[Item Acquired: Token of Echoes]
Type: Passive Upgrade
Effect: Enhances one Echo Ability with a permanent boost. Choose any skill or spell used during the Trial.
"Ahhh…" The Herald’s voice rolled across the arena like warm oil over a blade, smooth and dangerous. "Look at him, dear gods. Look at him squirm."
Laughter echoed from the stands all around him, both booming and breathy, divine and monstrous. Alistair tilted his chin up, letting the crowd drink him in. Still bloody. Still breathless. Still alive.
the Herald hovered above the colosseum floor on a disc of golden stone this time, spinning lazily with his arms spread wide.
"Let’s not bore our audience with silence, shall we? He’s won the Gauntlet of Echoes. Survived the mirror-self, the trap-laced twin arena, and that delightfully unhinged poison rogue. And now, our darling Soulbinder must choose." The Herald turned a full circle, robes fluttering like wings. "Which of his many talents shall be etched into permanence?"
He gestured grandly toward Alistair.
"Was it the [Ethereal Phase] that blinked him between blades like smoke in a storm? Or perhaps his [Tactical Flow], weaving coordination like thread through chaos? Maybe even his signature [Summon Chittering Bats], we do so adore the screaming."
Alistair forced a casual shrug, even as his mind raced with possibilities. The Herald was giving him the opening, the stage. The setup. The cue.
He grinned.
"Well, since you’re all dying to know…" He stepped forward, blood-soaked boots sticking slightly to the stone. "I thought I’d ask you."
A wave of confusion rippled through the crowd. Murmurs. Hushed voices. Then, as if on cue, someone, a god, probably shouted:
“THE SHADOW DANCE!”
Another voice countered.
“THE FLAMES! Let him burn!”
A third:
“THE BLINDING SWARM!”
Alistair raised his hands dramatically, as if trying to calm them. "Please, please, you’ll all get your turn screaming. I’m very available for bad decisions later."
They laughed. He saw the approval ticking up.
But even as he played it cool, the truth was: he was buzzing. Half-hyped, half-sick with indecision. Every ability he’d used in that trial had nearly killed him or saved him.
He thought of [Ethereal Phase], his slipping form dodging that dagger that should have opened his throat.
He thought of [Tactical Flow], how it had helped him land a decisive blow.
He thought of his new fire spells, how champions had been surprised that a vampire could control fire.
But one spell burned more than the rest.
[Searing Vein].
That moment he’d dropped low, blood pouring, and cast it not with control, but with desperation. And it had worked. The flame hadn’t just scorched, it had pierced. Lit the enemy from the inside. Twisted their veins into firecrackers.
It hadn’t felt like power.
It had felt like revenge.
Alistair slowly raised his hand.
The Herald leaned forward eagerly. "Oh? Have you decided, dear thing?"
He smiled and it wasn’t charming. It was dangerous.
"I want to burn deeper."
The Herald clapped like a lunatic. “OH, YES! HE CHOOSES PAIN! GIVE IT UP FOR VASCULAR DESTRUCTION!”
Alistair tilted his head. “That’s not what it’s called.”
[Token of Echoes Consumed]
[Searing Vein] → [Vesselbreaker]
Description: You rupture the target’s essence conduit, causing internal bleeding and mana destabilization.
Effect:
- Initial damage: 150% Dark Magic power
- Additional effect: If target is casting or has a core, inflicts [Manavessel Rupture] (reduces mana regen by 50% and inflicts bonus damage if they use a skill within 5 seconds)
- Damage still scales based on missing HP
Lore: “I don't just hurt them. I unmake the parts that let them fight.”
Something shifted inside him. Not pain. Not power. Just... change. He could feel the spell under his skin now, like a loaded crossbow waiting to snap.
The crowd was silent for half a second, just long enough for tension to crack, then erupted in cheers.
“HE TOOK THE VEIN!”
“RIP ‘EM OPEN, VAMPIRE!”
Alistair rolled his shoulders. “No pressure.”
The Herald spun one final time and pointed at him. “Ladies and gods, your champion grows sharper! The blood has spoken!”
