2026-07-30 18:53:23Bruce stepped forward. The leader thrust the glowing red knife at Bruce's stomach. Bruce twisted his body, letting the hot blade slide harmlessly past his brown cloak. Before the leader could pull the knife back, Bruce grabbed the man's wrist. “Devour.”
The red fire on the knife was instantly sucked into Bruce's hand. He felt another small drop of warmth hit his cracked core. It felt incredibly good.
Bruce pulled the leader forward, off balance, and drove his left knee hard into the man's stomach. The leader gasped, all the air leaving his lungs, and collapsed into the muddy puddle, completely knocked out.
The third thug stopped running. He looked at his two friends lying in the mud. He looked at Bruce, who was standing perfectly still in the rain.
Bruce slowly raised his head.
The dark hood of the cloak slipped back just a little bit. In the dim light of the alley, the third thug saw Bruce's eyes. They were glowing with bright, terrifying silver fire.
The thug dropped his iron chain. He turned around and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, screaming into the rainy night. "Demon! There's a demon in the alley!"
Bruce let him go.
He let out a long, heavy breath and leaned his back against the brick wall. His legs were shaking violently. Eating the cheap, dirty magic of the street thugs had stopped his core from bleeding, but it had not healed his burns. His right arm still felt like it was on fire.
The young girl with the short brown hair slowly stood up. She picked up her leather bag of medicine from the mud. She wiped the blood from her lip and looked at the stranger who had just saved her life.
She walked closer, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.
"Thank you," the girl said. Her voice was quiet but steady. She was brave. "You saved my life. Those men were going to kill me."
"Go home," Bruce said roughly, keeping his hood pulled low. "The streets are not safe tonight."
As Bruce turned to walk away, a sudden gust of wind blew down the alley. The wind caught the edge of Bruce's heavy brown cloak, blowing it open for just a second.
The girl saw his bare chest and his right shoulder.
She saw the terrible, black burns. But more importantly, she saw the purple, glowing brand burned into his skin. The symbol of a broken circle with a jagged line through it.
The girl gasped loudly. She dropped her leather bag into the mud.
Bruce quickly pulled the cloak shut, cursing his bad luck. He turned to face her, his silver eyes flashing defensively. If she screamed and called the Inquisitors, he would have to run, and he didn't have the energy for a chase.
But the girl did not scream.
She stared at the purple brand on his shoulder, and then looked up at his hooded face.
"The Brand of the Void," the girl whispered. Her eyes were completely wide. She looked at him with a mix of absolute awe and sheer terror. "You... you are the Void-Born. The bastard son of the Iron-Heart Clan."
Bruce froze. How did a random girl in the slums know about the brand? How did she know his title?
"The golden bells," the girl continued, speaking quickly. She pointed up at the sky. "The alarm. It's not a normal Purge. The whole city is talking about it. They say a boy from the noble estate went crazy. They say he summoned a Forbidden Angel and killed twelve Dungeon Guards. The Inquisitors are looking for a boy with silver eyes and a burned arm."
Bruce tightened his grip on his cloak. "If you know who I am, you should run away. If they find you with me, they will kill you too."
"No," the girl said firmly. She stepped closer to him. "I won't run. You saved my medicine. And anyone who kills Iron-Heart guards is a friend of ours."
"Ours?" Bruce asked, confused.
"My master," the girl explained. "He is an underground doctor. He fixes people the nobles throw away. He hates the Iron-Heart Clan more than anything in the world. And looking at your arm, you need a doctor right now, or you are going to die of holy rot."
Bruce looked at his ruined right arm under the cloak. She was right. The holy fire was a poison. Eating street-thug magic wouldn't cure it. If he didn't get real medical help soon, he would lose the arm, or worse.
"Can your master heal holy burns?" Bruce asked.
Before the girl could answer, a terrifying sound echoed at the entrance of the alley.
GRRRRRRRR.
It was a deep, guttural growl that shook the water in the puddles.
Bruce and the girl quickly looked toward the main street.
A massive beam of golden light swept across the brick walls, cutting through the rain and the dark. The light was coming from a beast standing at the entrance of the alley.
It was a Golden Bloodhound.
It was a magical creature used by the Inquisition for hunting heretics. It looked like a massive wolf, but it was made entirely of solid, glowing golden light. It did not have eyes; instead, its entire face radiated a blinding beam of light like a searchlight.
The Hound was sniffing the muddy ground. It took a step forward, its glowing head turning toward Bruce.
The beam of golden light swept over Bruce's feet. The Hound did not smell Bruce's blood. It smelled the dark magic of the Ashen Seraph hiding inside Bruce's shadow.
The Hound let out a loud, ringing bark that sounded like a church bell, alerting its masters.
"They found you!" the girl panicked.
From down the main street, heavy armored boots began to run toward the alley.
"Over here! The Hound has the scent!" a deep voice shouted.
Bruce stepped in front of the girl, placing himself between her and the beast of light. He did not have his sword. He did not have the Seraph. He was trapped in a dead-end alley with a cracked core and a useless arm.
The girl didn't hesitate. She grabbed Bruce’s good left hand and pulled him toward a pile of wooden crates at the back of the alley.
"Follow me, or die!" the girl ordered.
She kicked a heavy wooden crate aside, revealing a rusted iron grate set deep into the muddy ground.
As the Golden Hound charged down the alley, jaws snapping with holy fire, the girl pulled the heavy grate open, exposing a pitch-black hole leading down into the city's ancient sewer system.
