da3strikes
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Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 17:37:20 +0000 UTCI had my final doctor's appointment this week and he gave me the all-clear to start strength training! Which is pretty awesome... apart from how horribly weak I am. I'm slowly easing back into weightlifting at <50% of my previous lifts, but at least my hand is doing better. I can totally grasp and pinch things now! New skill unlocked!
In other news, I've also been working on a "top secret project" -- not writing related. I got into AI while my hand was injured and ended up building something cool. I've now spoken to some venture capital guys, attorneys, and most recently SAIL (Stanford AI Lab). That last one took place this week and it was the first time I had a chance to speak to someone deep in the machine learning field (PHD, professor, published, etc.) and highly connected within Silicon Valley. Craziest part? He did NOT think my thing was crazy or delusional. In fact, he gave me a few referrals, including to Anthropic.
Which is... pretty awesome, I guess? So far, everyone seems to think I've built something valuable. The VC guys think it's worth quite a bit and threw out some nonsense-sounding numbers. And the attorneys told me to keep my mouth shut lol. Although, more than one person has now described it as "weird as hell," so I'm not sure what to do with that.
So, I've been channeling some serious Finn energy -- and might actually need to go back and tinker with his plotline in this book a bit. This whole side project has given me a few ideas for how to flesh out his arc since it feels barebones and he hasn't gotten enough attention since Hellion and the Tarot series, in my opinion.
This might also explain why I've been a touch more erratic lately. I keep half-hoping I'll fail or someone will tell me I'm nuts so I can have my brain back (it really doesn't want to let this thing go), but so far that hasn't happened. On the flip side, I think I'd kick myself if I didn't try, you know? Even if I think the odds of "success" here are rather low. If nothing else, I'll probably have an interesting story to tell after it's all said and done.
Anyway, thanks for your patience and I hope I offer a less cryptic explanation soon.
But, for now, here's another chapter!
Chapter 26 - Ritualistic
The scene around the crystal was one of eerie serenity, a juxtaposition of purity and death. Nephilim bodies, those angelic children, were carefully arrayed in a perfect circle around the crystal, their still and lifeless forms a stark contrast to the vibrant energy emanating from the heart of the gem. Each corpse, arms outstretched in a silent prayer, formed a macabre tableau that both honored and desecrated the sanctity of life.
Above, the night sky had fully enveloped the game world, a shroud of darkness that seemed to intensify the ethereal glow of the crystal. Stars twinkled faintly, their light almost swallowed by the overwhelming presence of the mana. Despite how the game muted his sense of smell, the air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and decay.
And Jason stood in the center of it all, his shadow cast long and imposing by the light of the crystal. The silence of the night was broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the soft whispers of the wind, as though the very world held its breath in anticipation. This was the culmination of his plans, the moment where darkness and light would converge, and the true nature of his relic’s power would be revealed.
Even now, a new prompt hovered over top that simple urn:
System Notice: Relic Activation
The relic of darkness has been unlocked and its full power is now available.
Do you wish to begin the ritual? [Y/N]
Jason’s fingers hovered over that notice. A final moment of hesitation.
His eyes dropped to Alfred where the cat sat beside him, watching with eerie and unblinking focus. Waiting to see how he would act. What he would do. If he would back down. The Gambler’s warning had been clear. The relics had a cost. One Jason suspected he hadn’t yet paid. He didn’t even know what his relic did – the prompt offering no hints.
Cady’s hourglass had at least informed her of its function; of the cost of using it. Yet no matter how many times he inspected the urn, it revealed nothing. Another test, no doubt.
Could he act – could he keeping marching forward – even without being able to predict the consequences of his actions? This was foreign territory for Jason. He was accustomed to planning ahead. Of scouting his enemies. Setting traps. Manipulating well-articulated rules.
That was the benefit of playing a game, wasn’t it?
That certainty. That sense of control.
Yet that was all an illusion.
Life – real life – was unpredictable. Control was having the power, strength, and cunning to adapt. To evolve to changing circumstances.
