Berserker

All rats were made for a purpose.

From the moment we were born out of the womb of our mother, we gasped and grasped at the Gift of Life and Gift of Knowledge that was granted by our esteemed Creator.

It was at this point in our lives that the great divide came to be. A single instance of fate-granting decided how the rest of our existence was going to be. Some were given but a word, a letter, a number - the smallest of the small, forced to wallow in mediocrity until the end of their lives.

Others inhaled through their long, greedy snouts a single, fleeting vision - one that gave them purpose - which simply burned into their brains in the solemn hours slowly passing since our arrival into this world.

Even fewer of us were given a Gift of Understanding. A deep root of knowledge twisting our insides with passion and madness of a different world. This power allowed us to become something more. Something greater. But, as we learned, nothing was free. There was always a price to pay. In exchange for a painful sacrifice, we were chosen to grow without end, to change this underworld of ours. To serve the Creator with our claws, our wits, and our flesh. To become a pillar of the Secret Council!

We were strong. But not the strongest.

There was one existence that had flown higher into the maelstrom that was our Creator’s mind and returned unscathed. Our Queen, our Mother… our Rat-Prophet! The one guiding us towards the future.

I, on the other hand, was just a simple rat, living a simple life.

Or at least that was what I wanted to be.

There was nothing special or different about my birth. No fanfare, no magical lights - nothing. On the contrary - I was even smaller than my siblings, just one of the many blind, weak, hairless balls of flesh.

It was warm.

Quiet.

Somber.

I--- we - all wanted for this bliss to continue forever. But it was not to be.

The visions came, forcing both me and my brothers to squeak in pain. To scream our denial, our sudden pain out into the world.

To foolishly reject what was given.

This was expected. The experienced tender tucked us in, cleaning sweaty bodies with water-soaked rags. One by one the rats in the nest stopped screaming, their wheezing, tired forms filling every space possible.

They were reborn.

All of them, besides me.

I screamed myself hoarse, trying to escape my destiny, my throat raw and bloody from mumbled words and angry growls. The undeveloped claws painted long, shredded lines in my own flesh, forcing the tenders to bind me down in a desperate effort to let a youngling survive.

I don’t know how much that torture lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days?

In the end, my blinded eyes were filled with the sight of a sentient - female? - singing. Her form was hazy, filled with static, but the words she spoke… the words… they were clean and crisp, like shots fired in the morning.

My body is a temple.

A shrine to the Lord.

And although I walk through the valley of death I shall fear no evil, for he is within me.

And although my fate is to bleed, to kill, and to suffer I shall not relent.

For we are servants of the Grand Creator. We are the enlightened ones.

The words burned as my soul devoured them greedily, growing and changing.

And then, suddenly… my epiphany ended and I was left in the dark, wishing frantically for the warmth and purpose to return. I didn’t know that yet, but at this moment my pitiful self was destined to become a part of the Secret Council.

As a sign of my ascension, I had acquired a new skill called Blood courage. It allowed me to both regenerate and strengthen my abilities while in contact with blood. Its origin didn’t matter - animal, sentient, even undead fluids were working. I could feel my power steadily growing, just like it was predicted.

But being on the receiving end wasn’t enough. My body was a temple - and I was certain that each day spent training, sparring, bleeding, and reinforcing my scarred flesh was a living testament to our Creator’s power.

My stonelike bones were pillars that lifted the rich bricks of the flesh. The sturdy skin, turned hard and strong by the hours of constant fighting, was constantly covered with paint made from sweat and blood, while my fangs and claws were temple guards, separating the grain from the chaff.

I knew my strength, and every part of my young mind desired recognition.

With time I was granted a name - Berserker - mostly because of my fighting style. According to the Mother, it was a title given to the strongest of the sentients from another world. They often forgot themselves in the middle of a battle, reveling in chaos, death, and destruction.

I was proud. Ready.

And then that pride was cruelly broken.

My first real battle came - one against strange, translucent creatures.

And one during which I was taught the harsh way of the world.

It took only one attack from the monstrous creature to shatter my sturdy bones. If not for my posse of rats I would end my journey right there, in a belly of the beast. Before I accomplished anything.

It was a waking call.

I needed to get stronger.

The temple was to be an unbreakable thing. Otherwise, how could it answer the expectations of our Creator?

So I did what I could. That included asking my Council brothers for help. They gladly answered, hoping to both test their abilities and show the depth of their faith.

Crafter fashioned a helmet from his strongest metal - a foreboding alloy he called warpsteel. Its silvery hue kept greenish strength hidden, like a Ratling lair - ready to strike.

Mechanic and Mage worked on permanently attaching it to my skull, while Scientist created a new type of drug - something he simply called green pills. While the name was mundane the effect was anything, but. They enhanced my already great strength and reinforced the regeneration, allowing me to even regain lost limbs.

I was cautioned however to never take more than three at any given time. Otherwise, the effect could not be predicted.

After that came training and even more training.

The temple had to grow, after all, and it did so as my flesh and bones were strengthened.

