The northern provinces grew colder and darker as the task force traveled. What should have been prosperous farmland dotted with villages lay eerily silent. Fields of unharvested grain rotted in the autumn rain. Livestock wandered masterless through empty streets. Houses stood with doors hanging open, meals left half-eaten on tables, as though the inhabitants had simply vanished mid-breath.
But Kami knew better. He could sense the absence—the void where Pneuma should have been. These people had not vanished. They had been drained.
"Fourth village," Cassius observed, his hand never leaving his sword hilt as they rode through the abandoned settlement. "Population perhaps three hundred. All gone. No bodies, no signs of struggle. Just... emptiness."
Marcus dismounted and examined one of the houses, his earth-based Pneuma allowing him to sense disturbances in the ground and structures. "The timeline matches the previous villages. Approximately three weeks since the disappearance. Whatever is taking these people moves in a pattern—southeast to northwest, consuming one settlement every few days."
"Can you track it?" Thorwald asked.
"I can track the absence it leaves behind. The Pneuma of an entire village does not simply disappear—it gets absorbed by something, and that absorption leaves a trail. A void moving through the natural Pneuma network." Marcus's expression was grim. "But tracking it and stopping it are different challenges."
Cassia returned from her scouting circuit, her speed-enhanced Pneuma allowing her to cover miles in minutes. "The next village northwest is called Silverbrook. Population approximately five hundred. If the pattern holds, it will be hit within the next two days."
"Then we set a trap there," Thorwald decided. "Evacuate the civilians, fortify the position, and wait for this thing to arrive. When it does, we fight."
"A sound strategy," Cassius agreed, "assuming this Wraith or whatever it is cannot simply bypass a defended position and move to easier targets."
"It cannot," Kami said quietly. All eyes turned to him. "I have been analyzing the drain patterns in each village. The entity—or entities—responsible are not intelligent in the way we understand intelligence. They operate on instinct, on hunger. They sense concentrations of Pneuma and move toward them, consuming everything in their path. If we create a large enough concentration of Pneuma, they will come to us regardless of defenses."
"Using the civilians as bait?" Julia's silver Pneuma flickered with distaste. "That seems—"
"I meant using us as bait," Kami corrected. "Seven powerful Pneuma-wielders together create a signature brighter than any village. If we position ourselves correctly, we can draw the Wraiths to us and away from the actual population."
Decimus Blackhand—a massive warrior whose Pneuma specialized in pure destructive force—cracked his knuckles. "Finally. I have been wanting to test my techniques against something that cannot be killed by conventional means."
They reached Silverbrook by nightfall. The village magistrate—a woman named Helena who had served in the Legions before retiring to administrate her hometown—received them with a mixture of relief and terror.
"Imperial task force," she breathed, studying their credentials. "Thank the gods. We have been preparing to flee, but where can we go? Every village north of here has been consumed. Every refugee camp has been attacked. There is nowhere safe."
"There will be," Thorwald assured her. "We need you to evacuate your people south, toward the fortified towns. Leave tonight if possible. We will remain here and face whatever is coming."
"Seven of you? Against the thing that destroyed three Legions?"
"Seven of us," Cassius said with aristocratic certainty, "are worth more than three thousand common soldiers. We are Academy graduates. The Empire's finest."
Helena looked at Kami, seemed to recognize something in his dark eyes, and shuddered. "You are the Devourer. I have heard stories. They say you consumed a Pneuma plague in Ferrum without taking a single drop of innocent blood."
"The stories are accurate," Kami replied.
"Then perhaps we have a chance." She turned to her people. "Begin evacuation! Women, children, and elderly first! Move south on the Imperial Road! Take only what you can carry!"
The evacuation took eight hours. By dawn, Silverbrook was empty except for the seven-member task force and the promise of approaching horror.
