I can tell we’re in for a slog. If Dippy weren’t with me, I might even get lost in this compound due to having to fight so much that I’d get disoriented spinning to face foes behind me all the time. There are dozens of offshoots into tunnels that seem to lead to small rooms, or full buildings. Some have open-air roofs that lead to stalactites hanging high above, while others are beneath normal ceilings. Some seem to interconnect, while others are their own dead-ends.

The Sister of the Mist said we were headed to a cathedral right? I can totally believe that there’s one buried in this complex somewhere. I’m certain we’re nearing whatever destined thing we must stop. I’m jumped by dozens of cultists from easterly and westerly hallways. One I fling away with telekinesis immediately, but between their weight, and their battering, I collapse beneath their onslaught. Dippy slays half a dozen of them in the blink of an eye, but quite a few more scrabble at my belongings, or personage. Many of them are trying to shiv me with wicked yet cheap looking sacrificial daggers. Most of the stabbings are prevented by my Valkyrie armor, but some blades rub along arrowheads already stuck in my vulnerable spots, or slash the rare bit of vulnerable, exposed skin. I should have conjured another suit of padding at some point since Kozzurth. Friggin’ heck.

I’m struck about my head with blow after blow from pommels and rocks and fists. It leaves me dizzy, reeling, and my tinnitus ringing as loudly as ever. I have to risk it. Dippy’s being dragged away under his own onslaught of cultists. I try to maintain my grip on the telekinesis spell, trying to bake it into one of my own mental subroutines. I fight to keep hold of it as I produce a fireball centered on myself, exploding outwards. Smoking, charred cultist bodies go flying in all directions, including several that land on Dippy’s assailants.

Dippy immediately takes advantage of the weakness exposed in the rest of the cultists to dip far enough away to draw on them. Huh. Did he get named Dippy before or after he developed his combat style? Regardless, Dippy slays a number of cultists until he reaches back to his empty quiver, finding no more arrows.

Somehow, somehow I barely managed to keep hold of the telekinesis spell, but it feels wobbly, shaky, loosely tethered to me. It dizzies me to try to concentrate on its effect. Regardless, I do something I haven’t done in a long time. With magic, I set one of their own daggers at human-neck-level, and begin spinning it like a buzzsaw. The control of the telekinesis doesn’t quite offer enough speed to turn a single blade into a circular saw, but it’s enough of a threat that it ends the lives of three cultists in a moment, and sends the others scattering.

All of these men and women, huff. I gasp a shuddered breath and release a ragged sigh. I’m taking so many lives. This can’t possibly be the right course of action, can it? Still, at this point, I’m worried for the safety of Teuila and Dawn. We’ve found no evidence of their passing, save perhaps the alertness of the other cultists who scream obscenities and alarms.

There’s no way she got captured, right? Teuila is just too strong for even a dozen men to pin down. She’s too vicious to need to be cautious in freeing herself from such a pin as well. She has no compunction against taking lives in pursuit of the safety of her family, her loved ones, and herself. I really hope she has gone Valkyrie and is simply enacting some plan to end the ritual ahead.

Drawing more ragged breaths and letting slip more saddened sighs, I glance around at the carnage we’re causing. Dippy struggles to carefully retrieve a dozen or so arrows and bolts from the various corpses surrounding us during this momentary lull. He even picks up one of their own crossbows, and several of their small quivers, to add to his own ammunition. Heh. I’d rather not be on the sharp end of anything that Dippy can aim with.

I cast about my senses, not entirely certain where to go next. Dippy sniffs as well, and grabs his nose in revulsion. If evil magic has a scent, it’s probably getting overpowering and disorienting the closer we get to such a massive spell. Ugh, trying to cast magic with one spell from the staff already running has left me with a discombobulated half-broken spell. The telekinetic sensory range is utterly unmanageable. I’ll have to use my danger-wrap sensory range instead. They’re mostly similar enough, though the danger wraps parse a lot less technical knowledge about the makeup of objects and gases and vapors. It’s like the difference between having sonar, and a wide-area-spectrogram with an AI analysis tool readily available to interpret the data. The only actual similarity is that you know where denseness is, meaning the exterior of objects register in the same place along both senses.

Alright danger-wraps, guide my brain for a bit while I try to collect my senses. I guess just pick a direction where it seems to get even gloomier, and more thick with evil mana. I see several brigades of cultists passing buckets along and attempting to create a massive puddle at the end of the tunnel hallway we’re in, and sure enough, a brigade behind as well. Gazing at the liquid, it seems oily. Haha. Hahaha. Are they about to do what I think they’re about to do? Yup. In order to slow our progress, and trap us so that we can’t double back to find a different path, they ignite massive puddles of oil. Hm, it’s a blessed, holy-oil by the looks of the jugs, and the clarity of the liquid. I’d personally call it unholy oil with what these nimrods worship.

