Thalion relished how the world dimd around him, the shadows deepening with every step. Even though he had sealed most of his aura, the darkness still coiled around him like a living thing, eager and hungry. It was ti to kill so witches. A small part of him regretted not doing it sooner, but better late than never. Trust was a rare commodity, and Thalion intended to move like a phantom—unseen, unheard.
Thankfully, the corridors were vast, their ceilings towering high above. Shadows pooled in every corner, giving him ample cover. Beneath him stretched another level—cellars where a coven of witches had descended earlier, flanked by their enthralled guardians. These poor souls, bound entirely to the witches will, likely had withered spirits, dried husks feeding the coven’s insatiable hunger.
As he approached the broad staircase, faint voices filtered up from below. Droplets of water echoed from the ceiling, falling in irregular rhythms. The stone walls were coated in pitch-black, and no torches lined the corridors. Of course not, undead thrived in the dark. Thalion moved down the stairs silently, each footstep absorbed by the still, heavy air. He erged into a junction chamber, four tunnels spiraling out like dark veins. Voices echoed faintly from each one, but only a single passage carried the unmistakable arrogance of witches barking orders.
He slipped closer, weaving through cavernous rooms littered with the dead. The air grew fetid—thick with the copper tang of blood and the musty stench of decay. Bodies lay strewn about, pale and dry as parchnt, every drop of life drained from them. He clenched his jaw and pushed on. There was nothing he could do for them now.
The sound of conversation sharpened as he neared the group.
“I thought you said one of the scouting teams headed down this corridor,” snapped a female voice, full of venom.
“I—I’m so sorry, my love. I must have been mistaken,” replied a man, his voice oozing subservience. Thalion felt a shiver of revulsion crawl down his spine.
“We could’ve easily caught them here. Running isn’t exactly easy in these tunnels,” the woman continued, her voice brittle with frustration.
Thalion finally reached the edge of the corridor, pressing into the shadows. What he saw made his blood boil. Six witches in revealing crimson robes stood in a semicircle, surrounded by twenty fighters—puppets under their sway. Among them were both n and won, each wearing an expression of hollow grief, like parents mourning a child. Their despair was almost palpable. Clearly, the witches were displeased, and the controlled felt every ounce of it.
This wasn’t so hidden sche. This was open predation. Bold. Brazen. And unforgivable.
The witches themselves were level 80, their auras still intact, while their guards—clearly evolved—hovered around level 85. A balanced composition: tanks, mages, archers, even a few healers. It was a solid group. Thalion’s curiosity prickled wondering what tricks the witches might unleash, but there was no ti for that. If they managed to send out a signal, things would escalate too quickly.
One thing was certain. There would be no conversation.
Everyone still associated the Umbra Predator with one of his forms, but this new identity, the Crippled Eclipsari, was sothing else entirely. They shared little traits or similarities. If anyone witnessed the attack and managed to escape, they’d only describe a terrifying new creature lurking in the fortress dungeons. Thalion preferred it that way. Cloaked in anonymity, he could strike without revealing his true hand.
As the Umbra Predator, he might have leapt straight into the fray, a whirlwind of teeth and shadow. But the Eclipsari… this form was different. Faster. More subtle. It wasn’t only about brute force—it was about the shadows themselves becoming the weapon.
And they were ready to kill.
From the obsidian embrace of the black stone walls, ten shadowy tendrils erupted, lancing through the air like fangs. They struck with rciless precision—impaling five witches and several of their enthralled fighters in one savage instant. Screams tore through the corridor as the victims were lifted into the air, writhing, blood bubbling from their mouths. Eyes widened in terror, fixed on the spears of darkness that had sprouted from their bodies. Flesh around the wounds blackened rapidly, decay setting in before their minds could register death.
Chaos exploded among the survivors. Believing the attack had co from the far end of the hallway, so turned on the tendrils with blade and magic, hacking them apart in desperation. Healers and mages conjured shimring barriers—but only around the witches, leaving the expendable enthralled to bleed out in the gloom. Yet it was in vain.
Unseen, cloaked in silence and shadow, Thalion stood motionless. Around him, ten massive umbral spires, summoned and brimming with dark power, waited like wolves ready to pounce. The darkness not only concealed Thalion’s presence—it swallowed the presence of his magic entirely.
He released the spires.
They howled through the air, silent as death until they struck, then ca the crash. Shields shattered like brittle glass under the force, offering not a heartbeat of resistance. The spikes tore through the formation with monstrous force, several embedding themselves deep into the stone walls behind their targets. Two corpses remained skewered, twitching in agony. The others collapsed with gaping wounds, devoured from the inside by creeping black corruption.
The witches, wounded but clinging to life, looked montarily more intact than their companions—until the severed tendrils, reford and thrumming with raw power, launched again. They struck without rcy, ending this coven once and for all.
Without pausing, Thalion activated Abyssal Devourer. The darkness surged forward, swallowing the bodies whole. Only the spatial rings were left behind—tokens that could be tracked. He ignored them and darted back toward the stairs, vanishing into the shadows.
There was more work to be done.
He knew at least one more group of witches hunted nearby. With no ti to lose, he shot down the next corridor. But this one was quiet—no signs of conflict, only the steady return of a group of fighters. They hadn’t been attacked. Not wanting to be seen, Thalion reversed course before they could glimpse his silhouette in the gloom.
He took the third corridor.
Almost imdiately, the sound of battle reached his ears, steel clashing against steel in sharp bursts. He broke into a full sprint. The tunnel led into a wide hall where two swordsn fought desperately, surrounded by six heavily armored foes. In the center, four witches knelt over subdued victims, three won and one man, pressing them to the cold stone floor, mouths locked on theirs in predatory kisses.
The aura around the witches was suffocating, pulsing with potent magic. The victims trembled beneath them, trapped in a trance of pain and ecstasy, their souls being drained with each second that passed.
Thalion didn’t hesitate.
A shadowclaw ripped from his outstretched hand, a blur of black force. It tore through the air and struck. The witches never saw it coming. Their bodies were shredded mid-embrace, torn from their victims in a cascade of gore. The enthralled guards spun around in horror, but before they could raise a weapon, Thalion unleashed Umbral Spire again. Spikes erupted from their own shadows, impaling them from below.
Then ca the tendrils—dozens of them, surging outward from Thalion’s body like an infernal bloom. They latched onto the stunned fighters, draining them of light and life, reducing them to dust and fragnts of armor. Their weapons clattered to the ground beside the only things that remained were their spatial rings.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Breathing deeply, Thalion stepped forward. A dark grin spread across his face, gleaming with feral satisfaction. His voice rolled through the chamber like a whisper from the void itself—deep, malevolent, undeniable.
“Don’t look so shocked. Heal the wounded and return to the fight. The witch-hunting season has officially begun.”
User Comments
0 comments from readers