Alistair gave a lazy bow, one hand across his chest. The kind of bow that said:
I survived. I got stronger. I’m still not impressed by you.
The Herald spun once more atop his golden disc, arms stretched wide, robes fluttering like torn banners.
“AND WITH THAT...” he shouted, voice booming across the arena, “... THE SECOND TRIAL COMES TO A CLOSE!”
A final flare of golden light burst into the sky above the colosseum, crackling like fireworks made of divine applause.
The Herald grinned, teeth too white to be honest. “Our little vampire didn’t just survive. He thrived. Bleeding, burning, and somehow still pretty.”
He gave Alistair a wink, then turned to the stands.
“Dearest gods, place your bets, polish your altars, and mark your scrolls. Because this one...” he pointed down at Alistair like a dagger, “... isn’t done yet.”
Then, with a dramatic flick of his fingers, he added: “TRIAL DISMISSED!”
The crowd roared, the wards trembled, and the platform shook.
The cheers were still echoing when the lights began to fade.
Not all at once, but like a slow closing eye. Torches dimmed. Divine flares sputtered out. One by one, the gods and godlings stood from their seats and vanished flashing out in streaks of silver, fire, smoke, ink, or nothing at all.
Just like that, the colosseum was clearing out.
And the trial was over.
Behind him, a golden arch shimmered into existence. A portal, tall and regal, humming with power. It waited like a gate carved into the air itself.
Alistair turned to walk.
He didn’t get far.
The Herald’s disc dropped fast, hitting the edge of the platform with a low clink. The wings behind him, those absurd golden constructs that buzzed like insects, stopped fluttering midair.
The mad grin vanished.
His voice changed.
“I meant what I said, you know.”
Alistair blinked. “I’m sorry, which version of you is this?”
The Herald stepped forward, his silk robes settling perfectly. His three sets of golden eyes locked on Alistair’s face like a banker evaluating a deal.
“The professional one,” he said smoothly. “You’re good at this.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “At being stabbed repeatedly?”
“At putting on a show.” The Herald smiled thinly. “There’s always demand for entertainers in the Gilded City. If you survive the Arena, you might consider going full-time.”
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Alistair deadpanned. “I’ll stick to part-time masochism.”
The Herald chuckled. No madness this time. Just cool calculation.
“Well, regardless. Keep offering spectacle. That’s how you stay alive down here. If the gods want to keep seeing you…” He tilted his head. “They’ll be more inclined to help you. Or protect you. Or at the very least, bet on you.”
Alistair nodded slowly. “Yeah. I figured that out somewhere between the exploding rogue and my own corpse yelling at me.”
The Herald’s smile stretched a little wider. “Smart boy.”
He glanced up at the stands, mostly empty now.
“Thanks to your little performance, my secondary domain has expanded. Audience investment, can you believe it?” His eyes gleamed. “If you keep going like this… maybe I’ll even offer you a little gift. For the work you’re doing on my behalf.”
Alistair turned toward the portal.
“Can’t wait,” he said flatly.
The Herald gave him a small, satisfied nod. “Go on then. The next stage awaits.”
Alistair stepped through without looking back.
The light swallowed him whole.
The portal spat him out onto cracked black stone.
Alistair staggered a step, blinking against the sudden shift in light. The colosseum was gone. So were the cheers. Now it was just... silence.
He looked around.
Dead quiet.
Two bodies lay on the ground near the portal, still fresh. Blood pooled under their armor, glistening like wine. One was a tiefling. The other looked like a dwarf, split down the middle.
Champions. Killed after their trial? Or while waiting?
His hand drifted to his blade.
His instincts screamed.
Then the blood moved.
It didn’t drip. It rose.
In the blink of an eye, a sphere of crimson enveloped him, slick, pressurized, airtight. Alistair didn’t even have time to breathe. Panic hit hard and fast.
Trap. It’s a trap.
He spun, but there was nothing inside the bubble. No attacker. No blade.
Just blood. Thick, clinging. Warm.
And then...
