The Lord of Veins | Shadow Slave

Four months before…

"Why the hell did we have to come to this dump?"

Dex sat alone in a dim corner, his anger simmering and building with each passing moment. Adding fuel to this building anger was the charm he carried—a cursed blessing from slaying an Awakened Devil given the name, 'The Frostbitten Stalker' by the spell. A difficult battle that nearly killed him two months ago, but he came out on top in the end. 

He'd never fight a devil like that again---alone. Was he stupid? Probably, he was never a smart one and he hated to admit it. That battle had quickly taught him to never underestimate nightmare creatures, especially devils.

Devils, particularly those above awakened, had flaws like spell carriers and also had abilities akin to aspect abilities, making them far more dangerous than their dormant counterparts. 

The memory he had received was both a gift and a curse.

Memory Name: [Flaw of The Frostbitten Stalker] 

Memory description: —

Enchantments: 

[Mother's Gift] - A sacred boon from the Mother to her kin, this enchantment grants the bearer a faint affinity for ice, while also greatly increasing their resistance to the cold. The charm also imbues them with the power to see clearly in absolute darkness.

[Cindered Damnation] - Binds its wielder in suffering, making them vulnerable to heat and light. What one would consider moderate warmth or glimmer of light can inflict harm while intense exposure may prove fatal. 

Even so, he deemed the trade-off worthwhile, for now. 

Grimacing, Dex shoved the lantern on his booth's table further away, plunging his face further into the shadows. 

These sorts of people Dex loathed the most: the complacent. The scene before him was absurd. People laughed and mingled freely, their voices raised in song and drunken revelry. Some danced, while others leaned into each other in intimate interactions. 

He reserved a special brand of disgust for their cheerfulness.

After a while, he felt a bit at ease, his blue eyes roamed across the tavern. His gaze eventually settling on nearby conversation between two men who appeared to be near their late twenties.

One of the men was astonishingly unfit for someone surviving the Dream Realm. His frame, rotund, more fit for a merchant's life. The other was his opposite: muscular and rugged, exuding the air of someone capable of holding his own in the Dream Realm. 

"Blizzards are coming back, Jon," the hefty man grumbled, words muffled behind his ale mug.

Jon frowned, arms crossed tight over his broad chest. "Already? We just got hit."

"Yeah." The hefty man set his mug down with a dull thud. "But word is two more whipped up out of nowhere. Doesn't make sense anymore."

Jon snorted, shaking his head. "Three frost storms, now? Come on. That's insane."

The hefty man's face darkened. "Do I ever talk out of my ass, Jon? My sources say they've been building since last month."

Jon's expression hardened. "You don't get it. What's in those storms…" His voice dropped to a growl. "Those things will tear through this village like it's nothing, they aren't like your average nightmare creature."

The hefty man exhaled. "Yep. And those bastards? Safe behind their walls while we're out here bleeding for it."

While Dex was enamored in the conversation, a slight commotion urged him to peel his gaze away. Turning his head, he seen Esmeray then, his anger peaked once he saw her getting stopped by a drunkard.

"Damn asshole…" Dex muttered under his breath. He summoned a curved blade—another memory received from the pack of lurkers he had slain previously. 

But he hesitated. His grip weakening, and with a heavy sigh, he dismissed the memory back into his soul sea. Rising to his feet, he began moving towards them. 

Meanwhile, Esmeray stood, her gaze fixed on the rough, alcohol-stained hand clutching hers. The man it belonged to reeked of booze and poor hygiene, his breath sour as it fanned across her face. 

"Darling, you alone tonight?" he slurred, grinning wide enough to reveal yellowed teeth speckled with decay. 

Though he couldn't have been older than thirty, the man's neglectful lifestyle had taken its toll. As a dormant Awakened, he possessed some advantages over normal humans, but those gifts did not make a spell carrier immune to the consequences of poor self-care.

Years spent living recklessly in The Fractured Peaks had turned him into nothing more than just a sloppy drunkard. 

