Throne Hunters Book 4, Chapter 12

The moment Harald sat down a wave of exhaustion washed over him. The scales had healed the damage, expunged the infections with the Fallen Angel’s might, and even now Sam’s Guardian’s Mantle was enhancing his resilience and gently mending what damage remained in his soul and body.

But he’d been through so much.

For a moment it was all he could do to simply stare blearily ahead.

When was the last time he’d slept?

Last night had been the raid on Gorkin’s. So the night before last. Since then… since then he’d not stopped. Not stopped fighting, fearing for his friends, being forced to make desperate decisions, and then, Thracos…

Harald closed his eyes for but a moment and leaned his head back against the wall.

Exhaustion was a sucking void in his core, urging him to embrace oblivion, to allow his shoulders to slump, his conscious to flicker and fade.

He was so tired he felt nauseous.

Surely they were safe for the moment from the Houses and other Gold-ranked raiders?

Perhaps.

But perhaps not.

He couldn’t rest.

Not yet.

Not with their situation so precarious. Thracos’ body lay cooling just outside the chamber, and if he’d managed to find them with an Artifact, there was no telling who else might repeat the deed. They needed to regroup, move, and find a new redoubt.

Then he would rest.

Opening his eyes was a feat akin to killing Fosso. It called on the entirety of his Ego stat to will himself to sit up, to inhale deeply, and bring his mental faculties to bear.

With a flexion of his will, he summoned the messages from his Window.

The abyss approves of your bleak dominance.

Your slaughter has filled the void.

By the decree of the Fallen Angel, you are granted the next echelon of your destiny:

Abyssal Master 6

Active Ability Unlocked: Tenebral Surge

Unleash a radial burst of abyssal force centered on yourself, blasting enemies in all directions with an overwhelming wave of entropy and shadow. The surge disorients all caught within its blast, sapping clarity and courage. Light sources flicker or extinguish, illusions unravel, and for a brief moment, the only truth is the void.

Passive Ability Unlocked: Grave Concordat

Upon slaying a notable denizen of the Dungeon, you may bind their essence to your Cosmos as a Servitor forged of abyssal shadow and sustained by your will alone. These Servitors retain a warped reflection of their former strength or utility. You may bind as many Servitors as you have unclaimed Servitor slots as dictated by your Ascended Thrones. To bind a new one, you must overwrite an existing Abyssal Servitor.

Harald sat up.

His heart was pounding painfully hard.

Tenebral Surge sounded great, a radial attack that would prove fantastic in the thick of combat, and given that it was a Level 6 Active, no doubt it really packed a punch.

But Grave Concordat?

He reread the stark terms. There was no mistaking it. He could create Abyssal Servitors from any defeated foe.

That was… insane.

But what did ‘warped reflection’ mean, exactly?

Harald’s mind thrummed with the implications. From now on, he’d be able to equip himself with the toughest Dungeon monster he’d slain. Wirmas and Shadowpaw were formidable, but the thought of binding a scarecrow to his service, or two, if his dispensed with the hobgoblin, was…

Sam sat down heavily beside him, expression ruefully amused as she studied his countenance. “You look like you just realized girls are a thing.”

Harald blinked at her, emerging from his trance. “What?”

Sam blushed. “Girls. You’re like an eleven year old who… never mind. What’s got your jaw dropping?”

Harald told her.

Sam’s reaction was exactly as expected. Her eyes widened as her mouth opened to form a perfect ‘O’.

“Right?” Harald gave a shaky laugh. Anna and Nessa walked over, each having had time to study their new Abilities, while Kársek remained kneeling to one side, eyes closed, frowning as he worked his way through whatever DreadRune epiphany he’d had.

“What happened?” asked Nessa, and Harald couldn’t thank the angels more for the sharp, collected tone that had returned to her voice.

Harald reread his Passive’s description for them all.

Then it was Nessa and Anna’s turn to look stunned.

“That’s insane.” Sam sounded almost angry. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. Servitor crystals are the domain of the Fallen Angel. I mean—won’t she get mad if you start encroaching on it?”

