Published at 19th of March 2026 7:06 am

Chapter 343: Dark Spirit

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Nicolai sat cross-legged within a Ritual circle, eyes closed and head bowed. He felt Serrin as a presence off to one side.

Among other things, the Ritual had needed the presence of something powerfully attuned to the spiritual. Serrin transpired to be well suited for that role.

Oma burned out of him and into the circle. Aura surged, and Nicolai’s felt the Ritual pulling on his Soul. It had taken quite some time to get to this stage. He allowed the Ritual to pull him as it wished, let his Soul become as water. His sense of the physical world turned misty and amorphous.

He hadn’t moved and yet, he found himself brushing up against some kind of barrier. Something which seemed to have always been there, yet he’d never noticed it until now. He squeezed against it, tried to tunnel through.

But it wasn’t so simple. The more he moved his Soul, the more the sense of the barrier faded. Only when he relaxed, let himself float, did he seem to draw closer and press tighter.

He regarded the wall uncertainly. The Memory Disc had only said he must keep trying to break through, and that it was different for everyone. Serrin had given more straightforward advice, but it was transpiring to be equally useless. ‘I just make myself slippery, and through I go.’

Nicolai was thinking his slipperiest of thoughts. He was oil on water. Nothing. Whatever his route through the barrier was, it was not the same as Serrin’s.

The sense of the barrier began to fade and then it was gone, vanished like a morning mist. Already the Ritual was spent. He would’ve liked to immediately do it again, but supposedly one could burn the ability to sense the Spiritual Realm out of themselves entirely if they pushed too hard at this stage.

As it was, the simple fact he’d felt it was very good. The Disc had cautioned that the majority of Cultivators would be unable to use the method and would feel absolutely nothing.

Now, he wanted to try and expand his abilities in a different direction. Serrin was stretching, moving to stand.

‘We’re not done here,’ he told the Hornet. ‘I need you to do me favour.’

‘Of course, simply ask,’ replied the Hornet, as eager to help as always. Serrin startled when there came a clatter at the doorway.

The hulking melee bot Legal had built was pressing in, having to move careful to fit through the doorway. Clutched in its two front utility limbs was a large steel chair, wrapped in steel chains and manacles.

It came forward under Nicolai’s direction, then placed the chair in the centre of the circle. It divested itself of its shield and mace then came to stand behind the chair.

Meanwhile, the Infiltrator came to stand beside him. Bending down he sent his Symbiotes out in a stream, tucking them away into the construct. Controlled via Local he sent Infiltrator scuttling away, out through the heavy steel door which hinged closed and let out a series of heavy clunks as it locked.

Then he settled into the chair and began to wrap himself in the chains. After binding his legs and lower body, he turned expectantly to Serrin.

‘I need you to do the rest of these.’

‘…Why? What is all this?’

‘I am going to attempt to improve my control over my Black Gift. I want to see what I can accomplish by focusing on it, deepening my understanding of it. But this may cause me to act… irrationally. Thus the chains. I’ve also handed my Symbiotes to the Infiltrator. You will watch over me. In the event there is trouble, I want you to strengthen the Mask, as you did before.’

He never would’ve thought he would be willing to be so vulnerable with another living being beside him. Serrin, by dint of his willingness to leave his Soul naked and unguarded, was perhaps the only person he felt so comfortable with. Plus, in the event Serrin did try something, there was various contingencies in place.

‘And what if me strengthening the Mask isn’t enough?’

The bot beside him held up one of its utility limbs. Clutched in a spindly robotic limb was a syringe. ‘The bot will inject me with a substance to induce unconsciousness.’

‘A kind of stinger? Would you like me to sting you, too, if there’s trouble?’

Nicolai frowned. ‘I would rather you didn’t.’ Hornet stings were amongst the nastier Symbiote effects he’d encountered. ‘Do the chains.’

Other than the Reckoning Ritual, the Memory Disc’s he’d received hadn’t had much more to say, but he was certain that more should be done. If he was to survive his Black Gift, he’d have to forge his own path.

He closed his eyes and drifted, searching for something he had always been able to sense, in some way or another.

It was easy to reach out for to it. He invited the Dark into his mind-meld with the Modules and the Mask, felt it crawl over and through him.

Immediately his teeth clenched, the ever-present urge to kill rising from background noise into a siren call, a sharp pressure needling every part of him. He knew if he opened his eyes he would see the world shifting like a mirage. Serrin would be stretched as though made of tallow, the walls would be breathing and growing eyes, the shadows would be rising and whispering.

But this was merely the start, and expected. His control was a steel vice and the Mask helped him wind it tighter.

The amorphous wall between this world and another was there, right beside him. So obvious he was amazed he didn’t see it all the time. It was easy to see because some part of his Soul was dug into it. The part the Dark came from, his Black Gift, pressed into the wall.

That was why he was so very open to the denizens of the Interior, such ripe and tempting prey for things like Paxolnaz. He was a route through the wall.

