The journey north took three days through terrain that grew progressively more hostile. The forests thinned into rocky foothills, then gave way to barren mountains where nothing grew except twisted shrubs clinging to cracks in the stone. The air grew cold enough that even Pneuma-enhanced bodies felt the bite, and the sky remained perpetually gray with clouds that promised snow but never delivered.
Kami led them, following the thread he had absorbed from the destroyed Wraiths. It pulled at his consciousness like a fishing line, growing stronger with each mile traveled. Whoever had created those constructs was close now, and they were not hiding their presence. If anything, the Pneuma signature was growing more obvious, more intentional.
They wanted to be found.
"This feels wrong," Cassia said on the second day, her speed-enhanced senses making her more attuned to danger than the others. "We are being led somewhere. Guided. Like livestock being funneled into a pen."
"Obviously," Cassius replied, his Tribune instincts agreeing even as his pride bristled at the comparison. "The question is whether we spring the trap deliberately or attempt to circumvent it. And given that our mission is to find the source of these Wraiths, I would argue we have little choice but to proceed."
Thorwald called a halt at midday on the third day. They had reached a mountain pass where sheer cliffs rose on either side, creating a natural corridor that led deeper into the range. The perfect place for an ambush, which made everyone nervous.
"Marcus, can you sense anything ahead?" Thorwald asked.
The earth-wielder knelt and placed both hands flat against the stone, his brown Pneuma flowing into the ground. After a moment he frowned. "There is a structure ahead. Large. Built into the mountain itself, not on top of it. The Pneuma flows are artificial, controlled, channeled through carved pathways in the rock. This is not some hidden cave or abandoned ruin. This is an active facility."
"How many people?" Julia asked, her healer senses already preparing for the possibility of casualties.
"I cannot tell. The structure is shielded somehow, blocking my ability to sense individual signatures. But the Pneuma output is massive. Whatever they are doing in there requires enormous amounts of life-force."
Decimus cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing off the cliff walls. "Then we go in and break things until they stop doing it."
"A plan of stunning sophistication," Cassius muttered, but he was already checking his weapons and channeling Pneuma to prepare for combat.
They proceeded through the pass in combat formation. Thorwald led with Decimus, both warriors ready to meet any frontal assault. Cassius and Cassia covered the flanks, their different specialties complementing each other. Marcus and Julia stayed in the protected center, ready to support. And Kami walked slightly ahead of everyone, his Devourer senses extended to maximum range, feeling for any hint of Wraith presence.
The pass opened into a valley, and there they found it.
The fortress was carved directly into the mountainside, its entrance a massive gate of dark metal inscribed with Pneuma arrays that pulsed with faint violet light. Guard towers flanked the entrance, but they appeared unmanned. No sentries challenged their approach. No defensive Pneuma constructs activated. The entire structure sat silent and waiting, like a mouth hanging open.
"I do not like this," Thorwald said, stating what everyone was thinking. "Where are the defenders? The Wraiths? If this is the source of the attacks, why is it unguarded?"
Kami stepped closer to the gate, his hand hovering near the metal without quite touching it. He could feel the Pneuma flowing through the arrays, complex and sophisticated, far more advanced than anything the Academy taught. "The defenses are internal. Whoever built this place is confident that anyone who makes it this far will walk right in. Because they want us inside."
"Then what do we do?" Julia asked. "Return to Aurelius and request a full Legion?"
"By which time the Wraiths could attack a dozen more villages," Cassius pointed out. "No. We complete our mission. We investigate, gather intelligence, and if possible, destroy the source of these constructs."
"Or die trying," Decimus added cheerfully.
"That seems likely, yes."
They stood before the gate for several long moments, each person processing what they were about to do. Then Thorwald drew his sword, channeled his golden Pneuma until the blade blazed with light, and stepped forward.
"For the Empire," he said. "And for all those who died to these abominations. We end this today."
