Story Title :- Veins of the Abyss
Chapter 4: The Dominion’s Knife
Pain is a strange teacher.
It sharpens some, breaks others. And for Ash—waking up days later in a forgotten crypt, body stitched and bandaged—it carved a single truth into his bones:
You’re not ready.
The room was cold, damp, lit by strange fungi and whispering shadows. Faint, pulsing veins of glowing ore ran through the walls like blood vessels. The air tasted of iron and rot.
System notifications ticked across his vision, too fast to track:
Ash sat up slowly, each movement a fight. He was alone, but he felt watched. The crypt pulsed around him, alive in a way stone shouldn’t be.
A voice echoed from the dark.
“Welcome back, corpse.”
The bone-masked woman stepped into view, holding two items—a black vial, and a rusted blade that oozed darkness from its edge.
“You crossed a threshold,” she said, crouching beside him. “Most never do. Now, you’re part of it.”
“Part of what?”
She didn’t answer directly.
“Drink this.”
Ash took the vial. The liquid inside writhed like it hated being contained.
“What is it?”
“Blood of the Forgotten. Dominion experiments gone wrong. It’ll awaken what’s yours.”
He hesitated.
Then drank.
Fire punched down his throat.
His veins burned like molten wire. His eyes turned black, then back. His skin shimmered with unknown sigils.
The system screamed.
Ash collapsed, convulsing.
Memories that weren’t his surged through him—battlefields, broken chains, gods drowning in black fire. A thousand deaths. A million screams.
He came back to the crypt floor gasping.
And laughing.
The woman just watched.
“You’ve taken your first step into the deep,” she said. “Now, it gets worse.”
Somewhere far above…
A Dominion spire towered over the city like a blade through the sky. Cold, white metal. No windows. Just surveillance, silence, and screams behind sterile walls.
Inside, a man in crimson robes stared at a burning map.
“Marked activity confirmed near the Shard Wastes,” an officer said, bowing low. “Detonation readings match Abyssal protocols.”
The robed man didn’t move.
He touched the map—where Ash had used the pulse bomb—and watched it smolder.
“This one’s different,” he murmured. “He’s awakened.”
“Should we deploy the Reclaimers, Director?”
He turned.
“No,” he said softly. “Send the Knife.”
Back in the crypt…
Ash stood, barely steady, as the bone-masked woman handed him the rusted blade.
“This isn’t a weapon,” she said. “It’s a contract. Made from the soul of a Dominion traitor. Bond with it, and it becomes whatever you need. But it drinks blood.”
Ash took it.
The blade pulsed.
“I hope you’re ready to kill,” she said. “Because they’re coming.”
A low howl echoed through the tunnel.
Ash turned.
Shadows slithered at the edge of the crypt. Dozens of limbs. Twisted bodies. Failed experiments. Aberrants.
“Good,” he said.
His eyes glowed.
“I need to feed my blade.”
End of Chapter 4