But these worlds were not alike. On this side there was the Aura and it was unkind to incorporeal beings without a physical form. Most creatures of the Interior shied away from it, and yet they gathered around his mind even so.

Nicolai peered through the hole in the wall, and saw them. In spite of the existence of the hole, they were unable to pass properly through. Not without his help. All they could do was feed on what came out of him, and send in their influence, like fingers grasping for the levers of his mind, to encourage him toward acts that would generate more of what they hungered for.

During the Reckoning he’d worked to trim them. The ones who desired things he was unwilling to give had been destroyed, the ones which were more suited were kept. Now, looking out upon them, he saw that the balance was shifting again. The host had grown and more undesirables populated their ranks.

Too many of them, that was the problem. So messy, so disorganised. What could he do to them? During the Reckoning he’d used the Blade to wreak havoc, but that was no longer an option. And in any case, it had only been a temporary measure.

He needed something more permanent. And he needed it to be something that was entirely tied to him, with no need to rely on a crutch like the Blade.

Nicolai was safe here, just inside the hole. But he saw and felt the hunger of them all, gazing down and into him.

They say that when you gaze into an abyss, the abyss gazes back into you, becomes you. Nicolai found himself wondering, in this situation… which of them was the abyss?

The Hornets thought him arrogant. They were right. To deal with entities like this you needed arrogance. Those lacking in confidence would be easily cored out and turned into a skin for demons.

He thought he might see a way, a method to employ. A method not from any Memory Disc. His own path.

If one of these things came through the hole, they would be able to attempt to possess him.

But at the same time, would he not be able to attempt to possess them?

Who was the abyss? Who was gazing into who?

Questions without answer. He wanted into the Interior. He wanted the power it could offer him. He wanted control of this host.

Nicolai rose up, his spirit beginning to press through the hole, tendrils of it reaching into the Interior.

The demons and entities reacted instantly. Crowding forward in a hungry mass they grasped for any part of him. He felt a dozen spikes of pain as they carved away any piece of Soul they could reach, grasped it and consumed it.

One of them was stronger than the others. A large demon wielding a monstrous sword, it tore into the others, hungry for his Soul. The hungriest, in fact. Slashing and tearing it cleared them, then hunched protectively over the hole his Soul emerged from, reaching greedily.

It was perfect. Nicolai’s Soul lunged in a sudden rush, a trapdoor spider snatching a tasty cricket. Immediately it was tearing at him, into him, its hunger peaking, and the others were pouring forward. He dragged it struggling back with him, and together they collapsed into the hole.

All of a sudden it was there, mixed in with his Soul, in his mind, hungry to become him and fighting for control of his body, attempting to do what it’s kind was built for: possession. It was strong, very strong.

The Modules, the Mask and the Thrill surged with him, crashing into it. Mind to mind he felt it as a bloody mass of hungry desire, almost identical to the Dark. This was the closest one to his own bloody nature, and it was difficult even to tell it apart.

As it pushed him and the others back he was forced to recognise it was much stronger and much better at this than anticipated, designed for it. It tore through him and seized at the reigns of his Soul and all of a sudden it was as though he fought himself. The Thrill was wrenched out of his control, and the Dark would soon follow.

But new strength was flooding in. The Mask was growing, greater and greater with every minute. He knew if he opened his eyes he would see Serrin with Soul Sense extended, pouring fresh energy in.

The battle began to turn. Control, he chanted, manic. The demon’s claws were tugged free and it was pressed back, the momentum shifting more and more in his favour.

From the Dark a hunger was arising, the same hunger he’d felt the very first time he’d looked into the Interior. Even then he’d known in some way that he these things were more than just parasites. They were there to be dominated.

The demon’s will broke, and with that its control over his Soul snapped apart. All his Soul was his, all the Dark was his, and he leveraged it with every shred of will, the Mask and the Modules and the Thrill a heavy weight behind.

Working on instinct, he began to alter the demon. It was already such a close match for the Dark, but it could be closer still. He drew lines between the Dark and the demon he’d seized, and it began to shift. He fed into the Dark and the Dark fed into it. Lines of control were being built, as it was turned not just from something external but into an extension. A piece of the Dark, a piece of him.

He, the Modules and the Mask, were set up over it. Through the process he found a kind of revelation, an understanding that deepened his ability to control the Dark even as he grew control over the demon.

And it was done. Its form, there within his Soul, was unsettled. An amorphous, shifting thing, a new piece of himself as yet undecided on what it should look.

Nicolai looked through the hole once more, saw the entities and demons crowding around. More than ever they looked like prey. And now, at long last, he had a tool with which to hunt them.

The subsumed entity, the extension of the Dark, was launched like a harpoon, spat through the hole where it became something of dark tentacles and stabbing claws. It wrapped tight around one, and before the others could react he pulled strong back on it. The extension and the demon were dragged back into him.

The fight resumed. The same fight as before, a battle for possession. But this went far different. Not only was this new demon weaker, he now had his own demon-part to assist.

