Howdy, a new chapter is here. I will color code it later as I do not feel like doing it at the moment. Other stuff is available on my website feel free to check it out. https://yougots.wordpress.com/ Enjoy.

Otis stepped out into the valley. The months of following the red liquid had led him to this place. At least Otis thought months had passed, it was difficult to tell in the Halls. Time could speed up or slow down depending on which direction he was facing. There was significance to the route that the Halls forced him to take and direction was not the only determining factor of time. It could vary with each step and after the dream every time Violam released the Bloodrage, time always raced forward. There was always light in the Halls but when time changed a sense of vertigo always washed over him and his surroundings blurred. It was very disorienting to say the least. The Halls had bound his path so as long as Otis followed it he would eventually reach his destination.

The world through Violam’s window was currently moving at double speed. Violam had taken to drawing the Bloodrage into himself at all times even if it was just a trickle. The red liquid flowed over the side down into the valley. It was a steep slope and the white gravel on the ground had given an illusion that was was closer to sheer cliffside.

Otis stared slope with an open frown on his face. Navigating down would be tricky since the gravel was loose and it was steep.

He pulled at the shadow he kept under right foot. “It’s not there. Now that I look closely there are no shadows here.” Otis summoned another shadow to his command but nothing came. Otis summoned again and pushed a bit of his mind with it. The shadows resisted again. No, they did not resist Otis got a sense that the shadows just do not belong here.

“You are apart of my mind. How could you not belong here?” He asked even though he would not get a verbal response. The shadows gave him a vague feeling that he was no longer within the Halls. It directed his eyes to something that lay in the valley. The answers as to why the shadows will not come lay there.

Otis’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Oh well, that is where the Bloodrage is headed anyway.” Otis spoke to himself again, a habit that he gained while traveling alone. He sighed and began to jog through the loose gravel keeping in mind to watch his step. The last thing he needed was to roll his way down.

“Are we there yet? Running is such a pain. I swear I am never running again.” Otis complained for no reason but to hear his own voice. He had enough agility and stamina that running had been no problem to him at all. The red rivers merged together to form one large twisted river. He heard the typical growls from the red liquid but no monsters emerged. He was grateful that they had not since his shadows would not come to him. His only defense from the Bloodrage right now would be to just run faster.

He ignored the grunts and growling threats of the Bloodrage until he came to a dense copse of trees. They were barren of their leaves but despite this the trees were deep brown and full of life. The red stream split around them as if repulsed by their atmosphere.

“That looks completely normal. It’s good nothing weird is going on here.” Otis walked up to a tree, he did not have any fear of it like the Bloodrage did. Unconsciously Otis placed his hand on the tree’s trunk. It shivered beneath his touch, not in fear but joy. The tree sang at his arrival and all of the trees joined in, they radiated hope. There was also a sense of shame that came across from Otis’s touch. They had lost their purpose.

“What’s going on here? Why are you so hurt?” Otis was confused by their pain. Then Otis heard it, a loud clicking noise. He withdrew his hand and all at once the trees grew silent. The sound was coming from beyond the trees. Otis moved through them running his hands over their bark as he past. Just beyond the trees the valley slope met its other side. The barren trees circled around a clearing. At its center a lightly golden egg shaped orb. At first glance he could tell it was his soul. It pulsed with energy hovering several meters over the ground. Thick streams of Bloodrage flowed off the ground upwards to reach the orb. The moment the thick stream touched it the stream dissipated into a thin red line that dove to the center of the egg. It was welcomed by a small red sphere that sat at the center of his soul.

“This was what the Bloodrage was after. Violam what have you done to us?” Clicking sounds drew Otis back to his original objective. Beneath his hovering soul was a pile of dried broken husk. Whatever they were they seemed to have died long before he arrived. At least that was what he thought until the mound of husk moved and shifted.

“Tsk, one of them is still alive.” The monster slid away and dove into the ground before Otis could get a good look at it. A few husk crumbled into dust at the disturbance then it went silent.

The ground rumbled breaking the silence. Otis stumbled backwards as the ground broke away under him. The monster’s maw rushed up, its rows of teeth clamped down on the space where Otis had been moments before.

He scrambled away attempting to put some distance between him and the monster. Hundreds of legs pulled its towering form from the hole. The monster had no eyes but it still faced Otis with its mouth open wide. Its hard exoskeleton was colored pale white with yellow streaks at the joints. The clicking sounds grew louder, the sound reminded Otis of the second hand of an old clock.