The gate opened at his approach, the metal sliding aside with mechanical precision that suggested Pneuma-powered mechanisms. Beyond lay a corridor carved from living rock, wide enough for ten people to walk abreast, lit by Aetheric Lanterns that burned with the same violet light as the gate arrays.
They entered.
The corridor extended for perhaps a hundred yards before opening into a vast chamber. What they found there made even Kami, who had seen some of the Empire's darkest secrets, pause in shock.
It was a laboratory. Or a factory. Or perhaps some unholy combination of both.
The chamber was circular, easily three hundred feet in diameter, with a domed ceiling carved with intricate Pneuma arrays that glowed with pulsing light. Concentric circles had been carved into the floor, each one inscribed with symbols that Kami recognized from his forbidden studies with Maximus. These were Devourer glyphs, the ancient language used to describe and control techniques of Pneuma consumption.
And in the center of the innermost circle stood a man.
He was ancient, perhaps even older than Grand Master Maximus, his skin like parchment stretched over bone, his eyes burning with violet light that marked him as something more than human. He wore robes of deep purple marked with silver thread that formed constantly shifting patterns, and his Pneuma signature was vast, easily matching any of the Academy's Seven Masters.
But what drew everyone's attention were the devices surrounding him.
Crystalline tanks filled with violet fluid stood in a ring around the central platform. And floating in each tank was a partially formed Void Wraith, its body still taking shape, fed by tubes that pumped Pneuma-infused liquid into its developing structure.
The old man smiled as they entered, and his voice echoed through the chamber with unnatural resonance. "Welcome, children of the Academy. I have been expecting you. Specifically, I have been expecting him." His burning gaze fixed on Kami. "The Devourer. The one who proved it was possible. The one whose very existence taught me what I needed to create my beautiful children."
Thorwald stepped forward, his sword raised. "Identify yourself. By Imperial law, I demand you surrender and submit to questioning regarding the creation of forbidden Pneuma constructs."
The old man laughed, and the sound was wrong, layered with harmonics that suggested multiple voices speaking at once. "Imperial law. How quaint. I am beyond Imperial law, boy. I was studying Pneuma theory when your grandfather's grandfather was still learning to channel his first spark of life-force. I am Archimedes of the Broken Circle, and I have transcended the limitations your precious Empire tried to impose on me."
Kami felt recognition slam into him. "You. You are the wandering philosopher we met on the road to Aurelius. Years ago. You knew what I was, warned me about Cassius."
"Of course I knew. I recognized your nature immediately because I had been searching for one of your kind for decades. Do you know how rare Devourers are? How difficult it is to study a phenomenon that the Empire systematically exterminates? But then I found you, saw what you could do, and suddenly everything became clear. If nature could create a Devourer through random chance, then surely intellect could create them through deliberate design."
He gestured to the tanks surrounding him. "Behold my life's work. Artificial Devourers, constructs that possess all your abilities without the inconvenient burden of conscience or restraint. They feed as hunger dictates. They consume without hesitation. They are pure function without the weakness of choice."
"You murdered thousands," Julia said, her voice shaking with anger. "Three Legions. Dozens of villages. All those people, drained of life, so you could test your creations?"
"Test and refine. Each attack provided data. Each failure taught me how to improve the design. And now, after two years of field testing, my Wraiths are finally perfect." Archimedes raised his hands, and the tanks began to drain. "Which brings us to the final experiment. Can my artificial Devourers defeat a natural one? Can the created surpass the born? Let us find out."
The tanks shattered simultaneously, releasing two dozen fully formed Void Wraiths into the chamber.
These were not like the ones Kami had fought in Silverbrook. Those had been crude, mass-produced constructs meant to overwhelm through numbers. These were refined, optimized, each one burning with Pneuma capacity that rivaled an Academy graduate.
"Combat formation!" Thorwald roared, but even as he gave the order, he knew it was futile. Seven of them against twenty-four enhanced Wraiths and a Master-level Pneuma wielder in a prepared battleground of his own design.