Anna’s freckled expression was grave. “It must be Harald’s Demon Seed. I’ve also never heard of the like. That’s an incredible power.”

“And to our benefit.” Nessa gave a decisive nod. “We can finally dispense with your loathsome hobgoblin and start enlisting real fighters.”

“In his defense,” said Harald, “he did help me kill Fosso. Speaking of.” Where was the one-eyed Servitor? He check his Cosmos when he had a moment—had the hobgoblin fled the Thracos fight of his own accord?

“My Level 6 Abilities are… well.” Nessa’s smile quietly proud. “My Bladeweaver class is coming into its own.” And despite the deep lines carved into her face, her eyes gleamed with new animus. “My new Active is Thread of Severance. Here. Read it for yourselves.”

And much as they could all project their Windows for the tax collectors by the Dungeon Portal to read, she projected her new Ability’s text.

Thread of Severance

With a single, impossibly precise cut, you may sever the unseen. This strike slices through magical bindings, curses, summoned tethers, or lingering enchantments, unraveling whatever connection or influence lingers on your chosen target. If you have struck the foe before, the severance causes a painful surge, briefly dazing or weakening them as the thread recoils.

“Level 6 is ridiculous,” protested Sam. “You can sever ‘summoned tethers’? So you can send Servitors back to their owner’s Cosmos?”

Nessa’s nod was all self-satisfied delight. “As well as free you all of enchantments, end magical effects, all manner of bonds. I’ll rarely use it, but when I do, it should shift the course of battle, as well as shocking the hell out of our foes.”

“Very nice,” grinned Harald. “Do you think it would’ve worked against Thracos’ parasites?”

“Probably not.” Nessa considered. “No, I doubt it. Physical ailments or infections seem beyond the reach of this Ability. But Aura effects? Quite possibly.”

Harald recalled how his own Artifacts had become lead weights around his spirit, dragging him down and sapping his Ego. “Excellent. And your Passive?”

“Glad you asked. Here.” And she replaced her Active with the description of her Passive.

Weaver’s Rhythm

For every passing moment that your assault remains unbroken—attacking, parrying, or weaving through combat—you build a rhythm that sharpens your very essence. For as long as you remain actively engaged, you gain a cumulative +1 to Dexterity, Strength, and Constitution, up to a cap equal to your level. These bonuses fade if you falter, are stunned, or break tempo—but until then, you are the blade, and the music, and the silence between.

“Impressive, Nessa,” smiled Anna, clearly doing her best to not look taken aback. “So a possible +6 to all physical stats for as long as you remain in a fight?”

“Better yet,” said Sam, actually bouncing her knees as she sat cross-legged, “this Ability will remain relevant as she climbs to higher Levels. Fantastic. And given how you fight? You’ll only become the more dangerous the longer combat lasts.”

“Yes, thank you.” Nessa was practically purring. “I must admit I’m pleased. What about yourself?”

“Me?” Sam’s smile turned diffident. “I mean, Anna and I should probably have shared before you two, but… I’m pleased. Here. Let me…”

And Sam projected her own Ability descriptions. Harald leaned in eagerly to discover what new Abilities the Netherwarden Knight had manifested.

Luminous Interdict

You may spiritually mark a hostile target with a brand of radiant judgment. For the next 10 seconds, if the marked enemy moves toward you or your designated ward, they suffer radiant backlash and are briefly stunned. If they attempt to strike the protected target, they are blinded for a beat and rendered doubly vulnerable to all damage for a short duration.

“Bravo,” said Nessa, and clapped soundlessly for effect. “Sam, that’s a formidable power. It’s only Level 4, so its utility will no doubt depend on the nature of our foes, but… you could begin to really shape the flow of battle with that power.”

“Right,” said Harald, Sam turning eagerly to listen, her face bright with pleasure. “You could, I don’t know, designate someone in the doorway as your ward, and then the rest of us stand behind them. Choke points will become a thing of beauty.”

“Or,” interjected Anna, “she could use it to rescue people are the brink of death.”

