The first city sprawled beneath the horizon like a jewel of stone and steel, its walls tall and imposing, towers piercing the clouds, streets packed with life unaware of the shadow approaching. From the ridge where I stood, I could see every movement—the patrols along the walls, the merchant carts winding through the streets, the faint glimmer of magic wards flickering from guard towers. Everything predictable. Everything exploitable.
Voraciel pulsed against my back, alive, resonating with intent. Its whisper was almost impatient: "…ready." Bloodlust simmered beneath the surface, restrained but coiled like a spring. This was not a village. This was a city—a place of concentrated power, skill, and heroes. And I would reshape it in my image.
I began with observation. Every patrol route, every minor checkpoint, every rotation of the guard. Merchants opened their stalls at predictable hours, carts moved in repetitive patterns, and the city's defenses relied heavily on magic wards that were strong but slow to adapt. Patterns repeated here, as they always did. The difference was scale. Mistakes here would cost more than a village.
I mapped the city in my mind, block by block, street by street. Crimson Tide would flow where precision was needed: isolated guards, patrol leaders, and key positions. Raven's Fang would manipulate terrain and perception, creating shadows that bent reality slightly, enough to disorient even trained eyes. Absolute Eclipse, if necessary, would dominate like a storm, reshaping the battlefield entirely.
The sun began to set, casting the city in golden light, stretching shadows long and weak. I moved along the ridge, silently descending through alleys and rooftops, noting access points and weak spots. Guards passed below, unaware of the shadow above. Minor soldiers scurried to close gaps, but Voraciel hummed faintly against my back, alive and attentive. I was aware of every blade, every eye, every faint ripple of intent in the city.
By nightfall, I had infiltrated the first outer district. Patrols were diverted subtly by shifting debris, flickering shadows, and whispered fears carried by the wind. Crimson Tide struck first, silently neutralizing isolated guards before they could sound the alarm. Raven's Fang coiled across streets and rooftops, manipulating perception, making doors appear closed when open, and alleys seem longer than they were.
The city responded. Bells rang, but misaligned. Spells flared, but targets shifted unpredictably. Panic rippled through the outer districts quietly, amplified by subtle manipulations. Citizens noticed the faint, unnatural darkness, murmuring about shadows moving where none should be. Fear, once again, became a weapon more powerful than any blade.
The first elite guard approached: trained, disciplined, aware of my previous exploits. They moved with coordinated precision, shield and sword ready, magical wards active. They had heard of villages fallen and heroes broken. They were prepared, but not enough.
I let them come. Observation first, patience, strategy. Bloodlust pressed faintly, sharpening reflexes. When they struck, I countered. Crimson Tide flowed, precise and lethal. Raven's Fang bent shadows, forcing missteps. The elite guard's strike faltered, hesitation magnified, and Absolute Eclipse whispered beneath the surface, coiling like a storm ready to strike.
By midnight, the outer district was under subtle control. Patrols were disrupted, elite guards weakened, and the citizens whispered of the shadow moving among them. The city had not fallen, but its balance was fractured. And I had already cataloged every weakness, every pattern, every exploitable point.
I paused atop a ruined tower, overlooking the city proper. Voraciel pulsed against my back, alive and strong. Bloodlust hummed faintly, restrained, waiting for the right moment to erupt. The first city-level challenge had begun, and I had already adapted. Tomorrow, the heart of the city would face the shadow fully awake, calculated, and unstoppable.
This was no longer villages. This was a city. And cities had heroes, money, power—but they all bled the same way.
And I would collect every drop.