Heroes of Darkness: A Dark Dungeon Realm LitRPG Omnibus Collection

by Wolfe Locke

  The Titan coughed and flecks of blood landed on his chin. "Why didn’t you just kill me, demon, and take my strength for your own?" the Titan asked in a low labored voice, his tone sounding tortured and haggard. "I know your kind well enough. Bloodlust and lust of power clings to you, it’s a thirst that cannot be quenched."

  Truthfully, Seraph didn’t disagree with the assessment, but as for the Titan’s question, Seraph wasn't quite sure and all he could do was guess. "I know, I should have killed you while you were sleeping. Slit your throat. Drank your blood. Consumed your power. At least that’s what the old me would have done, but I’m not him anymore, am I. It’s not that I don’t want that kind of power, but that I don’t feel driven by it. That kind of power changes who you are, especially when you kill for it. But I would still like you to help me, how do I free you?”

  The giant wheezed almost as if laughing. "A demon showing restraint? Interesting. Either your corruption isn’t complete, or… No, it doesn’t matter. Tell me then, what was the crime that condemned you to this, the deepest pit of the dungeon?"

  Seraph looked back at the door, checking for signs of the encroaching green mist and breathed easier and then looked back at the giant. "They call me Seraph. Though I wasn’t always known by that name. When the World Dungeon emerged, my father was killed by monsters that were let loose, and I was thrown through the portal as a sacrifice. Naïve and young, I was betrayed by those I trusted. Leaders who had sought to cull my power in the same way they culled it from the other humans they kept like cattle. The same way I was offered the chance to cull you."

  The words coming out of his mouth felt oddly cathartic as Seraph braced himself against the table as his words became harder to speak as unfamiliar emotions bubbled up from within him. "I sinned against humanity. I who was known as the Angel of Death. The Angel of Genocide. I craved more power than I possessed. I fell upon the race of men like a locust claiming their lives out of necessity to fill my hunger and to justify my darker deeds. Even then I failed to save them. My past did not stay a secret. So here I find myself, all due to the machinations of a Demon Prince who wishes me to serve."

  "Ah…" responded the Titan as he closed his eyes and rested on the table, seeming to ignore the bleeding wound in his side. "I know of you then. The reincarnated Seraph. The one whom my master granted the Black Emblem. Your voice sounds full of regret. I am surprised."

  Seraph closed his eyes and clenched a fist. "Of course, it sounds full of regret. How could I not regret it? The mistakes I’ve made have killed millions, and yet here I am. Given a second chance to try to save all of humanity, and yet I can’t save them. Not while I’m lost and imprisoned here."

  The giant turned to him and grinned as he flexed a bicep and then the other, grunting as he sat up, tearing open the wound on his side, but also tearing apart the huge restraints that had bound him to the table.

  "You’ve passed the test of temptation then," the Titan said, sitting up as he pulled a bottle from his inventory and handed it to Seraph. "I had intended to kill you otherwise. We do not have much time,. Even now, Aeon’s Blight, what you call Wormwood, is advancing. It has spread throughout these lower floors and I will buy you the time that I can before getting out of here. My master wishes to speak to you."

  Notification: The Pillars of Forgiveness – Temptation

  Details: For some acts, there will never be forgiveness. But there can be redemption. Having refused to kill the Titan, you have filled this requirement.

  Notification: Quest Status Change – Pillars of Forgiveness - SUSPENDED

  Details: Due to the presence of Wormwood, the current trials have been suspended. As such, you have your access to the inventory and your status screen is restored until the current situation has been stabilized.

  Chapter 44: The Invasion

  Global Notification: Invasion

  Emergency Protocols – Immediate: The lower floors of the dungeon are currently under attack by the forces of Aeon, the Infernal Legion. Floors 5, 9, and 13 have almost been overwhelmed. Based on the rate of advancement, the Infernal Legion will reach Hometown within hours and the surface world shortly after.

  Quest Details – Resist the encroaching Infernals and survive. Do not let them reach the surface.

  Reward - All survivors will have experience requirements to advance for the next 5 years reduced by 85%.

  Reward – If you successfully kill an Infernal you may choose either an ability or artifact-level item.

  Reward – All participants in the battle will be temporarily granted the Last Stand ability which boosts battle power by a proportional share of damage received.

  *Note* Possessors of Legendary Classes do not have access to this ability.

  Seraph dismissed the prompt and muttered, “They could use the boosts now up front, they’ll be massacred otherwise. They aren’t ready for that.”

  The Titan interjected. “I saw that, of course they aren’t ready, but who is for the end of the world? The dungeon has his reasons, you’ll see soon enough. This Last Stand ability and the promise of a bonus to come might be the only thing he can currently provide. Things are not always as easy as they seem.”

  Nodding in agreement, Seraph changed the topic. “You said Amarath wants to talk to me, are you not going to help me?" he asked, as he thought of the dungeon spirit and the shadows that he had seen fighting against the mist golems and the warning he'd received through the Black Emblem from the spirit to keep moving.