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Chapter 52
Hestia looked up at Bruce. Her face was covered in blood and wet dirt. Her eyes, which used to look at him with such cold, cruel arrogance, were now filled with absolute, pure terror. She opened her mouth, but she was too weak to speak. She just whimpered, raising a trembling, bleeding hand to protect her face. She expected Bruce to summon his dark sword and cut her head off. Bruce looked down at the Matriarch of the Iron-Heart Clan. He looked at the woman who had locked his mother in a cage, who had branded his shoulder, and who had ordered him to be treated like garbage for nineteen years. He could easily kill her right now. It would take one second. But Bruce did not raise his hand. He realized that killing her here, in the rubble, was too easy. She was already defeated. Her gate was destroyed. Her secret battery farm was exposed to the church. Her elite army was dead. Hestia was going to have to explain this massive failure to the rest of the noble clans and the angry Inquisi
Chapter 51
The Blade of Lost Tears materialized in his grip. But it was not a normal sword of dark smoke anymore. Fueled by the Seraph’s full localized power and the explosive Ashen Fire, the sword grew. It expanded massively, shooting up into the rainy sky. It became a towering pillar of black and white flames, sixty feet long and ten feet wide. It looked like a column of absolute destruction. Bruce grabbed the hilt of the massive, sixty-foot pillar of fire with both hands. He did not feel the weight. The magic moved with his will. He ignored the army of Inquisitors behind him. He ignored the holy spears and fireballs flying at his back. He focused entirely on the giant monster and the massive eighty-foot gate blocking his path to freedom. "I am the Devourer," Bruce’s voice boomed. It sounded like an earthquake. Bruce swung the massive, sixty-foot sword of Ashen Fire directly at the Northern Gate. He swung it in a perfect, horizontal arc. The giant pillar of black and white fire hit Hest
Chapter 50
"Very little, Master," the Seraph replied. "Only enough for one final attack. But I cannot come out of your shadow. The holy net will burn me instantly.""You don't need to come out," Bruce commanded. "I am the Devourer. I am the bridge. I want you to push all of your remaining power directly into my body. Every single drop. I will channel your true, localized power through my own flesh."The Seraph was completely shocked by the order. "Master, you cannot do that!" the Seraph warned quickly. "My power is Forbidden. It is too dense, too chaotic! Your Void-Forged Body is strong, but you are still a mortal boy! If I push my full power through your cracked core, it will break your bones! It will tear your muscles apart! You might explode!""I don't care!" Bruce shouted out loud. His sudden shout made Bontus and Hestia stop arguing. They both looked down at the boy in the glowing net. "I don't care if it breaks my bones!" Bruce yelled, his voice echoing over the rain. He opened his eyes
Chapter 49
Bruce Thompson lay flat on the wet, cold cobblestones. The holy net of pure, burning hard-light was wrapped tightly around his body. The magic acted like glowing ropes of fire, pinning his arms to his sides and his legs together. Every time he took a breath, the net burned deeper into his wet clothes and his skin. He could smell the sickening scent of his own burning flesh. He was completely trapped. Above him, the giant, mutated monster that used to be Lady Hestia looked down. She was fused into the massive, eighty-foot Northern Gate. Her giant iron face twisted into an ugly, jagged smile. Her eyes burned with red, stolen blood-magic. She raised her massive foot, which was made of heavy iron beams and sharp spikes. She hovered it directly over Bruce’s head, ready to stomp him into a bloody paste. "I have you now!" Hestia’s monstrous voice roared. The sound shook the heavy rain in the air. "You are nothing but a trapped rat, Bruce! A little, dirty rat caught in a trap!"But befor
Chapter 48
The Seraph was not strong enough to stop the monster completely, but the dark chains slowed the giant arms down for just one crucial second. Bruce used that second perfectly. He ran straight up the falling right arm. His bare feet found traction on the rusty iron and the glowing red spikes. He sprinted up the massive arm like it was a ramp, defying gravity. "Get off me!" Hestia screamed. She tried to shake her arm, but Bruce was too fast. He reached the shoulder of the giant monster. He leaped off the metal joint, launching himself high into the air, directly toward the center of the gate. He was flying straight toward Hestia’s giant, ugly face. Bruce reached his left hand out. The Brand of the Void on his shoulder flared with its maximum power. The deep purple light illuminated the rainy night. He was ready to pull the corrupted magic right out of her brain. He was ready to end the Matriarch once and for all. "I am going to eat you alive, Hestia," Bruce whispered as he flew thro
Chapter 47
Without even slowing his sprint, Bruce reached his left hand up and caught the glowing red fire-arrow directly out of the air. He did not even look at it. He simply absorbed the fire magic into his palm, turning the iron arrowhead to rust, and kept running. The guards on the ground were completely decimated. They could not fight back. They could not even defend themselves. Every time they swung a weapon, Bruce was already behind them. Every time they tried to use magic, Bruce ate it, growing stronger, faster, and more deadly. It was not a battle. It was a harvest. In less than sixty seconds, the remaining twenty Iron-Guards on the ground were completely erased. There were no bodies. There was no blood. There were only piles of gray ash quickly washing away in the freezing rain. Bruce slid to a stop. His bare feet dug deep grooves into the wet stone. He was breathing deeply, but he was not tired. The stolen magic rushed through his veins, repairing his torn muscles instantly. The
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