Blood Raiders
The air was thick with iron and damp stone, a cloying mix of old blood and something fouler—twisted, hungry magic. Ember crouched low, breath measured, every movement precise. The others followed, silent as shadows. The tunnel walls pressed close, slick with condensation, the dim torchlight barely pushing back the swallowing dark.
Reggie led the way, his wiry form flickering between patches of shadow. His tail twitched—a silent warning.
Ember’s claws flexed, instincts coiling tight. Every step hummed with wrongness.
Then, the tunnel opened.
A vast cavern stretched before them, shifting with movement. Ember pressed herself against the jagged stone, scanning the hidden lair below. Hooded figures glided through the gloom, their forms half-dissolved in the flickering torchlight. Some knelt before crude altars, their hands slick with something dark. Others sharpened wicked blades, their edges gleaming like hungry teeth. The scent struck Ember like a blow—corrupted blood magic.
Raiders.
She inhaled sharply. A cold spike of dread drove into her gut.
“What?” Reggie whispered, eyes darting.
Ember swallowed. “You see that?”
“See what exactly?” Scrap asked, brow furrowed.
The others just shrugged. Nothing. No reaction.
Ember’s stomach churned. She sighed and shook it off—just another sign that something about was different. She was used to that by now.
Unseen by the others, a notification flickered in her vision.
Her pulse thudded in her ears. This was
The Broker had sworn allegiance to the Mistress’ cause. But this? This reeked of betrayal.
She raised two fingers in a sharp signal. The crew melted into the shadows, even Mr. Spuds—despite his usual Spud-ness—making himself scarce.
Good. Because the air was shifting.
The cavern stirred. At its heart, a sigil ignited on the stone floor, deep crimson lines searing into existence. Ember’s senses flared a second before the portal exploded outward. A vortex of pulsing, blood-red energy cracked the ground, a jagged wound in reality. Warriors spilled forth in tight formation—armor black as charred bone, weapons jagged and humming with unnatural power. They moved as one, a slow tide of violence.
Ember exhaled.
Darkness unfurled around her like a second skin—cold, weightless, consuming. She stepped into the veil of shadows, pulling the others with her. They became wraiths, slipping between the cracks of perception, unseen, unheard.
She moved closer.
Voices rose over the crackling torches, rough and eager.
“—the island’s wide open?”
“Yeah… mental, innit?”
“Nah, not really.”
“It’s only been, like, a few years, yeah?”
“Few? Try fifteen, you numpty.”
“Blimey, that long?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, the next lot’ll smash ‘em before they even know what’s hit ‘em.”
“The Broker said the first wave was just a test.”
“Poor sods. Usin’ no-hopers to poke the defenses. Bit rough, that.”
“Shut your gob. Don’t go all soppy on us.”
“Anyway, proper attack’s soon.”
“Good. Can’t wait to hear ‘em screamin’ in the streets.”
“And the claret…”
“Course. Gotta have the claret, haven’t we?”
Laughter, low and cruel.
Ember’s fingers twitched.
Her vision pulsed red at the edges.
Another notification.
Her breath hitched.
Her companions tensed, hands inching toward weapons.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
They sighed.
She read it in a whisper.
Her gaze snapped to the portal. But taking out the portal meant drawing every Blood Raider’s attention.
Her pulse pounded like war drums.
No choice.
She signaled the crew.
They nodded.
The moment Ember drops Void Walk, the cavern erupts into chaos. A wave of black mist explodes outward, pulling her into the fight. She moves like a ghost—red eyes flashing, claws slicing. Her first strike is clean, brutal. A Blood Goblin gurgles as her claws rip through its throat, dark blood spraying before it even realizes it’s dead.
Behind her, Chonk, Nibbler, Scrap, and Rocky unleash a storm of aether-charged bolts. Crossbows hum, projectiles punching through flesh and armor. Blood Ogres roar, staggering under the barrage.
"We need to break their momentum!" Ember snarls, ducking just as a Blood Troll swings a cleaver the size of a door at her head.
She Shadow Steps—vanishing in a flicker of black mist—and reappears behind him, dagger already slicing. One clean stroke across the spine. The troll shudders, drops.
System notifications flood her vision.
