Nito was dead laid to rest vanquished. Nak possessed his soul, and with it, whatever primordial power of Death still lingered within it.

Strictly speaking, it would do little good; Nak would need to feed all of that power to the Lordvessel. But maybe it would play the role of the good luck charm as Nak forged further into the Demon Ruins?

Or maybe Nak simply didn’t need luck any longer.

The Ceaseless Discharge

Nak stood over the body crumpled on the altar. He couldn’t help but think that the hulking, stories-tall, malformed, magma-oozing creature waiting soberly behind him was peering over his shoulder, just itching for him to disturb the body.

Nak obliged, and took off running.

Sure enough, the beast shuddered and hurled itself into action. Nak would later learn that he was the forlorn brother of the Witch of Izalith, keeping vigil over his sister’s last remaining possessions. A sad story, to be sure, but if the monster was wielding his eternal gratitude in defense of his sister, he wasn’t very skilled in its use. He swung wildly, and his tells were even larger than his blows. Nak sidestepped and rolled under them with ease, and his retorts were too much for the fiery sentinel to handle.

As he perished, the magma ebbed, and a path into the ruins cooled and hardened.

Chaos Ember

“Imminent sorrow”

“Tears ahead”

“Be wary of pincer attack”

This was all very ominous. Nak looked down the hallway. To his right, a stone wall. To his left, no wall, just a few crumbling pillars and a pleasing view of the magma below. Far, far down at the long end of the hallway, a chest.

Nak raised his shield and inched forward. Step… step… step… pause… step… step… rumble.

With a crash and a thorough upheaval of the dirt and stone floor, Nak found himself surrounded by huge (as if they would be any other size) burrowing rockworms. And then… nothing happened.

Nak stood for a moment, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to fall. It did not.

He inched forward and baited the one before him and to his left. It flailed. He stepped beyond its reach, and back in to punish it. And so on, and so on.

And then they were dead, and Nak held in his hands another ember, swirling with life and chaos.

Firesage Demon

Nak wiped his forehead. It was hard work dispatching legions of capra demons in the heat of the demon ruins!

He passed through the fog wall and watched as a grotesque winged fat-demon plodded toward him, holding aloft its hammer-catalyst.

Then he killed it.

Centipede Demon

Nak wiped his forehead. It was hard work killing demon pyromancers!

He passed through the fog wall and OH GOD OH HOLYSHITAARARAGHroll

A hunched over, mutated form was throwing punches with a horrible, carapace-covered bug-arm from across the lava lake, and Nak no longer had the luxury of self-reflection. He had to roll, sidestep, run, avoid the lava, roll…


Nak died.

Now that he had the time for self-reflection, Nak mused that maybe he wasn’t quite as unstoppable as he thought he was.

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