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in the cursed catacombs of Azzilon, Ildrin's resolve wavers as his eyes fall on yet another demonic symbol scorched into the ground. His blade has tasted demon blood for days on end, yet the infernal hordes persist. His supplies dwindle, and the imbuements he relied upon have long faded, leaving him vulnerable and weak.
But one figure remains undeterred: Husk. Clad in rotting carcasses he pulled from a crevice of corpses, Husk moves with unrelenting strength, each strike of his bow biting critically deep into demonic flesh. "How does he endure?" Ildrin wonders.
Husk's bow glows faintly, a soft light emanating from its strings as it unleashes another rapid barrage with effortless grace. He clutches it close to his chest when he sleeps, keeping its secrets hidden. In one swift motion, Husk destroys the last of the inferniarchs with deadly precision. Their ancient, twisted forms collapse at his feet and Ildrin breathes a sigh of relief.
But all of a sudden, Husk catches sight of the demonic symbol. He lunges forward, shoving Ildrin violently away from it: "Move!" His voice thunders with urgency.
As they tumble to the ground, something dark slips from Husk's pockets, landing on the cold stone: a shriveled piece of skin, brimming with unnatural energy. It feels similar to Husk's bow, but hums a slightly different, yet equally sinister tune.
Ildrin reaches out to grab it. "Don't touch it!" Husk's voice breaks through, sharp as steel. "It shall seal the fate of those who stand against me." Ildrin's hand hovers, trembling, before he cautiously pulls it back. "Is that what powers your bow?" his voice is filled with awe.
Husk's eyes flare red in response, both as a warning and a threat. "Do NOT touch it. I will bring it to the Forgemaster. As I did with the other commander's hide. It is MINE."
The air between them thickens. Husk draws his bow with deliberate slowness and nocks an arrow, his gaze locked on Ildrin. "The Forgemaster?" Ildrin's voice falters as the arrowhead aligns with his heart. Husk's smile is cold as ice: "He has already forged your doom."
With a snap, the arrow strikes.
A final judgment.
Upcoming next: Navigating your quests with a steadfast guide.
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