Edmund rolled out a map on the kitchen table. His finger traced down from the second level of Saints Summit and out through the inner wall.

  “The Bureau has tasked us with investigating this area. There are reports of sightings and whispers. The officials thought it superstition,” Edmund said. “But two days ago, a boy went missing. Not just anyone’s son. Someone important.”

  He tapped an area by the industries.

  “It's our job to find the source of the disturbance, and deal with it.”

  As the team got ready, Astrid changed into a professional-looking black dress with a black overcoat, tucking a dagger to her belt that looked large against her frame.

  Elenya quietly stashed weapon after weapon, each blade concealed somewhere in her plain suit and black coat. Finally, she brought out a grim, cast-iron halberd, easily heavier than Wretch himself, and slid it into a thin cloth bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

  Edmund wore a hat and a sturdy suit under a coat of black leather. The surface marred by scratches from things Wretch didn't want to imagine.

  While the rest of the Richter company prepared, Wretch waited by the table. Across the room, the orange cat watched him.

  After completing the change to his hand the same morning, his ember glowed at half-strength. The same ember would have to fuel any regeneration if he got hurt.

  “They need a tracker?” Wretch mumbled to himself. “I can become one.”

  He drew a deep breath and focused inward. He reached for the sputtering ember with his willpower and dragged the flame forward.

  In the reflection of an empty glass, his pupils took on a fiery hue. He concentrated on the space just behind his nose and began to warp the inner structure, turning it into the tissue from the rat-beast.

  It was painful, as if he’d inhaled something toxic. Still, he moved slowly, ensuring his nose wouldn’t elongate or deform.

  Drops of red dripped from his nostrils. He pinched the bridge of his nose tight, the blood trickling down his throat rather than ruining his borrowed shirt.

  A few minutes later, his second transformation was complete. Wiping his bloodied nose against the back of his hand, he took a long inhale.

  He smelled everything. The leftovers from breakfast, the fumes from the industries below, the roasted wood and bitterness of a forgotten coffee mug.

  A smile spread on his face. This could work.

  Leaving the house and making their way around the Spire. Wretch walked at the back, quietly testing the range of his new sense.

  Edmund smelled earthy, with a faint hint of tobacco. Astrid had the sweet and prickly scent of flowers. While Elenya had a scent of iron and low-grade alcohol.

  The steam-powered elevators were crowded and loud, a whirlwind of voices, bodies and smells that made his head spin. Edmund flashed a badge, and after paying the five-cent per person fare, they descended. Rattling downwards inside a room-sized birdcage coated in glass and bronze filigree.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all, Wretch thought, squeezed between a fat gentleman oozing sweat and the rest of the group.

  If the elevators were a whirlwind, the streets of the ground-level were a storm. Packed crowds shuffled between the avenues as salesmen shouted from behind stalls, lines of carriages cutting through the sea of people. They climbed into a horse-drawn carriage and rolled towards the inner gate, breathing a sigh of relief as they closed the door.

  Wretch sat clutching the sheath of a borrowed dagger and sniffing in the air, sorting through all the distinct sensations.

  “What are you doing?” Elenya asked.

  “I changed my nose, just the inside part. I can track way better now,” He said with a wide smile.

  “Really? That was fast,” Astrid said. “Can you change it back?”

  “Hmm. I don't think so, unless I eat a beast with a nose?” Wretch admitted.

  Edmund chuckled quietly.

  A while later, the carriage rattled to a stop. Everything below the Spires was the Lows, but there was a world of difference between the Lows inside the inner wall and the slums they now stood in.

  Here, their tailored clothes stood out. Most of the locals wore patched rags or the blue workers overalls, sitting in crooked doorways or crouched under twisted pipes and machinery. Some watched them with eyes full of hunger. He knew that feeling well, but pushed it away despite the guilt. He had to focus.

  After a five-minute walk, they arrived at an industrial complex just outside of the inner wall. The factory loomed overhead like a massive box of gears and pistons with winding chimneys stretching upwards past the wall.

  Beside it stood rows of residential buildings. The team was in front of the largest. An imposing, three story-mansion surrounded by a tiny garden that clung to life in the fume-filled air. The three-story house was the home of Edgar Doljivi, foreman of the neighboring industry.

  Two housemaids showed them inside through an iron gate, Edmund in front, flanked by Astrid and Elenya, while Wretch trailed behind.

  In a lounge area, a middle-aged woman in an embroidered dress and a round bald man greeted them. The women looked haggard, bags under her eyes and quivering lip. The man was calmer, a hard fa?ade hiding a deep worry. The captain put down his suitcase to the carpeted floor and shook the hand of the foreman and his wife.

  “Thank you for coming on short notice,” the foreman said with a strained voice. “I didn’t know what to expect from the police department.”