[Moocher the Spirit Eater - Level Not Applicable Longevity 25:04:21]

The Moocher launched itself at Otis. He leaped out of the way to dodge the monsters massive form. The Moocher entered the ground as if it was swimming through water. It’s tail flicked at the last moment catching Otis unprepared. The enormous tail slammed into Otis and flung him backwards into the trees. The trees were not as hard as he had thought they would be and instead of a painful landing he was gently caught by them.

The gigantic centipede emerged from the ground and after a few clicks it spotted Otis in the trees. It wove its way towards him until it reached the base of the tree. The Moocher clawed and bit at the tree trying to bring it down and Otis along with it. The tree shuddered and wilted as if its lifeforce was being drawn away.

“I can’t stay up here the tree won’t last long. Here goes nothing!” He leaped down propelling himself with all his might. He flipped around and his feet collided with the back of the centipede’s head. It sunk deep into the ground. The monster shrugged it off and crawled into the newly made hole. Its tail flicked at Otis.

“Fool me once bug but not again!” Otis darted away out of the tails reach. The ground crumbled underneath him causing Otis to fall forward. The Moocher rose up behind him, its claw like legs slashed and stabbed at him. Otis rolled out of the way of one only to be stabbed in the shoulder by another. It pinned Otis to the ground as he screamed in pain. “You’re that damn thing the gray man has been feeding me! I really hate that guy.”

Otis grabbed the claw, its edges were sharp and cut into his hand as he pulled at it. The Moocher leaned in closer and put its considerable weight behind the leg. Rows of serrated teeth filled Otis’s vision. Then something came like a roar and the Moocher pulled back in fright.

A tidal wave of Bloodrage rose up between the trees. The red liquid splashed out to cover the ground after the trees. The Moocher ran from the liquid pulling Otis with it. It held him in the air in attempt to keep its prize safe from the Bloodrage. Otis guessed that it only kept him safe until it could eat him.

The mighty river of the Bloodrage left the ground flowing up towards the golden orb. The Moocher dodged the jets of red liquid and dove into the ground. It held Otis safely as hundreds of legs dug around it. Otis focused on the claw stabbed into his shoulder. He pushed against it in attempt to push himself free but the Moocher noticed. It hooked the claw around Otis and locked him in place. The Moocher pulled itself out of the ground. They were under Otis’s soul, it was the only place safe from the Bloodrage. The Moocher covered itself in the dried husk of past Moochers for protection against any stray Bloodrage as the torrent of red liquid forced its way into the soul.

Otis still struggled to free himself from the claw when a dried out husk fell landing next to him. “Yea I just got a dumb idea.”

The Moocher stopped covering itself as something had drawn its attention. At the bottom of the dull golden orb there had accumulated a single droplet of dense blue liquid. Otis was reminded of Mana but this was something else. It was thick like molasses and the blue color had a glossy golden metallic tint to it. The Moocher had stopped everything it was doing just to focus on the blue liquid.

The distraction was what Otis needed, the Moocher opened it maw in anticipation. Otis grabbed the dried husk that was next to him and threw it with everything he had. The husk broke in half mid flight, the bottom piece harmlessly fell to the ground while the other half flew into the red liquid. The Bloodrage splashed out in all directions some of it striking the unaware Moocher.

It recoiled in shock, unprepared for the sudden pain. The husk that Otis threw was now covered in red liquid and bits of it burned away as he fell back into the Moocher’s pit. It pulled away from the red liquid flinging Otis through the air in the process. At the same time the dense blue liquid fell from the soul to the ground below. The Moocher clicked in rage as it missed its chance to consume the liquid.

Otis flew through the floating river of red liquid. It scorched his skin burning it away in the instant he had passed through it. He was caught by the trees once again. Otis was paralyzed by pain, the Bloodrage had pulled out much of his energy from him. The angry clicks of the Moocher jarred him awake. His body ached but the pain began to dull and skin regrew. Every breath he took rejuvenated his energy. He recognized that energy for what it was, Mana.

The tree he was in grew vibrant green leaves. The leaves surrounded Otis filling him with energy and healing his body. “Thanks buddy.” He stretched out in his comfortable leafy cushion. “But what is going on? Ah, well it’s not like you can answer.” He spoke to the tree.

The Bloodrage still poured into his soul and the Moocher never stopped its eyeless gaze at Otis. Luckily it was stuck in its pit with no where it could go unless it wanted to meet the Bloodrage. The longevity stat on the Moocher dropped at an extreme rate. At this point Otis could just wait it out and let it die but he would never be that lucky.

