Blood Slum: The Heart of Darkness

The full moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale glow over the narrow, winding alleys of Lower Velaris. The stench of rotting garbage and the distant sound of fighting and shouting echoed through the streets as Amalthea, her hood pulled low over her face, moved silently through the shadows. The slums were her home, a place where life was a constant struggle for survival, and where the only rule that mattered was not to be the weakest.

Velaris, once a magnificent city, was now nothing more than a dying giant, its mighty walls crumbling and its ancient palaces a mere memory. Above, the white marble towers of High Velaris still gleamed, but below, in the slums, darkness engulfed all.

Amalthea was a goblin, a despised creature relegated to the dregs of society. She knew her life was worth little in the eyes of the nobles, but that never stopped her from fighting. Tonight, she and her gang were preparing for an audacious heist. The Shadow Market had become the center of her life; it was where she found the mystical items that fueled her dreams of one day escaping her misery. Today, however, there was something different in the air.

Whispers of the “purification” had begun to swirl around the city weeks before. The gangs were in an uproar, and patrols of the old wall had doubled. Word had it that the nobles had hatched a plan to rid the city of its “scum” by clearing the slums once and for all. But Amalthea knew something deeper: through her contacts in the Shadow Market, she had discovered ancient tunnels that ran beneath the city, forgotten by many but vital to her next move.

As she made her way through the alleys, her heart beat faster. What she would find that night could change everything. She reached the meeting point, a secret entrance to the underground tunnels, and found her companions already waiting. They greeted her with expectant looks. There was something in this place that the nobles wanted to hide, something that could be used as a weapon—an ancient, powerful magic that could turn the tide in favor of the wretched.

But time was against them. With every step she took into the tunnels, Amalthea sensed something was wrong. The stone walls, covered in moss and faded runes, seemed to pulse with an ancient, malevolent energy. Her bright, dark-adapted eyes could barely see ahead, but the danger was clear. It wasn’t just the threat of corrupt guards or rival gangs that made her nervous—something more sinister seemed to be stirring in the shadows.

Suddenly, a cracking sound echoed through the corridors. The ground beneath her feet began to shake, and the ceiling of the tunnels groaned, as if the earth were shifting. Amalthea held up her hand, signaling for everyone to stop. Her heart raced, and she swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision she was about to make.

“Did you hear that?” whispered one of his companions, his eyes wide with fear.

— Something is not right... — Amalthea murmured. — We must continue, but with caution. We do not know what lies dormant here.

They moved forward with measured steps, their hearts heavy with anticipation. Amalthea knew they were close. She could feel the arcane energy in the air, a vibration that seemed to penetrate to the very bones. When they finally reached the end of the tunnel, what they saw left them speechless.

There, in the center of a hidden chamber, sat an ancient artifact, a black, pulsing stone, emanating a faint light. The runes covering it glowed an eerie red, and the air around it seemed to ripple, as if reality itself were being distorted.

“This is it,” Amalthea murmured. “The key to our freedom… or our destruction.”

Before they could make a move, the sound of footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Guards. They had been discovered.

“Run!” Amalthea screamed, grabbing the artifact. As she held it, she felt a surge of energy course through her body, an overwhelming force that nearly knocked her to her knees. But she knew there was no time to hesitate. The way back was a death trap, but their only chance of survival was to make their way through the tunnels, and fast.

However, just as they took the first step toward escape, a gigantic shadow emerged from the depths of the tunnel. A monster, made of darkness, eyes glowing with primal hatred, stood before them. Amalthea felt her blood run cold. It was not just a matter of surviving the guards or escaping the tunnels; something much older and much more dangerous had been awakened.

Now, there was no choice. Either they would fight the unknown... or be swallowed by darkness forever.

The air seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders as Amalthea ran up the rotting stairs of the underground passage. Behind her, the screams of her gang members still echoed, accompanied by the disturbing sounds of the creature hunting them one by one. Her heart was pounding, her lungs were burning, and she could barely control the rising fear in her chest. But in her hands, clutched to her chest, the object glowed with a dense, unearthly energy.

Finally, she reached the surface, exploding into the dirty, chaotic streets of the slum. The twilight made everything seem darker, and the few torches on the corners cast long, distorted shadows. People ran desperately from one side to the other, fleeing something she could barely understand, but Amalthea didn’t stop to look. Her mind was focused on one thing: survival.

Her bare feet stumbled over the uneven stones, the ground wet with a mixture of mud and blood. She crept between the stalls of merchants, barely visible in her torn and dirty cloak. The object in her hands felt hotter with every step, pulsing as if it had a life of its own, an ancient force that was beginning to resonate with her. She didn’t dare look back, but she knew she was being hunted, and not just by the creature that had decimated her gang.