  “I wish we could have met under different circumstances.” Edmund answered.

  They sat down in a nearby lounging area and Astrid pulled out a notepad and pen from a pocket.

  “Can you describe when your son was last sighted?” Edmund asked.

  The foreman’s wife, Bianca, answered without delay.

  “Ezra just went to his room last night and this morning he was gone. No note, nothing. He’s a shy and hard-working child. He wouldn’t leave without a good reason.”

  Edmund nodded. “Did you have any recent arguments?”

  “No,” the foreman and his wife responded at the same time.

  “What about the reports of the strange sightings in the area?” Edmund asked to the sound of Astrid's pen scratching against paper.

  Foreman Doljivi sighed, “It’s the factory workers, some report seeing movement in the alleys, others tapping at their windows in the middle of the night, I brushed it off as superstition but now...”

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  “Now I am not so sure.”

  Edmund asked a few more questions, then gave a nod. “Next, I’d like to see Ezra’s room.” Together, the group ascended the lavish stairs and walked down a hallway filled with paintings of stern faces, entering one of the many rooms.

  The bedroom was enormous according to Wretch’s standards. A bed bigger than any single person could ever need, wardrobes, chairs and even a fireplace. It looked fit for royalty and Wretch clasped his hands so as to not accidentally steal anything.

  At first glance everything was in order, no obvious signs of struggle, no shattered glass or broken furniture.

  Alright, let’s earn that spot.

  Astrid, Elenya and Edmund began searching around the room. While Wretch sniffed at the hanging clothes and bedding, earning him a questioning look from the foreman and his wife.

  The boy’s scent was everywhere, smelling of scented soap. Wretch walked in circles, searching for the scent of blood, not finding the recognizable sharp iron-like scent.

  Elenya opened a wardrobe and ripped through clothes as he changed his plan, taking short steps and trying to pick up anything odd in the sea of scents. He moved past the fireplace, and froze.

  Charcoal and wood. But underneath, there was something else. A faint, unpleasant mix of mold and herbs. Out of place. Wretch bent down, peering up into the chimney. It continued straight up, tall, squared, and coated in thick, flaking soot. A mellow light shone down from above.

  Handprints. Hundreds of them. Layered atop one another in different sizes and angles. Some as small as children’s, others as wide as working men’s. As if a crowd had left through the chimney. Or entered.

  Could a human even do that?

  He had forgotten to breathe, and took a deep inhale.

  “Found something,” he said and stepped back.

  The others turned to him in surprise. A minute later, they had all inspected the soot-stained bricks.

  “Either we are looking at multiple assailants or…” Astrid said, cleaning her hands on a handkerchief, “or something strange is moving around.”

  Edmund nodded.

  “Maybe, but did you notice? There are only handprints, not a single imprint from a boot or foot. Does a human climb like that?”

  Wretch imagined a many-armed creature crawling down the chimney, a shiver went down his spine. The three hunters and Wretch looked at each other.

  “It seems like Ezra was taken by force,” Edmund said in a louder tone, addressing the foreman and his wife, still by the door.

  Bianca gave a whimper.

  “What now?” The foreman asked in a grave voice.

  “We inspect the grounds,” Edmund said, putting on his hat. “These things always leave tracks.”

  They exited through a back door behind the kitchen. A tall cast-iron fence surrounded the garden. A lawn spread around the property, flanked by half-withered bushes. Everything was carefully cut, yet the green leaves were plagued by a brownish-yellow tinge.

  The team spread out, combing through the plants and soil in silence.

  Elenya called out first. “Handprints, a lot of them.”

  They hurried over and took in the scene. In the damp earth at the edge of the garden, another dozen hands had sunk into the flowerbed. Scratching at the mud. Struggling.

  Astrid pressed up her glasses.

  “The hands sink deep, likely heavy. Perhaps carrying something, or someone.”

  Wretch dropped to all fours, dirtying the borrowed clothes without hesitation. He sniffed against the ground, straining his mind to sort through the sensory input. Behind a mix of smog and wet, acidic earth, there was something else.

  “Smells the same,” he said without lifting his head. “Like old plants, mold… a little rancid, but also sweet.”

  “Where does it lead, kid?” Edmund asked.

  His heart skipped a beat, this is why he was here. He sniffed again, sweeping his head from side to side like a man impersonating a dog.

  There!

  Crawling forward through the vegetation, he led them to the edge of the garden.

  He parted two bushes. At the base of the cast-iron fence, the metal had been bent upwards. The grass around the section was torn and upended in an earthy wound, as if something had dragged its way under the fence and out into the street.

  Edmund, standing behind him, patted his shoulder with a heavy hand. Wretch turned, but the captain's face showed nothing but cold resolve.