Otis turned his attention to the window into Violam’s world. Time moved in the window almost too fast to see what was happening.

“You are fighting like always.” Otis pulled a leaf from the tree and put it in his mouth to chew on it. It tasted sweet and minty. “But what are you fighting that requires so much Bloodrage?” The fight ended but Violam still held on tight to the Bloodrage without lessening the flow. The only thing Otis could tell was that Violam had turned on his team. The terrain sped through the window until Violam returned to the Farg encampment. Only then did he release his hold on the Bloodrage. The red rivers shrank away leaving only a trickle of a stream behind.

“I thought he would never let go. It only felt like minutes to me but he must have held the Bloodrage for hours.” Otis was relieved as he had watched the red river dwindle down to almost nothing but the loud clicking sound made him tense once again.

“Of course with my luck it didn’t die yet.” The Moocher charged from its pit, parts of its body burned by the Bloodrage. A quarter of its legs were gone but it did not seem to notice.

[Moocher the Spirit Eater - Level Not Applicable Longevity 01:06:11]

“Great still an hour left on the bastard. Violam still has some Bloodrage going so maybe a little less than that. I got to keep it away from the tree and hopefully I can keep it distracted until it dies. Well at the moment I got nothing better to do. Time for round two.”

Otis jump from the tree dashing past the centipede. It swung its tail at him, Otis dodged away but where he landed the ground shift and fell away only to be replaced with the Moocher’s monstrous mouth. Otis scrambled from the loose ground as its jaws clamped down. Its head head crashed into Otis and threw him into the air. The Moocher followed, its mouth snapping at him dangerously close. Otis grabbed onto its head and pulled himself out of the range of its wicked teeth. The monster turned itself around and dove headfirst back into the ground.

The air fled from Otis’s lungs as he hit the ground. The earth around him somehow softened and the centipede pushed itself and him with it down into earth. Otis spun himself around to face forward. The top of the centipede's head was relatively safe from teeth and claws. But that did not stop the Moocher from trying. It thrusted its head upwards smashing Otis into the earth and rock. Whatever magic the Moocher passively uses had softened the blow somewhat and allowed Otis to keep his hold on the centipede. Otis fought back and punched the Moocher over and over. His punches were hard enough to change the beast direction but not enough to do damage let alone crack its exoskeleton. It was obvious to Otis he needed to take this battle topside. The earth, while softened by the Moocher’s magic, still shredded Otis’s skin as he was drug through it.

He grabbed the Moochers mouth carefully minding its teeth and yanked hard. Its head reared and its body followed as he spurred it forward. The Moocher tried to fight its way free of Otis, it spun and twisted as they ascended to the surface. Otis did not know how far down they had traveled but he saw sky fast and unnaturally so. The Moocher left the earth at a speed that pulled its whole enormous body with it.

Otis put his all his strength in his legs and kicked off the centipede’s head. The force shot the Moocher back to the ground. Instead of a loud crash there was only a dull thud and the dirt that flew into the air.

Otis adjusted himself as he was falling. He had kicked himself far from the Moocher and the hulking centipede had not receded into the ground yet. Otis decided to go on the attack, he constructed a long gout of green liquid flame and launched it. The fire struck the back of the Moocher, he pour more flame into the attack but it fizzled out almost immediately. The Moocher completely ignored him and sunk into the earth. He had hoped it ran so it could get away from his flames. Otis constructed a gust of wind to steady his fall. The red streaks of wind not so gently carried Otis to the trees. He did not want to land on the ground only to have the centipede waiting with its mouth open ready to snatch him up.

Otis pulled the branches from his brown hair and righted himself as he had landed upside down.

“That’s right run to your momma!” Otis postered and secretly exhaled in relief when the Moocher did not reemerge. “Maybe the fire did hurt it.” He reassured himself as he watch for signs of the centipede. The bug had not retreated into its pit so Otis assumed it was staying underground.

The tree shivered drawing Otis’s attention behind him. The Moocher wove its body around the tree trunk all the way up to where Otis stood. It rushed at him now that it had been seen. Gouts of green liquid flame sprang from his hands as he threw himself back off the treetop.

The flames washed over the Moocher but the creature pushed through it unaffected by the fire. “Guess that solves that question. Flames are a no go then.“ The green flames fell to the white gravel below as they carefully avoided touching the trees.