The guards were after her. They weren’t stupid; they knew something important had been stolen, something many would give their lives for. The sound of their metal armor rattling washed over Amalthea in waves, and her fear grew stronger by the second. She turned down a narrow alley, her heart pounding. She jumped through an open window and dropped into a small, dimly lit room that used to be her gang’s hideout. She landed silently, barely breathing, as she listened to the heavy footsteps outside.

"We've lost her trail," he heard one of the guards mutter. "Keep looking. She can't have gotten far."

The tension in the air was suffocating. Amalthea, for a brief moment, allowed herself to relax, slipping into the shadows and leaning against the wall. Her body shook, not just from fear, but from extreme exhaustion. Her hands, now covered in dirt and dried blood, still gripped the object tightly. Slowly, she lifted the item to examine it.

It was a dark metal sphere, covered in ancient runes and symbols that seemed to vibrate with an ancient, wild energy. The power emanating from it was irresistible, beyond any magic she had ever felt. It was as if the object were alive, as if something inside it was waiting patiently to be released. The metal surface pulsed faintly, and she felt the strange connection forming between her and the artifact. Her skin tingled, as if the runes were etching themselves into her mind, whispering forgotten secrets.

Amalthea knew the object was dangerous. She knew that if she kept it, she would attract even more unwanted attention—not just from the guards, but from something much darker. But at the same time, she sensed that the artifact might hold the key to her survival. Maybe even more than that.

She ran her trembling fingers over the runes, trying to decipher some meaning, some use. But the whispers in her mind were unclear. They were fragments, mixed with memories and emotions that were not hers. Glimpses of places she had never seen, faces she did not recognize, all swirling around the raw power contained within the sphere. Something was trapped inside the object, something that wanted to get out—and she did not know if she had the strength to control it.

As the guards’ footsteps receded, the ragged goblin stood there, alone in the silence of her hiding place, trying to make sense of what she had found. She could feel the heat building, as if the artifact were responding to her, recognizing her somehow. It was both terrifying and fascinating.

The slum outside continued its chaotic rhythm, but for Amalthea, at that moment, everything was suspended. The fate of the city seemed to be in her hands. And a choice needed to be made: use the power of the artifact to try to save her own skin, or destroy it before something much worse was released.

But deep down, as the artifact pulsed in her hands, Amalthea knew she might not have a choice. Something bigger was at stake. And this object, this creature she hunted, all felt like part of something she didn’t yet understand, but that was about to change her life—and the future of Velaris—forever.

Deep in the dark, airless depths of Velaris’s underground, where the corridors were serpents of damp, decaying stone, a creature moved in the darkness. It writhed through the subterranean ruins like a predator camouflaged in its own shadow. Its movements were silent, sinuous, and its presence, though grotesque and incomprehensible, went unnoticed by anyone who dared venture into the forgotten alleys and tunnels of this part of the city. Here, the smell of death and decay was a familiar scent.

Bodies littered the cold stone floor, most of them unrecognizable, torn fragments of flesh that had once belonged to the gang that had dared to cross its path. But now, they were nothing more than food. With an insatiable hunger, the creature devoured the bodies of the dead—gangsters, guards, even the unfortunate civilians caught in the chaos. It was not a matter of survival for the monster; it was its primal, ravenous nature that drove it, an ancient hunger for flesh and for something deeper... something magical.

The smell. Yes, there was something in the air beyond the rot of the sewers and the dust that permeated the underground. A subtle but unmistakable odor. It was the scent of magic, thick and alluring, like an invisible trail dancing on the wind. The creature lifted its misshapen head, covered in pale, scaly skin, and inhaled deeply of the stagnant air. The scent was distant, but not out of reach. Magic had always been an irresistible lure to this entity, a force that guided it through the ruins of the city like a hunter guided by the scent of its prey.

The mouths, or what appeared to be mouths, on various parts of her body closed with a hideous snap as she finished her meal. The bodies, now dry and lifeless, were tossed about like insignificant scraps. The hunger for flesh was momentarily sated, but the real hunt was just beginning.

Camouflaged in the shadows of the decaying underground buildings, the creature began to move again. Its claws scraped against the stone walls and corroded metal, and its form seemed to blend into its surroundings as it moved forward. The monster left no footprints, and made no sound, save for the occasional drip of viscous fluids that leaked from its body. It was as if it were part of this subterranean world, an unseen predator, a living force in the forgotten bowels of Velaris.