They fortified the village center, where the town's well and market square created a natural chokepoint. Decimus used his Pneuma to reinforce the surrounding buildings, hardening stone and wood until they could withstand significant assault. Marcus mapped the underground Pneuma flows and created channels that would amplify their defensive techniques. Julia established a healing station in the magistrate's house, preparing for casualties.
Cassia ranged out in expanding circles, scouting for the approaching threat. Each time she returned, her report was the same: "Nothing yet. But the emptiness is getting closer."
Kami stood in the market square's center and prepared himself mentally for what was coming. He had fought one Void Wraith before—the ancient construct in Ferrum's mines. That encounter had nearly broken his control. Now he would face potentially dozens of them, newer and more refined.
The hunger anticipated the coming battle with dark eagerness. So much Pneuma to consume. So much power to be gained.
Thorwald approached, his golden Pneuma already beginning to manifest as he channeled his century's worth of soldiers who waited in reserve positions outside the village. "Brother. Are you ready?"
"I will never be ready for this. But I am prepared." Kami met his eyes. "If I lose control—"
"We have had this conversation. I know what must be done."
"No, listen. If I lose control, do not try to kill me. You cannot—my Devourer nature would drain you before you could land a killing blow. Instead, you must run. Take the others and run. Get word to the Academy that I became exactly what they feared."
"I will not abandon you."
"You will save yourself and the others. That is an order from your mission specialist, Centurion." Kami's voice was hard. "Promise me."
Thorwald's jaw clenched, but finally he nodded. "I promise."
The attack came at dusk.
Cassia's warning arrived first—she materialized in the square in a blur of speed-enhanced movement, her face pale. "They are coming. Not one Wraith. Not a dozen. Hundreds. A wave of them, moving through the forest like a living shadow. They will be here in minutes."
"Hundreds?" Julia's voice cracked. "How do we fight hundreds?"
"We do not fight," Kami said, his Devourer senses already detecting the approaching void. "I fight. The rest of you survive."
"Absolutely not," Cassius snapped. "We are a team. We fight together or—"
The first Wraith emerged from the forest.
It was similar to the one Kami had fought in Ferrum but different—sleeker, more refined, as though someone had studied the ancient designs and improved them. Its body seemed to be made of crystallized darkness, humanoid but elongated, with too many joints in its limbs and a face that was nothing but a featureless void.
Behind it came more. Dozens. Hundreds. A tide of artificial Devourers that flowed toward the village with single-minded hunger.
"Formation!" Thorwald roared. "Decimus, front line! Cassius, right flank! Cassia, mobile defense! Julia, stay back and keep us alive! Marcus, channel the ground defenses! Kami—"
"I know what to do."
Kami walked forward, past the defensive lines, into the open square between the village and the approaching Wraith tide. He stood alone, his black robes billowing in the evening wind, and he stopped suppressing his Pneuma.
The effect was immediate and dramatic.
His Devourer nature manifested fully—a pulling, void-like presence that made the air itself seem to bend inward toward him. Every Wraith in the approaching horde felt it, recognized it as something similar to themselves, and focused their attention entirely on him.
Perfect.
"Come then," Kami whispered. "Let us see who hungers more fiercely."
The Wraiths attacked as one—a wave of crystalline darkness that crashed toward him like a tsunami of death.
Kami met them with his own void.
He did not try to fight them individually. Instead, he created a sphere of pulling force around himself—a Pneuma vacuum so intense that everything within twenty feet was drawn toward him. The first rank of Wraiths hit this sphere and were caught, their artificial bodies pulled inexorably inward.
And Kami consumed them.
He drained their Pneuma in massive, violent pulls—not the surgical precision he used for healing, but raw, predatory feeding. His Devourer nature sang with savage joy as it encountered things it could consume without guilt, artificial constructs that deserved destruction.
The Wraiths' Pneuma flooded into him—dark, corrupted, but still energy. Still power. His capacity expanded with each creature consumed, his hunger growing stronger even as it was temporarily satisfied.