Even as that thought crossed his mind, Jason’s eyes dropped to the description of the ritual’s requirements – it’s unlock conditions outlined in flickering purple light. The only details that Alfred and the system had deemed necessary to reveal to him.
Dark Ritual Requirements
Find a concentration of mana 1/1
Collect 12/12 fresh corpses (<24 hours dead and not reanimated). 1/1
(Optional Bonus) Find a concentration of light mana. 1/1
(Optional Bonus) Collect corpses infused with light mana. 1/1
He kept coming back to those “Optional Bonuses.” Of course, he had no idea what they might do – how they might empower the relic. However, their existence led to fresh questions. Why light mana? Why the Nephilim? Why twelve bodies specifically?
And what if… what if he added more?
Unfortunately, he was out of corpses. He’d used the extra bodies to create his minions – those skeletal, bug-like creatures encircling him. The rest had been enough to form that rough collection of bones that had lured the Nephilim warriors to the border of the Twilight Throne. At this point, the only bodies left were still alive, tucked away in the “safety” of the schoolhouse—
Jason froze at that thought – another plan forming in his mind.
It was crazy. Reckless. Possibly stupid.
Especially when victory was so close at hand.
But as Alfred had said, he still had something to prove to himself. That he could trust himself. His power. His intuition. His own cruel cunning.
Which is why he didn’t tap the prompt above the urn. Instead, Jason pulled up his chat log. His group menu revealed that the avatar of light still had most of his mana despite controlling the Nephilim child, and thankfully, Jason had the foresight to leave him with a few extra mana potions just in case. It might just be enough…
Which is why he typed out a short message.
Jason: New plan. I need you to bring the others to the courtyard. Use your Command skill. You won’t have to maintain it for long.
Alex: Are you kidding? I don’t know if I can control that many at once. Or NPCs that are so much higher level than me…
Jason took a deep breath. Those were fair points. They hadn’t had much time to test the effects of Command on that Nephilim child. His eyes dipped back to Alfred, the feline just waiting and watching. Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation had been planned – why else had the AI insisted on bringing Alex along?
Light mana also responded to confidence, which Alex seem to have in short supply. His arrogant bluster cracking in the face of many, many deaths. An impossible war being waged just by just two men. Facing enemies that were stronger and more powerful than them.
Which is why he had to do this… and why Jason had to say this:
Jason: Look, I get it. You’re nervous. Confused. I also know we’ve never gotten along; that I’ve given you little reason to trust me. In many ways, I’ve just been acting like your father – like George – forcing you to fulfill my needs. However, I’ve spent enough time with you to know that you’re more than that; that you’re stronger than that.
A few ellipses indicated Alex was typing, but Jason didn’t wait for him.
Jason: You can do this. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. You are Alex-Fucking-Lane. You already told me what you want. To be a hero. Maybe that isn’t so easy in our world, but here, in this place, you can be more; you can be stronger; you can be the person you’ve always imagined. You just have to embrace it.
In many ways, it felt like he was writing that message to himself and Jason hit send before he could second guess himself. The ellipses lasted a little longer, before disappearing…
Shit. Had that been too much? Alex had been acting strangely lately – forgetting things. Getting defensive. Almost like they had taken a step back in their relationship. Like the events in the Mile High Club had never happened. Had he misjudged him?
Jason’s fingers wavered in the air overtop the urn.
Should he just start the ritual before it was too late?
Just as he was about to tap at the console, the flutter of wings and the stomp of boots stopped him. Jason turned, his half-staves rotating out of his forearms in an instant, a flickering translucent Soul Blade lancing away from each tip. Yet it was unnecessary.
Alex marched through the courtyard, his every step an arduous effort as he guided the remaining Nephilim towards the glowing crystal. Women, children, and the elderly followed in his wake, their eyes glowing a vacant white and their movements mechanical under his control. Alex’s own mana flared across his wings and body, glowing almost as brightly as the crystal itself, a testament to his determination and resolve.
Jason could see how much this cost him, his hands shaking as light mana coursed down his fingertips and his brow pinched in furious concentration. Alex's mana was depleting rapidly, forcing him to gulp down potion after potion to keep his strength up. Their effects were immediate, a temporary surge of energy that kept him moving forward.
