I stepped into an eerie tunnel, colored in monochromatic shades of black and white with splashes of purple thrown in for good measure. The hallway I’d left behind had dead ended, but in the Shadowverse, the hallway continued on, stretching into the distance, the walls wavering and blurring on the edges as though they were made of water instead of stone. The experience was similar enough to Shadow Striding that I didn’t completely freak out—at least, not until I heard a terrible shriek cut through the air like a buzz-saw.

I planted my feet and prepared to strike as I squinted against the dark and scanned the hallway, looking for the source of the ear-shattering racket.

Nothing. No movement.

Only dark shadows, flickering and churning on the edges of my vision. But then the awful cry came again, this time much closer. I swiveled my head left, then right, taking my time as I scanned the passageway. A flash of movement caught my eye: a streak of shadow like an ink stain, rushing along the surface of the right-hand wall, heading for me. What the heck is that? I found myself wondering, as the stain darted closer and closer—

Something landed on my shoulder. I wheeled around, conjuring an Umbra Bolt in one hand as I braced myself for something horrific to maul the crap out of me. Instead, I found Cutter standing off to my left, a disgruntled look blanketing his features. “Well this place is awful,” he muttered.

“Shut it,” I hissed, spinning back around, urgently searching for the incoming blob of shade. Another ear-shattering shriek broke the air, this time within spitting distance. My gaze swiveled to a spot on the wall maybe six feet away; I was just in time to watch something exploded outward, springing off the surface of the wall, materializing into a creature with wicked fangs, a lithe lupine frame, and flesh-rending talons.

A tag popped up above its head. [Void Terror].

“Bloody hell!” Cutter squawked as the creature slammed into my chest and brought me to the ground like a lion ambushing some witless antelope. Its claws seemed to sink directly through my armor, digging painfully into my skin as my red-tinged HP bar flashed in the upper right corner of my vision. With gritted teeth, I raised my hand and unleashed the pent-up bolt of flickering shadow directly into the creature’s compact muzzle. The blast landed with a thud. Though it didn’t do much damage to the Void Terror, it jarred the creature to one side, buying me a moment to breathe. To think.

With a heave, I drew my legs in, planted my feet in the creature’s gut and kicked with everything I had.

The Void Terror might’ve hit hard and had a very painful attack, but it didn’t weigh all that much. My mule-kick launched it backward, giving me half a second to scramble to my feet and raise my weapon to the ready. The creature was fast, though, and regained its footing in no time, shifting left then shooting in again, its tar-black lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing its purple fangs. I called up another Umbra Bolt, but before I could release the spell, Cutter’s blade flew past my face, slipping into the thing’s yawning mouth. The Void Terror’s head snapped back as it stumbled, tottered, then dropped to the floor in a heap.

A length of gleaming steel protruded from the back of its throat, the edge coated in inky goop.

The creature gave out one last shuddering twitch, before disappearing in a dramatic swirl of black smoke, leaving behind nothing but Cutter’s gore-covered dagger and a small pile of shimmering black dust. “Good shot,” I wheezed with a nod at Cutter.

“Obviously,” he said with a sniff, “when you’re the best thief in all of Eldgard, you don’t miss.”

I rolled my eyes as I padded forward, crouching down to examine the drop.

I hastily retrieved Cutter’s dagger, eyed the strange blood, then tossed him the weapon. He snatched it from the air by the hilt with a deceptive, nimble ease. I didn’t think he was actually the best thief in Eldgard, but no one could dispute he was quick with his hands and incredible good with a blade. I turned back to the dusty remains of the creature and activated my inventory as I reviewed the other contents of the strange pile. I found two [Void Terror Claws]—which looked to be some sort of alchemic ingredient with unknown properties—and a small pile of [Shadowverse Salts].

“By the way,” I said absently, examining the salts, “what took you so long to get here? And where’s Amara? She’s sure dragging her feet.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked from behind, sounding genuinely confused. “I followed you through the second you left. Couldn’t have been more than a few heartbeats.”

Hmm. That was weird.

I pocketed the [Shadowverse Salts] and stood, glancing back toward the portal, brow furrow, lips pulled down into a frown. Whenever I activated my Shadow Stride ability, it made time grind to a halt for everyone except me—I ideally wondered if time moved differently here. Maybe Amara was moving in eighth-speed back in the real world. The thought quickly fled as a new round of shrieks echoed along the dark tunnel. A lot of shrieks. Like a pack of hunting wolves, closing in for the kill. It took me only a handful of seconds to spot a mob of the lupine Void Terrors rushing toward us—these loped along on the ground, not bothering to mask their approach.

There were at least ten of them.

“Oh bollocks,” Cutter muttered, staring intently at the tunnel, now shrouded in unnatural shade.

