Into the Abyss: The Rise of the Malevolent Player

Chapter 4: Factions and Betrayals

Aiden’s POV

The hum of the hover transport buzzed low and steady beneath us, a sound that should’ve been calming but only added to the tension twisting in my chest. Kara sat across from me, her fingers tapping on a tablet, her expression unreadable in the dim red light of the cabin.

“You’re too quiet,” she said, not looking up.

“I’m focused,” I replied, my voice sharper than intended.

Her lips quirked up in a smirk. “Focused, or just terrified?”

I scowled, crossing my arms. “Why would I be terrified? Breaking into a heavily guarded Crimson Hand stronghold crawling with Malrik’s enforcers sounds like a great time.”

Kara finally glanced up, her green eyes flashing with amusement. “Glad to see sarcasm is still your coping mechanism. Let’s just hope you’re as good at breaking and entering as the stories say.”

I bristled at her tone but said nothing. The stories. The legend of the Shadow Reaper. People liked to talk about my victories, but no one ever mentioned the failures—the moments where I lost people, like Mila.

The transport jolted to a halt, and the automated voice announced our destination: “Zone Red 42: Crimson Hand District.”

Kara stood, slinging a small satchel over her shoulder. “Stay close, Cross. If we’re spotted, you’re on your own.”

I snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

The hatch opened, and we stepped out into the night. The Crimson Hand’s territory was a maze of jagged spires and flickering holographic signs, casting eerie shadows that danced across the crumbling streets. Every corner felt like a trap waiting to spring.

“This way,” Kara said, leading me down a narrow alley.

I followed, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The deeper we went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air was thick with the metallic tang of static, and the occasional distant scream echoed through the darkness.

We reached a service hatch concealed behind a stack of rusted crates. Kara knelt, her fingers flying across a portable terminal as she worked to disable the lock.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, leaning against the wall.

She didn’t look up. “What can I say? Breaking into strongholds is my cardio.”

The lock clicked open, and she stepped back with a triumphant grin. “After you, Shadow Reaper.”

I climbed through the hatch, dropping into a narrow maintenance tunnel. The walls pulsed faintly with lines of corrupted code, and the air smelled like burnt circuits.

Kara landed behind me with a soft thud, her movements almost unnervingly quiet.

“The mainframe is two levels down,” she whispered, pulling up a holographic map. “We’ll have to bypass a few security checkpoints, but nothing too complicated.”

“Define ‘not too complicated,’” I muttered.

She smirked. “Just don’t get shot.”

We moved quickly and silently, weaving through the labyrinth of tunnels. The tension was suffocating, every shadow a potential enemy.

As we approached the first checkpoint, Kara held up a hand, signaling me to stop. Ahead, two guards in crimson armor stood watch, their weapons gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Kara pulled a small device from her bag, a mischievous glint in her eye. “EMP grenade. Close your eyes.”

The grenade landed at their feet, releasing a burst of light and sound. The guards crumpled to the ground, their systems fried.

“You’re a little too good at this,” I said, stepping over one of the guards.

“Told you,” she said with a wink. “Cardio.”

We reached the mainframe without incident, a massive structure of intertwining wires and glowing panels that pulsed with an almost sentient rhythm.

“Watch the door,” Kara said, moving to the terminal.

I stood guard, scanning the dim corridor for any signs of movement. My pulse thundered in my ears, the silence amplifying every sound.

“Got it,” Kara announced after a few minutes, pulling a data chip from the terminal.

“What’d you find?” I asked, stepping closer.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the chip. “Encrypted files. High-level stuff. It’ll take time to decode, but there’s something here about you. About Rhea Valen.”

My stomach twisted. “What kind of something?”

“Not sure yet,” she admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s tied to Helios. And to Malrik.”

Before I could press her further, a loud clanging echoed down the corridor.

“We’ve got company,” I said, pulling my weapon.

Kara cursed under her breath, pocketing the chip. “We need to move. Now.”

We bolted down the hallway, the sound of footsteps and shouts growing louder behind us.

“Split up,” Kara said, shoving me toward a side corridor. “I’ll lead them away.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“I can handle myself, Cross!” she snapped. “Go!”

Reluctantly, I obeyed, sprinting down the narrow passage. The sounds of pursuit faded behind me, replaced by the steady thrum of my own heartbeat.

I turned a corner and froze.

Standing in the middle of the hallway was a figure in gleaming black armor, their face obscured by a helmet.

“Aiden Cross,” the figure said, their voice distorted but unmistakably male. “You’ve been expected.”

“Who are you?” I demanded, raising my weapon.

The figure tilted their head. “Seraph Kain. Malrik sends his regards.”

Before I could react, the figure lunged.

The fight was a blur of motion—punches, kicks, and the clash of steel against steel. Seraph Kain was fast, impossibly so, and every move he made felt calculated, as if he’d studied me for years.

“You’re good,” he said, deflecting a strike. “But not good enough.”

With a swift movement, he knocked my weapon from my hand and slammed me against the wall, his grip like iron around my throat.

“You think you’re the hero in this story,” he hissed. “But you’re just a pawn.”

Before he could deliver the finishing blow, an explosion rocked the corridor, sending both of us sprawling.

I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my weapon and bolting down the hall. Seraph Kain’s laughter echoed behind me.

“Run, little pawn. Run while you still can.”

I burst into a small room, slamming the door shut behind me. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath.

A holographic display flickered to life in front of me, casting an eerie blue glow.

“Welcome, Aiden,” a familiar voice said.

I froze, my blood turning to ice.

Malrik Vayne’s image appeared on the screen, his expression cold and calculating.

“You’ve come far,” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “But you’re walking into my design.”

The screen flickered, and the room went dark.