“True,” agreed Nessa, tone speculative. “That may be its best use yet. If she sees one of us drop, Luminous Interdict could buy them a reprieve for them to heal.”

“Yes,” grinned Sam. “I am quite pleased. And speaking of healing. I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but…”

Warden’s Pulse

Each time you or an ally within close range suffer a grievous blow or come close to death, a soft pulse of radiant energy shall emanate from you, restoring a moderate amount of health to an ally and briefly increasing resistance to shadow and fear effects. This Pulse can only trigger once per ally every few moments.

“More healing is good,” said Harald immediately.

“But that’s rather grisly,” added Anna. “You only release healing as you’re wounded?”

“There’s a symmetry to it.” Nessa shrugged. “What need for healing if you’re not wounded? But it doesn’t look like you can heal yourself.”

“Only to my allies, right.” Sam frowned. “Which is good, I’m happy to keep you all on your feet, but I wish it worked on me, too.”

“We’ll have to make sure you remain protected,” grinned Harald. “For our own sakes.”

“The opposite, actually.” Sam straightened where she sat. “If I’m to provide this healing, I’ll need to be right in the thick of it so as to sustain some wounds and help you all.”

“I prefer your Luminous Interdict,” said Anna wryly. “Not that I’ll say not to some critically timed healing.”

“And you, Countess?” Harald leaned back against the wall. “How’s it feel to be Level 3 already?”

Anna arched a brow. “Other than overshadowed by you all?” Her hands drifted down to her armored hips as if to smooth down fabric, but paused an inch above the richly ornamented metal. “It feels nice. Here. I’ll share as well. I must say, Thornblade Marquessa continues to delight me.”

Thorncourt Gambit

A crown of spectral thornblades blossoms around you, drifting in elegant orbit like courtiers at a masquerade. Each blade hovers in perfect poise, waiting—striking automatically at foes who strike at you or breach your presence. At the culmination of the effect, if unspent, you may unleash the remaining blades in a single targeted flurry, a final flourish of regal violence.

“Ooh,” said Sam, eyes flitting back and forth as she devoured the text. “That’s nice.”

Anna just barely failed at hiding her satisfaction.

“Very nice,” agreed Nessa, straightening upon finishing the text. “Like a defensive version of your Goldchops.”

“How many thornblades do you get?” asked Harald, impressed.

“I don’t know.”

Sam considered. “Probably as many as she has Thrones, right?”

“Can you activate it?” asked Nessa. “And spare us the unnecessary speculation?”

“With pleasure.” Anna drew back, took a deep breath, and the air around her suddenly stirred to life as footlong thorns of black fibrous metal appeared in the air about her. There were six of them, all without hilt or handle, each tapering to a wicked point.

“Six,” said Sam, rising to her feet. “So perhaps double your Thrones?”

“No crossguard,” said Nessa, moving around Anna cautiously. “Though it did say they strike at your foes, not parry incoming attacks. Pre-emptive strikes, perhaps? If they move quickly enough, they’ll prove deadly to anyone trying to harm you.”

“It pairs beautifully with my Petal Guillotine,” said Anna, trying to sound as casual and clinical as Nessa. “The longer I go without being hit, the stronger my own attacks become. Thorncourt will work wonders to increase that time span, which also synergizes well with my Poise Under Pressure.”

“And your Passive?” asked Sam eagerly.

Anna shared a smile with her, then replaced the hovering text.

Barbed Majesty

To fight the Thornblade Marquessa is to suffer death by degrees. Each moment an enemy engages you in combat—trading blows or simply enduring your presence—they suffer a cumulative –1 to Ego, undone only by retreat or your defeat. This penalty caps at an amount equal to your level, as pride withers beneath the weight of your poise and pageantry.

“This is a remarkably complimentary set of powers,” said Nessa, finishing her circuit to quickly scan the description. “The Thorncourt renders you hard to hit, which empowers your Guillotine, and causes your foes to lose their very will to fight you. Impressive, Anna. Very impressive.”

Anna inclined her head with courtly decorum. “Your words mean much, Bladeweaver.”

