The gates of the Warden's Keep weren't made of iron or wood. They were made of solidified grief—transparent glass that trapped the faces of those who had tried to escape the Abyss. As Kaelen approached, the faces pressed their ghostly hands against the surface, their mouths moving in silent, eternal screams.
Kaelen didn't flinch. He had heard louder screams in his own head for years.
[New Skill: Perception of the Damned (Active)]
[Detection Range: 50 Meters]
[Analyzing... Threat detected: Divine Sentry.]
Two figures stepped out from the shimmering walls. They were Hollowed Husks—fallen knights whose souls had been bleached white by the Warden's light. They wore jagged silver armor and carried halberds that hummed with a low, holy frequency.
"Halt, Dreg," one hissed, its voice sounding like grinding porcelain. "Only the pure may pass. The tainted must be purged."
Kaelen stopped ten feet away. He felt the familiar itch under his skin. The "Divine" energy coming from their weapons was like a magnet to his Malice. It wanted to be taken. It wanted to be corrupted.
"I'm not looking to pass," Kaelen said, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm looking to collect."
The Sentries moved with a speed that would have decapitated a normal human. Their halberds whistled through the air, aimed squarely at Kaelen's neck.
Kaelen didn't parry. He stepped into the strike.
The silver blade buried itself deep into his shoulder, slicing through muscle and scraping against the bone. The second halberd pierced his thigh. Any other man would have collapsed. Kaelen just leaned into the pain, his eyes turning a violent, swirling purple.
[Passive: Pain Storage (Active)]
[Absorbing Holy Damage... 15%... 40%... 80%]
"Is that the best the 'Pure' can do?" Kaelen whispered.
He grabbed the shafts of the weapons, his hands smoking as the holy light tried to reject his touch. He didn't use a skill this time; he used raw, unfiltered Malice. He channeled the darkness from his core back through the halberds, like ink flowing up a straw.
The silver armor of the Sentries began to crack. Black veins raced across the polished metal, turning the holy silver into dull, brittle lead. The knights let out a shrill, metallic shriek as their "purity" was drowned in Kaelen's concentrated spite.
With a sharp twist, Kaelen snapped the halberds. The knights shattered into a thousand shards of grey glass.
[Kills Confirmed: Hollowed Husks (Lv. 15) x2]
[Experience Gained.]
[Level Up: 6 -> 8]
Kaelen pulled the broken blade out of his shoulder. The wound didn't bleed red; it leaked a thick, dark mist that quickly solidified into new flesh. He was becoming less of a man and more of a walking curse.
The glass gates groaned and began to shatter, unable to withstand the presence of something so fundamentally "wrong."
Beyond the gates lay a grand hall filled with rows of cages. Inside were creatures of all races—Elves with clipped ears, Dwarves with broken hands, and humans who looked like they had been hollowed out. At the far end of the hall, sitting on a throne of bone and glass, was the Screaming Warden.
He was a massive being with four wings that looked like they were made of scorched parchment. A blindfold covered his eyes, and a golden key hung from a chain around his thick neck.
"A martyr who refuses to die," the Warden boomed, his voice echoing like a funeral bell. "You smell of the Twelve. You smell of their sins."
"They gave me their sins to carry," Kaelen said, stepping over the glass shards. "I'm just here to return the favor."
The Warden stood, drawing a sword that glowed with a light so bright it blinded the prisoners in their cages. "The Abyss is for those who suffer. If you have forgotten how to bow, I will remind you with fire."
Kaelen gripped his obsidian shard, which was now jagged and pulsing with stolen energy.
"Don't worry," Kaelen said, a cold, predatory smile splitting his face. "I haven't forgotten how to suffer. I've just learned how to share."