“Now do you understand what I'm talking about?” - I asked Gutts mockingly, gradually 'shrinking' back into my petty, annoying 'elf' self. – “You're weak. You're so weak that words can't even describe it. And now you're bleeding and you're going to die very soon, to become food for demons. Even if you don't die, you're a cripple without a leg, and you' destined to spend your life begging on the streets. So, what were you saying about strength? Better to die right away than not be able to live the life you want? You've got a great choice. Either really die, or accept the power of the Philosopher's Stone and become truly immortal. Decide. If you don't decide now, I'll retrieve the stone and I will find another owner for it.”
I was bluffing, of course, but Guts had realized by now that he didn't have much choice. He pulled out the Vritras crystal, looked at it doubtfully, and then asked me a question:
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Just swallow it.” - I gave him a very simple instruction.
The Black Swordsman looked around again, looked at the apostle lurking in the corner, who was already healed from his wounds, sighed, and shoved the blood-red stone into his mouth. Actually, a ruby of that size was not an object that was so easy to swallow, but when it entered his throat, it slipped down into his stomach, where it activated a magic embedded in it.
Guts's soul had immediately been ripped from his body, and then reinserted. However, this time the indestructible crystal was his true body and storage for his soul, while the organic human body became an external device designed to simplify his interaction with the world around him. Of course, only a very advanced mage could understand all of this in detail. For an ordinary user of this technology, the transformation looked like a momentary blur of consciousness.
The crystal automatically embedded itself in the sternum bone and began to restore the human body. But it did not heal him, it only will substitute all affected flesh to Vritras' body material. This crystal was created not on the basis of spider magic, but using Eldar psionics, so Guts now had access to some tricks not supported by the 'classic' version. In particular, the crystal had areas of coiled space in which I had stored several tens of tons of material, perfect for creating Vritras' body of maximum strength. In addition, there was also a reserve of nutrients, which should be enough for at least a year to provide the body with all the substances necessary for life.
For the first few seconds, nothing seemed to happen, but then all the wounds and injuries began to 'regenerate'. Guts's left arm and his recently lost leg grew back. A new eye appeared in his right socket. All other wounds and cuts were instantly healed and infected tissues returned to normal. In addition, all bones in his body were soaked with metal, making them almost indestructible. And new fibers of Vritras material appeared in his muscles, which strengthened them considerably, even though the swordsman was not yet at the level of a true immortal like me.
With surprise on his face, Guts stood up and surveyed his new body. He clenched and unclenched his left hand, reacquainting himself to his 'native' limb, then raised his sword and was surprised to discover that barely felt its weight. On his naked right leg shoes 'grew' by themselves, aligning the length and shape of the legs. Only, if the right foot 'shoe' was a monolith more durable than the best steel, on the left foot it was still an ordinary leather boot, covered by a gilt boot and unable to withstand heavy loads.
However, these were all details. According to my plan, Guts's organic body would be replaced gradually to Vritras's body material. Meanwhile, all the energy structures in his physical and astral bodies would remain unchanged. Of course, the energy of the bitten off leg could not be restored, but it is a trifle thing.
With easy gait, Guts approached the apostle and began kicking him, knocking out information about the Hand of God, a group of powerful apostles, among whom was Femto, a former friend of Guts's who in life was called Griffiths. Alas, the apostle who inhabited the estate was a small fry, so he knew nothing at all. Once he was sure that the demon was of no use to him, Guts literally chopped him up into little pieces, wielding his monstrous sword like a light dagger.
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Farnese, watching all these transformations, more and more was losing touch with reality, trying to understand what was really going on around her. When she saw the demon's terrifying death, she rushed away, naively believing that the horrors had ended. Only, in the room she ran into, she was met by the 'horse' on which she had been brought to this place. It was no longer just an animal, but a demon that had taken possession of another body. Moreover, it was a lustful demon that immediately began to 'molest' the girl, licking her breasts with its horse tongue and getting close to her no longer virgin crotch.