Still, I’m fairly certain there’s some kind of belief-oriented mana infusing the substance. It might not be as pointless as I thought. Now, I could easily conjure a sleet storm. The fire would melt the falling ice, and the water would spread the oil, slowly dilluting it til it was no longer a suitable fuel, but that might endanger Dippy by spreading the still-lit oil this way. Screw it, I’m going to be mean.

Dippy calls after me in shock as I barrel headlong through the flames ahead of us, and begin telekinetically yanking cultists from their hallway hiding places. I use their bodies to smother the flames as I send them careening into the fires with psychic throws. The ungodly screams, and the begging their bright lord, cursing their lord for letting them die in such a horrible manner is just a horrid cacophany. Once I’ve broken through the far side of the flames, I begin taunting more cultists towards me. As one lunges for me, I grip its leading arm and roll backwards into a throw, all while telekinetically locking in place screaming, dying cultists, or grabbing a new one, one at a time to use its body like a mop.

Good gravy this is horrific. Utterly horrific. Hrp. Ugh. I’m gonna throw up. Glp. Ugh. Well, at least Dippy has a bridge through the flames right now. Even Dippy looks slightly mortified, sickened by having to walk across peoples' corpses to reach me. Dippy grimaces my way before stealing one last glance behind him. The scene we’re leaving behind causes him to cringe.

We have to be within the home stretch of this spell’s origin. The mana in the air itself appears to be loosing a ghastly wail, an unending moan of pain. The sound deepens and loudens the further we traverse. Dippy continues firing at our pursuers, running out of arrows again. He swaps to one of their crossbows as we’re fired on from windows, hallways, and the rear. Despite the availability of bolts earlier on, the number of bodies we have to drop as we get deeper and deeper outpaces what ammo Dippy has left. Fewer and fewer of the cultists have ranged weaponry.

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I mean, come on people, joining a worship group that outfits you with shoddy cloth armor, cheap crossbows, and sickeningly curved daggers? How stupid can you be? Fanatics. Every last screaming jerk. The never-ending bombardment of their stupid nonsensical propaganda crap is worse than the hail of projectiles, or the occasional strike from one that dares get close. Not a one asks anything like, “Oh hey, seems like a pretty deadly misunderstanding, sorry for shooting at you, can we talk this out?” Nope, they’re all glory of bright lord this, consequence of the flame, piety something something. Bunch of dickheads, all of them. Have they all drunk the koolaid? Is there not a single sane person amongst them that doubts sending hundreds of people to die is a bright idea? Not one that thinks equipping everyone to kill, and ordering everyone to kill, is a horrid thing?

As if answering my question, ahead is a large gathering of cultists armed with slings, standing near barrels. The tunnel hallway opens up to a massive inner cavern. The ceiling is so high that it’s shrouded in mist, though water drips from the tips of stalactites that must dot the ceiling some ways beyond sight range. Within this new cavern is an otherworldly edifice, most definitely an attempt at a cathedral, but it’s a horrific design. The architecture is so, so wrong that it’s hard to gaze upon without feeling sick to my stomach. It’s not quite elder-god-mythos level sanity-warping or anything like that, but it’s definitely just, incredibly unholy. I glance at my own crossbow, one that I know fires holy bolts, or something of the sort. This close to some strange evil deity’s seat of power, will it even work?

Seeing thirty cultists standing at the steps leading to the entrance of the cathedral proper, I try to engage my crossbow and find out. The answer is no. No it won’t. I probably should have been able to tell by the fact that I’m not even glowing as I wield it. I’m so used to not caring about light or dark, glow or not glow, that I didn’t even think about it. The cultists are loading strange stone-like globs of something into slings. The objects, compounds are from two different sources that they keep carefully separated.

Hell’s bells. I hope that isn’t what I think it is. Even my fire resistance would probably crumble under a thermite equivalent. Crap, thermite type stuff is easily two to three, maybe four times as hot as the lava I swam through, and swimming through that lava ruined me. It utterly destroyed me, in my draconic form, which is slightly more resilient. Crap crap crap. As the first volley is spun our way, I telekinetically yank Dippy and his ridealong partner Zippy to the side as I dive out of the path of the oncoming chemicals.

Sure enough, anywhere that the two different types of globs meet suddenly hisses. Within moments a chain reaction occurs, igniting the combined compound with a ferocious fwsh and deafening sizzle. It’s far too bright to look upon. My hypersensitive eyes and ears are blinded and deafened. Despite my thermal resistance, I can feel an overwhelming heat even from several meters away.