No time to process. More enemies surge forward. Imps screech from the cavern walls, spindly fingers carving dark sigils into the air. Ember flicks her hand. Infernal Flames roar to life in her palm, black fire licking at her fingers. She hurls it. The explosion swallows the imps mid-chant, their charred bodies spiraling through the air.
Across the battlefield, Mr. Spuds and his potato brigade… are causing absolute mayhem. A writhing wall of tubers swarms a Blood Gnoll, knocking it off its feet and rolling it straight into a pit of cursed fire. Reggie, darting between armored legs, yanks open supply crates with practiced ease, scattering their contents across the cavern floor.
Ember's breath comes fast. More Raiders keep pouring in.
The Broker hadn’t just sold them out—he’d built an army.
Fine. She’d carve her way through every last one.
Pain detonates in Ember’s spine.
A sharp, lancing agony—cold, wet steel slipping between her ribs. Her breath catches. A blade. Dripping thick, purple liquid.
Poison.
Her knees buckle. The world tilts. Sounds of battle fade into a distant roar. Her heartbeat slows—thick, sluggish. The air reeks of wisteria. Floral. Sweet. Laced with death.
A neurotoxin.
Her fingers shake as she grips the blade’s hilt, but her strength is vanishing fast. System warnings flash red, blaring across her vision.
Heavy footfalls shake the cavern floor. A shadow looms.
Ember forces her gaze up, vision swimming in red static.
The Broker steps forward, cloak slipping from his shoulders. No ordinary traitor. The disguise shreds away, revealing a hulking Blood Troll. Dark veins knot across his muscled frame, skin slick with ritual scars. His eyes burn—a malevolent crimson glow. His sneer is jagged, teeth blackened with rot.
"Silly little sod," he rumbles, dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd be joinin' up with you?"
Ember’s claws twitch, fingers curling against the stone. She tries to summon fire, shadow, anything—but her limbs are dead weight. The poison is working too fast.
Across the battlefield, the tide shifts.
Blood Raiders—seconds ago on the verge of collapse—now rally behind their master, morale surging. A wall of steel and flesh rises, cutting off Ember’s team.
Chonk, Nibbler, Scrap, and Rocky press their backs together, weapons raised, chests heaving. Mr. Spuds rolls into a defensive stance, dirt swirling in his wake.
Reggie is gone. Good. Maybe he made it out.
But Ember—
She can barely keep her eyes open.
And the Broker is still coming.
Ember barely registers Chonk hauling her across the blood-slicked stone. Her body’s dead weight—limbs useless, vision tunneling to black. The poison’s a wildfire, burning and freezing her veins at once.
“Move, move, MOVE!” Chonk’s voice is raw, panic shredding his usual laid-back tone.
Behind them, Nibbler and Scrap lay down cover fire. Crossbows snap, aether-charged bolts slamming into Blood Raiders—slowing, but not stopping them.
Laughter rolls through the cavern, deep, mocking. The Broker. Magic crackles in the air, coiling into something lethal.
“Incoming!” Rocky shouts.
Violet energy erupts against the ground. The blast rocks them—debris flying, stone shattering. Chonk stumbles, nearly dropping Ember, but Mr. Spuds and his last potato brigade hurl themselves into the spell’s path.
The impact chars them to blackened husks.
“Keep going!” Mr. Spuds bellows, his voice already fading. “Get her out of here!”
Chonk grits his teeth and bolts, Ember slung over his shoulder. The others follow, dodging another explosion that rips through the cavern floor. Healing salves slap against Ember’s skin, potions forced between her lips, but nothing cuts through the poison’s grip. It lingers—thick, heavy, merciless.
A passage—hidden behind a crumbling altar. Scrap reaches it first, claws scraping stone as he pries it open.
They slip through just as another explosion tears the cavern apart.
Silence.
The battlefield is gone. But the fight isn’t over. The portal’s still open. The invasion’s still coming.
They stagger into a clearing, gasping for breath.
And standing there, grinning ear to ear—Reggie.
“Y’all made it!” He lifts a small, boxy device and presses a button.
Deep in the cavern—BOOM.
The ground trembles. Firelight flickers at the tunnel’s mouth, the air thick with smoke and ruin.
Reggie twirls the detonator between his fingers, smug as ever. “Who’s the man?”
Nibbler, breathless, grabs him—and plants a kiss on his cheek.