  “My guess is this wasn’t here yesterday?” The captain asked.

  “We have a gardener that comes by every Tuesday,” the foreman said through gritted teeth. ”He’d have found and reported something like that.”

  “Mr and Mrs Dojlivi, Ezra has been taken. We’ll sweep the area, you'd do best to stay inside.” Edmund said.

  The defeated couple disappeared inside. Meanwhile the others swept the nearby streets and alleyways.

  The search turned up nothing. The scent was gone, the trail gone cold. None of the surrounding homes revealed anything unusual.

  The Doljivi house stood out in the neighborhood. Twice as tall and well maintained. Standing in contrast with the ramshackle slums. As the bells of the Spires above announced eight o’clock, the Richter company split up and moved door to door, knocking and questioning anyone they’d find. The surrounding blocks contained mostly factory workers and their families. Circles of ash drawn on their doors, to ward off the horrors in the night.

  Despite his wealth, the foreman was well-liked for choosing to live among them. Bianca, they learned, ran a charity for those disabled in factory accidents.

  But an unsettling pattern began to emerge. Ezra wasn’t the first to go missing.

  An elderly grandfather disappeared after stepping out to smoke. A teenage girl never returned from her night shift. The cases had been reported, but the authorities had ignored it. No records. No investigation.

  Ezra was simply the first victim important enough for someone to care. That evening, the Richters gathered in a guest-room offered by the foreman. They shared their theories over a mahogany table as dinner was brought in, canned potatoes and mutton stew. To Wretch, the smell was glorious, he leaned over the bowl and shoveled the food into his mouth, ignoring the burn on his tongue.

  “Whatever this thing is, it's nimble,” Astrid began. “Perhaps it has a Blessing to scale walls?” Astrid began.

  “It’s selective in who it targets,” Edmund added. “Always someone alone. Always at night. Always near the slums.”

  “Then maybe we can lure the bastard out,” Elenya said, thick arms crossed over the table. ”It’s searching for someone weak and lonely? We’ll give it just that.”

  A gas lamp cast long shadows on the group as they sat silent for a moment. Then, the hunters all turned towards their tryout member.

  Wretch was leaning over his bowl of stew, inhaling it at a furious pace.

  He looked up. “What?”

  “If I were a horrifying beast snatching people in the night, you would be exactly what I would look for,” Elenya said with a grin.

  “Ohh.” Wretch said with realization, his black claw clutching a spoon. ”That makes sense.”

  “It’s perfect,” Elenya said, excitedly. “You look weak as shit. It’ll come running.”

  “He gets it Elenya…” the captain muttered and his expression turned serious. “It’s a decent plan, but I won’t force you. It’s your call, kid.”

  “Sure, I’ll do it.” Wretch said without hesitation.

  Astrid raised an eyebrow. “That quick? You don’t want to think it over? I mean, you will be bait for a Blessed beast.”

  “Naah, it’s fine. Or maybe...” Wretch began. Pondering for a moment. “I will do it for half of Elenya’s portion.”

  “Deal.” Edmund responded without delay.

  “Hey! Why in the Saint’s name are you bartering off my food for?” Elenya protested

  Edmund responded with one of his familiar smiles, the kind that always seemed to reach his eyes.

  “For the good of the people, and to the demise of the beasts, naturally."

  "Now, lets kill a beast, and earn our pay."

  Dark Resurrection: Shadows of Nekrom

  by SOMBRAcorpDT

  "... Even if I'm devoured, even if my body is torn apart, even if my head is ripped off, and even if my heart stops… I'll come back from Death. Such is my fate."

  [Death and Resurrection], capable of bending the fabric of space and time in order to bring Tristessa back to life.

  Points of interest:

  ?? Dark High Fantasy. The story is going to be brutal, with gore, extreme violence, psychological horror and uncomfortable topics. Be aware about it.

  ???? LitRPG and Soulsborne genre. No System. Statistics appear from "Chapter 76 - Divinity of the Dark Room" onward.

  ?? Slow-burn progression. Very weak MC. Acquiring skills and progressing comes with its share of suffering and pain. Nothing is free in Nekrom.

  ?? Lots of worldbuilding and lore. Currently creating a map of the world with the Inkarnate app!

  ?? Some romance here and there. That be Het, GL, BL, it doesn't really matter since characters try to grasp some happiness amidst a very bad context. (Also no harem, but our lovely MC is a greedy teenager with a big, troubled heart. Keep that in mind).

  ?? Release schedule: Monday-Wednesday-Friday, at 15:30 UTC. The average is about 1000-1500 words/chapter, but once in a while I'll release a 2500-3000 words chapter if the gods of literature are willing.