Jack stared at his now fully repaired Shadowsteel Blade-Conduit. The restored weapon was truly a work of art. The solarite running along the flat of the blade from hilt to tip gleamed in the orange light. The shadowsteel contrasted with the golden veins adding to their luster while making its sharp edge blur strangely as the blade moved through the air. At its full length, the sword measured well over a meter in length. Another result of the process was the Recovering Energy Conduit effect being replaced by an effect called simply Energy Conduit.

He swung the sword a few times and discovered, much to his delight, that the balance hadn’t suffered despite the actual blade doubling in size. He did have to use two hands to wield it comfortably. Even if he could swing the weapon one-handed, the action was far more awkward and impractical than before. Next, he activated the energy conduit channeling his Logos into the weapon which turned the golden veins blue. Another test swing resulted in the blade expelling a thin crescent of energy through the air following the glimmering arc left by the sword. The energy projectile impacted the far wall at an angle slicing into the stone a few inches before dissipating. He checked his Logos pool.

Less than a quarter of the cost. He lifted the sword, noting it still had the faint aura of his Logos. One more swing produced another glowing arc and crescent of Logos energy that was a bit weaker than the first. And twice as effective it seems.

He stood up and dusted himself, only to realize how futile and ridiculous the act was given the dried whipshade blood and viscera coating his arms.

Shaking his head, he left the shadowless room. The stairs leading down into the lower level welcomed him into darkness as he descended. He couldn’t help but lament his lowest attribute being Focus while attempting to navigate the area below. With his hand trailing along the wall for orientation, he held the Shadowsteel Blade-Conduit in front of him. The sword emanated the soft blue glow of his Logos courtesy of the energy conduit. The effect thankfully didn’t dissipate unless he swung the weapon with intent; although, he doubted the energy would remain inert forever.

He passed through a doorway that led into a room much larger than the ones upstairs. Using the light of his sword, Jack discovered something shocking. It was a corpse. The body was feminine, or at least looked to be, and must’ve stood at over two meters when alive. She wore a black tabard with a golden blade emblazoned on the chest. Underneath that, there was a tunic that almost matched the one Jack wore, a pair of pants, and gray boots. None of these items registered when he tried to Identify them marking each as mundane equipment. The garments were also ruined by several tears and holes that looked to be the result of combat. He tried using Identify on the corpse, but unfortunately, that turned up nothing as well.

As he ran through the possibilities in his head, he spotted another surprise: footprints, and a lot of them at that. He couldn’t be sure because of the number of tracks and their chaotic pattern, but most of the footprints seemed to repeat.

Maybe it was a small group rather than a large one, Jack ran his fingers across one trail of disrupted dust. This doesn’t even look humanoid. A snake? The other tracks also look like they were using footwear but the pattern on the sole isn’t the same as the corpses.

He mulled over this information while walking around the perimeter of the room. On the wall, he found two torches, both of which were still hot to the touch as though they had just gone out. Splatters of blood dotted the room from edge to center telling him that whatever battle killed the female humanoid in the tabard had been pitched. Interestingly, the blood wasn’t all the same color. Yellow tinged reds mixed with crimson splotches and the familiar bluish-gray blood that the native creatures of this desolate place.

Aside from the way that he’d entered, there were two other paths out of the room. He inspected each exit crouching with his blade low to make the best use of its dim illumination. Both had sets of foreign tracks, but he found a few drops of blood in one of them. Trekking further past the blood drops, his gut told him that these footprints were fresher than those in the room or the other passage. He hesitated for a second before continuing forward into the darkness.

Despite his anxiousness at the mysterious group and potential ambushes by whipshades, his trek was completely peaceful. The halls were like a labyrinth of old rooms and dead-end halls. However, the journey offered further evidence of the group in whose wake he followed.

Cabinets bore signs of being rifled through. Pieces of broken furniture were overturned at odd angles as though someone moved them and then left them that way. Tracks covered the ground in every room and hall. The corpses of almost two dozen whipshade stalkers and warriors littered the complex throughout. He briefly looked over each corpse using them to slowly gain an understanding of the group. One of them used a piercing weapon, possibly a spear or polearm. Someone else wielded a heavy-bladed weapon of some kind and said individual seemed to execute enemies brutally.

Not that he was one to judge, of course.

In one room, he stumbled across the corpses of one whipshade warrior and four whipshade stalkers. The interesting part came when he discovered a small spot of discoloration on the ground. He leaned in closer and saw that it was hair, several strands of grayish-white hair. He scooped the hair up rubbing it in between his fingers. It was softer, almost too soft.

Although it didn’t tell him much, the discovery emboldened his desire to press onward. He picked up the pace. He couldn’t say whether the individuals ahead of him were friends or foes, but he was eager for some kind of interaction.

Even if they wanted nothing to do with him, he hoped they could at least tell him how to get to somewhere civilized. He spent another few minutes weaving through the dark until an obstacle presented itself.

It was a wall of sorts, nestled into a doorway that had been reduced to fresh ash on the ground. With his leading foot, poked a mound of the ash uncovering a large chunk of blackened wood that burned his bare skin and lost him a couple of points of Ethos. Strangely, the impeding wall, a chaotic swirl of shadow-like fire, exuded no heat of its own despite the evidence leaving little doubt as to its burning capabilities. He still picked up the piece of charred wood, took a few steps back, and tossed it at the shadow fire— just to see what would happen.

As soon as the wood made contact, the wall raged like a flame doused with oil. The smell of burning filled the air for a second before his test subject turned to ash. He frowned at the sight.

I don’t think I can force my way through this even with my Ethos. He concentrated on the shadow-fire wall with his Identify. One second passed then two. Nothing… Whatever it is, it’s not an entity or a Relic. It’s also possible that I’m wrong and my Identify isn’t strong enough to analyze it yet.

Jack considered the shadow fire for a few more moments. When he nearly resolved to turn around, he noticed a slight hum in the air and an almost undetectable tingle running over his skin. Without thinking, he brought a hand up to the center of his chest to brush the smooth surface of the Logos Core.

Are you trying to tell me something? He said to it not expecting an answer. So, he was surprised when a notification appeared.

Feeling a little dumbstruck, he accepted. A small presence rose within his thoughts and borrowed the force of his will. It reached outside of his body toward the shadow fire and pulled. Jack felt the mounting strain on his mind from the presence’s actions yet didn’t interfere. He subconsciously understood that he could stop this at any moment by revoking his consent.

He held his illuminated sword up to the impediment and his eyes widened. At his eye level, a small hole was opening and from it spilled the sounds of battle.