Otis quickly constructed wind under himself to stow his descent. At the same time he had not let up on the green liquid flame but changed it to perfectly black square stones. The black stones pelted the Moocher though it was too large and heavy for mere stones to hurt it.

“The stones did not change to powder from its passive magic so maybe.” Otis landed on the ground and stumbled. It was a rough landing, he found controlling wind for flight or gliding damn near impossible but he managed it somehow. He shifted the rapidly firing stone construct into a solid black stone wall just as the Moocher had reached him. It hit the wall with a force that cracked it. Otis constructed several more to reinforce and strengthen the first one. The centipede unfazed by the abrupt halt climbed over the construct. Otis dismissed it which caused to Moocher to fall at the unexpected loss of the obstacle but before the Moocher could hit the ground another construct appeared. This time it was a black box that covered the Moocher’s head and mouth. Of course it did not have eyes to see but it made it difficult for the bug to navigate without its clicking and it also made it hard for the Moocher to eat Otis.

Otis constructed pillars of black stone and slammed them into the centipede’s side repeatedly. The stone did not damage the centipede in the least but it allowed him to slow it down and harass it until it’s time ran out. The timer still counted at an incredibly fast rate, he only needed to distract it for a little longer.

[Moocher the Spirit Eater - Level Not Applicable Longevity 00:18:31]

“Who am I kidding twenty minutes is practically forever. I need to end this.” The Moocher began to ignore the pillars, they still knocked it off its path but the Moocher no longer fought back. It just charged around turning the pillar attack into a minor inconvenience. The most effective attack was the box over its head. The Moocher scratched at it with its claws, it had chipped and broke a couple of times but Otis alway mended the construction. The Moocher lashed its tail out in a desperate wide sweep. It could not pinpoint his location and Otis mostly stayed out of range of its tail. The Moocher grew tired of Otis’s game and dove back into the ground.

“Tsk, what a sore loser.” Otis immediately went on guard for an attack from below. He followed his construct through the ground, that box on the Moocher’s head gave him the exact knowledge of the the its location. Otis moved himself into position, dismissed his construct and readied for its incoming attack.

The earth tore away and the enraged Moocher emerged to swallow Otis but he was already on the move. Otis leaped up to a black stone platform that he had constructed, he never would have thought he could stand on a construct but his attack of flying stone pillars gave him the idea. If he could make them fly, why couldn’t he stand on them as they flew?

As Otis moved away safely another stone pillar slammed into the underside of the centipede. The pillar pushed the Moocher up into the thin red stream of Bloodrage. Otis dismissed the mental construct before the Bloodrage could touch it. The Moocher writhed in pain as it fell back down. The Bloodrage had burned away many of the centipede's legs and exoskeleton. Otis readied his next construct to end this fight. A great black stone hammer appeared above Otis but before he could strike something fell from the sky.

It was a second Moocher.

The new centipede ignored Otis and gorged itself on its predecessor. “There can only be one. I hear that.” Otis said as he leaped back into the trees for safety. It made quick work of the half dead Moocher and began to move towards Otis. The Moocher suddenly halted halfway to Otis and retreated. The red stream thicken until it was the size of a river once again. The Bloodrage was not expanding at the rate it had earlier but it was still enough to stop the Moocher in its tracks. The Moocher withdrew to the safety of its den under the soul.

Now that Otis was relatively safe he decided to check in on Violam. He needed to know why that jerk had pulled in more of the Bloodrage.

…

“You have done well to return to the Legion, whereas the rest of the cave expeditionary force...” The Ambassador’ trailed off as his face soured and twisted at their failure. He took a deep breath and a smile appeared on his face. “And you brought the traitors back. Their public executions will be held immediately but before that there is something I must give you.” Edgar gave Violam a searching stare just briefly before he moved behind his desk to retrieve a wooden box from a desk drawer. This was the first time Violam had been to the Ambassador’s tent, it was sparsely decorated beside the desk, a partially drawn map and a modern safe. He had been brought here to debrief the Ambassador while the others had been taken to the prisoner carriages.

“Did you find that in the cave?” The Ambassador said as he placed the box on the desk and pointed at the sword strapped to Violam’s waist.

“Yes.” Violam pulled the sword from its sheath and handed it over. There was a irregular shimmer to it when it was held in the light that he had not seen in the cave. “It was in the Queen’s lair.”

“Hmm.” Edgar hummed as he looked it over. Excellent construction, we will have our best blacksmith study it to see if it can be duplicated.”