“Yep,” I replied as I conjured Night Armor around myself—a twenty-minute defensive aura, which absorbed 15% of melee damage and reflected 20% of that damage back at the attacker. More importantly, though, it drastically reduced the physical pain from attacks, which was an even better feature in my book.

“You ready for this?” Cutter asked, slipping a second dagger from a sheath at his side.

“Nope,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “Get ready to move,” I said, “I’m going to try to slow them down.” I thrust out my left hand, letting the freezing power of shadow spill out of me as I activated Umbra Bog. The tunnel floor below the incoming creatures exploded into a pool of thick prehistoric tar, whipping tendrils of deepest black wrapped themselves around the feet and legs of the creatures, jerking the whole mass of them to an abrupt halt. The Terrors snarled and yowled in protest, jaws snapping at the shadowy tentacles binding them.

But there slicing teeth found nothing to grip, nothing to tear.

“Thirty seconds!” I yelled at Cutter, darting forward like a madman with my hammer raised and ready to kill. Cutter was already moving though, spinning his daggers as he ran, so the blades twirled along the outside of his forearms. He leapt at the last moment, sailing through the air, flipping head over heels, before coming down in the middle of the pack, his daggers flashing out like lightning. He spun and whirled, dancing his way through the mob, a manic grin plastered across his face, as black blood flew through the air around him in sheets.

I focused on the Terror leading the charge—bringing my hammer around, smashing the blunt face right into its snarling mouth as I triggered my Savage Blow attack. The creature yelped, its head flinging to the side, still bound by my Umbra Bog. I ducked low and lunged forward in one fluid motion, jabbing the wicked spike on top of my hammer into the creature’s exposed neck. It let out a strangled gurgle-gasp, blood frothing from its lips, as it dropped to the ground, critically injured, but somehow still alive.

I ripped my weapon free and thoughtlessly brought my left gauntlet—studded along the outside edge with small blades—down onto the creature’s head with an audible crack. An ugly, disturbing noise. I spun away blasting a nearby Terror in the ribs with an Umbra Bolt, which punched a hole into its side with a Critical Hit, revealing a gut filled with roiling purple and inky fingers of shadowy power. Cutter appeared almost out of nowhere, driving his twin daggers through the top of the creature’s skull, killing it where it stood.

The Umbra Bog countdown clock was quickly ticking down to zero, and we still had an awful lot of these things to kill. I did a quick count: five or six left. I wheeled around again, bolting forward and caving in another head with Savage Blow, which took a large bite out of my available Stamina. A second after landing the devastating hit, my spell—holding the Terrors in traction—dissipated in a puff of sooty smoke, unleashing the rest of the beasts. I tried to trigger my Shadow Stride ability, hoping to duck out before things got too crazy, but received an unfortunate combat prompt a second later:

Shadow Stride failed! Since you are already in the Shadowverse, you cannot currently activate this ability!

I blinked the notification away as something barreled into my gut, bony shoulders digging into my ribs and throwing me hard to one side. I stumbled and reeled from the unexpected attack, but somehow managed to keep my feet. I tried to spin right, to confront the thing that’d just hit me, but a set of jaws crunched down on my left forearm, pinning me in place. I glanced down at the creature latched onto my arm like a giant leech and saw a set of angry purple eyes staring back at me.

Its gaze seemed to paralyze me, to trap me and hold me in place. I felt a twinge of connection—one kindred soul recognizing another. I didn’t know what was happening here, but I sensed I was now in a battle of wills, one I didn’t want to lose. I stared at the beast, refusing to blink as its teeth dug deeper into my skin.

“Down!” Amara bellowed from behind me, her words a whip-crack of command.

But I refused to back down; instead, I stood there motionless. A second later, the Void Terror gnawing on my arm fell away, its mouth suddenly slack, its eyes glazed over in death. An arrow, topped by a row of bristly, black feathers, protruded from its neck. More arrows whooshed around me, wooden shafts peppering the remaining creatures. I stared on in utter amazement as the Terrors around me dropped like flies, each killed by a perfect, meticulous shot.

Not a single arrow failed to find a mark.

In next to no time, the few creatures that’d survived Cutter and I’s brutal assault all lay in heaps. Dead. Wow. Archers were such an underrated class. I glanced over one shoulder and saw Cutter—liberally coated in scratches, bite marks, and blood—appraising Amara with an approving grin.

She planted her bow on the ground, leaning casually on the weapon, and returned his grin with a faint, barely-there-smile. That’s right, the look said, I’m totally badass.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Cutter finally offered, giving his daggers a fanciful twirl before stashing them in a pair of leather sheaths. “Leave us to do all the heavy lifting, eh?”

She offered him a flat, unamused stare. “If you two are done fooling around,” she replied casually, as if she hadn’t just pwned five Void Terrors, “then let us gather what we came for and go.” She paused then shivered. “This place is unnatural.”