Valdis’s “Bet” hung in the stale air, sharp enough to freeze the Overseers along the perimeter. The Crucible’s voice, a grating internal thrum, accepted the stakes without further argument. Above, the elite spectators, arrayed in the tiered balconies of the Harrowing Atrium, bellowed their derision. They saw a scrawny Mend-Smith wielding a rusted skillet against a legendary combatant, even if that champion was a shambling shell.
His original body, Ignat’s body, lunged. It moved with the brutal efficiency of a trained killer, a ghost of the man Valdis once was. The left gauntlet, an ancient artifact known as the ‘Serpent’s Maw’, crackled with sickly green Gloom-energy, its clawed fingers aiming for Valdis’s throat. This was the same gauntlet that had crushed the ribs of countless challengers, the same iron Ignat had wielded with such savage pride.
Valdis didn’t dodge. He raised the frying pan. The impact shrieked, a sound of tortured metal. The Serpent’s Maw, an heirloom of a thousand victories, met humble cast iron. It fractured. Cracks split its polished surface, then shattered outright, sending jagged shards of corrupted metal skittering across the blood-stained sand. The crowd, seconds before roaring with contempt, fell into a stunned hush. A lone, incredulous gasp echoed through the pit.
*[Kinetic Imprint: Cleave – 128% effectiveness. Soul Rust mitigated.]*
Ignat’s hollow husk faltered, dead sockets twitching in mechanical confusion. It instinctively brought up its right gauntlet, the ‘Lion’s Roar’, to defend. This one, too, was an ancient combat relic, radiating a faint, predatory hum.
Valdis didn’t hesitate. He swung the pan again, a blur of rust and intent. The blow landed with a sickening crunch. The Lion’s Roar, supposedly impervious, exploded into a shower of ruined brass and shattered ceramic. The dead frame stumbled backward, its arms now bare, the Gloom-flesh beneath them exposed and glistening.
Another stunned silence gripped the arena. Then, a single, furious voice tore through it. “Impossible! Mend-Smiths cannot wield such force! This is a trick!” A high-tier patron, jowls flushed scarlet, leapt to his feet. He had staked a fortune on the brute force of his reanimated champion.
Valdis ignored the shouting aristocrat. He advanced on his former body. Black, barbed rot pulsed visibly beneath the dead skin, a writhing network of corrupted veins. It was the same horror that had consumed his memory, twisted his legacy. He looked into the dead sockets, seeking any lingering ember of Ignat. A hint of the brawler he had been.
He wanted to free it. To give it peace.
*[Warning: Direct interaction with a Gloom-Construct of this tier carries extreme risk of Soul Rust contagion. Proceed?]*
He had already accepted total nullification. What was a little more Soul Rust?
“Mend,” Valdis whispered, his voice hoarse, raw with longing. “Mend my old self.”
*[Wager: Your entire remaining Soul Rust resistance. Proposed Mend: Purge G-Parasite. Success Chance: 3%.]*
Valdis didn't flinch. “Accepted.”
The air around him crackled. The frying pan in his hand pulsed with a furious, golden light, not the destructive energy of Kinetic Imprint, but something different, deeper. The light extended, a shimmering, ethereal web, latching onto Ignat’s corpse. The construct thrashed, a guttural shriek tearing from its desiccated throat as the golden filaments burrowed into its flesh. It was a terrifying, beautiful sight. The nested rot recoiled, burning, trying to tear itself free. But Valdis held fast, his frail body trembling with the effort.
“BURN, YOU FILTH!” he roared, pouring every ounce of his borrowed strength into the Mend. The golden light intensified, searing. The foul growth shrieked, shrill and deafening, as it was torn, burning, from Ignat’s flesh. The carcass convulsed violently, arching its spine, then went limp as a flash of white heat blasted from its chest.
The force of it hammered Valdis back, sending him skidding across the sand. The flash scorched the sight of the spectators, screams of outrage echoing from the balconies. When the light faded, Ignat’s body lay still, pristine. The Gloom was gone. It was just dead bone and quiet sinew.
The patron, eyes weeping from the glare, hammered his fists on the railing. “YOU DEFIANT WRETCH! YOU RUINED MY CHAMPION! GATEKEEPERS! RELEASE THE HORDE! RELEASE IT ALL!”
The arena sentries, hard-faced enforcers of the Crucible System, hesitated. Unleashing every captive beast at once violated trial protocol and invited total ruin. Such an act would inevitably lead to widespread contamination, a breach of the city’s defenses.
“NOW!” the lord screamed, pressing an ornate dagger against the nearest sentry's neck. “Or I flay your kin to the bone!”
The guards scrambled. Heavy iron grates lining the lowest ring of the arena ground open. From the black maw of a dozen portals, a tide of chitinous horrors surged. They were not the usual skirmishers, but massive, multi-limbed beasts, each one capable of tearing a man in half. Thousands of them, shrieking, clattering, pouring into the arena.
The sheer weight of the monsters, their chitinous bodies slamming against the arena’s foundational pillars, was too much. The ground trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. A groaning, tearing sound ripped through the air, like a dying titan’s last breath. A massive fissure tore across the staging floor, splitting flagstones in two. The stone foundation buckled, crashing downward.
Screams of terror replaced the shouts of rage. Combatants, patrons, and guards plummeted into the dark below. Valdis, still reeling from the Mend, felt the ground give way beneath his feet. He grasped for something, anything, but found only empty air as he plunged, the frying pan still clutched in his hand, into the subterranean, unmapped wings of the Harrowing Atrium, surrounded by thousands of shrieking horrors. Below, the true meat-grinder awaited.
His crew’s desperate cries echoed above him, growing fainter as he fell into the abyss. He had gambled everything to save his past. Now, his future hung by a thread, surrounded by the ravenous maw of the Gloom.