The shadow of the damp corridor swallowed Luigi as he dragged the guard's corpse deeper into the alcove. His new, skeletal hands were still slick with warm blood, the metallic scent mixing with the pervasive odor of sulfur and wet stone. The adrenaline that had fueled his killing strike began to ebb, replaced by a hollow, throbbing ache in his side where the stitches pulled against his stolen skin. He stared down at the guard’s cooling body, specifically at the intricate crest on the man’s breastplate. It was a secondary mark of the House of Twac, a reminder that even in this hellish pit, his father’s shadow reached out to crush the weak.
"You died for a king who wouldn't even remember your name," Luigi whispered, his voice a rasping echo in the narrow space.
He reached out to retrieve the iron sword he had claimed, but as his fingers brushed against a pool of blood leaking from the guard’s neck, a violent jolt of energy surged through his arm. It was not the stinging bite of a neural-binding ring, but something deeper, more ancient, and far more hungry. The blood beneath his touch didn't just stain his skin; it seemed to vibrate, glowing with a faint, crimson luminescence that pulsed in sync with his own frantic heartbeat.
"What is this," Luigi gasped, trying to pull his hand away, only to find his palm magnetically fused to the dying man’s flesh. "Let go of me!"
Suddenly, a transparent, crystalline window flickered into existence before his eyes, shimmering with an ethereal blue light that cut through the darkness of the tunnel. It was a sight no commoner or noble of Aetheris had ever witnessed. Runes of a forgotten language scrolled across the interface, translating themselves into his mind with a sharp, piercing clarity that made his brain throb.
"The Devourer System initialized," a cold, mechanical voice resonated within his skull. "Ancient bloodline detected. Noble essence identified. Commencing power extraction."
Luigi watched in horrific fascination as wisps of green light—the guard’s neural-binding energy—began to flow from the corpse and into his own fingertips. The sensation was like being filled with molten silver, a searing heat that raced up his veins and settled in the center of his chest. His vision blurred, the heterochromatic colors of his eyes flashing with a blinding intensity.
"Extraction complete," the voice echoed again. "Skill acquired: Basic Neural Manipulation. Strength increased by five percent."
He slumped back against the wall, his hand finally releasing its grip on the guard. The crimson glow faded, leaving the corpse looking strangely hollowed out, as if its very soul had been harvested. Luigi stared at his palms, which were now unmarked and strangely warm. The exhaustion that had nearly paralyzed him moments ago had vanished, replaced by a humming vitality that made his muscles itch for action.
"Is this a dream brought on by the infection," Luigi asked the empty air, his breath hitching. "Or is the universe finally giving me the teeth I need to bite back?"
He stood up, testing his balance. The pain in his side had subsided into a dull murmur. He felt faster, sharper, as if the world around him had slowed down just a fraction. He reached for the sword again, and this time, he felt a faint resonance between his mind and the weapon, a ghost of the neural-binding power he had just stolen from the dead man.
"Who goes there," a sharp voice cut through the gloom from the end of the corridor. "Unit 7, report! Why is your lantern extinguished?"
Luigi froze, his eyes narrowing as two figures emerged from the fog. They were high-ranking overseers, dressed in silken tunics that marked them as minor nobles serving the royal house. Between them, they carried a heavy chest, likely containing the weekly aether-tax collected from the labor of the slaves. As they drew closer, the smell of expensive perfumes and fine wine preceded them, a jarring contrast to the rot of the pit.
"It seems Unit 7 has fallen asleep on the job again," the taller overseer remarked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "The King will have his head for such laziness."
"Look closer, Michael’s loyal lapdog," the second overseer said, stopping abruptly as he saw the smear of blood on the floor. "There is a body here."
Luigi stepped out from the alcove, the guard’s iron sword held low at his side. He didn't hide his face; he wanted them to see the slave who would be their undoing. The blue interface of the system flickered again, highlighting the two men in a soft red glow.
"Target identified: Noble blood present," the system whispered. "Recommendation: Consume."
