Pit X Dark Pit Novels & Stories

♠️ ETHAN ♠️ The warehouse smelled like rust and damp concrete, old oil, and now, the sharp tang of blood. We’d dragged Brandon to one of Dre’s safe spots on the outskirts of the city—a forgotten industrial shell where screams didn’t echo far. He was tied to a metal chair in the center, wrists raw from the zip ties, head lolling from the punch I’d given him earlier. Dre flipped on the single hanging bulb, casting harsh shadows across Brandon’s face. He stirred, groaning, eyes fluttering open to the nightmare.

Why me? He is a man of darkness, there are no feelings in his world, no will, no consent, no love, no respect and no kindness. He would use me, ruin me the way he wants, play with me as he desires and I can't do anything. I can't do anything at all. Once he is done with me then he will discard me like trash. I can't be saved from his wicked tortures and games. He is a psycho and everyone knows that. My world shattered!

It was a sign that we had to move to the field immediately. We quickly left the room to join the ranks. Chaz ordered us all to be quiet and check our weapons. As usual, I always brought my crossbow and rifle. After the assignment, my squad, squad four, had to explore an area called Windstone. The coldest and loneliest area in the west of York bordered by the Greenleaves forest, and if you walked further south, you would see the ruins of Willeth. There were no humans living in this area due to its poor condition, and even animals were rarely seen in this place.

"I pissed it off? No, fuck no. It pissed me off. It killed my friend and took her. Where'd it take her? What is it? Who the hell are you?" The corner of his mouth quirked up as he made a small approving hmph. "You're just like her," he whispered. "What's that supposed to mean?" He shook his head and remained silent. "Are you going to answer any of my questions?" I asked. He shrugged. "Depends what they are." "What's the darkness?" He shook his head. "Why is it pissed?" He shook his head. I balled up my fists. "What the hell is that?" I pointed at the glowing firefly-like thing.

“She’s agitated. We might need to increase the sedation.” No! The panic flares white-hot in my chest. If they sedate me, I slip back to the darkness. The light will go out. I’ll be left in the pit with the thing that is growling in the corner. I struggle harder. The air in the pit starts to swirl, turning into a storm of red fog. I see Drake again, but he is the monster from my memory, the one covered in the blood of the men he killed. He is standing at the top of the pit, looking down, but he isn't reaching for me. He is just watching.

But there was nothing, just emptiness, leaving him confused after spending two nights trapped below in complete darkness. A few years back, I had the pit constructed. I had intended to use it on Nikolai Costello. It stretched ten feet deep, devoid of any natural light or fresh air. To make sure the captive's survival, a pipe was installed to supply fresh oxygen. Every five hours, a soldier would open a small window above the cover to drop in food and a water bottle to keep him alive. "Boss, I didn't do anything. If anyone said anything to you, they lied, they lied, Boss. I have always been loyal to you," his panicked and desperate voice reverberated off the pit walls.

He didn't have lungs to catch his breath, just a rhythmic, smoky tremor deep within his chest that vibrated the silver-grey fluid pooling around his boots. "The pit... is where the scrap is, Ambassador," Dante rumbled, his voice dropping into a register that made the glass fragments on the floor dance. He turned his single, glowing violet data-eye toward the dark mouth of the central elevator shaft. "If the Board cut the lines, it means they’re afraid of what’s sitting at the bottom of the wire."

The pain from the pit was growing stronger. Every breath burned. But I pushed myself closer to the edge of the pit. I needed to hear. Needed to know. The battle sounds grew louder. Filled with Roars and crashes, the entire fortress shook. And somewhere in the chaos, I heard him. A roar so powerful it shook the air itself. Alpha Damien. My heart leapt. “He’s fighting,” I whispered. Mira nodded weakly. “Yes.” Then another roar answered him. Varek. And the sound that followed made my blood run cold.

Like a man walking his dog back to the kennel after a long, messy hunt. The stench hit before we even reached the mouth of the Pit. Rot. Mold. Blood. And screams. Distant at first, then louder. Ragged. Wet. Not just pain—insanity. The kind that only came after days, maybe weeks, of being forgotten in the dark. The cart stopped. The doors opened. They didn’t even bother untying me. Just dragged me out by the chains and slammed me into the dirt. The Black Pit wasn’t a dungeon.

It felt like it, like it had appeared out of nowhere. She was so focused on the pain that erupted across her face that she hadn't noticed the dark shadowy figure in front of her. The release of a viscous growl had her body tense, muscles every so still. She froze, her eyes only stared at the ground and the feet that occupied her vision. Large Dark boots, muddy and worn out occupied the ground. They seemed to face her, when she slowly began to lift her head upwards. Eyes wide, panic sinking in. The heat that ran through her cheeks made her inter-turmoil worse.