Every inch gained was a battle. The rock face of the Whisperwind Canyon was a cruel adversary, offering scant purchase, its surface often loose or crumbling.
Kaelen's broken body screamed with every movement, a symphony of agony that would have crippled any normal man. But he wasn't normal anymore.
The cold, dark energy pulsed through his veins, a tide of potent power that ignored the limits of flesh and bone, binding his fractures with chilling efficiency, lending unnatural strength to torn muscles.
He moved with jerky, desperate efficiency, his limbs burning with exertion, yet held together by the sheer force of will and the dark power answering his silent command.
Faint tendrils of shadow clung to him, deepening the gloom around his form, a visible manifestation of the energy he wielded.
His breath was ragged, the air thin and cold, carrying the ever-present hum of the resonance, now intertwined with the dark energy within him.
His dark-infused [Fragmented Insight] was his lifeline. It painted the rock face in a language of energy and vulnerability.
Not just physical cracks, but lines of stress pulsing with discordant energy, handholds where the resonance flows were stable, potential footfalls where the dark energy within him could perhaps temporarily stabilize the stone.
That fissure, there. Insight highlighted a narrow, vertical crack, almost invisible, pulsing with a subtle, dark energy. Path.
He reached for it, fingers finding purchase in the chilled stone, the dark energy from his hand flowing into the rock, momentarily solidifying the crumbling edges.
The climb was relentless. Upwards. Always upwards. The image of Borin's cold eyes, of Anya's calculating face, of Joric's sneer – they were burned into his mind, a constant fuel for the dark energy.
His spite was a tangible force, a bitter taste in his mouth that was somehow invigorating. Each pull, each painful breath... it's a step closer to making them pay.
Hours blurred into an eternity of raw rock, cold wind, and burning muscles held together by unnatural power.
He encountered the canyon's mid-level hazards. Not the strange flora of the abyss, but creatures adapted to the sheer cliffs – scaled beasts that scurried in the crevices, their energy signatures small but sharp through [Fragmented Insight].
Threat Level: M_I_N_O_R (Environmental).
One such creature, a spider-like thing of stone and shadow, skittered onto the rock face near him, drawn perhaps by the unusual energy he was giving off.
It lunged, surprisingly fast. Kaelen reacted instinctively. He didn't have combat training. He had fury and dark energy. A wave of cold panic surged, immediately transmuted by his will into a burst of dark power.
A raw pulse of chilling energy erupted from his hand, not aimed, but a pure reaction. The creature shrieked, recoiling as if struck by an invisible, freezing force, its energy signature flickering wildly. It lost its grip, tumbling silently into the abyss below.
Power used. He felt a drain, a brief hollowness where the dark energy had surged. But the threat was gone. He was learning.
His power wasn't just support; it was force. A raw, unrefined force that responded to desperate need and focused intent. Direct it.
He focused his will, trying to shape the energy, not just expel it. It was like trying to grasp smoke, but with [Fragmented Insight] showing him the energy flows within himself, he could glimpse how it responded, how it might be controlled.
His internal monologue was a chilling echo chamber of vengeance and dark resolve.
This power... it feels like my hatred given form. It thrives on the pain, on the anger. It makes me strong when I should be dead.
Was there a cost?
He felt… different. A growing coldness in his core that wasn't just physical. A sense of detachment from the screaming pain of his body, as if it belonged to someone else.
He was becoming less Kaelen, and more... the Revenant. This path felt right. It felt like the only path left. The path of righteous, cold-blooded spite.
Despite the dark energy's support, his body was failing. Blood still seeped from wounds. His stamina, even unnaturally boosted, was depleting.
The shadow aura around him sometimes flickered when he was most exhausted. He was a broken engine running on pure spite and volatile dark power.
He finally reached a wider ledge, a brief respite. A small, precarious outcropping roughly halfway up the visible section of the canyon wall.
The wind howled here, but offered a distant, breathtaking, terrifying view. Below, the abyss was absolute darkness.
Above, the sky was a narrow, distant sliver of pale light. And etched against that light, the impossibly sharp edges of the Jagged Peaks. The world above. Their world.
He collapsed onto the ledge, gasping for breath, the dark energy within him surging to repair the micro-tears from the climb, the shadows around him pooling and receding.
He was halfway up, maybe. A monumental distance covered, fueled by something dark and vengeful.
Looking up, he saw the remaining climb. It looked even harder. Sheer faces, fewer visible handholds, areas where the resonance flows seemed wilder, more unpredictable.
He was entering a new section of the canyon, facing new challenges. His temporary sanctuary was this small, windswept ledge.
He had gained ground, learned a little more about the terrible power now bound to him. But the ascent was far from over.
And the climb was about to get steeper, deadlier. His vengeance demanded he continue. And the darkness within answered the call.