Eldritch: Shadow Slave

{After this chapter, the word count will go up to a max of 5k and a min of 2.5k.

Anyway, please write reviews and toss some stones into the void that this story is, so it can reach more people. It'll be a win-win for both of us—I'll post extra chapters for every 10 reviews and 500 stones!}

Even after my little taunt, Hania kept the same passive, serious expression he had worn from the start.

"Tch." I clicked my tongue in irritation. What's with everyone around here having that same stone-cold face all the time?

"Why so serious?" I asked, letting my voice mimic a certain infamous clown. The look Hania gave me in response was somewhere between confusion and disbelief, as if he were staring at someone completely and utterly insane.

I cleared my throat awkwardly and stood up, brushing off the moment.

Not wanting to go back to sleep after just waking up, I decided to step outside the hideout. A few torches flickered around the area, their light casting long shadows on the ground. Guards perched on small platforms in the trees, serving as lookouts, their quiet murmurs blending with the rustling of leaves.

As I glanced upward, a vast sea of stars greeted me. It was breathtakingly beautiful, their light twinkling against the dark expanse. But something about it unsettled me. It reminded me of the void—the endless, fractured realities that shimmered like stars in the night sky, each a reminder of something I'd rather forget.

"Those damn shards have ruined my view of the stars," Nihilo muttered, letting out a sigh as he wandered around the area. The distant lights of torches cast faint glows, and occasionally, he caught the gleam of hunters' eyes reflecting what little light there was.

His aimless steps led him to a small creek, its water flowing gently and reflecting the flickering lights around it. As he approached, he leaned over and gazed into the water. The reflection staring back was that of a boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen. His long black hair was tied back, framing his face, and his clear blue eyes—like an open sky—were tainted with streaks of gold bleeding into the iris.

"Still not fully absorbed," he thought, noting the subtle changes. His new body had yet to completely acclimate to his consciousness. The faint transformation extended to his pupils as well; their round shape was beginning to morph into sharp slits, mirroring the eyes of his true soul.

"I wonder," he mused, running a hand through his hair, "if there's a way to speed this up."

Although he wasn't sure if he'd ever find a way to speed things up, Nihilo pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He found a flat enough rock near the creek and settled onto it, letting himself take in the view. The creek sparkled faintly, reflecting the stars above and the distant torches scattered around the camp. The occasional roars of unseen beasts echoed in the night, adding to the stillness that surrounded him.

Before he realized it, time had slipped away. The stars began to fade, and the first hints of blue crept into the sky. The sun had yet to rise, but the slow transformation of night into day told him how long he'd been sitting there, lost in thought. It wasn't hard to pass the time like this—zoning out had become second nature after countless eons spent in the void.

He stood up, shaking the numbness from his legs as blood slowly began to flow back into them. Stretching briefly, Nihilo started his walk back to the hideout. The closer he got, the more he noticed the shift in the atmosphere. The hunters were moving with a sense of purpose, their movements brisk and deliberate. They looked like soldiers preparing for war—grim determination etched on their faces, mingled with a faint undercurrent of anticipation.

As Nihilo stepped through the entrance of the hideout, the sight that greeted him confirmed his suspicions. Suk, Thes, and Nutz were gathered near the center, their expressions focused and tense. It was clear they were gearing up for the hunt.

He soon spotted Hania, who was busy directing a group of hunters. As Nihilo approached, he caught a glimpse of Thes and Nutz giving him a wave, while Suk responded with a dismissive scoff. Ignoring the reactions, Nihilo made his way to Hania. The other hunters near him dispersed, leaving Hania momentarily unoccupied.

Noticing Nihilo's approach, Hania turned to face him. His expression quickly shifted to the usual impassive mask.

"Can you give me some spears or something? What am I supposed to hunt with—my bare hands?" Nihilo asked, his tone carrying a hint of mockery as he reached him.

Without a word, Hania gestured toward a pile of old, worn tools at the back. "Choose your pick," he said flatly.

Nihilo raised an eyebrow as his gaze fell on the heap of battered equipment. "These old things? Nah, I'd prefer something that doesn't look like it'll break after one throw," he replied, his voice tinged with both amusement and disdain.

"It's your pick, kid. Either use this or go barehanded. I don't care," Hania said, his tone indifferent, though a faint smirk of mockery tugged at his lips.

