There was an intrinsic change in him when he finished refining his lungs. A sense of completion. Wholeness. His vitality started flowing naturally within the pathways he carved and the organs he refined like a loop, strengthening everything it passed by. It was as simple as breathing now, like a bodily function once locked away was returned to him. Ryke’s eyes narrowed whilst he abruptly realised Darriwils strength. How strong would one be if this cycle had gone on for months? Years? Most of their life?
Blind, the boy had somehow managed to get his vitality all the way up until he needed to refine his eyes, which he was having trouble with exactly because of that blindness. Yet, the foundation he built because of that bottleneck..
Ryke grimaced. Ultimately his strength was what mattered, not others, and Darriwil was friendly enough. All he needed to focus on right now was surviving Aenebra, and bringing his friends out with him. Gaeldir wanted him to refine either his sight or touch first, the former so he’d be allowed to look at active runes again, touch so he could carve them. He wouldn’t be able to create proper Runic Armaments, but he’d be able to add a few to increase the quality of the group's base weapons.
When it came to self-growth over group survival, he chose the latter. His vitality flowed into an unending tide slowly building before smashing against his own body and carving a new path to his hands. The efficiency was much higher now after he became more adept with the scripture, as well as his organs becoming ‘whole’. An hour later he stood up while his joints popped, the sweat on his body viscous. He found a rag to wipe himself off and then went outside to grab a bowl of stew.
The next morning they found themselves travelling once again. Hiking through the Saorla Forest their bodies were kept amidst the cool shade and the soft warmth of the blue light above. Armour stained with blood, weapons that cleaved through bone and flesh only a day prior, they did their best to remain cheerful and vigilant. The presence of their pets helped, though most have them now were well over someone's knees. Even Fromir had nearly doubled in size in two months.
Being a Taura, Ryke noticed the creature felt weirdly comfortable down here. It would often go around burrowing under the stone trees, its form often merging with the stone roots and settling in. Whenever it did so, the tree would seem to wilt slightly and lose its colourful stone. The change fascinated Ryke, but he couldn’t understand why it happened so he let it go.
Days went by after that, slowly travelling through the forest. Aenebra, the boundless dark, was surprisingly bright and life was vivid here. When beasts and Fera weren’t around, they could see the tiny critters doing their own thing amidst the brushes and trees. For most of those from Cinefra, the grass here was the only grass they’ve seen. The trees unique, the forest critters unknown to them. While the first years had seen what looked like a forest in the Beast Courtyard, it always felt off to them. Forced. This all felt like it was meant to be. Natural.
Until it tried to kill them. Night would come and they’d be forced to fend off predators that didn’t know any better. Opossum looking creatures that quietly infiltrated the camp, Lion like figures that announced their entry with a roar, and Fera with canine like figures that simply stalked their group at night. The further they went from the Bastion, the more dangerous the nights became.
They were lucky that all the screams they heard were not their own. Sometimes they’d pass by other groups, actual Centurions leading a group of Candidates seemingly born and raised down here. Screams would ring out that night, and they’d all wonder why it wasn’t them. They didn’t even have a Centurion afterall.
It was with this mind of self-doubt and worry that they reached the second clearing. They weren’t met with the scene of beast carcasses and rot that they saw last time. Instead..
Arms and legs littered the ground, dark crimson flowing amidst the purple grass like a deranged painting of mountains and rivers. A torso here, teeth there. Not a single body looked whole, and not a single part found something else that matched it. Pure, unadulterated carnage. Only a single whole body remained.
A pale figure, untainted by time and unblemished. The only wound being the strike to its heart. Eyes closed and at peace, the corpse rested in the middle of the clearing, the centrepiece to this destruction of life they stumbled upon. The group made their way through, slowly stepping over the bloody limbs and destroyed life. The air felt alive around them, as if it was adhering to their skin- crawling..
“Sigmar warned us to keep our minds clear. Why?”
Lycus spoke up, his boot planted firmly in a puddle of dried blood while he resisted the urge to puke. “How long have they even been dead?”
“According to the Lanista, the battle was from before we even left.”
“That means it’s been nearly two weeks!”
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Ryke covered his mouth to avoid the smell and taste of iron. It was slowly accumulating amidst his senses and felt overwhelming. It felt like something was crawling on his skin, insects making their way up his legs. Doing his best to ‘keep his mind clear’, he looked over the corpses with some confusion.
“Two weeks? The bodies don’t look very old..”