The Dark was merged close and tight and for once his desires and its own were perfectly aligned. Bloodshed and carnage, greed and domination. All were present in this moment, consuming these beings of the Interior.

With him and the others and now the demonic extension of the Dark all aligned, he defeated the new demon quickly. Then it, too, was torn into pieces. Normally, these creatures were almost unkillable, and th pieces would’ve floated back into the Interior to gradually reform. But Nicolai wasn’t killing them. This new extension of himself was capable of consuming them, and so it did.

The amorphous, tearing piece of him grew a little larger, a little stronger.

Once more, he threw it out. The beings on the other side tore at it, managed to carve off some small parts, but they managed no more before he’d caught at one and dragged it through.

Time slipped by, Nicolai and his tool snatching at them and consuming them, one by one.

And as he went, he worked to guide the shape of this new part of himself. It would be more effective with a proper form, rather than this amorphous blob. It wasn’t exactly a demon, though one might call it an entity. It was a part of him, but mixed with the things of the Interior.

Based on his knowledge, the proper term for it would be a Dark Spirit. This seemed especially fitting.

He’d expected the entities to flee but all of them seemed aware that this was not only a dangerous moment, but an opportunity. They sensed the faint possibility that one of them, alone, might be able to Skin him and ride his body in the Material. So hungry for this were they that even as they were plucked, one by one, into him and consumed, so the others only crowded into the space the taken one had left.

Until there were only a few left. The Dark Spirit had grown large and strong, now, so much so that keeping it in his Soul was painful. He could feel the Aura burning at him every time he pulled it back in, felt how it overflowed from his body.

This was a risk, no doubt. His Dark Spirit was now far, far stronger than the original demon he’d first dominated. Like a fox in a henhouse it’d eaten all them all, driven by his gleeful, murderous excitement to take and kill and consume, the addictive sensation of growing strength, though it wasn’t entirely his own strength but that of a dominated piece.

But even so, the binds of control he’d wrapped it in were powerful. He trusted in them, he had to.

And in a way, a very real way, it was a part of him. Having this thing tied to him was far better than that shifting mass of weak entities and demons. All he could do for those was trim the most undesirable via a Reckoning, and stay wary of their influences. Now, he would be able to act far more directly.

The Dark Spirit emerged into the Interior, and the last remaining entities shied away.

It resembled, more than anything, Zero-Twelve.

What form was more fitting? He knew how to move it, felt it so close to being a part of himself.

Pantherlike, seeming formed from metal so dark with tarnish as to be almost black. A long and sharp tail, legs huge and clawed. Four limbs rose from its shoulders, like the gunlimbs of old, only these ended in stabbing spikes.

Zero-Twelve’s head had been stubby with the armour that extended from its shoulders, pocked with sensors. This one looked much the same but extended further, growing into a wolf-like mouth where burning drool dripped from between needle-teeth.

The entities saw it, turned and fled. But the Dark Spirit chased, took down the first in a wave of thrashing spike-limbs, tearing claws and snapping teeth.

There was no more need for these things to pulled into Nicolai, before being consumed. The Dark Spirit was capable of killing and consuming them with its own power. As it loped after the others a long, black wire was visible, emerging from its back. It looped through the air then wove into hole, into the Dark, and finally into Nicolai. Through that wire he controlled the Dark spirit.

The area around his access into the Interior was now clear.

Nicolai’s Soul unfolded from his body and into the Interior. The Dark Spirit returned to him, prowling around in search of fresh prey.

Now, at long last, he could explore this place. It was a strange mirror of the Material, cracked and warped, but… insight could be gleaned even so.

Moving around, he was able to look through and see a Soul, one that was vaguely familiar. He saw the shape of the Ritual Room, the Soul of the Infiltrator. He even felt how, with effort, he could push through the wall.

The Dark spirit stood by him, a monstrous, hulking form. He ran a hand over its side, a twisted grin on his spiritual features. A weapon and a guardian. He felt its desires almost as his own, an extension of the Dark.

More…

It had hunted everything here.

Nicolai returned to the hole and slipped back through to his body. Opened his eyes, peered around. The world was twisted, almost as much as the Interior. That wasn’t normal, was it? He wasn’t sure. There was someone there… a Hornet…

The Dark Spirit poured back through the hole and his Soul darkened, bulged out from his body.

‘What is that?!’ cried the Hornet.

The Aura burned at him, made his lips stretch in a grimace of pain and pleasure. His Soul Sense reached out, a bridge worming towards the Hornet’s Soul. Food…

The Dark Spirit was bucking against him, lunging through the bridge, reaching for the Hornet.

But that other part of him, the Mask, was pressing back. It was strong, and it had its own control over the Spirit. Nicolai snarled, working against it, but at that moment the Hornet’s Soul Sense flashed.

A stinger jabbed him and pain tore through his Soul, the spiritual venom making him writhe. The Dark Spirit began to fade, retreating back into the Interior, driven back by sting after sting.

No!

Something caught him in the side. Staring down he saw a syringe, held in a metal hand.

Unconsciousness swallowed him.

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