Esmeray blinked, her expression always so calm and composed. She spoke firmly, though her tone held politeness. "No, thank you. I'm with someone else right now."

But the man's grip didn't loosen. Instead, he leaned closer, his bloodshot eyes darting around the tavern to confirm her claim. His leering grin widened, emboldened by his intoxication. 

"I don't see him anywhere..." he drawled, his voice thick and mocking. "Besides... honey, you're in a bar. So shut the hell up and stop being so difficult—"

Just as he finished his sentence, his head slammed violently against the wooden table. The impact rattled the mugs on its surface, and shards of his broken teeth scattered across the table, like glass. And with a guttural groan, he crumpled to the floor. 

Dex loomed over him, his hand still clenched into a fist. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, and he squinted against the glaring lights of the bar counter. 

Before Dex could turn to check on Esmeray, and attacker lunged at him from behind, shoving him hard into the counter. The sudden motion sent a flash of pain through his ribs as they were bashed into the bar counter, and the bright lanterns illuminating the counter blinded him momentarily.

Everyone sitting at the bar counter, got up removing themselves. As Dex dealt with the burning pain behind his eyes, adrenaline took over. Dex shut his eyes and drove his elbow back, feeling the satisfying crunch as it connected with the attacker's nose. 

A muffled shout of pain followed as his assailant stumbled backward, clutching his now bloodied and broken nose. Dex spun around in one fluid motion, fists raised and ready. 

The man staggered as he closed his watering eyes from the blow.

"We'll fucking kill you!" the attacker snarled, his voice muffled by the hand still pressed to his face. His fury was seen in his eyes as he dropped his hand and balled his fist, allowing his blood from his nose to freely fall down his face.

Three more men circled them, making their numbers four. The tension built up further as everyone else in the bar stepped back, their once joyful laughter and chatter, replaced with unease. 

Dex's gaze snapped to Esmeray, now standing calmly at his side, her true thoughts always carefully concealed. 

"Four versus two?" Dex muttered.

Esmeray stepped back, raising her hands. "You started this fight. You deal with it." 

Dex smirked, his confidence spiking, even as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. "Four versus one, then!" 

They seemed more experienced, that much was obvious, perhaps they had two to three, maybe even more years surviving in the Dream realm over Dex. But experience alone wouldn't be enough to take him down, Dex was certain of that. 

He summoned his scythe-like blade, an awakened memory. They summoned their memories as well, memories accumulated over years of surviving the harsh region. Dex wasn't just outnumbered—he was underprepared. 

But fear didn't even flicker in his chest. He'd faced worse. He'd survived an Awakened Devil and come out victorious.

With a swift motion, Dex grabbed a wooden chair and hurled it at the nearest two men.

It struck them both, giving him a brief moment of advantage. Without hesitation, he pushed forward, activating his aspect ability [Friction Control] to enhance his speed, while his memory—[Sycophant's Enshroudment] further sharpened his agility and lessened his already accumulating fatigue.

Dex slashed at one of the men, and their experience showed. The man blocked his strike just in time, even despite the massive gap in speed, the clash of steel ringing in the tavern.

Dex didn't hesitate. Rather than risking an opening, he spun on his heel, following up with a kick.

The man crashed into a wooden table, knocking it over as he fell.

Now, it was three against one.

But just as Dex thought his luck was his greatest weapon, one of the men unleashed a blinding flash of light from their palm. 

It struck him full-force, and Dex's body locked in place as he collapsed. His head felt like it was splitting open, and he couldn't bear to open his eyes. 

An unexpected outcome for even the men as they glanced at the man that sent the blinding light in shock. 

While the men stepped further to approach Dex.

Esmeray smiled, backing up as someone stepped forward. 

A woman unsheathed her steel blade, with practiced ease. The gleam of polished steel catching the dim bar light. Her armor resembled that of a knight, though lighter designed for agility rather than defense. She straightened calm and composed, brandishing her blade as she stood between them shielding Dex.

"Don't worry, I got you." She spoke with a teasing tone.