Violam moved to respond but Edgar interrupted. “You do not have any problems with this do you?” His voice was pleasant but his knuckles were white against the hilt of the sword.

“Of course not.” Violam spoke as he unconsciously took a step back.

“Very well.” Edgar nodded with a thin smile as he set the blade behind his desk and opened the box. “How many days has it been Lieutenant?”

Violam glanced at the bug wiggling in Edgar’s grasp. “Today is the tenth day Ambassador.”

“I see, so you are cutting it close then. Swallow this and we will be on our way to execution grounds to see your old teammates.”

After Violam downed the disgusting bug they walked through the Legion gathering more soldiers as they went. They all trailed a few steps behind the Ambassador with Violam leading the pack. The gates to the arena opened without any orders to let Edgar and Violam pass.

Sonashi, Kavdiir and Caeanos were tied to post their bodies half dressed, battered bruised and broken. If they had not been tied they would have crumpled to the ground. Their breath was harsh and wet when they exhaled. Kavdiir and Caeanos’s eyes were vacant and resigned to their fate. Sonashi’s were hard and pierced into Violam as he stood before them. She stared into his eyes with hate and never looked away no matter the pain it caused her.

“Knife!” Edgar shouted and held his hand out. A slim neuromance approached as if it glided and handed over a long golden knife. The knife they always used for training and executions.

“Violam this will be your last test. If you complete it to my satisfaction, you will earn a proper title and I will grant you access to your magic once again.” The Ambassador smiled and gave Violam the knife. “Let the executions begin!” He shouted.

Violam stood before his friends with the golden knife in hand as the Bloodrage burned through his body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he planned to make this quick.

…

“I have to do something, Violam needs to be stopped.”

Otis cast his mind up to the sky and his body unraveled to join his mental energy. He did not push into Violam’s mindscape instead he spread his mind thin to cover the sky. He felt his way around Violam to find edges, fissures and weaknesses. It was a small fragile mind, a child’s mind. The edges to the mind were bent and corrupted by the Bloodrage. Otis slipped past the edges of Violam’s defenseless mind. Otis moved slowly and carefully as the Bloodrage has made it brittle and prone to breaking. That was the gray man’s intention after all, they wanted to break and corrupt his mind. Otis found his way around until he met his own mind on the other side. Otis mentally sighed at this tiny bit of mind.

“Sorry Violam, thank you for your hard work but it’s time to become whole once again. Goodbye.”

Otis enclosed Violam to merge the speck of a mind with his own. But there was resistance, the two minds were incompatible and there experiences were too different. Violam and Otis were no longer the same person. They both wanted and deserved control. The harder Otis pushed the harder Violam’s tiny mind fought back and though he fought, it was not enough. The pressure from Otis was overwhelming. Otis may not be able to merge the minds but he could imprison Violam like Violam had once imprisoned him. He compressed Violam’s mind down until it became a tiny cube in a sea of Otis.

Otis seized control from Violam and opened his eyes.

[Mind Manipulation Disabled]

[+50 Intellect]

[Passive/Active Skill: Mind Manipulation Learned]

[Mini Map Enabled]

[Status Screen Enabled]

[Adventurer Clock Enabled]

[Passive/Active Skill: Meditation Learned]

[+28 Shadow Affinity]

[+31 Mind Resistance]

The senses he had long forgotten slammed into him. He stumbled as reality screamed at him. He had legs in the Halls but this was different there was a physical sense of things in reality that was not conveyed there. It was the same with his sense of sight and smell, everything was too bright or too dark and the smell was terrible and overwhelming, like a pile rotting corpses on a midsummer's day. His [Aura Sense] pounded in his mind. It was far more keen than he remembered, a red aura spread out in every direction like a sea, it was the same red as that sphere he had seen in his own soul. That same corruption burned in all of the Farg. The gray man’s corruption was far more violent and dark crimson.

The blade in Otis’s hand pushed more corruption into him. He recognized the blade for what it truly was, another gate to the Bloodrage. A gate for those who did not have the bond with the demon and a way to corrupt their thoughts.

Moments passed and Otis had not moved. He looked over Violam’s friends, he had considered them his friends as well. He had watched them, their training, their battles and everything inbetween. It would have been impossible to not have felt a connection to them while he wandered the Halls. The anger and hate had not faded from Sonashi’s eyes. Captain Umaiko stood behind her and stared at the ground. The execution of her subordinates was not something she could watch. There were yellow flakes in her and the Linnare’s aura, a semblance of humanity that may still remain.

