Pulling down his visor, he wanted the dying thing to see its killer. The two make contact for a brief moment, and a mutual understanding passes between them. Raising his foot, he slammed it down into the god’s face. Bone caved inwards as the skull splattered along the field. A ripple of power emanates from the falling god. Its death wail echoed throughout the mire. But it was done. There was no smoke, there was no magic, just the splattered brains of a god made manifest. Looking up, Jax smiled as the moon slowly shifted back to blue. The sky returned to its beautiful sight. He could return home.
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Jax just stood there for a brief moment. His eyes tracked the lights above. For a brief moment, the pain and suffering left him. He stood amongst the dead, savoring the natural beauty of the land. No thoughts crossed his mind, it was only him and the stars above. How he wished this moment could last forever. No worry about money, no worry about life, just being one with the universe.
Back home, it was nearly impossible to see the night lights. The skies were filled with smog and pollution. But here he could see the bands of the Milky Way illuminating the darkness. Trails of falling meteors struck across his vision. No wonder so many gods were based on the stars, to see such wonders every night would have anyone's imagination running unchecked. But reality was the worst of all and it was a crushing force of suffering.
That brief moment of respite shattered as the exhaustion caught up. His body emptied of drugs and he stumbled in pain. The cracked ribs felt like daggers with each breath. His muscles cramping in revolt. A throbbing headache roiling across his skull from the withdrawals. Even his eyes hurt, the whites now bloodied from overuse. He slowly moved to the altar, plopping onto the wet ground, he rested his back against the bloodied stone.
His breathing was shallow as he tried to fight through the suffering. Short, quick breaths to mitigate the broken bones. Time passed as he just sat, slowly regaining a bit of energy after the duel. A deep gurgle emanated from his stomach as a deep hunger took hold. How many calories did he burn? Twisting, he grunted in pain as he reached for a protein bar. Pulling back the plastic he tried to take a bite.
Instead, bile rose from within and he coughed up bloody phlegm. That wasn’t good, hopefully, the doctors back home could heal the internals. Still, he had to eat. His suit could handle the most basic of repairs, but it used his own body to do it. It hurt to swallow. His jaw was sore and stiff from battle. His throat was dry and he was dehydrated from the fight. He needed water, but he’d never drink that muck without filtration. A few times, he felt his stomach fight him. Holding his lips, he swallowed back down the vomit and continued to chew.
With the last bite swallowed. Jax let it settle for a few minutes before trying to stand. While sore, it wasn’t as bad as before. Using his free hand, he pulled himself up– legs wobbling under the weight. With newfound clarity, he glanced over the battlefield. Confliction emotions welled up from within. He’d killed the god but at what cost? There were so many bodies, each one killed by his hand or the god they worshipped. In this locus of death, decay accelerated. Deep cuts overflowing with maggots and other scavengers. Others were left mostly untouched, their shriveled bodies resting in the fields with pained expressions. Their eyes were milky and filled with a look of betrayal. Only in their dying moments did they realize the true nature of the one they worshiped. So much blood had been spilled the coppery scent lingered in the air.
Yet that was only the start. As the god’s power faded, all it created unraveled. The hundreds of corpses littering the swamp rapidly decayed. Each one bloating with noxious gasses, their bodies distended and seeping black blood. Birds and other scavengers pecked at the oozing eyes, burrowing into the discolored flesh. Some exploded from the building pressure, splattering the surroundings in congealed viscera. The waters transformed into a diseased slime as the dark ichor contaminated the lands.
Leeches, flies, and other insects swarmed the lands. It was a wondrous feast for the creatures of the mire. The dark cloud of buzzing monsters stripping the flesh and gnawing at the bone. Still, the lingering magic kept the altar somewhat safe. Chothos’ threshold is still slightly empowered and holding back the vermin. Jax was thankful for that, he didn’t want to perish from these bloodsuckers. Still, he was thankful to see them reappear on their own, it meant the realm was returning to its natural state.