And when sentients invaded our sacred lands… the long-awaited call was given. The Creator called, his pleasant static flowing through my brain. We all knew what that meant.

“For glory!” Squeaked my companions.

“For the Dungeon!”

“For the Ratlings!”

“KILL!” My low growl joined their voices, silencing the commotion. It came as a surprise, rats other than my posse not knowing how to react. I sighed internally. My confrontation against the glass nightmare did not end without any consequences. But losing the ability to speak was a small price to pay for a warrior.

For a long moment, the uncertainty and fear slowly trickled down, poisoning the gathered rats with fear. Luckily one of the more bloodthirsty warriors shouted and immediately dispersed the gloomy atmosphere.

“The Berserker had spoken! We hunt!”

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“““WE HUNT!!!”””

I nodded approvingly. Courage was good, but I preferred to not scare my lesser brethren without a reason nonetheless.

After that sorry incident, we started to move, the surrounding rats flowing after me like a living tide. We ran through the hidden corridors, small chambers, and twisted tunnels whose walls still bore signs of combat against goblin and kobold scum. A scar here, a broken weapon there, a small indentation left after a missed attack… they remained - a grim reminder of our fragility.

Not once or twice our paths crossed with some of my Council brethren. They also were compelled to answer the Creator’s call with their own skills and forces.

Tactician and Strategist were having their hands full, coordinating the advance troops and preparing a crippling strike against unsuspecting invaders. For now, the Un-tasty Ones were holding the line, their devotion to the cause unflinching even in the face of certain annihilation.

Behind the common rats Mage and Mechanic for the first time in under-world history led their forces into battle. Warp acolytes and Rat mechanists were chosen to stop the advance of Tall Ones - the latter with the power of their green stones and the former by using their strange half-living contraptions.

Young rats hurried forward, their eyes full of hope and greed.

“For glory!”

“For the Master!”

“For our home!”

They squeaked, while readily advancing.

Many of them would be dead before this day ended.

But such was the will of the Creator.

Others will take their place. And those who survive will undoubtedly grow stronger.

Along the way, I even managed to meet Scientist wandering away from his secluded laboratory. A rare sight. Behind him, a bunch of scared assistants carried countless colorful vials, strange machines, and various pills.

“K-kill!” I mumbled and his servants shivered in response. Cowards.

“Oh? Ber, is it you?” He, on the other hand, squeaked in delight. I nodded fiercely and he continued speaking. I noticed that despite the passage of time his body was still covered in blue vein-like lines. The number of scars and damaged skin he bore was not much smaller than those decorating my own, battered body. “What a surprise. How are the pills? Are you feeling any after-after-effects?”

“Kill, kill.” I answered shaking my head in denial. They were perfect. Produced personally by the claws of our resident genius. I did not doubt that they worked as intended even in longer engagements. Scientist was showing off his new power after the Creator decided to bestow the gift of warpstone on our kind.

“Well, we better get to it. I have been ordered to advance towards the first floor using our tunnels. My job is to make sure that the poisoned Tall Ones get better.” His snout twisted in an expression of disgust. “I know that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but it still doesn’t sit well with me. We should kill them all, consequences be damned!”

My only answer was an angry roar.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He twirled his surprisingly agile claws in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll finish the job that was given by the Master. But if in the process of doing so a few sentients die, or get sterilized…” His voice trailed off and I could see the expression of wonder slowly appearing on his face. The rats behind him recognized it immediately and stumbled against each other trying to get out of the way.

I too shuddered. Scientist’s experiments were dangerous. There was a time when we worked together and to this day I pray to the Creator each night, thankful for my survival.

Sensing the change of atmosphere I nodded to the mesmerized rat and turned tail. My team followed, not knowing why we were moving, but not keen on asking. Perks of being a boss, I guess.

Even after we left I could still hear the echoing whisper.

“They have cores, right? Now, I wonder… how would they interact with warpstone? Or, maybe just an incision… will soft meat wither, when exposed to the glorious Anima Crystals? Or would it mutate? What about the eyes?” Scientist mumbled under his snout. “Yessss… what about the eyes?” I shuddered.

It seemed like the other Tall Ones were up for some bad awakening.

Not that it mattered. They would all die in the end. Our Creator demanded so.

And speaking of dying…

Our small group was closing in on our target. The lone warrior we were chasing still advanced crazily, not looking back. I could see the glory in that. To burn brightly before one’s demise was a good thing.

My nose twitched, instantly stopping the ruminations.

I smelled blood.

Ratling and human blood, but it was the former scent that dominated the air.

Seconds later we arrived at the battlefield. Corpses in various stages of dismemberment were strewn about like in a scene straight from a nightmare. The air was wet and heavy, with the added flavor of sweat, piss, and fear dispersing slowly.

And amongst the bodies stood the invader - a black-haired man wearing scraps of leather armor and rags that were once modest clothes. Once-red bandana now looked like a scrap of waste. In his hands a strange butcher knife was vibrating with hidden energy, slowly devouring the fluids covering its blade.

