All sentients that live in Mistrim have a predisposition, as all beings capable of sentience do. These predispositions are born from both nature and nurture and crystalize over time. Like all predispositions, they can be overcome or managed through awareness, mindfulness and discipline.
Ogres are predisposed to anger. Left alone, they will most likely be beserk ravagers. But should they grow up in peace and in a peaceful society, they will naturally learn techniques and methods to prevent their anger from sweeping them, eventually gaining mastery such that the predisposition is essentially neutralized. This is something that they can do because they live with it their entire lives. They become familiar with it, the things that provoke their anger and the things they tend to do with their anger. Living with that predisposition, they would naturally grow aware of it enough to know how to improve upon it.
But then there was Fin. A young ogre variant who had his childhood ruined, his mother slaughtered before his eyes and his home razed to the ground due to the actions of one being. He had been overcome with rage and sought to end the life of the one who caused it. His childhood friend and teacher followed him out of compassion, though he saw it as them getting swept up in his rage. Those companions couldn’t do anything to stop him, only uncomfortably watching along as Fin made his choices.
Suffice to say, Fin didn’t have a nurturing environment despite his companion’s attempts.
His nature however was worse.
An ogre has the benefit of growing accustomed to their anger-prone tendencies from the moment they’re born, but what of someone who’s full nature is locked behind the Incarnate System?
Naturally, they would only feel the full brunt of the predispositions whenever they assumed the Incarnate form.
Now, what would happen if said incarnate form was one that was known for being a variant more aggressive than the standard ogre?
Finally, what would occur when someone who only ever assumes the form for twenty minutes of the day, half-assedly, assumed the form during duress?
It would only be a recipe for disaster.
***
Fin had been running through the temple’s maze like walls. Little Hanna followed closely behind, informing Fin of Ange’s status occasionally.
He was becoming frantic.
“The big visitor hasn’t fallen.” Hanna reported from behind.
“Teach!” Fin called, “I’m going to use my full Incarnate form!” It was a declaration born of desperation and fear of failure.
“I understand!” Deleim responded telepathically. “I’ll keep talking to you so don’t get carried away!”
Deleim was outside of the nightmare womb clenching her fists; a risky proposition had been proposed and now all she could do was serve as an anchor and a voice of reason.
Back in the nightmare-
“HANNA! Tell me the fastest way! I’ll run through the walls!”
“That way,” Hanna replied pointing in one particular direction that veered towards Fin’s right.
Fin acknowledged the direction and adjusted his trajectory sharply. He grit his teeth and bared them as he ran towards a wall. His skin began to darken and his muscles began to swell. The straps that tied down his pants loosened as his thighs and shins expanded. His coat and shirt, specially made, magic infused garments began to stretch, matching his size. The gauntlets he wore in waking life, reflecting their nature as relics excavated from a long forgotten ruin adjusted their size to fit Fin’s form.
Fin’s fist swang out; right as it made contact with the wall, it expanded, tearing down the wall with sheer force.
“GROAA!” Fin roared as he continued to tear down the walls that stood in his way, leaving little Hanna behind..
The walls came down and finally the shadow of his target had come into view. Fin shouted and yelled, screaming his desires but his enemy did not move.
Fin’s vision was tinted red with anger. His giant palms went forward; they were going to come together into a clap, with the Blood Claw between his palms.
The hands came together, but the clap did not echo. In the short moment, Fin understood what happened. The Blood Claw was standing with arms spread apart, keeping Fin’s palms apart.
It looked effortless. But this was all during a small moment. Immediately after failing to squish the Blood Claw into a sheet, Fin fell forward, his large body and all. His momentum had carried him through his fall; what should have been a clap, a drag through the floor and a slam into a wall had turned into a stumble over a protruding nail. But ironically-
“Gah!”
When Fin fell forward, his knee bashed into the Blood Claw’s head, catching the experienced warrior off-guard. What was a mistake due to clumsy handling of an alien body, gave way to the first time that the Blood Claw fell in this realm.
Taken by surprise, the brute ogre’s knee knocked the Blood Claw off balance, sending the body ground-ward. Fin rolled, head first, into the temple wall, hitting it with a thud as the Blood Claw twisted to land on palms instead of back.
The Blood Claw glared at the upside down brute ogre. Fin noticed the glare and tried to clap the Blood Claw once more.
This time, instead of stopping the clap, the Blood Claw rushed forward getting past the palms; Fin, upside down, was taken by surprise as the Blood Claw crowded his vision.
A fist came from out of nowhere, landing on Fin’s eye, and then another; the Blood Claw punched Fin’s head until Fin regained the sense to try to stop the Blood Claw.