With his target slain, it was time to head home. Letting go of the altar, he took a few steps to collect the prize. But his legs buckled and he collapsed to the ground. His body partially sank into the mud. He tried to stand, but the exhaustion kept him chained. There was no more fight, he could only sleep. Rolling onto his back, he closed his eyes and let the darkness take hold.
Hours passed before the sun rose. It's a warm glow washing across the lands and scattering many of the buzzing flies. The glowing touch soothed the skin and gently woke the slayer. Did he die? Is this the afterlife? But moments later the pain returned and he sat up. He still felt…weak. Muscles burning with lactic acid build-up, lips chapped and bleeding, and what felt like a full body flu. Honestly, it was worse than that. He felt extremely hungover AND had the flu. The only thing that felt ok was his stomach. He thanked his past self for forcing that down else it’d be even worse now.
Leaning down, he gave his leg a brief massage. Something to get the blood flowing before stretching out his arm. Instinctively he tried to scratch his face only to remember the missing limb. That was going to be extremely expensive to heal. But at least he was alive. He thought back on the fight, how many times he nearly died, and couldn’t help but laugh. Why the hell did he think this was a good idea? Sure life back home was awful, but was it as bad as sitting in a fetid swamp with a missing limb? It was absurd, but he felt proud. He’d done the impossible, he killed a god. He’d finally be a true Godslayer! The sense of pride and accomplishment pushed away the fatigue and gave him a burst of energy.
It was time to return home. Supplies were low and the fight was done. Still, there were a few things to wrap up before he could go back. Making a mental list, he scoured the mud for his weapons. The first wasn’t too far from the altar, the metal dagger reflecting the light as it sat on the ground. Pulling it out, he wiped the gunk onto his leg and inspected the metal.
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All the runework was gone. That stupid creature stripped the dagger’s power and turned it into a hunk of metal. Now it was still a nice piece of metal, but worthless. Maybe he could pawn it off back home and try to get some return. It sucked because the enchantments took the most money. This one dagger cost him nearly two years of savings. All for it to be gone in mere moments. Sliding it back into the pocket, he continued the search.
His gun was the opposite. The object is in nearly perfect condition even after the fight. Unlike the knife, this had a basic enchantment. It kept the object dirt-free. Giving it a good shake, all the lingering grime fell off the metal. Its original shine appeared once more. He’d have to get it named–Officially. Weapons that survived fights picked up a bit of the lingering essence. Each one becomes a little bit more powerful after every battle. Giving it a name helped to ground the belief, a focus that the magics to hook to.
But most of all was the dagger that stabbed the beast. Already it took on a slightly darker tone. The once-glistening metal now partially absorbs the sun’s rays. Going from metallic steel to tarnished silver. Grabbing the hilt, he could feel a slight coolness in the wrappings. Taking a closer look, he noticed the cloth mimicked Chotho’s own. He wouldn’t want to get it appraised and see what new enchantments it acquired. Tearing off a bit of cloth from a nearby body, he carefully wrapped the weapon and slid it into the pouch. Worst case he could sell it for a pretty penny.
With the weapons gathered, Jax appraised his suit. The thing was nearly destroyed, the only thing that had a bit of integrity left was his left leg piece. Huge patches had rusted as the deadly magics battered the metal. Plastic joints were stiff and cracked with each moment. Bug guts and other…fluids stained the paint. Not to mention the awful smell as rotting blood clung to the cool metal. He’d have to scrap it, nobody would buy this junk now. He paused, this suit did protect him from death…maybe he’d keep the helmet as a little trophy.
He didn’t even want to check the tattoos. He knew that they were all but gone. That last curse burned through what little protection they gave. That debt kept growing and he felt a bit sick. He could only hope that the bounty and spoils would cover it all. He’d be happy to just break even at this point. At least then he could give it another go…and properly this time.
