The transition was not a gentle pull. It was a violent, physical shove.
Dev stumbled out of the blood-red portal, his senses immediately assaulted. The air was not the cold, damp, living air of the Weeping Woods. This was a physical weight, a hot, suffocating blanket that smelled of sulfur, brimstone, and burning ash.
THUD. VMMMM...
The portal snapped shut behind him with the heavy, final sound of a vault door sealing. He was alone. There was no going back.
He stood on a vast, uneven plain of cracked, black obsidian that was sharp as fractured glass. In the near distance, a slow, viscous river of magma crawled through a deep canyon, casting a sickly, pulsating red glow over the landscape. The "sky" was a permanent, roiling storm of black and crimson clouds, so low he felt he could almost touch them. Far above, silent, jagged flashes of lightning illuminated the toxic ceiling of the world.
This was Tartarus-7. This was the frontline.
His (SPI: 29) [Spatial Awareness] flared to life, uncoiling from his mind, searching for threats. But it was different. In the Weeping Woods, his awareness was a vibration, a radar for life. Here, it was a thrum of raw, chaotic, energy. The planet itself felt violent, angry. His senses stretched out, tasting the sulfur, the heat, the pressure... and found nothing.
No life. No Blood-Sappers, no Gloom Stalkers. Just him, a single, cold blue point of consciousness in a dead, red-lit world.
He activated his Faction-issued HUD. The tactical map Selina had shown him appeared in the corner of his vision, a faint, blue overlay. A single, pulsing red dot, marking the Crimson Hand squad, was three kilometers to his north.
Dev gripped his [Ebonguard Initiate's Sword]. His (STR: 11) and (AGI: 11) felt good here, his Level 5 soul-form thrumming with contained power. He was not a visitor. He was not an explorer. He was an asset. And he was here to cull.
He began to move.
He didn't run. He flowed. His (AGI: 11) made him a silent shadow, his boots finding purchase on the treacherous, glass-sharp terrain. He moved from one pool of darkness to the next, using the deep magma canyons and jagged outcrops of obsidian for cover. He was a predator, closing the distance, his new body a perfect, lethal tool.
He crossed the first kilometer. His [Spatial Awareness] was still empty, save for the oppressive, hot thrum of the planet itself.
He crossed the second kilometer, leaping a five-meter-wide chasm of magma, the heat scorching his soul-form, his (AGI: 11) carrying him with effortless grace.
As he neared the third kilometer, his [Spatial Awareness] pinged.
It wasn't the dull, animalistic thrum of a monster. It was sharp. Focused. Intelligent. Three distinct signals, pulsing with hostile intent. They felt... like him. They were other 'players.'
He crouched behind a ridge of rock, his senses expanding. The three signals weren't moving. They weren't "patrolling."
They were waiting.
A cold realization settled over him. The coordinates Selina had given him weren't a "last known location." They were a trap. This was an ambush point, a designated killing ground for the Crimson Hand to catch Ebonguard Initiates coming from the portal.
'Prove you are an asset, not a liability,' Selina's voice echoed in his mind.
This was the test. She had sent him here, alone, to see if he was smart enough to detect the trap, and strong enough to break it.
He smiled. A cold, thin expression that was gone as fast as it came. He didn't retreat. He advanced, silently scaling the high ridge of obsidian, his movements careful, not dislodging a single, sharp stone.
He reached the crest and looked down into the small basin below. And he saw them.
The Crimson Hand squad.
The first was a massive human, easily six-and-a-half feet tall, clad in crimson-stained leather armor that was thick with studs and plates. He was leaning on a gigantic, two-handed greataxe, the blade itself almost as tall as Dev. A pure (STR/CON) build.
The second was not human. It was a thin, chittering, four-armed insectoid being, its body covered in a dark, jointed carapace. It was only five feet tall, but its multifaceted eyes were constantly scanning everything, its head twitching. In each of its four hands, it held a short, serrated, curved dagger. A pure (AGI) build.
The third was the leader. A robed figure, its face completely hidden in the shadows of a deep, crimson hood. It was holding a gnarled, black staff, topped with a pulsing, red crystal. Dev's (SPI: 29) could feel the hostile, intelligent (SPI) energy pulsing from it in waves. A (SPI/RES) build.
A balanced party. A tank, a rogue, and a mage. And they were here to kill him.
Dev analyzed the setup. The (AGI) insectoid was the scout. The (STR) human was the muscle. The (SPI) mage was the one in command.
He began to plan his attack. He would kill the mage first—
Now.
The robed (SPI) leader suddenly froze. Its hooded head snapped up, its unseen face looking directly at Dev's hiding spot, a hundred meters away.
It had sensed him. A high-(SPI) build, just like him.
The mage didn't shout. It didn't point. It simply raised its staff. The red gem flared, and a bolt of pure, crimson (SPI) energy—a 'Mind Spike'—shot across the basin.
It crossed the hundred meters in an instant. Dev had no time to dodge.
The bolt slammed into his soul-form.
