Hell-King's Horn

Chloe Virelle's voice was no longer a cold hiss; it was a furious, indignant command.

Michael scrambled off her, his cheek burning. "Oh. Uh. My bad."

He could hear her stand and furiously brush herself down in the pitch black.

"This is all your fault," she snapped. "If you hadn't foolishly charged into that portal…"

"Hey! You went in first!" Michael retorted, rubbing his cheek.

"I was just providing heroic backup! You're welcome, by the way."

And she was the one who just killed a giant steroid-ape with a ribbon, a small, traitorous part of his brain reminded him.

Yeah, well, details, Umbra's dry voice echoed in his mind. Speaking of which, are you two going to flirt in the dark all day, or are we going to figure out where the hell we are? My fur is getting a strange, interdimensional dampness on it.

"This place feels wrong," Michael said, his own voice dropping to a whisper. "The air is... dead."

"An astute observation," Chloe said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What gave it away?

The complete lack of light, or the fact that we were just spat out of a rogue teleportation gate?"

Before he could fire back a retort, a faint, sickly green light began to glow at the far end of the passage.

They looked at each other, the faint light glinting in their eyes. An unspoken truce was formed.

"Together?" Michael asked.

"For now," she conceded, her voice tight. "But if you land on me again, I will break your arm."

They moved cautiously down the stone corridor, the green light growing brighter.

It led them into a vast, circular chamber, a massive stone hall that looked ancient and forgotten.

In the center of the hall, perched on a five-sided platform, sat a man. Or what was left of one.

He was ancient, his body withered and skeletal, his robes little more than dust.

He was clearly dead, or very close to it.

But growing from the center of his forehead was a single, twisted black horn, pulsing with a dark, malevolent light that seemed to drink the very air around it.

"By the swirling cosmos..." Michael breathed. "What is that thing?"

That, you ignorant child, is a prize, Umbra's voice was suddenly sharp with a greedy, feverish excitement.

That is power. Real, unadulterated, wonderfully evil power!

Before Michael could ask what he meant, five figures materialized from the shadows around the platform.

They were tall and skeletal, wrapped in black miasma, their single, glowing red eyes fixed on the intruders.

Shadow Wraiths. And each one radiated the power of a Gold Core cultivator.

"Ambush," Chloe stated, her voice calm and level.

The five wraiths shrieked in unison, a sound that grated on the soul, and lunged.

Chloe moved.

She didn't run or charge. She flowed. Her Celestial Ribbon, a shimmering length of fabric the color of a dawn sky, unspooled from her wrist. It danced through the air, a thing of impossible beauty and grace.

One of the wraiths swung a clawed hand at her. The ribbon lashed out, wrapping around its arm.

Hiss.

The arm, and the wraith attached to it, simply dissolved into a cloud of black dust.

She spun, the ribbon becoming a whirlwind of shimmering, destructive light. It was a deadly ballet.

Another wraith was bisected at the waist. A third was decapitated, its head vanishing before it hit the floor. She was a force of nature, elegant and utterly lethal.

Michael just stood there, his jaw slightly agape. He'd seen her kill the ape, but this was different. This was artistry.

Stop gawking, you moron! Umbra screamed in his head. While the pretty girl is distracting them, GET THE HORN!

The thought shocked Michael back to reality. He saw his chance. While Chloe elegantly dismantled the fourth wraith, the fifth was momentarily focused on her, its back to him.

"Right," Michael muttered. "The horn."

He channeled a burst of Aether into his legs and shot forward, a blur of motion. He leaped onto the platform, his hand reaching for the pulsing black artifact.

The moment his fingers touched it, a new voice screamed in his mind. Not Umbra's. Not Nico's. It was a piercing, agonizing shriek of pure psychic energy.

THIEF!

The Divine Soul attack slammed into his consciousness like a battering ram. The world dissolved into white-hot pain. He staggered back, clutching his head, the horn clutched tight in his hand.

"Aaargh! What the..."

A low growl cut him off.

He looked up, his vision swimming. The blue-eyed tiger demon from the maze was back, standing at the mouth of the cave.

And beside it, hovering in the air, was a small, four-winged serpent, its scales the color of obsidian, its eyes glowing with intelligent malice.

The snake's power was even greater than the wraiths'.

"Well, well," the serpent hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper that echoed in the chamber.

"Look what the portal dragged in. You've caused us a great deal of trouble, little humans."

It gestured with its head toward the dying man on the platform.

"We have been cultivating that Hell-King's Horn for a century, preparing it for him.

And you just… took it."

Chloe, having just dispatched the last wraith, turned to face the new threat, her Celestial Ribbon coiling protectively around her.

"Who is 'him'?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the overwhelming odds.

The serpent let out a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone, a mockery of a laugh.

"You don't get to ask questions. You only get to die."

It opened its mouth, and a tiny, black pill shot out, flying directly towards them. It moved with an unnatural speed, leaving a trail of corrupted energy in its wake.

Michael recognized the aura instantly. It was a poison of the highest order, designed for one purpose.

"Chloe, get back!" he roared, his mind still reeling from the psychic attack.

"It's an Aetherbane Pill! It's made to destroy cultivators!"

But it was too late. The pill was too fast. It wasn't aimed at him.

It was aimed at her.