They were going to die here.
Unless Kami did something that terrified him more than death.
The Wraiths attacked from all directions simultaneously, their movements coordinated in a way the previous ones had not been. Archimedes was controlling them directly, using them as extensions of his own will.
Decimus met the first one with a Pneuma-enhanced punch that would have shattered a building. The Wraith caught his fist and began to drain. Decimus screamed as his life-force was pulled away, his massive frame withering as the Wraith consumed his strength.
Cassia tried to pull him clear, but another Wraith materialized in her path, moving with speed that matched her own enhanced reflexes. She barely dodged its claws, the crystalline talons passing close enough to tear her cloak.
Cassius created a barrier of compressed Pneuma, the white-blue energy forming a dome around Julia and Marcus. But three Wraiths focused on the barrier, their draining effects combining to dissolve it in seconds. Cassius had to drop the barrier and engage in direct combat, his sword techniques useless against enemies that could not be cut.
Thorwald channeled everything he had, his golden Pneuma blazing so bright it hurt to look at. He struck at a Wraith with enough force to crack the stone floor beneath them. The Wraith dissolved under the impact, destroyed by the sheer overwhelming power of his strike.
But it cost him. That single attack had burned through nearly a quarter of his Pneuma reserves. Twenty-three Wraiths remained. He could not maintain that level of output long enough to destroy them all.
Kami watched his companions being overwhelmed, watched them fighting and dying against enemies they could not truly harm. He saw Decimus collapse, his Pneuma drained to critical levels. Saw Julia desperately trying to channel healing while dodging claws that could drain her dry in seconds. Saw Thorwald burning through his reserves, fighting with desperate strength that could not last.
And he made a decision.
Not the choice Maximus had trained him for. Not the restrained, disciplined response the Academy expected. Kami chose something darker, something that he knew would change him fundamentally.
He stopped fighting the hunger and embraced it fully.
What happened next would be discussed in whispers for years, spoken of in Academy histories as the moment when Kami Van Hellsin crossed a line he could never uncross.
Kami's Devourer nature erupted without restraint or control. His Pneuma became a maelstrom of pulling force, a vortex of void that filled the entire chamber. Every living thing felt it, felt themselves being pulled toward him, felt their Pneuma straining against their will to flow into the infinite hunger that had awakened.
The Wraiths felt it most strongly. They were constructs based on Devourer principles, designed to feed. But they had never encountered an actual Devourer who had stopped pretending to be anything other than hunger given form.
Kami moved among them like death walking, his hands trailing violet-black energy that dissolved Wraiths on contact. He was not fighting them. He was consuming them. His Devourer nature had evolved past mere draining into something more fundamental, something that could unmake the very structure of Pneuma itself.
A Wraith lunged at him. Kami caught it by what passed for its throat and absorbed it, the construct dissolving into raw energy that flowed into him in a rush of power. Another attacked from behind. He spun and consumed it without looking, his Devourer senses so extended that he could feel every Pneuma signature in the chamber simultaneously.
One by one, the Wraiths fell. Not defeated. Erased. Consumed so thoroughly that not even residual Pneuma remained.
Archimedes watched with an expression caught between horror and fascination. "Magnificent," he breathed. "You are not merely draining them, you are deconstructing them. Breaking them down at the fundamental level. I have never seen anything like this. The data alone is worth everything I sacrificed to create this moment."
Kami turned toward the old philosopher, and the hunger in his eyes was so intense that even Archimedes took an involuntary step backward. "You used me. Studied me without permission. Created weapons based on what I am. Killed thousands to test your theories."
"I advanced the science of Pneuma manipulation by decades," Archimedes countered, though his voice lacked its earlier confidence. "Your existence proved what was possible. I merely refined the concept, removed the weaknesses, improved upon nature's crude design. You should be thanking me, boy. I have shown the world what Devourers can truly do."