“Well.” Harald felt light headed from fatigue and pleasure. “The five of us were able to defeat Thracos before receiving these powers. Now?

“Still shy of truly matching him on his level,” demurred Nessa. “Without Compressed World we would have been overwhelmed, even with our new Abilities. He was…”

They all glanced toward the hallway.

“He’s dead,” said Harald firmly. “And we should collect his Artifacts before we go. His Aureate Master alone is priceless. But first: Kársek? Anything you want to share?”

The dwarf bestirred himself, raising his chin and blinking heavily as he dredged his mind back to the present. For a moment he simply stared ahead, frowning yet, and then his brow smoothed, a smile curled his lips beneath the fringe of his beard, and he rose slowly to his feet to step closer.

“This was a most instructive battle.” Kársek stood before them, hands on his hips, pondering his own words. “I have relied thus far on the sheer size, speed, and power of my rune, but against one as nimble as Thracos—no doubt merely due to his enhanced Dexterity—I was unable to land a blow. Most frustrating.”

Commiserating nods from all round.

“As I fought my way free of the growth that sought to drown me, I realized that the channel through which I was pouring Earth Blood was singular and vast, but did not need to be so. It appeared to me in a flash: how to split that channel into multiple smaller ones, each less potent than the original, but consequently more flexible and dynamic.”

“So you can loose a bunch of smaller runes all at once?” asked Harald cautiously.

“No.” Kársek’s smile took the bite out of his simple denial. “Were I attempt to channel smaller runes in the same direction, the channels would merge and become one again, and I currently do not have the agility of mind to launch them accurately in different directions. Instead, I can now fracture my single rune into what effectively becomes a lesser ward. By relinquishing the need to hurl them at foes, I can instead command them to orbit me like silent judges, ready to punish intrusion.”

“Interesting,” said Nessa. “A defensive wall?”

Kársek nodded. “I can split my primary rune into six smaller glyphs that should be able to orbit me for a short duration of time. I’ll have to experiment to see how long, but they won’t last long. Should an enemy enter their radius, one of the glyphs will explode, and then the next, and so forth as they spin about me until either the enemy has died, I have run out of glyphs, or they have managed to insert themselves within the glyphwall’s radius.”

Everybody nodded soberly.

“That include us?” asked Sam.

“At this stage, it does.” Kársek frowned again. “However, I sense the ability to also arrange the glyphwall as a static barrier at a designated location if needed.” He waggled his head from side to side. “I’ll need to work out the details on that one. But feasibly I should be able to set them around an ally or at a fixed location.”

“That’s fantastic,” said Harald. “So, say Thracos were barreling down on us, Sam could hit him with Luminous Interdiction and you could drop your… glyphwall?” Kársek nodded at the term. “… ahead of us, adding a second layer of protection.”

“Again, the duration is brief. Perhaps thirty seconds.”

“That’s an eternity in a life and death battle,” said Nessa. “And it sounds like there’s room for further developments?”

“Yes. That is correct. The runes are complex and malleable to those who understand them. I am still but beginning my journey as a DreadRune. In time, I hope to reveal a far greater mastery of their abilities.”

Harald sighed happily. “This was an incredible victory. Not only did we all not die by bursting apart due to parasitic infection—” Sam made a face. “—but we’ve all leveled up and now have a whole mess of potent new Abilities. Once we’ve rested up, I think we should start hunting scarecrows to test them out.”

Sam nodded toward the hallway. “Come with me to grab the Artifacts?”

Harald understood her reticence. “Sure. Then we’ll need to discuss optimum distribution again.”

Nessa stepped in to discuss Anna’s new powers with her as Kársek returned to his spot to resume kneeling. Harald and Sam walked silently across the large chamber, and stopped in the mouth of the hallway.

Thracos lay as before. His head burst asunder in a spray of glimmering purple and emerald crystals. Devoid of his powers, he appeared strangely vulnerable, pathetic almost after the terrible aura with which he’d burned.

“You doing all right?” Sam glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I know you two had… I don’t know what you’d call it. An understanding?”

