Rise Of Hades' Hellborn: Trumpets Of The Damned

Herald Of Famine

"I am Vhorak," it growled, its voice crackling like dying embers underfoot. Each word reverberated in the air, thick and suffocating. "Herald of Famine. Soul-Seeker. You carry the scent of the Hades-bound. Where is he?"

Alpha Team reacted with military precision.

"Engage!" Anna barked, her voice cutting through the tension.

Jack and Leo opened fire without hesitation, unleashing precision rounds that struck Vhorak square in the chest. But the bullets fizzled into nothing upon impact, as if swallowed by the creature’s dark aura.

"Bullets aren't doing a damn thing!" Leo growled, reloading as he rolled behind a scorched pillar.

Alex darted left, sleek in her combat gear, her boots crunching broken glass. She lobbed a plasma grenade with practiced ease. It detonated in a pulse of blue fire, shaking the ground and momentarily obscuring the demon in flame.

"Come on, come on," Melissa muttered, fingers dancing across the tablet secured to her arm. "Deploying spectral dampeners now!"

With a hiss, two compact towers unfurled from her backpack and slammed into the ground. A pulse radiated outward—soft at first, then sharply tangible. Vhorak flinched, his flesh hissing like water on hot coals.

"Blessed tech. Cute," the demon sneered, raising one arm.

The temperature dropped instantly. Wind screamed unnaturally as a shockwave tore through the field.

Jack and Leo were flung backward like rag dolls, colliding with the rusted carcass of a truck. Alex barely avoided the brunt, ducking behind a concrete column that fractured on impact. The dampeners sparked and sizzled, their energy shields flickering.

Anna didn’t hesitate. She charged.

Her knife—silver-edged, forged from Paragon-grade alloy—sliced upward in a brilliant arc. It struck Vhorak’s forearm with a satisfying hiss, leaving a faint glowing scar.

"Interesting," Vhorak mused, flexing his clawed fingers. Green fire erupted from his hands, casting a sickly light across the battlefield.

He swung. Blades of infernal energy cut through the air. Anna met them with her knife, steel ringing against fire. The impact sent her skidding back several feet, boots gouging twin trails in the dirt.

"I could devour all your souls and still starve," he growled. "But you’ll suffice as appetizers."

He roared.

Dark tendrils erupted from beneath the team—earth cracking as oily shadows surged upward. One latched onto Leo’s arm, yanking him down. Another slammed Melissa against a ruined wall, shattering her visor. Alex screamed as her bomb pack was torn apart mid-activation.

Jack, bleeding and dazed, pulled himself up. “Anna!”

But Vhorak was already charging his next strike. A swirling lance of death energy coiled in his hand, its hum rising to a piercing crescendo.

Suddenly—

A thunderclap split the sky.

A single bullet tore into Vhorak’s shoulder, erupting in black ichor.

Another followed. Then another.

Myles appeared like a storm in motion. He flipped through the air, twin pistols blazing with celestial fire. Each shot bent light, each impact disrupted the demonic energy around Vhorak.

"You," Vhorak hissed, staggering. "You reek of the pit."

Myles narrowed his eyes. "And you reek of last season’s B-movie villain."

Holstering one pistol, he called forth Oblivion Requiem. The blade shimmered into existence, forged from nothing but intent and shadow.

“Let’s make this quick,” Myles said, voice calm. “I’ve got a date with someone nastier than you.”

Vhorak shrieked and lunged.

The Alpha Team stared, eyes wide.

“That’s really him?” Leo gasped.

“He’s faster than the reports said,” Alex whispered.

“No,” Anna murmured, clutching her wound. “He’s something else.”

Myles danced through the battlefield. Oblivion Requiem moved like a living extension of him—every strike a calculated fracture against Vhorak’s regenerative aura. His pistol fired with rhythmic precision, each bullet carving glowing trails through the smoke.

“Back off, Vhorak,” Myles said. “You’re not on the guest list.”

“I am eternal!” Vhorak bellowed.

“Guess your RSVP got lost.”

With a powerful thrust, Myles drove the blade into Vhorak’s chest. The demon howled, black fire engulfing his form as he stumbled back, dissolving into fragments of ash.

Silence returned. Smoke spiraled upward. The air hung thick with the stench of sulfur.

Melissa groaned. “I think I peed a little.”

Leo chuckled. “You and me both.”

Myles holstered his weapons. “Didn’t come for you, but it’s good to see you alive.”

Jack limped forward. “You’re a legend, man.”

“Legends are dead people,” Myles replied, eyes distant. “I’m just someone who got back up.”

Anna approached, drawing her bow and nocking two electric arrows in one fluid motion. The others closed in behind her, weapons raised.

“Myles… you’re coming with us,” she said, voice steely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just save your lives?”

“Spare me the jack-off session,” she snapped. “You’re a variable we can’t figure out. And until we do, you’re coming with us—willingly or bleeding.”

Myles exhaled slowly. “We could do this all day…”

Oblivion Requiem vanished in a trail of smoke. “But I won’t. I want to check on Louis. He’s still with you, right?”

Anna nodded once. “Suit yourself.”

She loosed the arrow.

Electricity surged through Myles. He convulsed and collapsed, twitching.

“That’s for running away in the first place,” Anna muttered, her voice devoid of feeling.

[Paragon HQ – Subterranean Research Wing]

The observation chamber was sterile, dimly lit by rows of monitors. Myles lay strapped to a reinforced gurney behind reinforced glass, still unconscious.

Director Sandlers leaned over the shoulder of Dr. Winfield, Paragon’s lead arcane analyst.

“It’s all starting to make sense now,” Winfield muttered, tapping on a rotating 3D scan of Myles’ soul resonance. “If Myles is an Avatar of Hades… that explains why we couldn’t identify him before.”

Sandler’s lips thinned. “Give me the integrity of that theory.”

Winfield nodded. “I’ve learned to expect the impossible in this line of work, sir. But this doesn’t feel like a theory. He might actually be the real thing.”

Sandler’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“When we brought him in, his baseline strength was already three times human average,” Winfield explained. “Now it’s closer to five. And the soul structure inside him—it’s ancient. Deeply embedded. Like it’s rewriting him from the inside out.”

“Then why create an Avatar?” Sandlers asked.

Winfield hesitated. “If I had to guess—balance. Someone needs to enforce the rules of the underworld. A shepherd. An executioner.”

Winfield took a breath.“So what do we do with him now?”

Sandler folded his arms. “Offer him a choice. That’s what he is, right? Free will wrapped in a divine weapon.”

Winfield’s gaze lingered on the still form of Myles. “And if he says no?”

“Then we better hope we’re not on the wrong side of his judgment.”