Behind him, his companions watched in horror and awe.
"He is draining dozens at once," Julia breathed. "I have never seen anything like this. The sheer volume of Pneuma he is processing—it should tear him apart."
"It might yet," Thorwald said grimly, his golden aura blazing as he prepared to intervene if necessary. "Watch for loss of control. If his feeding becomes indiscriminate, if he turns toward us—"
But Kami maintained focus. Each Wraith he consumed taught him more about their construction—they were artificial, yes, but based on a template. Someone had created a Pneuma array that could replicate Devourer properties and mass-produce these constructs. Crude compared to a true Devourer, but effective in numbers.
He destroyed the first wave—thirty Wraiths consumed in as many seconds. But there were more. So many more.
The second wave learned from the first. They spread out, approached from multiple angles, tried to overwhelm his pulling sphere with sheer numbers. Several reached his companions' defensive line.
Decimus met the first one with a Pneuma-enhanced punch that would have shattered stone. His fist connected with the Wraith's crystalline body and—
—the Wraith grabbed his arm and began to drain.
Decimus screamed as his Pneuma was pulled from his body. The Wraith's void-like nature was consuming his life-force, and unlike Kami's controlled draining, this was violent and total.
Cassius moved with lightning speed, his sword blazing with concentrated Pneuma. He struck at the Wraith's connection point, his blade enhanced with enough force to cut through enchanted armor.
The sword shattered.
The Wraith was not made of physical matter—it was condensed Pneuma given form. Physical attacks meant nothing to it.
"Pull back!" Thorwald commanded. "Do not engage them directly! Only Kami can—"
But Kami was surrounded by the third wave, dozens of Wraiths pressing in from all sides. He was draining them as fast as he could, but there were too many. Some were getting past him, reaching his companions.
Julia tried to help Decimus, placing her hands on his chest to channel healing Pneuma. The moment she touched him, the Wraith's draining extended through the contact point and began pulling her life-force as well.
"Resonance!" Marcus shouted, understanding what was happening. "They are using our Pneuma connections against us! Do not touch anyone being drained or—"
A Wraith crashed through the building Marcus had fortified, its crystalline claws reaching for him. Marcus tried to use his earth-based Pneuma to create a barrier, but the Wraith simply absorbed the barrier and continued forward.
Cassia appeared in a blur of speed, grabbed Marcus, and pulled him out of reach. But the effort cost her—her speed enhancement required constant Pneuma channeling, and maintaining it while dodging multiple Wraiths was draining her reserves rapidly.
The battle was turning into a slaughter.
Kami saw it happening. Saw his companions being overwhelmed. Saw Decimus collapsing as his Pneuma was drained. Saw Julia desperately trying to maintain healing while Wraiths closed in around her.
He had a choice.
He could continue fighting conservatively, maintaining control, staying within the limits Maximus had taught him. In which case, his companions would die.
Or he could unleash everything. Stop holding back. Let the hunger guide him and trust that he could regain control afterward.
It was not really a choice at all.
Kami stopped fighting his nature and let the Devourer fully emerge.
What happened next would be discussed in Academy lectures for decades.
Kami's Pneuma erupted outward—not as light like normal wielders, but as absence. As void. As a pulling force so intense that it created a vacuum effect visible to the naked eye. The air itself seemed to rush toward him, carrying with it everything not anchored down.
And every Wraith within a hundred yards felt that pull and was drawn inexorably toward him.
They came from all directions—scrambling over buildings, tearing through walls, abandoning his companions to rush toward the greater void that called to them. Like moths to flame, like predators recognizing an apex threat, they converged on Kami in a mass of crystalline darkness.
And he consumed them all.
Not individually. Not with precision. He created a spiral of pulling force around himself—a vortex of void that caught everything and broke it down. Wraiths were pulled into the spiral, torn apart by the competing forces, their Pneuma extracted and absorbed in a continuous stream.