  "Amarath?" asked the Titan as he looked at Seraph for a moment with an odd expression on his face. “He's known by Michael now. It's true then. You traveled through time along with the rest of us. "

  Seraph nodded. "Something like that. As far as I understood, I had thought I replaced my younger self, but recent events make me think perhaps I did something more like merge with him."

  "Ah," replied the Titan, nodding his head. "That would explain why the corruption within you is incomplete. Almost like it’s stalled. That fragment of your younger self fosters your own humanity. Hold on to that and keep it close to you."

  Seraph agreed, thinking of how the Demon Prince, Beelzebub had tried to claim the that fragment of his soul for his own. What is his true goal? He said he wanted me to become a Demon Prince like him, and if what this Titan is saying is true, that fragment of a soul within me is what prevents me from becoming something else.

  "Seraph. We don't have time for this. My master needs to see you," the Titan interjected, breaking Seraph out of his thoughts as the Titan pointed to the window of the cabin and both could see shambling horrors moving towards them in a haze of green. "We both know what that means. Our time together is almost ever."

  "How are we supposed to get out of here?" replied Seraph, looking around for an exit and finding none, nor did he see any signs of a secret hatch he could pull up. "It looks like we are sealed in. We'll have to fight our way out of here, but I don't have any protection from the Wormwood mist. My body won’t last once exposed and it will kill me."

  The Titan shook his head as he lifted himself off the table, but rather than stand up, the Titan proceeded to get on his hands and knees. "We are not going anywhere, Seraph. Only you. I am bound to this location. I cannot be killed, and I cannot be turned. I will allow for your escape. There is a portal within me and you must merely step through it. This is how I will help you.”

  Seraph looked at the Titan and watched as he opened his mouth wide and wider still until it was wide enough for a man to step into it. Though Seraph was unsure of what he was going to see, he was surprised by the appearance of a thin blue film that he recognized as being a portal. The Titan continued to stretch his jaws and locked them in place before motioning for Seraph to pass through.

  “Take care of yourself. Don’t let them turn you, when this is over you and I should have a talk,” Seraph said as he ducked underneath the Titan’s teeth and passed through the portal.

  Within seconds, Seraph was transported through space an
d found himself back where he had started, back in the darkness of his cell. A cell now illuminated by a single mage light, but Seraph knew that something else was different about this place, something had changed. The door to his cell looked like it had been forced ajar and looked to be broken at the corners.

  Carefully and quietly, Seraph crept towards the door to look out onto the hall to see what had happened, to see what reason he had been taken back to this place. The very aura of the place was different. The red gleam that had shone off of the Golem’s Eyes had gone dark, as had many of the mage lights that had formerly illuminated the hallway.

  With the scant light, Seraph could make out that the green mist had spread up and down the hallway and was much thicker than it had been before. The mist was so thick Seraph could no longer see the floor. If the floor even exists anymore. Who knows what horror it might have been changed into. Signs of Wormwood were everywhere. But why would they teleport me here? Seraph wondered with a dark edge of panic to his thoughts, believing himself to be trapped. How could this have even happened? It's too early. Far too early. Wormwood didn't start seeping into the dungeon until close to the very end. I have not been here for thirty years already. Something has gone wrong in the world.

  For a moment, Seraph thought maybe he should try to chance it. To try and just run through the green mist, to take the opportunity to escape to the higher floors and wait for a better plan or insight from the dungeon, but instantly realized it would be a fatal mistake. I don't have the protection I did in my former life. This body I have now, even with the Abyssal Body type, will be destroyed. I'm still just a pale imitation of who I was.

  Walking around with his hands folded on his head, Seraph tried to figure out what to do next, uncomfortable with just sitting around and waiting. The entire time keeping his eyes centered on the door and readying himself to attack, prepared for whatever might surface from within that green mist or beyond, ready for whatever monster would come for him. Soon Seraph heard movement from the hallway, followed by the sound of talons screeching against stone as something began to work its way through the mist, heading his direction. Having no other choice, Seraph turned around and retreated back away from the entryway and brought out Ajana’s Wrath. Are you ready? Seraph aimed the thought at the weapon, but received no reply.

  I'll have to buy myself some time, once the first creature attacks, more will follow, Seraph realized as he ran forward and slammed the door shut as the monster in the hallway thudded with heavy steps and started running straight towards him. Seraph knew that something fundamental had changed. No longer did he smell his own aged blood on the floor, or the smell of his own filth. The very room had changed. Seraph turned around, readying himself as he did. His spectral arms each armed with one of the different spells he had at his disposal. Ready to attack, and ready to kill.

  What he saw confused and concerned him as he dismissed the activated spells.

  The room was no longer a stone cell, but a modern office full of monitors and in front of him, sitting in a chair was Michael, the physical avatar of the spirit of the World Dungeon. The man looked older than Seraph had seen him last, ancient even, his hair no longer black, but white as spider silk and just as thin. The man’s skin was heavily marred by wrinkles and spots of age. He was surrounded on all sides by monitors that showed almost every single event happening within the dungeon at all times.