As the group reached the center of the courtyard, Alex swayed on his feet, the last of his mana reserves nearly exhausted. Yet Jason was there to brace him. Shadow sheltering the light he cast, his own bony hands smoking as he guided another mana potion to his lips.
“This better be worth it,” Alex growled under the strain.
Jason hoped so too, turning back to that urn—only for a grim smile to pull at his artificial lips. He’d been right. And it had never felt so good.
Because a new optional requirement had appeared among that flickering purple list.
(Optional Bonus) Convince or compel Nephilim to sacrifice themselves (Currently 0). ¨
“What now? I can’t hold this for long,” Alex grunted.
Jason’s gaze whipped back to him, even as he drew a wickedly curved dagger from his bag and wrapped his skeletal fingers around the hilt. “Have them line up and kneel,” he instructed.
A flicker of doubt rippled through Alex’s glowing gaze, the Nephilim shuffling in place. However, he quickly hardened his resolve, another pulse of mana keeping the angelic villagers in place. With a gesture of his trembling hand, the first sacrifice stepped forward and knelt before Jason, raising that vacant stare to meet his own dark gaze
Jason had stood here before. In a village north of Peccavi.
However, this was different. These weren’t willing sacrifices – people he planned to save; to raise to rejoin the Kin. Part of him screamed that this was wrong. Evil.
Yet they were also enemies. Just like with the children, rationalization came easily.
Maybe that was the point of Alfred’s test.
How many others had stood in this position – in this world or his own? Had committed their own people to die? Others? Innocents?
That maybe ethics was an illusion. Maybe it was all just about survival.
After all, death was only temporary—consciousness simply changing shape.
Morality itself was relative.
And everyone bled…
As his blade ripped across the woman’s throat and effects of Alex’s spell fled in the face of stark reality; as he witnessed the pain and anguish and horror in her eyes, those flimsy rationalizations crumbled under the weight of his actions.
The harsh reality was that sometimes it was necessary to harm others.
Lying to friends. Withholding long lost loved ones.
Even sacrificing innocents.
And someone had to pay that price… so why not him?
So, Jason cut and slashed and ripped away each flimsy rationalization; forced him to stare down the truth of what he was doing, as each new pair of glowing white eyes craned up to meet his own. Blood sprayed, bright red splashes amid a mixture of light and shadow. A harsh coppery tang filled the air. Crimson droplets splashed his cheeks, the skin long since stripped away and leaving only unfeeling bone.
Only minutes later, he stood amid a graveyard, blood pooling thick beneath that flickering, floating crystal. His minions tugged those fresh bodies into place with the others. Dozens of corpses encircled the courtyard, their wings still and stained.
The silence was oppressive, even Alex remaining quiet, his chest heaving as he leaned against a vacant stall, a collection of empty vials at his feet. His eyes taking in the carnage with a mixture of horror and fascination as Jason stepped toward that simple dark urn, a new check mark indicating that he had succeeded in meeting yet another optional goal.
A new prompt hovered there now, stained with the blood of innocents.
System Notice: Empowered Relic Activation
The relic of darkness has been unlocked and its full power is now available.
All optional conditions have been met, fully empowering the ritual.
Do you wish to begin? [Y/N]
No excuses left, Jason’s fingers tapped “yes.”
As he looked on, the top of the urn trembled and bucked before popping open.
What emerged wasn’t alive. These weren’t the peaceful souls that Jason had encountered in the spirit well. They were tortured shadows. Fragments of former residents, their sanity ground down until only primal desire remained. A hopeless, helpless, bottomless hunger to consume the living and the dead alike; to devour the world.
Those shadows streak up out of the urn, taking on ghastly, ghostly forms even as a stiff wind picked up, blowing through the courtyard and whipping at Jason’s cloak. Their mouths stretched open in silent screams as they swept across the courtyard. They reminded Jason of the disembodied demons he’d met at the border of the Twilight Throne, their blood-red eyes taking in the corpses strewn around the now muddy ground. Even the light of the mana crystal wasn’t enough to deter them, only whipping them into a frenzy.