“Hardly a few days.” Caius stated, his blade pushing some of the limbs around. He crouched down to get a better look at the dead flesh. “They look.. Preserved. But the blood is definitely rotting.”
“So the bodies are fresh but the blood rotted?”
“Correct.”
“And the one in the middle.”
“I’ll check-”
A thick black tar shot up from Caius’ skin in only a moment, crawling up his neck like flowing water and making its way into his orifices. It seeped in through his eyes, his nose, his ears, while most of it wormed its way into his mouth. His figure shook gently and hunched over while his joints cracked, the hand wrapped around his sword hilt tightening its grip.
“Fuck- Caius?” Ofrir approached gingerly during the process with his spear slightly raised to guard. Caius didn’t move once even as the spearman slowly approached him. “Caius? Are you alright?” Ofrir stepped right up to the boy, lowering his spear briefly to place a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t react when the sword came up to slash at his hand- or when the glaive that blocked the strike was forced back onto his wrist and nearly shattering the bones.
Screams of pain erupted from the spearman as ‘Caius’ moved into action, his sword striking again and again with reckless abandon towards Ryke. His eyes murky and overcome with tar, Ryke’s expression was hard to discern. The rest of the group erupted into screams. Some looked around to see if there was more of whatever crawled into Caius, while some looked for the treeline.
The substance was familiar to the golden eyed boy, though. Moving like water, adhering to the skin like a tattoo, a colour as dark as the empty night sky. His eyes narrowed to pin pricks when he thought of the body at the centre, unblemished and reminiscent of a devil. Deflecting another blow with the end of the glaive, he did his best to shout. “It’s a devil remnant! Watch where you step!”
His expression paled when he turned and saw Kievra and Drisnae receive the same treatment, ink black tar shooting across their skin and into the orifices on their face. Their bodies shook and froze briefly, and the rest put up guarded expressions as they tightened their stances; they could only do so much to avoid whatever it was. Ryke only smiled wryly when he realised he’d probably get no help with Caius.
Getting pushed back, he didn’t want to attack. He wasn’t sure if this was a permanent change, or if something could return their minds. What if they killed them in self-defence, only to figure out something else could save them? That guilt..
“Defend! Only kill if your life depends on it!”
“Understood!”
Lycus took charge to handle Kievra, the only one other than Caius close in strength to the girl. Ravi himself tied down Drisnae as the twins were incredibly similar in strength. The rest protected the group, watching the tree line. The noise would surely attract beasts, and they still needed to figure out what could be the issue.
“What if it’s the bodies?” Lycus shouted, deflecting a blow from Kievra and kicked her in the stomach, sending her back. “The bodies were preserved for some reason, right? Is it hiding in them?”
“If that’s the case, go for the devil corpse first!”
“Devil- that makes sense!”
Ryke pushed forward, his glaive deflecting a blow of the sword and using the momentum to deliver a strike to the shield, forcing Caius to his knees. “Do it! Destroy the corpse! Leave it in pieces!” He shouted, delivering blow after blow to the tower shield and forcing Caius deeper and deeper into the dirt. The boy even felt the metal slowly give way under his strikes.
The other two possessed slowly made their way back to the devil corpse during the battle, doing their best to withstand their opponents strikes while defending the body. Focusing less on their own defence and the defence of the ‘original’, the possessed racked up more and more injuries while Lycus and Ravi became more hesitant to deliver any attacks.
Not only that, the battles all became incredibly close to each other, only a few feet away. He could see each expression and each blow. The apathy of the possessed. His expression rose with relief as he noticed Lycus force Kievra's weapons aside and find a moment to strike the corpse. Then the girl threw her body in front of the sword. His eyes widened and his arms moved on instinct, Ryke delivering one last blow with the flat of his glaive and sending Caius’ back into the dirt. Without stopping, his foot immediately pivoted to his left and he dived forward.
He felt his body collide with something hard and then fall to the ground and take something with him, rolling amidst the dirt, blood and gore. He raised his head to see Lycus’ sword piercing the devil’s head. Something shrieked out in pain as Caius, Ravi and Kievra all puked up a foul-smelling black liquid, the rest of it leaking from their orifices just the way it came in. He turned his head slightly in the puddle of dried blood to see Kievra fine, mostly uninjured.
A sigh of relief escaped him as his body was overtaken with a sensation of warmth, only to be replaced by a constant chill. He craned his neck slightly to look down at his body, his gaze following the wooden handle over his stomach, all the way to the dirty steel axe head embedded in his side. The strength escaped him as he lay on the battlefield.
“Fuck.”