“Not as much of one as I’d hoped. I’m fine.” Harald stared glumly at the corpse. “I guess he’s as much of a warning as ever about indulging in my darker instincts.”

“No kidding.”

Neither made a move toward the corpse.

“I think he was actually insane,” said Harald at last. “Though he hid it really well. Functionally mad. He was really enjoying our duel. He let me hit him with the Scourge. Even with everything I threw at him with my one last trick, I wouldn’t have come close if he hadn’t let me.”

“Suicidal?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t strike me as such, though I don’t think he feared death. Maybe… a test? To see if he could take it? He didn’t seem to feel any pain after.”

“An Ability like yours?”

“Who knows. But he was a monster.”

“No, monstrous power is what we saw Brianna Hammerfell wield when she cleaned most of the Dungeon Plaza of terror birds with one blow.”

Harald clucked his tongue. “That’s so beyond us it felt almost like a divine act. Thracos though. His power felt tangible. Overwhelming. I could never have beat him in a proper duel.”

“Good thing it went down this way, then.” Sam considered him. “This void the agreement between your patron demons?”

“Possibly. Though it would be Thracos that broke the rules. He came after me before my time was up at the end of the week.”

“But that was just a deal between you two. Your demons weren’t in on it, right?”

Harald hesitated. “True. He had the authority to choose when we fought. But he didn’t. He just came after me in the dungeon. Which again, makes it his responsibility for voiding the agreement.”

“Vorakhar might agree. I wonder if the other one will care about the fine details.”

Harald shrugged. “Nothing we can do about it now. Though we really need to get moving.” Urgency gripped his heart and squeezed. “Shit. Shit shit shit. Silenthros could appear at any moment to see what happened.” He rushed to the corpse’s side. “Tell the others to pack up! What was I thinking?!”

Sam ran back.

Harald plucked the Aureate Master from Thracos’ arm, then gathered up a round medallion with a green glowing gem in its center, a second root amulet shaped like a spiral, and then hesitated at the verdant cloak.

Even now it writhed and pulsed, alive despite its master’s death.

He didn’t want to touch it.

But leaving it would mean possibly gifting it to an enemy.

He resolved his squeamishness by unclasping the brooch that held it about Thracos’ neck, then bundling it, inner lining facing outward, into a squirming roll. This he tucked under his arm and then he paused.

A whorled black seed emerged from Thracos’ sternum to rise a few inches and there hover, emitting a baleful black-and-purple necrotic glow.

The Demon Seed.

He stared, aghast. If he’d felt horror at claiming the cloak, this caused his hackles to rise and throat to clench.

But again: could he afford to leave it?

Let Silenthros claim it, or someone else, to the world’s detriment?

Before he could think twice, Harald snatched the Seed from the air, shoved it into his scale pouch, and darted back into the chamber.

The others had come alive with urgency.

Harald wanted to curse himself every which way for being a fool. He’d been only thinking of Gold-ranked raiders, and the protection the Disc provided their little group. But of course Silenthros was bound to his demon-kin. Why he hadn’t appeared yet he didn’t know, but possibly, hopefully, the greatest demon in all of the dungeon was currently caught up in events or matters of greater urgency than Thracos’ fate.

But that wouldn’t remain true forever.

Harald shoved the cloak and amulets into the same sack in which the other Artifacts were stowed, frantically shoved his gear into his pack, and then hoisted it over one shoulder.

Everyone else was in equal disarray, but nobody cared to wait long enough to buckle everything up neatly.

Harald hurried to help Anna who was struggling with her own pack, her bedroll refusing to roll up neatly, when a resonant chime sounded deep inside Harald’s soul, as if every bell in Flutic had pealed mutely all at once.

They all froze.

A spar of black light elongated in midair, and a metallic tang saturated Harald’s mouth as if he’d licked raw iron.

“Run!” barked Nessa, but it was too late, and even she seemed to realize it, for she backed away instead of fleeing.

The black spar flowed smoothly out wide to form an oval around whose perimeter crackled white angularities of lighting, and then from its center stepped a demon.