"You have shown them what to fear."
Kami started walking toward Archimedes, his pulling force intensifying with each step. The old philosopher tried to channel his own Pneuma defensively, creating barriers and constructs meant to protect him. But Kami's Devourer nature was beyond such things now. The barriers dissolved. The constructs unraveled. Nothing stood between them except air and intention.
"Wait," Archimedes said, and now genuine fear crept into his voice. "Wait. I can teach you. Show you techniques even Maximus does not know. Together we could perfect the art of Pneuma consumption, could create Devourers who serve the Empire willingly, could revolutionize everything the Academy thinks it knows about life-force manipulation."
"I do not want to be perfected," Kami said softly. "I want to be human. And you took that choice away from me the moment you started your experiments."
He reached out and placed his hand on Archimedes' chest.
And he began to drain.
Not quickly. Not violently. Kami took his time, pulling the old man's Pneuma out slowly enough that Archimedes could feel every moment of it, could experience what his victims had felt, could understand the terror of having your life-force consumed by something that would not stop.
"Please," Archimedes whispered as his Pneuma reserves dropped toward critical levels. "I am a scholar. A theorist. I never meant for it to become what it did. I only wanted to understand, to learn, to push the boundaries of what was possible."
"And now you understand," Kami replied. "Now you know what it feels like to be consumed. To be studied. To be nothing but data in someone else's experiment."
He drained Archimedes down to the barest flicker of Pneuma necessary to sustain life, leaving the ancient philosopher collapsed on the floor, too weak to move or speak, his burning violet eyes dimmed to the faintest glow.
Kami stood over him, his body thrumming with absorbed power, and he felt the hunger demanding more. Demanding that he finish what he started, drain Archimedes completely, then turn to his companions and feed on them as well. They were injured, weakened, easy prey. And he had never felt this strong, this powerful, this close to becoming something that could never be threatened or controlled again.
His hand raised, reaching toward Thorwald, who stood nearby with his sword half-raised, golden Pneuma flickering with exhaustion.
For a long, terrible moment, nobody moved.
Then Kami felt it. The weight of Thorwald's gaze. Not fear. Not anger. Just sadness. Deep, profound sadness, because his brother knew what was about to happen and had already accepted it. Thorwald would fight because that was his duty, but the look in his eyes said he had already lost the person he loved most.
That look broke through the hunger's roar.
Kami's hand dropped. His Pneuma retracted violently, pulled back inside himself with such force that he gasped and fell to his knees. The hunger screamed its frustration, but Kami fought it down, caged it, forced it back into the depths of his consciousness where it had lived for seventeen years.
When he looked up, his eyes were his own again. Tired. Haunted. But human.
"I am sorry," he whispered, though he was not sure if he was apologizing to Thorwald or to himself. "I almost lost control. I almost became exactly what Archimedes wanted me to be."
Thorwald lowered his sword and knelt beside his brother, his hand gripping Kami's shoulder. "But you did not. You stopped. That is what matters. That is always what matters."
Around them, the rest of the task force was picking themselves up, checking injuries, processing what they had just witnessed. Kami had saved them by embracing his nature fully, but in doing so he had shown them what he truly was when all restraint was removed. The looks they gave him now were different. Not gratitude. Not relief. Something closer to the way you would look at a chained predator, grateful it had not broken free but newly aware of what would happen if it did.
Marcus approached Archimedes' collapsed form and checked his Pneuma levels. "He will live. Barely. We can take him back to Aurelius for trial."
"No," Cassius said, his voice hard. "He dies here. He created weapons that killed thousands. He deserves execution, not trial."
"We are not executioners," Julia protested. "We are Imperial agents. We follow the law."
"The law did not save those villages," Cassius countered. "The law did not stop three Legions from being slaughtered. Sometimes justice requires action, not procedure."