Farnese screamed in horror, and seconds later Guts burst in, slicing the horse in half with one swing and chopping it into tiny pieces with the other.
“I would advise you not to run away if you wish to live.” - The swordsman remarked, staring at laying girl.
She swallowed softly at that statement, and the fervor in her eyes faded into apathy. Considering the power Guts had demonstrated, she couldn't really be a threat to him, whereas he was her only guarantee of surviving until morning. All her 'faith in God' faded in the face of real monsters, and instead of hope in God, she could only hope in the man who was her enemy, plus had dishonored her in camp by copulating with her in all possible positions, while she only happily fulfilled his every wish.
Farnese felt like she just wanted to die right there, but at the same time she wanted to live and... to have sex. To fuck this embodiment of brutal primal power that radiated through every muscle of the man whom she hated most in this world. So, in second place on the list of things she hated, was herself.
I took my mind off scanning the thoughts of this lustful female and began to observe the world around me. Meanwhile, a revolution was brewing. When Guts had gotten used to his new body, he suddenly decided that his powers were enough to deal with me. But I dodged all his strikes with the same dexterity.
“Weak! You're still weak. Don't think that just by feeling the power of the Philosopher's Stone, you've turned into a true immortal.” - I laughed at his attempts. – “You're still not much different from a normal person. Yes, you can't be killed anymore, but you still don't know how to use your power. You're like a newborn kitten, who can only crawl and call out to his mother cat for help.”
Guts was even more enraged by this comparison, but he stopped trying to figure out which of us was superior, temporarily tolerating my immeasurable greatness.
With all this going on, time passed like an arrow, and the short summer night was over. In the sunlight all the demons vanished like a bad dream, and Serpico, who had been trying unsuccessfully to reach his mistress all this time, could finally find her naked and desperately copulating with the cruel barbarian nicknamed as Black Swordsman, who had supposedly kidnapped her. But in this scene Guts was only the 'helpless victim' and the initiative came from Farnese, furiously raping her 'savior'. The latter, however, did not object. His healed body was ready to impregnate not just one woman, but perhaps a couple of dozen, so he saw no point in holding back, particularly as the woman herself was jumping on him.
At the sight of this bestial passion, Serpico fell into a slump and quietly withdrew to devote himself alone to self-injury and the torment of conscience. After all, he would never be able to pluck the flower of this beautiful maiden's innocence. All that remained was to pick up the shards of virginity which vanishing like the morning mist under the blazing sun of lust.
Having once again satisfied her hunger for sex, Farnese came to her senses, this time confidently taking the lead in her own ranking of hatred. Without making eye contact with Guts, she exited the building through a breach in the wall and found her slave and servant nearby, who was watching the sunrise melanchologically. Farnese had only to accept his help and proceed to the camp of the Sacred Iron Chains Knights, where an army of sycophants and flunkeydoms awaited her.
Guts, on my advice, was able to replace his worn clothing with natural Vritras armor. It covered his body perfectly, didn't get dirty, didn't wear out, and looked nicer. The dumb swordsman had no control over the appearance of the cloth, so I secretly designed his new garment.
When he was sure all the demons had been slain, Guts marched out of the manor. He'd spent most of his time collecting rumors about the apostles, the destruction of which was his raison d'être. Right now, he was on his way to a major city that was several days' walk away.
After midday, as was his habit, Guts lay down to sleep. Though he was immortal now, his brain was still organic, and he needed sleep to function properly. In his sleep, the swordsman dreamt of demons again. After all, the dream world was close to the spirit world in which these demons dwelled. But in addition to the familiar images, Guts saw church signs, burning fires, and... Casca, a girl who, like him, was branded with the brand of Sacrifice.
After the events of the night of the sacrifice, Casca went insane, sinking to the level of intelligence of a year-old child. Two years ago, Guts had left her behind in the care of his acquaintances, while he drifted off on an endless journey to hunt apostles. Part of that escape was due to his inability and unwillingness to take care of the half-wit girl. But still, Casca held an important place in a nook of his heart.