The process was violent, chaotic, terrifying to witness. Kami stood at the center of a whirlwind of destruction, his eyes blazing with violet light, his body surrounded by the dissolving remains of hundreds of artificial Devourers.
And with each one consumed, he grew stronger.
His Pneuma capacity expanded beyond anything natural. His Devourer nature evolved, adapted, learned from each construct it consumed. He could feel himself changing, becoming something more than human, approaching the threshold of what his kind could be if they stopped fighting and simply became hunger incarnate.
It felt glorious.
The last Wraith dissolved into his vortex. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of wind rushing inward toward Kami's position.
And then he felt it—the presence of living Pneuma behind him. His companions. Six bright signatures of life-force, weakened by battle, some injured, all exhausted.
Easy prey.
The hunger turned its attention toward them. Why stop now? Why not consume them too? They were weak. Vulnerable. And their Pneuma would taste so much better than the artificial constructs—
NO.
Kami slammed his will down on the hunger with every ounce of discipline he possessed. His hands clenched until his nails drew blood. His entire body trembled with the effort of pulling the Devourer back, of forcing the void to retreat, of remembering that he was human and not hunger given form.
It took minutes. Long, agonizing minutes where he stood frozen, fighting himself, while his companions watched with weapons ready and terror in their eyes.
Finally, slowly, Kami's Pneuma retracted. The pulling force dissipated. The violet light faded from his eyes.
He collapsed to his knees, gasping, his body wracked with tremors as the hunger screamed its frustration at being denied.
Thorwald approached cautiously, his golden aura blazing bright—ready to fight if necessary. "Brother? Are you... you?"
"I am me," Kami managed to say, though his voice was rough and strange. "I am still me. But Thorwald... that was too close. I almost—"
"But you did not. You stopped. You chose." Thorwald knelt beside him. "That is what matters."
Julia approached more hesitantly, her healer's senses analyzing what she was seeing. "Your Pneuma capacity has increased by at least forty percent. The amount of corrupted energy you just consumed should have killed you or driven you permanently insane. How did you—"
"I am a Devourer," Kami said simply. "Consuming Pneuma is what I am. The danger is not in the consumption—it is in what I might do afterward."
Decimus was being tended by Marcus, his Pneuma slowly recovering from the draining. Cassia and Cassius stood guard, watching the treeline for any additional threats.
"The village is saved," Cassius observed. "Though I count at least two hundred destroyed Wraiths. Someone created this army. Someone is manufacturing artificial Devourers in significant numbers."
"And now we know they work," Marcus added grimly. "A single human Devourer destroyed them all, but a Legion without a Devourer? It would be slaughtered, just as the reports indicated."
"We need to find the source," Thorwald said. "Find whoever is creating these things and destroy their production facility."
"I know where it is," Kami said quietly.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"When I consumed the Wraiths, I absorbed fragments of their structure. Their construction array. They are all connected to a central source—a Pneuma network that feeds them power and directs their basic instincts. I can feel it now, like a thread pulling northward. Whoever is creating them is approximately fifty miles from here, in the mountains."
"Then we go there," Thorwald said. "We end this."
But Kami was not looking at his brother. He was looking at his hands—still trembling from the battle, still hungry despite consuming hundreds of artificial Devourers.
He had won this fight. Had saved his companions. Had proven he could unleash his full power and still regain control.
But each time he did this, it became harder. Each feeding made the hunger stronger. Each victory brought him closer to the day when he would lose the battle against his own nature.
And somewhere in the northern mountains, someone was creating weapons based on Devourer techniques. Someone who understood what Kami was and how to replicate it.
The question was: did they create these Wraiths to threaten the Empire?
Or had they created them to study him when he inevitably came to destroy them?
Either way, Kami was walking into a trap.
The only question was whether he would walk out again as Kami Van Hellsin...
Or as the monster everyone had always feared he would become.