It was a bewitching, terrible sight.

One that I welcomed.

An opponent.

A real Opponent granted by the Creator!

I roared, while my face distorted into a happy sneer. Not that the human could tell.

“KILL!”

The man responded with a laugh of his own. His eyes were anticipating a surprise strike and searching for the right angle to attack. Perfect.

“What are you?” He asked, not with fear, but barely contained excitement. “Are you some kind of a mutant? And that helmet… Maybe an escaped Master Vincent student?” He roared with laughter again.

“Kill.” I answered with deeper emotion. Fulfillment. To kill or be killed.

Seeing him observing my form I used this time to repeat my mantra. Prepare, never underestimate the opponent. A green pill ended up in my mouth - a motion I trained a hundred, thousand times. The small pouch I carried on my waist had about twenty portions left, but the usage limit was still fresh in my mind. I did not want to die before fulfilling my duty.

After I swallowed the drug a feeling of strength slowly traveled through my veins, reinforcing bones, and muscles, making my mind swirl faster. I stared at the human with amusement as he spoke.

“Intelligent? Using tools and magical items?” His expression changed. “Ain’t that a bit too fast? I guess that’s a Forgotten Dungeon for ya.” The man complained playfully, still talking to himself.

And then he lunged forward with a scream.

“Dieeeeee!”

It was a decent attack - quick, ruthless, and utterly brutal. Butcher knives aren’t known for their precision after all.

He swung it down, aiming to disable my left arm, but I instantly dodged, starting a swipe of my own. The attack missed, cutting the ground instead, a deep gouge showing both the human’s strength and his weapon’s might.

My swipe didn’t find its target too, as he agilely used the momentum and fell forward, spinning a bit before landing.

“Ta-dah!” He jested, but I reacted with another attack.

This time I opted for a charge - my helmet was made from the strongest metal known to a rat, after all. Raising speed I flew forward, my legs and arms barely touching the floor. The air cried, torn apart by my quickly moving flesh.

Then the sound stopped - and I felt the sound of a collision together with a screeching of abused metal.

Even under the effects of inertia, the human managed to slip away, hurt, but not dead. I ended up headbutting the wall, a tremor of force nearly knocking me out.

We both turned and stared at each other in surprise.

“H-how the hell…” The invader stuttered, looking at his nicked blade. “This is a magical weapon, for fuck’s sake!”

I checked the integrity of my helmet and was shocked to find a nick in the warpsteel’s smooth surface. It seemed like our equipment was on par.

A few more bouts followed, both me and the human scoring the hits, but not weakening each other. It seemed like his ability was similar to mine - the blood helped him to keep up and regenerate.

At least until I swallowed the second pill.

My muscles grew explosively, but it wasn’t all strength - an explosive gain in speed was also experienced. Small, green lines started to appear on my flesh, reminding me of how Scientist looked after a few catastrophic experiments.

The human’s answer was simple.

“Fuck you, you cheater.” He mumbled, his eyes slowly losing the spark with which he started our battle.

I decided to end this fight. All the more since I could hear constant explosions from the direction where most of our forces advanced. I felt restless. The sentients should already be dead, and yet the battle continued...

Four more attacks and the invader was on the ropes, stumbling back, like a marionette with broken strings. I lunged forward, both of my claws piercing his shoulders with a wet sound. A small scream of pain followed, and the man was immobilized against the wall.

I opened my mouth to bite his head off, finishing this battle in my favor only to hear him whisper.

“It’s a draw, fucker…”

With a strength surprising for a half-dead person he lifted his damaged butcher cleaver and cut straight into my belly, spilling blood and guts on the ground.

I started to feel cold, weakness spreading from the wound, but with the last spurt, my jaws clamped on his neck, severing the head from the rest of the body.

After that, both me and the sentient fell on the ground.

He - a dead pile of flesh.

Me - a soon dead Ratling.

I could hear my subordinates screaming panickedly, their squeaks filling the air. My snout unknowingly stretched itself in an expression of happiness. Such loyal, little rats. I thought, feeling the darkness just behind the corner, waiting to claim me.

But it didn’t.

Instead, a red-hot pain seared up from the wound, traveling quickly through my flesh and bone. It hurt.

It hurt so much, that I wanted to die, a long, piercing scream building up and leaving my damaged lungs.

“Gyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

And again.

Again.

The waves of fire continued to travel through my flesh.

I could feel myself changing.

The stomach wound repairing itself.

My brain - my head - growing and filling all the space left in the warpsteel helmet.

Both the legs and the spine were filled with muscles, tendons, forcing me to stand upright…

The arms grew slender but still powerful, claws turning into… fingers?!

I couldn’t see my face, but the snout that always was there simply disappeared.

And, most of all.

“WHAT IS HAPPENINGGGGGGGGGGG?!”

I could talk now.

The explosions once again rocked the dungeon's second floor.

Wonder had to wait.

There were rats in dire need of help.