of stolen Shadow energy snuffed out the man's last breath, and the system chimed in his head.
[High-Quality Soul Essence Extracted. Level 2 Progress: 98/100.]
Silas felt his skin tingling. His veins were beginning to glow with a faint, dark violet light beneath the surface. He was becoming a vessel for something far greater than what Evelyn had intended.
High above on a ridge, Evelyn stood, her crimson robes fluttering in the wind. She watched the "rat" moving through the smoke. He was too fast, too efficient. The way he moved through the toxic miasma without a mask... it wasn't natural.
"Vane," she said softly.
"Yes, My Lady?"
"Watch that one closely tonight. I think our little rat has been eating more than just scraps."