Echoes of the Devourer

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Devourer
Arc 1: The Hunter’s Awakening

The forest bordering Vaeloria was deathly silent, as if nature itself feared to whisper. Twisted trees loomed over the narrow path, branches gnarled like claws reaching toward the sky. Every footstep Dain took seemed to echo, louder than it should’ve been. The cursed chains around his wrist tugged faintly, as though guiding him deeper into the gloom.

Vorthos the Devourer.

Even the name brought unease. Rumors painted him as a monster of ancient hunger, once human—now twisted by endless consumption of corrupted souls. Dain knew what such a creature meant. It wasn’t about bounties or gold anymore. This was survival. And somewhere beneath the fear, a dark part of him hungered too—the part the contract was slowly waking.

Veyne strolled beside him, humming a tune too cheerful for their grim hunt. “You know, most people turn around when they hear Vorthos is involved.”

“I’m not most people,” Dain muttered.

“No,” Veyne said, “you’re the one who signed with the Arbiter. That makes you either the bravest bastard I’ve ever met… or the most cursed.”

They stopped at the edge of a ravaged village. Charred buildings stood like tombstones. Ash covered the ground, and silence reigned—until a scream cut through the air.

Dain didn’t wait.

He bolted through the wreckage, chains flaring to life. From a ruined chapel, a massive form emerged. Flesh twisted. Mouths within mouths. Vorthos.

It spoke in a dozen voices at once: “Hunger… never ends.”

Dain drew his blade, his curse already burning. But Vorthos laughed—a chilling sound that cracked the earth beneath them.

This wouldn’t be a hunt.

This would be war.

The village burned. Again.

Flames licked the sky like the tongues of demons, devouring what little remained of wood, stone, and bone. Dain stood in the center of the wreckage, blade dripping with blackened blood. Vorthos was gone—for now.

But not defeated.

The cursed chains had tightened during the fight, glowing with hellish runes. His vision had blurred at one point. He didn’t remember the killing blow… only the scream. The Devourer had fled, missing an arm. Dain had survived—but just barely.

Smoke choked the air, thick and bitter. Each breath felt like swallowing ash.

“You’re not bleeding,” Veyne muttered, stepping over a corpse. “But something in you definitely broke.”

Dain didn’t answer. He stared at the corpse of a child lying near the chapel steps. Her eyes were still open, lips frozen in a scream.

This wasn’t a bounty.

This was a curse.

He knelt beside her, closing her eyes. The chains coiled tighter as if mocking him, feeding off guilt, growing stronger from his sorrow.

The Arbiter’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Hesitate… and your soul becomes next.”

Veyne tossed a pouch of salt into the flames, sending up green sparks. “He feeds on despair. The more people suffer, the stronger he grows.”

Dain looked toward the woods, where the Devourer had vanished.

“I’ll make him starve.”

A gust of wind swept through, revealing a sigil burnt into the ground—a summoning mark. Someone had called Vorthos here. Someone wanted this slaughter.

Dain rose slowly, eyes burning.

This wasn’t random.

It was a message.

And he’d send one back—in blood.