They argued while Kami remained kneeling, too exhausted to move, his body struggling to process the massive amount of Pneuma he had consumed. He had absorbed dozens of Wraiths plus Archimedes' vast reserves. His capacity had expanded far beyond anything natural. He could feel the power churning inside him, changing him, making him into something that had not existed before.
A Devourer who had learned to feed without killing. Who had consumed enough power to rival the Academy's Masters. Who could unmake Pneuma constructs with a touch and who had nearly lost himself completely to the hunger in the process.
What am I becoming, he wondered. And when will the day come when I cannot pull myself back?
The argument was settled by Thorwald, who made the decision as their commanding officer. They would take Archimedes alive. They would bring him before the Academy and let Grand Master Maximus determine his fate. They would follow the law, even when the law felt insufficient, because that was what separated them from the monsters they fought.
But as they prepared to leave, as Marcus and Cassia rigged explosive Pneuma arrays to destroy the laboratory and ensure no one could continue Archimedes' work, Kami found something that made his blood run cold.
It was a journal. Hidden in a compartment beneath where Archimedes had been standing. And in it, written in the old philosopher's precise script, was a detailed account of his experiments, his theories, his observations.
Including observations of Kami.
Pages and pages of notes from that brief encounter on the road years ago, followed by secondhand reports purchased from Academy servants, stolen documents detailing Kami's training, even sketches of the Pneuma arrays he had used to create the Wraiths, all based on studying what Kami had done in Ferrum when he destroyed the ancient Wraith.
This entire operation had been designed around him. The Wraiths were not just weapons. They were a test. A way to force Kami to embrace his nature fully, to document what a fully unleashed Devourer could do, to gather data that could be used to create even more refined constructs in the future.
And Kami had given Archimedes exactly what he wanted. By losing control, by embracing the hunger, by showing what he truly was when all restraint was removed, Kami had provided a perfect demonstration of Devourer capabilities at their peak.
The journal would go back to the Academy. Would be studied by Masters who would analyze every detail, who would use it to update their threat assessments and contingency plans. Who would look at Kami differently now, knowing what he had done here, what he had become even briefly.
He had saved his companions and destroyed Archimedes' operation. But in doing so, he had proven that every fear about him was justified. That given the right circumstances, he could and would become the monster everyone had always suspected he was.
The victory felt hollow. The mission complete but somehow wrong, as though they had all lost something important in this mountain laboratory even as they won the battle.
They left the fortress as explosions echoed behind them, Marcus's Pneuma arrays systematically destroying every piece of equipment, every crystal tank, every trace of Archimedes' research. The old philosopher traveled with them in chains, too weak to resist, his eyes following Kami with an expression that might have been satisfaction despite his defeat.
The journey back to Aurelius took a week. Nobody spoke much. They were all processing what they had witnessed, what they had survived, what it meant that one of their own had nearly lost himself to hunger in order to save them.
And Kami walked in silence, carrying the knowledge that he had crossed a threshold he could never uncross. He had stopped himself this time, yes. He had chosen humanity over hunger, control over power. But it had been close. So terribly close. And the next time would be even harder, because now the hunger knew what it felt like to be fully unleashed, knew the taste of that kind of power, and it would demand nothing less in the future.
He was changing. Evolving. Becoming something the Empire had never seen before. A Devourer who could choose restraint but who possessed power that rivaled the Masters. A weapon that could think and feel and refuse orders. A person who carried inside himself the capacity to save thousands or kill them with equal ease.
The Empire would not know what to do with him. Would not know whether to honor him as a hero or eliminate him as a threat. And honestly, Kami was not sure he knew the answer either anymore. He had always believed that choice mattered more than nature, that you could be born as something terrible and still choose to be good. But after what happened in that laboratory, after feeling what it was like to stop choosing and just be what he was, he found himself wondering if maybe the choice had always been an illusion. Maybe he had just been delaying the inevitable, putting off the day when he would finally surrender to what he had been born to be.