Prototype's Gate

Alex body shifted, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to release. He knew he had to use almost every skill he possessed for what was coming—except for one. "Forget the harpies; I’m not singing my way out of this," he muttered, his mind already splitting in two. One half focused on the battle ahead, while the other channeled his psionic power, preparing to launch a mental assault.

His mind checked in with his body, ensuring everything was functioning at peak efficiency. The small organ that allowed him to phase in and out of the material plane hummed softly within him, ready to activate at a moment’s notice. His arms shifted, transforming into sharp, metallic talons dripping with the paralyzing poison of phase spiders. He flexed his newly-formed claws, feeling the deadly strength coursing through him.

Then, with a deep breath, he released all the pent-up energy in a single, explosive dash. The stone floor beneath him cracked under the force of his launch as he became a blur, hurtling toward his unsuspecting target. In mid-flight, he unleashed a devastating psionic blast, the sheer force of it stunning the massive spectator creature before it could even register what was happening.

The impact was so violent that Alex smashed through the spectator’s bulbous form, his momentum carrying him straight into the stone wall beyond. The collision sent shards of rock flying, and when the dust settled, Alex found himself embedded several meters deep in the wall. Shaking off the debris, he crawled out of the crater he had created, his body aching from the impact but his resolve unshaken.

He looked back at the spectator’s remains, a gruesome pile of flesh and ooze. Flesh tendrils grew from Alex back consuming the remains.

The memories of the creature’s final moments flooded Alex’s mind as he began to consume what was left of it, focusing particularly on its brain, which had somehow survived the catastrophic impact. It was deep within the creature, nestled among its most vital organs. As the last of the flesh dissolved under his touch, Alex learned the truth: the spectator had not only petrified the drows but had used them as bait, its presence a curse that had doomed the outpost. The creature’s power had been so overwhelming that it tore through the Selunite defenses, unpetrifying the drows it had turned to stone and turning them into instruments of slaughter. "This guy really packed a punch," Alex remarked. "But mine were faster." The spectator had been the bane of the Selunite outpost, but it wasn't it primary order . It was tasked to guard the drow it petrified.

With the spectator defeated and its memories absorbed, Alex stood over the battlefield, considering his next move. He noticed the drow statues scattered around and wondered what knowledge they might hold. Summoning five new eye stalks from his back—an ability he had just acquired—Alex aimed them at the statues. Each stalk fired a purplish ray that struck the stone figures, slowly reversing the petrification process.

As the drow began to regain their senses, Alex quickly retracted the eye stalks, not wanting to provoke them. He knew all too well that drow weren’t known for their hospitality, especially toward those who had bested them in any capacity.

A drow's appearance was a striking blend of elegance and intimidation, designed to captivate and unsettle those who encountered them. Their bodies were lithe and wiry, with an athletic build that spoke of both agility and strength. Their faces were finely chiseled, with sharp, angular features that were both beautiful and severe, exuding a dark allure.

The drow's skin was a deep, lustrous ebony, providing a stark contrast to their hair, which was often white or silver, cascading down in silky waves. Their eyes were perhaps the most captivating feature, glowing with a faint, eerie light in hues that ranged from red to violet, or even a pale, ghostly white. This luminescence added to their mysterious and dangerous aura, making it difficult to discern their true intentions.

The first drow to fully recover was on his hands and knees, too exhausted to do anything but plead for rest. "Let me rest, please," he said weakly, his voice barely a whisper. "Talk with the others."

Alex ignored him and approached another drow, this one dressed in the elaborate robes of a mage. The mage was frantically trying to clean dust from his tongue, muttering in frustration. "Dust on my... tongue!" the drow spat, still focused on the discomfort. Then, with a sudden, sharp gaze, he looked at Alex. "I offer a parley, and he brings a spectator?! The twit quite ruined my ambush. Now, who are you?"

Alex remained calm, his expression unreadable. "I’ll tell you my name, but first, who is this 'twit' you’re talking about?"