As frightening as they are, they need to carefully reload their allies, making sure that anyone whose sling has held one compound, is only reloaded with that compound. I make a mad dash towards the stairs, and simply telekinetically grab one cultist’s sling, and yoink it into the barrel containing the other compound. I grimace at the fear, screams, chain reaction, and gruesomeness that unfolds before me. Hrp. Glp. Ugh. The furthest cultists to the side fled when they realized what was happening, but the ignition blew open the first barrel, shattered the second barrel, and scattered the first barrel’s contents on the closest ring of cultists, as well as the now free-flowing second barrel’s mixture. When it hit the second barrels mixture, that one had a much smaller explosion, due to not being in a confined container, but it still spread the goop to the inner ring of cultists.

The screams of pain are almost as horrifying as the image that’s literally burned into my eyes at the moment. I’m re-blinded due to the insanely bright flash, and I’m almost glad that I can’t see the rest of the damage unfolding. Just the few bites burned into my eyes are gruesome enough. I’ve had my own scrapes with burns and melting, but nothing like this. Not even close. One brave, or idiotic, cultist that fled to the side begins to spin their sling my way while still in my danger-wrap sensory range. Despite the appalling nature of what I’m about to do, I do it anyway. I grip the cultist with telekinesis and fling him into the still burning mixture, and unmoving allies.

There are some window-like areas along the massive cathedral’s outer walls, high up. I’m not sure if they lead to our destination though. It’s far better to burst in through the front door at this point. The problem with that is that there’s a massive stone doorway, likely barred with a tremendously heavy stone slab on the other side. I’d had enough trouble with the log, and portcullis. Based on my danger wrap senses, I’m pretty sure the barring is far, far heavier, and my telekinesis is already weakened.

I wish my telekinesis weren’t so wobbly and disorienting right now. Even with the disorientation though, I should be able to grab an area of gas, or chemical compounds, even if they’re currently reacting. Dippy approaches, and I hear another gurgling scream accompanied by a thud as he drops another hostile cultist still skulking about. I motion for him to stay back as I keep my eyes tightly shut, trying to recover my vision. I’m glad he has those darkened goggles. I hope he put them on after the oil fire, and kept them on. Alright, here goes a stupid plan.

I telekinetically lift the slight mound of mostly-spent yet still-burning thermite-like compounds. Carefully I raise it towards the door, and squeeze as if I’m cupping my hands with their open face forward. I’m not sure if I’m weakening the stone of the door, but I’m not finished. I continue to squeeze, and shrink the aperture rapidly as I duck Dippy and myself behind large stone outcroppings. Instantly my telekinesis shatters as the compounds explode-forth under pressure once more. That mental, telekinetic shattering is accompanied by a massive rending of stone, a sound I’ve heard few times before in my life. Something so dense and massive shattered in an instant. My telekinesis breaking also drives a migraine home behind both of my eyes like two knights’ lances. I shakily use my already unsteady telekinesis to wipe aside any and all still-burning compound, clearing a wide path for the three of us up the stairs, straight into the cathedral.

Having sent Teuila ahead, in the hopes of her cutting whatever this is off at its source, it’s plain to see she hasn’t been able to do it yet. I don’t know where you are Teuila, but please be okay. Dippy, Zippy and I continue to advance as quickly as we can, despite our wounds and combined tiredness. Dawn similarly ran on ahead, and I’ve got a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I catch up, and begin to hear awful things. Inside this cathedral-like edifice is a ghastly mockery of hallowed ground. A ghostly wail echoes across the open space, evincing a harrowing presence. Made all the worse that there is an actual aura of deadly radiance pouring forth from the ground, beyond which stands a corpulent man, barely recognizable as human. It’s obvious at a glance that the barrier would attempt to disintegrate anyone or anything trying to cross it. I have a feeling it cancels magics too, so lightning, fireballs, and incorporeal crossbow bolts won’t do anything. Not that I could even fire my crossbow under such a powerful evil presence.

The bloated humanoid stands at the rear of the cathedral, atop some sort of dais that seems to be wrought directly from the stone of the surrounding cliffs. There are several window-like ledges behind him. They seem to be cubby-holes holding sarcophagi. One directly behind him seems to be set up for the soul purpose of having its windowed cubby be filled with candlelight to backlight an individual giving a sermon. I guess the area around the man would be a sepulcher. His ornate robes are stained with a putrid yellowness upon their already horrid color, making him visible through the translucent white field of energy. His face is blotchy and pustulated.