  "It has been some time since we last talked, Seraph. We did not part on the best of terms when I saw you last at the Visitors Center. I am glad the shadows I sent were able to save you," Michael said, his voice low and somber, raspy even. "I am dying, not just this body, but me. I need your help."

  Chapter 45: The Immortal Amarath

  "It's only been a few months since I saw you last, Seraph, and much has happened while you were imprisoned," Michael said as he sat in his great chair and pushed his glasses off of his eyes and set them down on a small table next to him.

  I didn't know that much time passed, but if it's only been a few months, why does he look so much older. Why does he look older at all? He shouldn't, not if he's immortal, Seraph thought to himself in confusion.

  "Why did you leave me in that cell?" Seraph asked, surprising himself with the undercurrent of betrayal he heard in his voice. “Why did you change everything? I’ve suffered and almost died so many times because of you. The one advantage I had, knowing the future, you took that away from me.”

  A flash of irritation crossed Michael’s face, but it was only a flash, if Seraph had not been paying attention, he would have never caught it. “I gave you everything, Seraph. I gave you my Emblem, I gave you the power of the Angel of Death, I gave you every advantage and all I did was handicap you. Tell me, Seraph, if you had struggled to find power, if you had to train and hone your skills and your body like the others, how much more powerful would you have been?"

  Seraph considered the question but didn’t answer, he had an idea, and the implications hadn’t sat well with him. It was a tough admission to think that one’s own strength was a hindrance, but he couldn’t argue with Michael. He had found himself barely surviving encounters that he should have dominated or at least not been a struggle.

  When Seraph didn’t answer, Michael continued. “I needed you humbled, Seraph. I needed you to see the gaps in your own strength and struggle like the rest of humanity. I had not anticipated you would linger so long and almost die, that you would almost fall to night creatures that haunt Hometown. Do you know why I let that happen? Why I let the shades of the past linger like that in my city?

  “No, I don’t,” Seraph answered. “But it was a problem, those things are going to kill a lot of people. You know Hometown isn’t big enough to accommodate too many people.”

  Michael reached out a hand and a glass appeared on the table full of water and had a sip before another appeared and he handed it to Seraph. “No, you’re right. Hometown doesn’t have the space, but I didn’t want you to be put into another position where you’d have to cull humanity. So I added the night creatures to do just that. We need more people to survive, Seraph, but we don’t need everyone to survive. You were on to something before in that approach.”

  “You mean the approach you condemned me for?” Seraph asked, balking at the Dungeon Spirit’s logic.

  Michael shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “I’m not a God, Seraph. All these changes are in hopes of making you and the rest of humanity stronger, and I no longer have the strength that I once did. This is the last time.”

  “The last time for what?” Seraph asked as he took a sip of the water, curious.

  “The Genesis Game,” Michael responded with a tired look on his face. “The last one. I have done this across countless worlds and the effect has been the same every time. Aeon marks a world, and I am given the chance to prepare the people of that world for his invasion. Few ever progress far enough into my inner world to grow, and few still climb as far as you did. You were worth trying to save, and I was not ready to condemn Earth. This was once my world too. Long before choosing the name of Michael or Amarath or any of the other thousand names I have gone by throughout the millennia.”

  Seraph grimaced and felt a deep resentment towards the man. “Why do any of this then?” he asked. “If this is our last chance, why risk so much?”

  Michael looked up at him, and in his eyes, Seraph saw the reflection of time innumerable and the dead who numbered far beyond what Seraph had ever managed. “You forget yourself, and you forget me. I who was Amarath the Immortal. The World Dungeon. I have seen the span of galaxies turned to dust and the endless march of the Infernal Legion across reality. I have consumed the lives of billions to try and stop their advancement. But I could not do it here.”

  “Why me then?” asked Seraph as a horrible realization dawned on him. “You gave me your Emblem, you remade me in your image in that dark cave all those years ago, didn’t you?”

  Michael closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes I did. Because I nee
ded you in this place, I needed a pawn I could act with, I needed a way to interact beyond this avatar of flesh. A mistake I made. I took away too many things from you and left you a calloused husk.

  “No,” muttered Michael. “Not you, not this version of you at least. You’ve become someone else altogether. Neither the young boy from the cave or the ruthless killer I molded you to be. I imagine you have many more questions, and as much as I wish I could answer them, our time together is rather limited I fear.”

  Seraph heard Michael’s words wash over him, and at the disclosure he felt a sense of relief. He had felt, what’s the word. Inconsistent.

  “I have removed you from the prison within the dungeon. Things outside of this room are rapidly unfolding at a pace I cannot control. First, this place I have transported you to is my command node. This is how I maintain a physical manifestation within the dungeon, in a sense you could call this place an extension of my soul," Michael explained as he held his hands up showing off the screens before bowing over in a fit as coughs wracked his body, leaving a small trail of blood around his mouth.

  Seraph looked at the blood with a grimace. Whatever his feelings were, he knew it was best to put them aside for the time being. He was not sure about many things regarding the dungeon spirit, but one thing he knew to be sure of beyond a doubt, the physical manifestation of blood on a spiritual being was an ill omen with dire ramifications.