"You there, slave," the taller overseer barked, his hand moving to a glowing ring on his index finger. "What have you done? Where is the guard?"
"He is exactly where you will be in a few moments," Luigi replied, his voice calm and terrifyingly cold. "In the dirt."
The overseer’s eyes widened in shock before twisting into a snarl of rage. "A slave that speaks? I will bind your tongue to your throat for that insolence!"
The man pointed his ring at Luigi, and a lash of green energy whipped through the air. In his previous life, Luigi would have recognized this as a binding spell meant to paralyze the target's vocal cords. Now, he didn't just see the spell; he felt the flow of the energy. With a flick of his wrist, he channeled the stolen neural power into his sword, parrying the lash with a burst of sparks that illuminated the dark corridor.
"How did you do that," the overseer stammered, his face paling as his spell was dissipated. "Only those of noble birth can manipulate neural energy!"
"I am a quick learner," Luigi said, lunging forward with a speed that defied the laws of his malnourished body.
He drove the sword through the tall overseer’s chest before the man could cast a second spell. The noble’s eyes bulged, his mouth opening in a silent scream of agony. Luigi didn't pull the blade out immediately. Instead, he reached out his free hand and gripped the man’s throat, feeling the surge of the Devourer System once again.
"Noble essence detected," the voice in his head chanted. "Extraction in progress."
"Stop! Let him go," the second overseer cried out, stumbling backward and dropping the chest of aether-tax. "What kind of demon are you?"
"I am the son you thought you buried," Luigi growled, his eyes glowing with a predatory light as the overseer beneath his hand withered and died.
The system hummed with satisfaction. "Skill acquired: Advanced Neural Tracking. Extraction complete."
Luigi turned his attention to the remaining man, who was now scrambling away on his hands and knees, his fine silk clothes stained with the mud of the tunnel. The overseer’s face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror, his dignity stripped away by the sight of his companion’s gruesome end.
"Please, I have a family," the man pleaded, his voice breaking into a sob. "I will give you anything! The aether in that chest is worth more than a thousand slaves!"
"I don't want your gold," Luigi said, stepping over the chest without a second glance. "I want your memories. I want to know exactly where Isellia is hiding her secrets."
"I don't know anything! I swear," the man shrieked as Luigi cornered him against a locked iron gate.
"Then your blood is the only thing of value you have left," Luigi stated, his shadow looming over the cowering noble.
He didn't use the sword this time. He simply placed his hand on the man’s forehead. The extraction was faster this time, a violent vacuum that drained the life and the neural capacity of the victim in seconds. The overseer collapsed into a heap of empty skin and bone, his screams silenced forever.
"System Update," the voice announced. "Devourer level increased. New ability unlocked: Neural Mimicry."
Luigi stood in the center of the corridor, surrounded by the dead. He felt an intoxicating power coursing through him, a resonance that connected him to the very fabric of the world’s energy. He looked at the heavy iron gate, the one that led toward the upper levels where the royal servants were kept.
"I can feel them," Luigi whispered, his new tracking skill allowing him to sense the pulses of neural energy from the floors above. "I can feel the heat of their betrayal."
He picked up the iron sword, cleaning the blade on the silk of the dead overseer’s tunic. The slave body of Boru was no longer a prison; it was a weapon, sharpened by the very system that had revived him. He reached for the handle of the gate, his touch now capable of overriding the neural locks that kept the lower castes in their place.
"The resonance is just beginning," Luigi said, his voice echoing through the silent halls. "And I will play this song until every heart in Aetheris stops beating."
He pushed the gate open, the heavy iron groaning as it yielded to his stolen strength. Beyond lay the path to the inner palace, the place where his brother Michael and the treacherous Isellia waited. Luigi stepped through the threshold, a ghost armed with an ancient hunger, ready to reclaim the throne he had lost in a sea of his own blood. The eclipse had passed, but for the kingdom of Aetheris, the true darkness was only just starting to rise from the pits.
Aksara