[Mutation Acquired – God-Touched (Seed of the Forgotten Lineage)]
Type: Mutation (Dormant)
Classification: Ancestral Override
Origin: Unknown. Possibly divine. Possibly pre-divine.
Your essence no longer fits within the boundaries of your current form.
Something older stirs beneath your vampiric flesh, something erased.
This mutation is the embryonic stage of a lost race.
? Current Status: Dormant
? Progression: Unknown
? Effects: Suppressed
Not all extinction is permanent. Some things sleep.
You are becoming the memory of something the gods tried to forget.
His heart stopped.
No, not physically. It stopped belonging to him.
For a second, he didn’t feel like Alistair. Didn’t feel like anything. Something shifted inside him, cold and deep and wrong. Not like a skill unlocking or a spell igniting. No clean edges, no satisfying click.
Just a stretch.
Like his soul was cracking open, and something long-dead was blinking awake inside it.
His fangs ached. His blood burned.
He could feel veins twitching that hadn’t moved in all his undead years. Something rewrote itself behind his eyes, in the marrow of his bones. No system message could explain it. No blessing could cause it.
He tried to scream, but the blood pressed tight around him.
And then he heard her.
A whisper, low and intimate, curling around his ear.
“You are welcome.”
The voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It moved like silk down his spine.
“Nobody noticed what you just awakened.”
“It will be our little secret.”
The blood pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
And vanished.
Just like that, he stood alone again. The corpses were still there, but drained of blood. The portal behind him flickered, then blinked out.
The air was cold. His hands shook.
Alistair stared at his palms. They looked the same. But they didn’t feel the same.
“What the fuck was that?”
No answer.
No second system ping.
Just a silence heavy enough to crack stone.
[Mutation: God-Touched — Seed of the Forgotten Lineage]
Status: Dormant
He let out a slow breath and wiped at his face. The blood was gone. No trace of the sphere. No trace of her.
But she’d been real.
And so had the thing that woke up inside him.
Alistair stood there a moment longer, staring at the spot where the blood had vanished.
A bush rustled behind him.
Alistair didn’t hesitate. His hand shot out, fingers curling as black veins of magic spiraled from his wrist to his knuckles. Mana surged, ready to rip open whatever stepped into range.
[Vesselbreaker} – Active
“Whoa! Easy!”
Kael stepped out from behind the bush, both hands up. His body shimmered slightly, still phasing into full view like the forest was reluctant to let him go.
Alistair exhaled and let the spell fizzle. “Great timing. I was half a second from turning your organs into hot soup.”
Kael winced. “I thought I saw you step out of the portal... but then you vanished. Like, blink, gone. And then, next second, you were just there again.”
Alistair said nothing.
He wasn’t going to explain the blood sphere. Or the whisper. Or the mutation that made his insides feel like old bones stirring in mud. He wasn’t even sure he understood it.
So instead, he pointed at the corpses.
“Friends of yours?”
Kael glanced over. “Them? Nah. They tried to kill us while we were waiting for you. Brimma dropped that one.”
He gestured to the dwarf. Skull caved in, face frozen in surprise.
“And the other?”
“Niva.” He nodded at the cleaved tiefling. “Took his head halfway off. It was fast.”
Alistair gave a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss her off.”
Kael gave a crooked smile.
“Where’s the rest?” Alistair asked.
“We got hit again. Some slippery champion tried to ambush us. Might’ve worked if Niva hadn’t caught him just before he struck.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow. “Niva again?”
Kael shrugged. “She’s... sharp. The guy ran when the sneak attack failed. We figured it was better to regroup in the cave we found earlier. Brimma and the others are there now.”
“And you?”
Kael looked slightly embarrassed. “Figured you might come through confused or bleeding. Or both.”
Alistair smiled faintly. “Bleeding was earlier. Confused is still ongoing.”
Kael chuckled. “So, how did it go?”
Alistair rubbed his neck. “Trial was a lot. Echo fights. Mirror me. Arena theatrics. Gods screaming for blood.”
He paused. “Which I delivered, obviously.”
