The beast lunged first. All its jaws opened wide, snapping shut with a sound like stone breaking. The ground shook as its claws dug deep into the cavern floor, each step smashing the stone. It came at him like a wall of flesh, bone, and chains.
Asher didn’t wait. His scythe rose in one smooth arc, cutting through one of its massive arms in a single strike. The limb fell away with a splash of blood, but the beast didn’t stop. It shrieked through its many throats and swung the other arms, claws raking through the air toward him.
He shifted back, cloak snapping behind him as he moved. The claws slammed into the stone where he had been, breaking the floor apart and sending shards flying. Before the beast could pull back, Asher darted in close. His scythe carved a deep cut across its chest, the crimson edge glowing brighter as it drank from the wound.
The monster staggered but did not fall. Its flesh writhed, veins crawling like living snakes, stitching the cut shut. Too many eyes rolled across its faces, all glaring at him as its jaws snapped again.
Behind it, the cult leader’s voice echoed with mad laughter.
"Yes! Yes! Feed it more! Let the Maw take everything from you!"
Asher ignored the voice. The beast came again, faster this time, arms lashing down. He ducked under one claw, spinning the scythe in his grip. The weapon flashed upward, severing the arm at the elbow. Without slowing, he twisted and cleaved through one of its heads, splitting it clean apart.
Blood sprayed the cavern walls. The monster stumbled, roaring, but still it stood. The cut head tried to knit itself back, jaws snapping half-formed.
Asher’s eyes narrowed. Enough games.
The beast roared and slammed its chains down. The blood-forged links lashed through the air, aiming to crush him. Asher blocked with the scythe, sparks flying as chain and blade clashed. The shockwave cracked the floor beneath them.
The beast pushed harder, trying to overwhelm him with sheer force. Asher slid back a step, then shifted his stance. With a sharp pull, he cut through the chains. The broken links rattled to the ground, still twitching like dying snakes.
The monster shrieked again and lunged forward, jaws stretching wide enough to swallow him whole. Asher didn’t retreat. He dashed inside its reach, cloak whipping around him. The scythe slashed across its throat, deep enough to nearly take its head.
The beast reeled, spraying blood in great arcs. But its body writhed again, pulling itself back together.
Asher’s grip tightened on the scythe. His free hand rose slowly.
The blood on the ground—the blood of the beast, the blood of the fallen cultists—stirred. It lifted in streams, twisting into glowing crimson veins that floated in the air around him. The cavern pulsed with his will, each beat like a drum inside the stone.
The cultists who still twitched on the ground screamed as their bodies dried out. Blood poured from their skin and their mouths, torn away and pulled into Asher’s aura. The beast’s wounds stopped healing—its blood, too, was being stolen.
The leader staggered back, his laughter breaking into panic.
"What—no—this is impossible!"
Asher lifted the scythe high. His voice was calm, even.
"Sanguine Supreme—Bloodlit Dominion."
The cavern shook. The air snapped.
Every drop of blood in the chamber exploded outward, filling the space with a crimson storm. Then, in the next breath, it all rushed back inward in a crushing wave.
The beast screamed with all its mouths, but the sound cut short as the tide of blood wrapped around it. Chains of crimson light squeezed tight, dragging into its flesh, filling every vein. Its body swelled, convulsed, then ripped apart from the inside.
Flesh burst in wet explosions, bones cracked like sticks, and eyes popped one by one. In seconds, nothing remained but red mist. The scythe flared with hungry light, drinking in the beast’s last strength.
Silence followed. Only the drip of blood from the altar remained.
The leader stumbled back, raising a shaking hand. His voice was weak now, shaking.
"You... you shouldn’t... that power—"
He didn’t finish. The scythe cut once, fast and clean. The blade tore through mask, flesh, and bone in one sweep. His body fell in two halves at the foot of the altar.
Asher lowered the weapon. The crimson glow steadied, humming softly, its hunger satisfied—for now.
Without a word, he turned from the bodies. His boots echoed against the stone as he walked deeper into the Hollow Vein.
This was only the first nest. The cult wasn’t finished.
Asher’s footsteps echoed as he moved deeper into the Hollow Vein. The air grew heavier with each step, the walls damp with blood-mist that hadn’t been there before. The fight had stirred something in this place—the stone itself seemed to pulse faintly, as if veins ran beneath it.
The scythe in his hand still glowed faint red, drinking faint threads of energy that drifted from the broken bodies behind him. He didn’t stop it. The weapon’s hunger had been satisfied for the moment, but he knew better than to think it would stay that way.
The tunnel curved down, opening into another chamber. Here, the walls were lined with crude carvings—shapes of chains, gaping mouths, and writhing figures bound together in endless hunger. Dozens of blood-filled braziers burned with a sickly crimson flame, lighting the chamber in an unsteady glow. This update is available on novel·fiɾe·net
And there, at its center, stood more cultists.
Not the half-starved ones from before. These were armed, armored in dark iron and bone, faces hidden by masks shaped like snarling beasts. In their hands they carried blades forged from chain links and black steel.
Behind them, the altar was larger—towering, shaped from black stone veined with red. And upon it writhed something new.
A beast not yet fully formed. Chains held it down, but its body twitched and tore at the bindings. Dozens of eyes opened and closed along its hide, and a dozen jaws snapped in the air as though already tasting blood.
The lead cultist stepped forward. His mask was etched with runes, his armor heavier than the rest. His voice echoed like gravel grinding in a pit.
"You trespass in the Maw’s womb. The blood you spill here belongs to us."