Looking back, so much went wrong. He was too merciful at the start. Why did he let those villages live? Next time he’d poison the well or ambush the mayor.
“No what are you thinking” Jax muttered
He knew that slayers had required a certain…mindset. But he didn’t want to turn into one of those sociopaths. Still, he couldn’t rule out the options. In the end, his home world needed dead gods. It was either their lives or his. But outside of the drastic actions. He could have done more research. Give it another year of gathering intelligence instead of assaulting the first blood moon. Maybe instead of being an outsider, try integrating with the cult.
“Yuck,” he said aloud. Even if it was a lie, he never wanted to join cults. That just didn’t sit well.
Finishing his appraisal. Jax turned towards the cult. It wasn’t enough to kill gods, he needed their essence. Bending down, he grabbed the gnarled staff. It felt like his dagger, only far more powerful. His arm froze as black smoke twisted up the sides of his arm. As long as he didn’t do something stupid it was relatively safe. The lingering magics unfocused without somebody directing it. Closing his eyes, he brushed the outer layers of the artifact. He didn’t have many points in appraisal or knowledge. Instead, most slayers left that stuff to their partners. Damn! He might need to get a partner…just another thing to pay for. Still, it didn’t seem to be that strong and he decided to give it a go.
Twisting his body, he swung the staff in a wide arc. Similar to the fight before, a roiling cloud of smoky filth rushed forward. It went about three feet before dissipating. Feeling out the magic again, he noticed a significant drop in power. While it was a strong effect, he might get one or two uses out of it. Later, if he added a few more stats in will and intelligence, he could supplement it with his own. But that’d take a lot of investment. But a prize was a prize. He carefully laid it on the altar and went back to the dead god.
This was where the true bounty lies. Sure he’d get an abysmal pay from killing the target, but that was nothing compared to a god’s essence. Pulling out his non-runic dagger, he carved into the now-mortal god and searched around. He had to scoop out the guts of the dead man, placing to the side for the swarms to feast on.
“Come on where is it!” He was getting frustrated.
He slammed the hilt down to shatter the sternum then pulled back the ribs. Sticking his hand under the heart, he felt around for the source.
“Got it!” he felt that cold chill as his fingers grazed the object.
With a tug, he pulled out an onyx-colored marble. Holding it to the light, he could see the swirling magics within. How many humans died to create this? How much essence was stored in this fragile thing? Holding it between his palms, he focused on the god’s core. For a brief moment, he could hear the terrible curses once more. If no worshippers remained, this core would slowly burn out and the last bits of Chothos would fade. However, if some still made offerings then this seed could lead to his rebirth. A cruel smile crossed the slayer’s lips, he couldn’t wait to see what they’d do with it.
Jax returned to the altar and gathered all his supplies in one spot. Doing a final check, he made sure everything was in order. Once gone, there would be no returning. Satisfied, he navigated the computer menus to request a transport home. He was a low-priority hunter and it took nearly an hour for the response. An arrow appeared in the corner of his helm, showing him the way to the closest crack.
Sure, emergency portals could rescue any slayer in need. But they were extremely expensive and required a lot of power to operate. Instead, most traveled using distortions in space. Regions where the barriers between realms were weak. Poking a hole through these spots was far cheaper than opening a tear. As he approached, there was a faint flicker in the air. Dust moving in odd ways and light bending slightly. He sent the message that he’d arrived. A few seconds passed and the smell of ozone filled the air. Slowly, visible cracks appeared. Bits of light leaked through as the two realms met. As the cracks grew in size, a terrible buzz filled his ear. His eyes hurt as they tried to process what was going on. Then it stopped, a dark void surrounded by forks of energy. Wispy bits of plasma leaked out like grasping fingers. While he couldn’t see the destination, it was quite safe. Double-checking that all his loot was properly secured, he stepped through the darkness. The portal snapped shut, leaving the massacre behind. He was finally home.