Fin swung his outstretched hand towards the enemy, which the Blood Claw noticed. Taking a page from Ange’s book, the Blood Claw, lacking her mobility, chose to roll to the left, slipping beneath an arm.
SLAP!
“GROAAAA!” Fin roared, reeling from the pain of his own palm crushing his nose. Unlike the Blood Claw, Fin was immediately susceptible to Ange’s tactics.
“Alright, get up,” the Blood Claw said as Fin’s flailing arm was taken hold of.
Like uprooting a tree from the ground, the Blood Claw hoisted Fin up before tossing him through the air, further down the hall. “You’re worse than the girl. And she wasn’t the leader? What a shame.”
The Blood Claw approached Fin, making casual observations without minding Fin’s stumble-filled struggle to stand back up.
“Well, let’s go then,” the Blood Claw said, a sigh accentuating the lazy beckoning gesture directed at Fin. Not that Fin had the faculties to know his opponent was bored by him.
Fin only saw the enemy standing, roared - spittle flying- and rampaged forward, telegraphing a fist. But the Blood Claw did not move instead only sticking the blood covered palm- the one that had a magic sword draped over it- out roughly where the ogre’s fist was expected to land.
“I’LL KILL YOU, BLOOD CLAW!” Fin roared; his fist went forward with all his anger and wishes packed into it.
“Right.”
Like a leaf blowing in the breeze, no- even more insignificant- that was what Fin’s fist was worth to the Blood Claw.
The blue, armored fist trembled and shook, but on the other side of the fist was the palm that stopped it, unmoving, unflinching.
Fin’s eyes went wide, even swept up in his anger, he could tell what had just occurred; his own deficiencies fueled his rage instead of urging him to withdraw and breathe another day.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Stubbornly, Fin kept trying to push his fist forward; the Blood Claw couldn’t be such an unreasonable existence.
But the Blood Claw didn’t care. The blood swept across the Blood Claw’s clawed fingers and disappeared into the brute ogre’s fist.
The pain from the invasion reached Fin’s consciousness too slowly. Five blade-like needles erupted out of Fin’s flesh in five spots along his arm.
Pain searing, Fin instinctually pulled his stubborn fist away.
“Stupidest ogre I’ve ever met,” the Blood Claw commented as blood splattered across the black helm.
Fin screamed, blood gushed out, dyeing the surroundings. Fin pulled his arm away, but in doing so, cut his arm apart; the blades of blood were too sharp. Maybe somewhere in Fin’s imagination he imagined yanking the blade away from the Blood Claw, or maybe Fin wasn’t thinking. What started as five cuts from the inside out turned into five long gashes spewing blood.
But through the pain, Fin refocused his eyes on the Blood Claw.
“GROOA!” Fin roared.
Smoky shadows erupted from his healthy arm and his gauntlet seemed to shine more than it did before. Immediately the shadows were concentrated into the socket the gauntlet had on the back of the hand.
With a fist clad in shadows, Fin aimed for the Blood Claw’s body once more and this time-
“Oh?”
The Blod Claw reacted with a sliver of interest. The hulking armor lowered a tad, bracing for the impact. The armor at the Blood Claw’s feet shifted as pronounced claws, the claws of a werewolf extended outwards. These claws pierced the ground, anchoring the Blood Claw’s hulking mass. That fist could be received. The Blood Claw’s two outstretched arms signaled that belief.
“Blood Claw!” Fin called; his fist connected with a boom. The Blood Claw’s armor shook.
A shockwave seemed to emulate from between the two’s clash.
“So that’s it?” The Blood Claw said, mildly annoyed. Fin shuddered. “That’s your trick? The gauntlets let you pierce armor and fortification magic?”
“Blood Claw!” Fin roared; he wasn’t thinking enough to understand what it meant that his enemy understood how his gauntlets worked. He only knew that a Blood Claw that was still standing was a danger. He unleashed a flurry of fists with both the injured and uninjured fist. Sometimes, a surge of shadows, a magic burst, would rampage across the Blood Claw. At other times, blood would fly, dirtying the black armor. Multiple rings echoed through the hall, each ring made by the ogre’s fist hitting metal.
Beneath the flurry of blood, shadows, and fists was the Blood Claw, unamused.
“The shadow-nature magic burts were a surprise. That was rare.” True enough, beneath this flurry, the shadows flying across the Blood Claw’s body were the only thing worthy of a passing glance. “The gauntlets are novel. Being able to pierce someone’s fortifications; both physical and magical can be decisive.” Another correct statement; Fin’s gauntlets were from a time when wars between sentients ran hot and rampant. Gauntlets that allowed someone to penetrate defences were thought to be invaluable by people of the current age. “But the brute strength? How boring.” The Blood Claw’s words had weight; they were the words of someone who uttered them while receiving a fist every two seconds. “At least the skull knight was more elegant.”