"Fucker, I hope you trip on a sharp rock and crush your nuts," Nihilo shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm as he made his way toward the pile of discarded weapons. Most of the tools looked like they'd been abandoned for good reason, worn down from years of use or damaged beyond practical repair.

As he sifted through the pile, Nihilo examined one weapon after another. Many of the spear shafts were splintered, their stone tips dulled to the point of uselessness, while the daggers looked as if they'd seen better centuries. After a while, though, he managed to find a spear that was in somewhat decent condition. Its rock tip had lost its edge but could still be sharpened, and the wooden shaft was sturdy and uncracked. Alongside it, he picked up a bone dagger. It was sharp enough, though a small chunk was missing near the blade's edge—likely from striking something too hard.

"Well, this will have to do," Nihilo muttered to himself, examining his selections with a scrutinizing eye.

He grabbed his chosen spear and dagger and made his way toward the trio. Suk immediately shot him a glare that seemed to scream, _I'll kill you,_ or something equally hostile. Nihilo, unfazed, simply ignored him and directed his attention to Thes and Nutz.

"Do you know where I can get a spear tip sharpened?" he asked, holding up the dull weapon.

"Just use the rock over there," Thes replied, casually pointing toward a corner where a sharpening stone rested.

"Alright, thanks," Nihilo said, walking over to the corner where the sharpening stones lay. He grabbed one, pouring water from a nearby pot to wet the surface before attempting to sharpen the rock tip of his spear. It was his first time trying such a task, and the effort showed, but after some persistence, the tip seemed sharp enough—or so he hoped.

With his weapon prepared, he waited for the hunt to begin. The hours stretched on, but eventually, the moment arrived. The hunters gathered near the creek where Nihilo had spent time earlier. Nearby, women filled earthen pots with water, while a group of children watched the hunting party with wide-eyed awe, their excitement written on their faces.

The shaman and the chief soon arrived, drawing everyone's attention. The shaman carried something in his hands—a pot filled with a black, viscous substance that seemed to shift and writhe as though it were alive. As he approached the hunting party, Nihilo noticed the three kids to the side suddenly becoming restless, their excitement clear. Or, he thought with a smirk, maybe they just needed to pee. That could be another explanation.

"Younglings venturing out for the first time, step forward," the chief commanded, his voice firm and resonant.

Without hesitation, Suk, Thes, and Nutz stepped forward, their movements deliberate and full of anticipation. Nihilo, however, paused. He wasn't entirely sure if he was meant to join them. With a subtle furrow of his brow, he glanced toward the shaman, silently asking for guidance. The shaman met his gaze and gave a small, knowing nod, as if he had deciphered Nihilo's unspoken question with ease. Taking that as confirmation, Nihilo stepped forward, joining the others.

As the three kids reached the chief and the shaman, they knelt on one knee in unison, their heads bowed in reverence. Nihilo, observing their actions, followed suit without hesitation, mimicking their posture.

The shaman began chanting in a low, rhythmic tone, the words foreign and enigmatic, carrying an air of ancient power. He moved behind each of them, the heavy silence broken only by the crackling of distant torches. Nihilo's muscles tensed as he sensed the shaman's presence behind him.

Dipping his finger into the black, viscous liquid that seemed to writhe with a life of its own, the shaman pressed it against the first back. Slowly, he traced intricate patterns, each stroke deliberate. When it was Nihilo's turn, the substance felt startlingly cool against his skin. A chilling sensation crept into his back, spreading beneath the surface like tendrils of ice. Wherever the shaman's fingers moved, a faint, stinging pain followed, sharp yet bearable.

Nihilo clenched his jaw, his mind racing as he felt the strange liquid sink deeper into his flesh, as if it were merging with him.

Once the process was complete, the three newly initiated hunters—at least, that's what Nihilo assumed they were now—rose to their feet and stepped back. Nihilo followed their lead, falling in line behind them.

As they moved, Nihilo's eyes caught the marks on their backs. The patterns left by the shaman looked like wings, though stripped of feathers, skeletal and raw. The shapes stretched out across their shoulder blades, dark and stark against their skin.

Curiosity prickled at him, and he couldn't help but wonder if his back bore the same haunting image. He resisted the urge to reach back and touch it, knowing instinctively that this wasn't the time to play around with his Tattoo.