“You have waited long enough. Now kill them!” The gray man snarled as spittle shot from his mouth. “Kill them now or I will kill you all!”

“No.” Otis muttered, his world still spun as he attempted to regain control of the senses that rampaged in his mind. He dropped the golden knife and exhaled in relief as the raging flood of corruption stopped. Otis sank down to his knees, the strength he once had left his muscles and exhaustion from Violam’s cave expedition hit him. The wound in his mind still weeped the Bloodrage but it was not enough to fuel his body.

[Bloodrage Disabled]

“Fine.” The gray man spoke, the word was blunt and filled with anger. “Take them back to their cages, I will see to them tonight.” He turned to address the astonished spectators. “There will be no march today! Today they will feel pain and will be executed first thing tomorrow.” The gray man left the execution grounds from the gate he had entered.

The neuromancers dug at Otis’s mind to no avail. They had attacked as he dropped the knife but there was a barrier in place that shielded his mind, he knew their tactics after all he had consumed Gooram and she was one of their best. He could not pull any of his newly earned mana into his body as the Neuromancers would somehow feel it and without the Bloodrage to supply him power the fatigue that Violam garnered but ignored washed over Otis.

Lets not fight for now, he thought as he looked at the thousands of Ogrites around him. I will figure my way out of this mess after some rest.

Some soldiers roughly grabbed Otis by the arms and dragged him from the arena. A few more untied his friends and pulled them along after him. Captain Umaiko had followed, she had remained silent the entire time and now she looked completely lost.

She picked up her pace until she walked along side of Otis. “You know I thought you all had died in that cave. When I heard you came back alive I was so happy to have Rose Team back safely. Then you claimed they were all traitors that betrayed the mission. It was like a knife stabbed into me. I could not believe for a second that they would turn on you or the Farg.” She shook her head and leaned in so no one could hear her besides Otis. “Now you have damned them, yourself and me. You should have kept your mouth shut to begin with.” She straightened and never looked at him again as the soldiers dragged him to the carriage. She left as the soldier threw him inside and locked his cage.

Otis sat in his cage. He did not know what to say to appease her anger. “Haha sorry that was my split personality. Yeah he turned out to be a real asshole. My name is Otis by the way.” He exhaled and rubbed his temples. “No I don’t think that would work.”

He shook his head and laid back into the straw. By the time they had reached his cage he had become fully acclimated to his senses. There was not enough space for him to stretch out or stand but that would not stop him from getting some rest. Otis was asleep as soon as his head hit the wall and he returned to the Halls once again. He wished he could fully sleep but there was something he needed to do. He hopped on a constructed black stone and sped through the Halls path until he reached the wound that was the Bloodrage. He grabbed a small bit of mana, hopefully small enough that it would avoid the notice of the Neuromancers and sent it to the wound. The red flesh of the scar sizzled and steamed until it healed over. He could not have it weep Bloodrage into his system now that he was in charge.

The door to Otis’s carriage opened and jarred him from his sleep.

The [Fully Rested] status showed up in his vision. According to his count down clock he had slept for an hour. Did they notice the magic? He wondered as a short man entered his carriage. “Couldn’t you wait a little longer? I was getting some shut eye.”

A sardonic smile showed on the short man’s face. “Well look how far the favored son has fallen. I always knew you were no good and now it's my lucky day.” The dwarf pulled a hammer from his belt. He hefted [the Crippler] up so Otis could see it. “Time to make you hurt a…]

[Tharden Knifebreaker - Level 29 Farg Legion]

“Who are you?” Otis interrupted. “No it doesn’t matter I have been here long enough. Time to get to work.” He pulled on his mana and flicked his hand. A blade of wind sliced through the bars of his cage and decapitated the dwarf. The Neuromancers that were set to guard him felt the magic, their mental energy stabbed into his mind to put Otis down but were withheld by his mental barrier. Otis loosened the mental block and they rushed into his mind.

The shadow moved with a will of its own to intercept them. There were six different energies in total and the shadow covered them all. It ripped the mental energy away from its owner and consumed it. As Otis absorbed the energy the Neuromancer's screams circled his carriage followed by the muffled sound of them falling to the ground.

[+1 Intellect]

[+2 Intellect]

[+1 Intellect]

[+1 Intellect]

[+1 Intellect]

[+1 Intellect]