The drow mage scoffed, clearly irritated. "Pah. A rival—a mere footnote to my legend. You should be more concerned with who I am!" He straightened, puffing out his chest. "I am Dhourn, third son of House Ba'Tol, first-rank evoker, and initiate of Graven Hollow."

Dhourn reached into his robes, pulling out a dimly glowing crystal. As he stared at it, his boastful demeanor crumbled, replaced by a look of sheer panic. "No, no, NO! MY DEAR DARK GODS BELOW! NO!" he screamed, clutching the fading crystal in his trembling hands.

"What happened?" Alex asked, intrigued by the drow’s sudden change in behavior.

"This memory shard—it should glow for years, yet it’s fading," Dhourn explained, his voice frantic. "It contains knowledge precious to me. To see it dull means my enemies have already found the forge!" He stuffed the crystal back into his robes, his mind racing. "Which bastards stole my glory? Xargrim? Zilro?" He looked at Alex with wild eyes, demanding answers.

Alex shook his head, indifferent to the drow’s fury. "I don’t know any of those names. I just killed the spectator," he said bluntly. He knew what the summoner looked like from the spectator’s memories, but revealing that information would only complicate matters.

Dhourn stared at him in disbelief. "You? Killed the spectator that petrified me and my team?" The incredulity in his voice was palpable.

"Do you see any spectator lying around?"

The drow mage narrowed his eyes, then sighed in resignation. "Good, then. Now, leave," he said dismissively, already turning his attention to another drow who had just been unpetrified.

Alex raised an eyebrow at the abrupt dismissal but decided not to press the issue. He had no interest in getting entangled in drow politics. He walked back to the broken grated window he had entered through and noticed a narrow path along the wall. It looked treacherous but passable. With careful steps, he began to edge his way around, keeping low and quiet. At the edge of the wall, he phased out of the material plane, to avoid the deadly beams from the remaining statues. Reappearing a few meters ahead, he resumed his cautious advance.

As he walked, the ground trembled once more, a deep rumble that echoed through the cavern. "I hope I don’t have to fight some kind of titanic worm," Alex muttered to himself.

Eventually, he came across a stone ramp leading upward. At the top, he found a sword embedded in the rock, with a silvery helmet lying beside it. The weapon radiated a faint, otherworldly aura, but when Alex tried to pull it free, he felt an invisible force holding it in place. He considered using his full strength but decided against it, not wanting to risk damaging the blade. "I’ll come back for this if I figure out how to take it out without breaking it," he resolved, leaving the sword in its stone prison for the time being.

Turning back toward the place where he had initially fallen into the Underdark, Alex spotted two minotaurs patrolling the area. From the memories of the minotaur he had consumed earlier, he knew these beasts had caught the scent of human from somewhere nearby . One of them had found the outpost and had charged in recklessly, only to meet a fiery end at the hands of the outpost’s defenses.

Armed with this new knowledge, Alex felt a surge of confidence. He knew the minotaurs weren’t as formidable as they appeared, especially after having consumed one of their own. Now, with a much deeper understanding of the Underdark and its dangers, he decided to face the remaining minotaurs head-on.

As he prepared for the confrontation, he couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement . The Underdark was a place of endless dangers, but it was also a realm of untold power—and Alex intended to claim as much of it as he could.

As Alex approached the two hulking minotaurs, the tension in the air was palpable. The first minotaur, Torak, caught sight of him and let out a deafening roar that echoed through the caverns. Without hesitation, Torak charged, his massive horns aimed squarely at Alex’s chest, ready to impale him. But Alex was faster. In a split second, he leaped high into the air, effortlessly dodging the beast’s deadly assault. Torak’s momentum carried him forward, his hooves skidding on the stone as he struggled to halt his charge.

Grimmash, the second minotaur, quickly moved to back up his comrade. Lowering his head, he barreled toward Alex with a thunderous force. This time, however, Alex didn’t bother to dodge. His arm shifted, morphing into a solid, black shield that absorbed the impact of Grimmash’s charge. The ground groaned under the strain as Alex’s feet were pushed back several inches, but he held his ground, standing firm against the onslaught.

