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Dungeon Soul

Given a poor lot in life, Matias suffers greatly and is betrayed by his own family in a plot for power. When the sacrifice goes awry he is taken as an experiment by a god and given another lot in life. Both a cultivator and a dungeon master, Matias starts his journey back to civilization and hopes to become powerful enough to decide his own fate.

AsinineArcanist · Fantasía
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11 Chs

Sacrificial lamb

When Matias groggily opened his eyes, it was to a horrifying situation. He was stripped naked and bound face up to the dining room table, and it gets worse from there. Strange symbols were scrawled around him in what he assumes is blood from the goat carcass that was suspended above him, droplets of blood still splattering across his chest and pooling on the table beneath me. His darling sister, hands and face stained red, had streaks down her face where the drying blood was diluted by tears. The look in her eyes said she was way beyond shock and that she would not be recovering for a long time. But the feelings of sorrow for not being able to shield her from our shitty parents was immediately washed away by pure terror when beholding the manic visage of his smiling father. Hand clenching the hilt of a knife poised above me.

"...and so I, the summoner, offer the very soul of my child in return for riches and power!"

As he finished the end of his translated ritual incantation he drove the knife down into Matias' heart.

Many things happened simultaneously as time seemed to stretch. There was the pain in his chest from the knife of course, there was also the broken sob of a sister who partook in the murder of the one and only person she looked up to, but there was a deeper pain then even that; as though every cell in his body had been simultaneously frozen and set aflame. Then came a suctioning sensation and he was somehow pulled out of his body, he looked down to see his impaled body. He could see the confusion and hope warring in his fathers eyes, looking between my corpse and the script he had prepared. I saw the apathy on my stoic mother who sat in a chair in the corner. Suddenly they all turned and looked directly at the point where he was floating above his body, but his eyes were only for his sister. Her gaze was the embodiment of pain, suffering, and loss.

Then before his very eyes, they all began to shrivel. It was as if a straw had been used to puncture a juice pouch. Within moments there only remained piles of dust where once had stood his admittedly dysfunctional family.

Then all he knew was pain.

Short chapter, but the next one is longer

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