Kael grinned. “Obviously.”
Alistair smirked. “But I did get something good out of it.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, I’ve got two surprises for you.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me one of them is food.”
Alistair laughed under his breath and reached for his pouch.
[Dimensional Storage – Accessed]
The surprises were ready.
And Kael wasn’t.
“I’ve got something for you,” Alistair said, pulling a small etched plate from his pouch.
It shimmered faintly with violet-silver runes, cold to the touch.
[You have received: Oathbinder Sigil – Unique]
+3 Willpower, +3 Intelligence
Effect: When worn by a Soulbound companion, grants +10% skill efficiency when fighting beside the Soulbinder.
Kael took it with a low whistle. “That’s... not nothing.”
“It’s not charity,” Alistair said dryly. “It makes me stronger too. Think of it as friendship with stat scaling.”
Kael chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Alistair reached again into his pouch and pulled out the real surprise: a sealed glass case. Inside, coiled like mist, floated a faint shape, delicate, and eerie. Two glowing eyes blinked slowly inside a head that looked more spirit than beast.
[You have received: Spirit Guide (Rare) – Contained Form]
To unlock, expend 100 Mana and bond.
Kael stared. “Is that…?”
“Yours.”
He didn’t reach for it. “Are you sure? I mean, this is a big deal. Spirit guides don’t just...”
“I already have one,” Alistair said. His tone was calm, but something inside him shifted.
A flicker in his chest. A pulse of something watching.
His spirit guide stirred.
He felt it, not as words, but emotion. Ancient. Possessive.
Predatory glee.
Alistair’s hand tightened on the case as the sapphire mist inside shivered under invisible pressure.
“My own wants to eat it,” he said flatly. “So unless you want to watch it get devoured, I’d take it now.”
Kael blinked. “...Right.”
He touched the case. His fingers trembled slightly. “Alright. Let’s see what happens.”
He channeled mana into the glass.
[Mana Expended: 100]
[Bonding Initiated…]
The glass dissolved into particles of soft blue light. The spirit inside stretched like it was waking up from a long dream. Then it moved, fast. A single blur of mist that dove straight into Kael’s chest.
Kael jerked once.
Then exhaled.
“Hello, little guy,” he whispered.
And then it hit him.
His eyes widened. “Oh.”
He blinked again, staring at the air in front of him.
“What is it?” Alistair asked.
Kael didn’t answer right away. His gaze darted back and forth as lines of text only he could see scrolled past.
[Spirit Guide Bonded: Umbral Strix – Silent Watcher]
Base Affinity: Shadow / Wind
Shared Skills Unlocked…
Kael let out a soft, stunned laugh.
“It unlocked a new passive, [Nightpiercer Sight]. I can see in magical darkness now. It’s like someone lifted a veil.”
He paused. “And a dodge enhancer called [Echoing Stillness]. Makes my movement silent. Like actually gone from the world for a second.”
Alistair nodded. “Not bad.”
“Oh, and a new ability. [Featherfall Drift], reduces fall damage. Also while in midair, I can make 1 ranged attack with +25% crit chance.”
He looked up at Alistair, eyes gleaming now. “It gave me a unique trait, [Silent Hunter], my ranged attacks from stealth now apply [Marked for Death] that reduces target’s defense for 6 seconds.”
Alistair raised a brow. “You’re welcome.”
Kael gave a sharp grin. “I take it back. This isn’t a surprise. This is an upgrade disguised as a gift.”
They stood in silence a moment longer, letting the buzz settle. The strix was barely visible now, just a faint shimmer clinging to Kael’s shoulders, like a shadow that didn’t belong.
Then Alistair rolled his neck. “Alright. Let’s go join the girls before Niva decapitates anyone else for fun.”
They turned and started walking.
And just as they passed the bush, Alistair paused.
His gums itched.
Not painfully. Just… persistent. Faint pressure behind his fangs.
He reached up, rubbed his jaw.
The feeling didn’t go away.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, oh” he muttered.
Get early access to chapters, bonus content, and more. Now’s the perfect time to jump in!
Patreon