The Dark City received him like an open wound.
From above, riding on the back of the Black Steel Raven, Ash could contemplate the extent of that cursed place. The cobblestone streets snaked between collapsed buildings and ruined cathedrals, their black stone facades glowing faintly under a light that came from no visible source. The Dark City was always in twilight — neither day nor night, but something in between, an eternal gray mist that enveloped the structures like a shroud.
The raven descended in silence, its metal wings cutting through the stale air with an almost inaudible hum. Its claws landed on the ground of a wide plaza — once a market or meeting place, now just an empty, desolate space — and Ash jumped from its back, his boots striking the stones with an echo that faded into the empty streets.
The silence was absolute.
There was no wind. No insects. No distant murmur of any living creature. Only the void and the darkness and the feeling that something watched from the shadows.
Ash closed his eyes and activated his aspect ability.
The world changed around him.
Where before there was only stone and shadows, now he saw threads. Threads of energy extending in all directions, connecting every corner of the city in an invisible network. Some threads were faint, almost transparent, barely held together by a spark of life. Others were thick, dark, pulsing with palpable malevolence.
Ash traced the network with his inner gaze, identifying every node, every source of energy.
The strongest was a fallen demon.
He felt it before he saw it — a mass of twisted, furious energy, so dense it seemed like a black hole in the fabric of his perception. It was on the other side of the city, in what had once been a palace or fortress, lurking in the shadows like a spider at the center of its web.
Fallen Demon, Ash thought, and a cold smile formed on his lips.
The weakest were awakened monsters. Dozens of them, perhaps a hundred, scattered throughout the city like rats in a sewer. Some prowled alone, others formed small groups, others simply remained motionless in some dark corner, waiting.
The range was wide. Awakened. Fallen. And in between, like an ink blot on white parchment, that demon that surpassed them all.
Ash opened his eyes.
"It's going to take time," he murmured.
He calculated in his mind. A week. Maybe a little more. With the help of his two echoes — the Black Steel Raven and the Black Knight — he could cleanse the city systematically, block by block, street by street. There would be no pitched battles like at the Forgotten Coast. This would be a hunt. Patient. Methodical. Lethal.
He extended his arms, and the sea of mist sprang from his body.
The gray mist poured across the plaza like water overflowing from a glass, flowing between the stones, ascending the walls of buildings, penetrating every crack and dark corner. Within minutes, the entire plaza was enveloped in a dense, cold fog that distorted shapes and muffled sounds.
Within the mist, Ash smiled.
And the hunt began.
---
Day One.
The first abomination fell before an hour passed.
It was an awakened scavenger — a dog-like creature with three heads, its skin pale and translucent like that of a submerged corpse — prowling near the plaza, feeding on the remains of other abominations that had fallen in previous battles. It didn't see her coming. The mist disoriented it, hid the sound of Ash's footsteps, distorted the perception of danger until it was too late.
The Pale Needle pierced its heart before it could growl.
The creature fell without a sound, its three heads twitching weakly before going still.
Ash stood by the corpse for a moment, listening. The spell spoke, as always.
[You have killed an Awakened monster. Shell Centurion.]
[Your soul strengthens.]
There was no memory. He hadn't expected one.
He continued.
---
Day Two.
The Black Knight eliminated a dozen abominations in the eastern sector of the city, while the Raven took care of the flying creatures nesting atop the ruined cathedrals.
Ash worked alone in the west, moving through the shadows like a ghost, his mist spreading ahead of him like a silent vanguard. He killed seventeen awakened monsters and two fallen — the latter more difficult, their defenses tougher, but none could match his speed within the sea of mist.
Among the abominations he killed, he obtained a memory.
A small brown leather pouch, wrinkled and worn by time, but strangely intact.
[Memory: Marauder's Pouch.]
Ash examined it curiously. It was small, the size of his closed hand, but when he opened the cord that sealed it, he felt an infinite space inside. It wasn't the invisible backpack that some awakened possessed, but something simpler — a pouch that could store many things without increasing its external weight or volume.
Practical.
He tied it to his belt, next to the soul fragment pouch, and continued.
---
Day Three.
The fallen demon was still there, on the other side of the city, waiting.
Ash could feel it now, even without his aspect ability. It was like a pressure in the air, a heaviness that settled on the shoulders of anyone who got too close. But it wasn't time yet. He needed to cleanse the rest of the city first, eliminate the weaker abominations that could attack him from behind or alert the demon to his presence.
So he continued.
That day, he killed twenty-three awakened monsters and three fallen. One of them, a shell centurion larger than those he had faced at the Forgotten Coast, provided him with an unexpected memory.
The sword was similar to the Sword of Seven in length and width — a wide, straight blade of dark metal, its edge glowing with a faint reddish gleam. But where the Sword of Seven absorbed blood to heal its bearer, this sword seemed to vibrate with a different hunger.