And fizzled.
It felt like a pebble hitting a fortress. His "Indomitable" Title (+5 RES) flared, and his (RES: 28) stat absorbed the entire attack without effort. It didn't even sting.
The robed figure physically recoiled, stumbling back a step, its body rigid with shock. It had clearly never seen a (SPI) attack fail so completely.
"Ebonguard dog!" the (STR) human roared, his voice a gravel-slide. He had his target. He hefted his greataxe and charged up the obsidian ridge, his heavy boots crunching on the glass rock.
At the same instant, the (AGI) insectoid vanished. It didn't run. It just blurred, a high-(AGI) activation, its form streaking to the side, flanking, aiming for Dev's back.
It was a classic, pincer-movement. A fatal, 1-2 combo.
It was also, to Dev's (SPI: 29) [Spatial Awareness], laughably predictable.
He leaped down from the ridge, not to retreat, but to engage. He landed on the basin floor, his (SPI) map tracking both targets perfectly. The Tank was a loud, roaring freight train. The Rogue was a silent, fast-moving scalpel.
The (AGI) insectoid reappeared from its blur-step, its four daggers flashing, aimed at the base of Dev's neck and his spine—a perfect, one-hit-kill attempt.
But Dev was already spinning.
He had known it was there. His [Spatial Awareness] was a 360-degree radar. He spun before the insectoid had even fully materialized, his (AGI: 11) just fast enough. He didn't parry. He impaled.
His [Ebonguard Initiate's Sword] punched forward, a single, precise, (SPI)-guided thrust. The black blade plunged, hilt-deep, straight through the insectoid's chitinous chest, shattering its core.
The creature's multifaceted eyes widened in shock. A single, wet chitter escaped its mandibles, and then it dissolved into a spray of essence.
[+250 Lesser Soul-Essence]
One down.
Dev had no time to recover. The (STR) Tank arrived a half-second later, roaring in rage, his greataxe swinging down in a massive, (STR)-heavy vertical chop meant to split Dev in two.
Dev couldn't dodge this one. The swing was too wide, too close. He had to parry.
He brought his black sword up, bracing it with his (STR: 11) and (CON: 10).
CLAAAAANG!
The sound was a deafening, metallic shriek that echoed off the canyon walls. A burst of red and blue sparks exploded at the point of impact.
The force was immense.
The human's (STR) stat was far higher than Dev's. The blow was like being hit by a truck. Dev's sword was nearly torn from his grip, his entire body sent skidding back ten feet on the obsidian, his arm screaming in protest, his soul-form shuddering from the raw, kinetic shock.
He was outmatched. In a contest of pure strength, he would be pulverized.
The robed mage, seeing its bodyguard land a solid hit, recovered from its shock. It began to launch more (SPI) bolts, a desperate, panicked barrage. Fip... fip... fip... The crimson bolts splashed harmlessly against Dev's soul-form like rain on a bunker. They were useless.
The (STR) human roared in triumph, thinking Dev was on the defensive, his arm broken. "Die!" he bellowed, raising his axe high for a second, killing blow—a wide, predictable, overhead chop.
Dev's (SPI: 29) watched the attack begin. It was slow. It was clumsy. It was all (STR) and no (AGI) or (SPI).
He wasn't going to parry.
He dodged. As the axe began its descent, Dev used his (AGI: 11) to flow forward, inside the human's swing. The massive,
glowing axe-head missed him by an inch, its momentum carrying it harmlessly into the ground.
Dev was now chest-to-chest with the massive, armored human. The man's eyes widened in panic, his attack over-extended.
Dev swung his [Ebonguard Initiate's Sword] in a tight, clean, horizontal arc.
SHING.
The black blade severed the human's head.
The headless body stood for a second, then toppled forward, its heavy armor clattering on the obsidian. The greataxe fell with a final, loud clang.
[+300 Lesser Soul-Essence]
Two down.
A sudden, deafening silence fell over the basin, broken only by the sizzle of magma. Dev stood, his blue mist swirling, his sword dripping black, dissolving essence.
Only the robed (SPI) leader was left.
It was trapped. Its bodyguards were dead in less than five seconds. Its magic was useless. It was a high-(SPI) mage, which meant its (STR) and (AGI) were likely pathetic.
It looked at Dev, this lone, Level 5 Initiate who had just dismantled their entire ambush squad.
The robed figure did the only thing it could.
It dropped its staff. The gnarled, black wood clattered loudly on the glass-like ground.
It raised its hands. They were pale, three-fingered, and clawed.
A new Faction prompt, one Dev had never seen before, appeared in his vision. It was a sharp, clinical white.
[FACTION MEMBER 'K'thar' (Crimson Hand)] IS ATTEMPTING A FORMAL SURRENDER.
DO YOU ACCEPT? [Y/N]
Dev froze. He stood over the two dissolving bodies, his sword held ready. This wasn't a monster. It wasn't an animal. It was an enemy combatant. A person.
And he had to make his first real choice of the war.