As it moved, the creature felt the pulse of power coming from the artifact. That magical energy vibrated in the air, drawing it closer and closer, and the monster knew it had to reach it before it was too late. Its mind, as grotesque and animalistic as it was, was focused on one thing: finding and retrieving the artifact it so longed for. The magic contained within would be the key to its evolution, something the creature understood instinctively. It was not just a common predator, but something much older, something that had existed long before the construction of the tunnels and the city itself. And now, the creature felt that destiny was calling it again.

As it moved through the damp corridors, dodging old pipes and stagnant pools of water, the creature got closer to the surface. It could feel the artifact closer now, the smell stronger. There was something there, something powerful. Perhaps the goblin carrying it didn't even know what she had in her hands. To the creature, that didn't matter. All that mattered was getting back what was rightfully its own.

The city of Velaris above her was in chaos, but the true terror still lurked in the shadows, waiting. When the creature finally emerged from its hunt, nothing would stand in its way.

The magic that called the creature to the surface was the same that pulsed in Amalthea’s hands. The underground was vast, an endless maze of tunnels, but to the creature, distance was no problem. It had already fed enough to keep going, its strength renewed by the flesh of its unfortunate fallen.

Velaris did not know it, but a threat deeper than any human conflict was about to awaken. And as the creature neared the surface, ready to continue its hunt, the fate of Amalthea, the artifact, and the city itself hung on a thread far thinner and more fragile than anyone could have imagined.

The hideout, once teeming with life and voices, now felt like a silent mausoleum. Where Amalthea’s gang had once gathered in laughter and bold plans, there was only a palpable emptiness. The dark walls, scrawled with ancient graffiti and filled with memories, now seemed to suffocate the little goblin as she stood there, alone, lost in her own thoughts. This gang was her family, her tribe, and now all that was left were memories—and that damned artifact that still pulsed with mysterious power.

Amalthea held the object in trembling hands, her eyes fixed on the runes and carvings that covered it. She didn’t know what it meant, but she felt, somehow, that she was changing. There was something different about her, something deep and inescapable. The magic of the artifact was not just a distant power; it was a presence that was slowly seeping into her, like a snake crawling across her skin. And slowly, Amalthea began to realize how much it was changing her.

She took a deep breath, her red eyes glowing in the dim light of her hiding place. It was as if something in her had awakened. A new strength? Or perhaps a new understanding? She couldn’t be sure, but there was a pulsing sensation in her chest, a slowly growing energy, like a flame ignited in the darkness.

With her stomach growling, Amalthea sighed and walked to the small pantry, where some forgotten supplies remained. She found a piece of dried meat, chewing it slowly as she thought about what to do next. Her friends were dead. The gang was disbanded. She was alone. The object in her hands was the only thing left, and it worried her deeply. "Is it worth anything?" she thought as she chewed the meat dejectedly.

After finishing her meal, she began to pack a small bundle with the few belongings she still considered important. She could not stay there any longer. The suffocating presence of the hiding place, the echo of the disappeared laughter, all of it was suffocating her. She needed to get out, find someone who understood the artifact and, perhaps, discover if this strange relic had any value—or if it was just a curse waiting to reveal itself completely.

Amalthea took one last look at the empty hideout. Every corner of the place brought back painful memories, but now nothing held her back. She grabbed her bundle and left through the window she had entered through. Outside, the streets of the Velaris slums were as chaotic as ever, but for her, there was a new purpose.

She walked quickly, her bare feet making almost no sound in the dirty, winding alleys. The ragged little goblin moved like a shadow between the tents, her eyes alert to every movement. The slums were dangerous, but she knew these streets better than anyone. She had survived there for years, among alleys and shortcuts that others avoided. But now her destiny took her far from that place, to a territory she did not know so well, but that promised answers.

Amalthea was headed for the Shadow Market, a place where rumors and secrets were bought and sold like commodities. Here, amid shady merchants and decadent mages, she knew she might find someone who understood the artifact. Could it be dangerous? Certainly. But her survival was at stake, and she was willing to risk everything for it.

As she walked away from the slums, a sense of unease followed her. The artifact in her bag seemed to vibrate, as if it were whispering directly into her mind. It was an unsettling sensation, as if something was growing inside her, changing her in ways she didn’t yet understand. But at the same time, it was impossible to ignore the new strength she felt. Whatever it was, it was making her more than just an ordinary goblin.

Now, in the busier streets, Amalthea blended in with the others, her small, awkward figure moving with quiet urgency. She had a clear goal: to get out of the slums and reach the Shadow Market before the creature or the guards found her. The artifact, with all its unknown power, could very well be the key to her survival—or her doom.

Either way, Amalthea's fate was about to change, and the city of Velaris, unbeknownst to her, would be the scene of something much bigger and more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.