For a moment, Grimmash’s eyes widened in disbelief, his fierce expression giving way to shock. His eyes seemed to say, How could a puny human stop my mighty charge?

Without giving him a chance to recover, Alex’s arm shifted once more, transforming into hammerfists. With a powerful swing, he brought them crashing down on Grimmash’s head, the force of the blow sending the minotaur staggering backward, reeling from the impact. As Grimmash struggled to regain his balance, Torak had already turned around, his rage doubling. He charged back into the fight, this time brandishing a gigantic battle axe that gleamed wickedly in the dim light. With a roar, Torak raised the axe high above his head and brought it down with enough force to cleave Alex in two.

But Alex was ready. He nimbly jumped back, narrowly avoiding the deadly blade as it slammed into the ground where he had stood just moments before. As Torak recovered from the missed strike, Grimmash, now bleeding from a deep gash in his head, joined him, wielding a heavy mace. The two minotaurs stood side by side, their combined presence an intimidating wall of muscle and steel.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled violently, as if the earth itself were coming alive. With a thunderous roar, a massive creature burst from the ground beneath the minotaurs, sending dirt and debris flying in all directions. Though the sheer size and weight of the minotaurs kept them from being thrown too far, the surprise of the attack momentarily disoriented them.

Emerging from the hole was a monstrous beast covered in thick, dark blue plates. Its head was bullet-shaped, like that of a shark, and its mouth was filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. The creature, a fearsome landshark, immediately locked onto Grimmash, sensing his injury. With terrifying speed, the landshark lunged at the wounded minotaur, its massive jaws closing around his arm. Before Grimmash could react, the creature tore a chunk of flesh from his limb and then vanished back into the stone, leaving Grimmash howling in agony.

Alex felt the vibrations beneath his feet as the landshark burrowed through the ground, preparing for another strike. Anticipating its next move, he raised his hammerfists high and slammed them down with all his might, sending a shockwave rippling through the stone floor. The landshark screeched in pain from within the earth, forced to alter its course. But the minotaurs, unwilling to let Alex take control of the fight, roared in unison and charged at him once more.

Just as they were about to reach him, the landshark resurfaced beneath Torak, its jaws closing around the minotaur’s leg. Torak bellowed in pain as the beast bit down, nearly severing his leg at the knee. The minotaur swung his massive axe in desperation, striking the landshark, but the blow wasn’t strong enough to draw blood. The creature released Torak’s leg, ripping out another chunk of flesh before disappearing into the ground again.

Torak, now crippled and bleeding profusely, struggled to stay on his feet, while Grimmash, his arm hanging limp and useless, advanced toward Alex with his mace. Despite his injuries, Grimmash swung the weapon vertically with all his remaining strength. But Alex was too quick; he slid under the minotaur’s legs, avoiding the attack, and sprang up behind him, landing squarely on Grimmash’s broad shoulders.

Without hesitation, Alex drove his claws deep into the minotaur’s armpits, severing muscles and nerves. The poison coating his claws spread quickly, further debilitating the already weakened creature. Grimmash let out a guttural roar, dropping his mace as his arms went limp. Desperately, he lowered his head and charged at Alex, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated from the venom coursing through his veins.

Alex leaped high into the air, allowing Grimmash to stumble forward and crash headfirst into Torak . Before the dazed minotaur could recover, Torak, driven by a mix of rage and desperation, struck his friend with the pommel of his axe, trying to force him get off him. The landshark erupted from the ground once more, its jaws closing around Grimmash’s torso. The creature began dragging the crippled minotaur underground, ignoring his futile struggles.

Torak, seeing his comrade being pulled to his death, dropped his axe and grabbed onto Grimmash’s horns in a desperate attempt to save him. The ground trembled beneath them as the landshark pulled harder, determined to claim its prey.