[Memory obtained: Abyss Fang.]
Ash swung it a few times, testing its weight and balance. It was heavier than the Sword of Seven, but also tougher, its blade capable of cutting through shell plates that other weapons could not penetrate.
He stored it in his inventory for later. It was always good to have options.
---
Days Four and Five.
The cleansing became routine.
Wake up to the perpetual gray light of the Dark City. Spread the mist. Hunt. Kill. Collect fragments. Repeat.
Ash lost count of the abominations he killed in those two days. Forty, fifty, sixty — the numbers blurred when the only constant was death. His echoes worked tirelessly, the Raven sweeping the skies, the Black Knight ravaging the streets, and Ash in between them both, the Pale Needle dancing in his hand, the mad smile returning to his face as the blood began to flow.
It wasn't the frenzy of the Forgotten Coast. It was more controlled, colder. But the satisfaction was the same.
Among the corpses, he found more memories.
A leather quiver with several arrows inside, their tips forged from a black metal that glowed with a faint greenish gleam. The arrows seemed to vibrate slightly, as if they were alive.
[Memory obtained: Hunter's Arrows.]
Ash stored them in his inventory, along with the bow he had obtained weeks ago. He wasn't an expert archer — his skills were more oriented toward close combat and mist — but having ranged options didn't hurt.
Fate had given him a bow. Now it gave him arrows.
Perhaps one day he would learn to use them properly.
---
Day Six.
Few abominations remained.
Ash walked through the empty streets of the Dark City, his footsteps echoing in the silence like funeral bells. The mist around him had grown denser in recent days, fed by the souls of the fallen, more powerful than ever.
The awakened monsters no longer existed. The fallen could be counted on one hand.
And the demon... the demon was still there.
Ash could feel it now. Not just as a pressure in the air, but as a presence that filled half the city. It was enormous. Powerful. A creature that had survived the fall of the Crimson Spire, the collapse of the Forgotten Coast, the death of the Nameless Sun.
A creature that Ash would have to face.
But not today.
Not yet.
That day, he killed the last straggling fallen — a slippery specter that moved through walls, a pustulent one that vomited acid, a silencer that had been lurking in the sewers — and collected their soul fragments. The spell granted him no more memories, but Ash didn't complain.
Three memories in one week was already more than many awakened obtained in months.
---
Day Seven.
The last abomination fell at the dawn of that day which had no dawn.
It was a fallen — one of the first he had detected upon arriving, a pale-skinned monster with multiple arms that crawled through the ruins of an ancient library. Ash found it hiding among the collapsed shelves, its eyes bright in the darkness, whispering something in a language he didn't recognize.
He didn't give it time to finish its incantation.
The Pale Needle pierced its head before it could utter the last syllable, and the fallen fell silent, its body crumbling into ashes that scattered with the wind.
The spell spoke.
[You have killed a Fallen monster. Forgotten Whisperer.]
[Your soul strengthens.]
And then, silence.
Ash stood in the middle of the ruined library, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. His arms ached. His shoulders creaked. A full week of uninterrupted hunting, with no rest beyond what was necessary to eat and drink, had taken its toll on his body.
But the Dark City was clean.
Or almost.
Ash dissipated the mist — the fog retreated slowly, folding back into his body like a domesticated animal returning to its den — and walked toward the library's exit. The Raven and the Black Knight waited for him outside, their imposing forms silhouetted against the eternal twilight.
"Rest," Ash ordered, and both echoes vanished into motes of light and shadow.
He stood alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by empty buildings and absolute silence. The city was clean, yes. But not entirely.
One more thing remained.
One last abomination.
Ash turned his head toward where he had felt the presence all week — that dark, pulsing point in the city's heart, that mass of twisted energy that had watched him from afar while he cleansed the rest — and his expression hardened.
It wasn't time for that yet.
The fallen demon was powerful. Too powerful to face now, exhausted after a week of continuous hunting. He needed to rest. He needed to recover his strength. He needed to prepare.
But before that, he had one last stop to make.
Ash left the now-empty city streets, heading toward a certain place. His walk was slow, almost lazy.
After a few hours of walking, he finally saw it.
He saw the ancient abandoned cathedral where he had killed the fallen demon knight that served as his echo.
Sighing, he entered the ruins. The cathedral was enormous, like everything in the city. At its center stood the statue of a beautiful woman whose head was missing.
Walking through the adjacent hallways, he found the false wall he had opened long ago.
Descending the steps for a few minutes, he reached the main entrance. The enormous black doors were still open.
Looking toward the walls, he saw one of the two torches emitting a cold, blue light. Ash knew that flame was special — it had burned for thousands of years without going out.
It was what he needed to kill the fallen terror of the Forgotten Coast.
Grabbing one of the torches, he began his journey back. Leaving the cathedral, he summoned the Raven, which materialized in a sea of sparks.