They lunged at the corpses, devouring flesh, blood, muscle, and bone. Stripping the Nephilim and leaving only limp piles of clothing and the occasional stray weapon or piece of armor. Yet they didn’t stop there. It wasn’t simple hunger that drove them, but the frenzy of the feast. They reveled in death. They bathed in those remains, their shadowy bodies drenched with blood before they turned toward that crystal hovering in the center of the courtyard.
Their mouths howled with silent, manic glee as they all raced toward the gem. They battered their shadowy, bloody forms against the crystal, leaving long crimson streaks against the surface. Again and again and again. A ravenous frenzy that lacked any reason or sanity. Until the stone began to crack; to crumble. Streaks of light mana erupted from the crystal, sizzling where it touched the creatures. Yet the blood seemed to insulate them from the worst effects. Allowed them to open those ravenous maws. To consume that divine light, filling their shadowy bellies.
The light flickered and flashed among the shadows. Trapped. Contained. Corrupted by the darkness until it gave off only a feeble light. Until the shadows had consumed every last trace of the light, plunging the village into an unnatural darkness – one so dense that it even blotted out the stars in the night sky. The wraiths gathered and merged to form an omnipresent blanket of pure blackness that practically hummed with mana. One that sung a silent song that resonated with the energy flooding Jason’s body.
It called to him. Promising strength. Power. Control.
To sate his soul’s every desire.
It creeped toward him but he didn’t run; didn’t flee.
Instead, Jason embraced it. Embraced what he’d done. What he’d become.
That power clawed up his ankles, thighs, and waist. It coiled among his ribs, as thought hunting for those jars that stored his Najima. And when they found them, they released a torrent of power. A frigid of darkness unlike anything Jason had experienced before. It was overwhelming, all consuming. His limbs went rigid, his head lifted to the sky, his jaw clacking open to scream, but no sound escaped. There was only that raw power.
The darkness didn’t stop there. It spread like a living thing, its tendrils creeping across the courtyard and beyond. Buildings crumbled under its touch, their wooden beams splintering and stone walls cracking until they were reduced to heaps of dust. The wave of shadows moved with a purposeful hunger, consuming everything in its path. The plants withered almost instantly, leaves shriveling and flowers turning to ash. Tools and equipment left scattered were not spared, rusting and disintegrating as if aged by centuries in mere moments. The very ground seemed to recoil, the grass blackening and curling away until nothing but barren earth remained.
Yet amid that devastation, one structure stood resilient, untouched by the consuming dark. The old schoolhouse, a symbol of knowledge and innocence, began to change. The stone blocks that formed its walls smoothed out, merging into a seamless, unbroken surface. Columns rose from the ground, their bases thick and solid, tapering gracefully. The stone overtop the entrance arched into an elegant and imposing curve.
Within only moments, the schoolhouse was no more; in its place stood a mausoleum, an edifice that exuded an aura of ancient power and dread.
At the heart of the transformed structure, a staircase revealed itself, its steps descending steeply into an abyss of inky blackness. The darkness seemed to beckon, whispering a call to those who dared to venture within. The once-familiar schoolhouse had become a gateway into the unknown, a portal leading down into the depths of hell.
As the shadows finally released him, Jason dropped to his knees, windows flashing erratically in the corner of his vision – too many to focus on right now. Not with his mind reeling and his vision swimming. He felt… different. Stronger. Colder.
And as he raised his eyes, he nothing something else. Something different.
A translucent, flickering green barrier of energy rippled across the entrance to that mausoleum. One that announced this place for what it was.
A dungeon. A new dungeon.
One formed by the relic.
Fueled by death and destruction. Necessary building blocks to create a place that would cater to killing. That would entice the foolhardy to enter its depths, led by their own greed and the foolish confidence of their leaders. Cattle driven down onto the killing floor.
And the notice that hung there announced something else.
He was now this dungeon’s boss.
Comments
adam hueners
Holy crap! Thats awesome about your hand, and I cant even begin to wrap my mind around "your secret project". Can't wait to hear more