Alex saw his opportunity. His arm shifted into a razor-sharp blade, and he launched himself into the air. As he descended, he flipped in midair and brought the blade down with all his strength, splitting Torak’s head in two. The minotaur’s body went limp, his grip on Grimmash’s horns slackening as he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Without hesitation, Alex’s tendrils shot out from his body, latching onto the fallen minotaur. The tendrils burrowed into Torak’s flesh, quickly consuming him as his body disintegrated into nothingness. As the last remnants of Torak were absorbed, the ground shook once more. The landshark, sensing the opportunity to strike, burst from the earth directly beneath Alex, its massive jaws open wide, ready to swallow him whole.

But Alex was prepared. His body shifted, encasing him in a grey, bony armor that covered every inch of his form. He allowed the landshark to swallow him, its powerful jaws snapping shut around him. Instead of the expected crunch of bones and flesh, the creature’s teeth met something as hard as stone. The landshark had no time to comprehend its mistake before agony tore through its insides. Alex had grown spikes all over his armor, the sharp protrusions shredding the creature from within.

The landshark thrashed violently, trying to dislodge its unwelcome meal, but the damage was already done. The beast’s movements grew weaker and weaker until, with a final, shuddering convulsion, it collapsed, dead. Alex emerged from the landshark’s ruined body, covered in blood and viscera, which his tendrils quickly absorbed, leaving him clean once more.

"Your mother should have told you to be careful about what you swallow," Alex remarked dryly as he retracted his armor, surveying the battlefield. The minotaurs were dead—Torak, by his hand, and Grimmash, somewhere underground—and with the landshark now defeated, there were no more threats in sight.

As he looked down at the landshark’s massive corpse, Alex hesitated. Consuming it would be easy, but something about the creature intrigued him. "It would be a shame to consume you," he mused aloud. His tendrils extended once more, sinking into the creature’s plates and burrowing into its flesh. They spread throughout its body, crawling along its spine and into its brain, altering its very nature.

The landshark’s body spasmed as Alex’s tendrils rewired its instincts and desires. After a few tense moments, he retracted the tendrils and waited. The landshark’s body twitched, then slowly rose to its feet. The creature looked around, its massive head swinging from side to side before its gaze settled on Alex. It walked over to him and lowered its head in submission.

Alex placed a hand on the creature’s head, and it wagged its tail like a massive, armored dog. "Master," the landshark’s voice echoed in his mind, the word infused with telepathic reverence.

Alex sighed, "Don’t call me master; I’m Alex."

"Yes, Alex," the landshark responded obediently.

Alex considered the creature for a moment. "Now, what should I call you? It seems kind of lackluster to call you ‘landshark’ all the time." He thought for a moment before deciding, "Your name from now on is Bullet."

The creature lowered its head in agreement, its new name sinking into its reshaped mind. Alex patted Bullet’s head one last time. "Go away for now; I’ll call you when I need you," he instructed.

Bullet seemed reluctant to leave, its new dog-like loyalty evident in the way it hesitated, looking back at Alex with what seemed like sadness. But eventually, it obeyed, burrowing into the stone and disappearing from sight.

Alex had meticulously altered the landshark's brain, stripping away its original aggressive and stubborn nature. He had no use for a beast driven by such uncontrollable instincts, so he rewired its mind, reshaping it into something more obedient, more loyal—something akin to a dog. The transformation was a success, and the result brought a rare, fleeting satisfaction to Alex’s otherwise hardened heart.

As he watched Bullet disappear into the ground, a thought crossed his mind, one that tugged at the corners of his conscience. "I wonder what Dana would say if she saw me now," he murmured, a faint, almost wistful smile playing on his lips. But the smile quickly faded, as if the weight of his memories was too heavy to bear. His expression darkened, the flicker of warmth extinguished by a cold, harsh reality. "No," he corrected himself, voice tinged with bitterness, "she doesn’t see me as her brother anymore. Her brother is already dead."

The words hung in the air, heavy with a sorrow he rarely allowed himself to feel. Alex shook his head, pushing the emotions deep down where they couldn’t hurt him. There was no point in dwelling on the past, a past that wasn't even his .