In the next moment, a loud howl rang out and the fists stopped; a giant ogre was stumbling backwards.
“No strong mind in there either? Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“FIN! FIN!” Deleim called from outside, but she could not rouse Fin’s consciousness. She too had felt the disturbance that the Blood Claw’s howl caused.
A howl infused with a little bit of magic and a little bit of spirit; it was a burst of magic and sound that served only to create openings. It was one of the Blood Claw’s most unreliable abilities. The howl and its effects were not special or overpowering; should another have a strong will or strong mind, the howl will just be an annoying loud sound that might catch them by surprise, but otherwise, it wouldn’t create enough of an opportunity for the Blood Claw to seize. For that reason, the Blood Claw reserved it for desperate struggles, for when the Blood Claw could create a moment of weakness with other methods. That was the usual application for the howl, but for enemies at the caliber of Fin and Ange, the howl was fatal.
“The skull knight recovered enough to be able to protect herself at the last minute. Do you have a stronger mind than her?”
Truly, Ange had done well. Her mind and body were in sync with one goal in the horizon; helping Fin. That focus fortified her mind. Ange, always the thinker even when facing the embodiment of death, had a stronger mind than one would expect. Fin however…
“GROOAAaaa…”
The Blood Claw swiped at Fin, from the ground and up towards the sky, with five extended blades of blood. They tore through the still stumbling Fin, tearing into his body and face. And immediately after the swing was done, the Blood Claw unleashed another howl, this time fueled by anger and irritation. The burst of magic carried by sound slammed into Fin, body and senses both, and launched him down the hall. His blood that had flown into the air stayed afloat longer than he did.
With the sounds of a crashing body coming from behind, the Blood Claw voiced frustrations, “Waste of time.”
With a swipe of the claw, a tear in the reality of the nightmare womb’s realm was made. Beyond the tear, a world of light. The Blood Claw looked for Hanna, finding her over by Ange’s body with two other copies.
“Little one,” the Blood Claw said, “Thank you for your guidance, good luck with your choices.”
The Blood Claw placed one foot through the rift when-
“Blood Claw! I’m not done with you!”
From the rubble, in his pool of blood, Fin writhed and cursed in his standard form.
“I’m not done!” Fin yelled. He crawled out of the pool of blood with one hand dragging him across the floor, the other one limp. Strength returned to him, his anger fueling him once more and he stood up. His face was bloody and clawed, five distinct claw marks etched into flawed skin.
“Whatever,” the Blood Claw spat before stepping through the rift.
“Blood Claw! Don’t run from me!” Fin yelled. Still seeing nothing but red, Fin hobbled over to the rift, the Blood Claw’s phantom the only thing in his sights. “Don’t-”
“Fin!” Deleim’s voice had finally broken through once more into Fin’s awareness, “Fin, what’s going on?!”
“Blood Claw left, going after him.”
“What?! What about Ange?” Deleim screamed, from her perspective, Ange had a run in with the most dangerous person the trio had ever encountered; there was no way she was just fine.
“She’s fine, it’s just a nightmare,” Fin crudely replied; he had not once yet spared Ange a glance.
“Fin,” Hanna called. She was tugging on his black coat while the other two Hanna’s were kneeling beside Ange staring at her. “Ange. Ange needs help.”
“Huh? Ange needs help?” Fin’s dogged pursuit was momentarily broken by the little Hanna’s plea.
“Fin, you little shit, don’t you dare leave Ange in there!” Deleim screamed, at wit’s end. “If Ange’s mind dies in there she’s never waking up!”
Fin looked over to his friend’s body. He could see the blood that had pooled around her and the skull that had been pried off next to her.
Fin gripped his head; an image of the nightmare he was subjected to flashed through his mind.
“I couldn’t do anything; it came true,” Fin muttered. He clenched his teeth, blood spewed from his face as his muscles tightened, “BLOOD CLAW!” Fin roared, “YOU KILLED MY FRIEND!” Fin’s body gurgled and warped; was he trying to activate his Incarnate form and failing or was his form coming out on its own? Only Fin knew. What was clear from his roar and subsequent steps towards the rift was that he could still only see the Blood Claw.
“No, Fin, no,” Hanna listlessly said, “Ange is alive. She needs help.”
“What? Fin! How do you know that?!” Deleim yelled, only hearing Fin’s words, she couldn’t piece together the true situation. What she did know however was that Fin wasn’t of sound mind; his rage had consumed him. Most likely his mind had also been frayed from his time in the nightmare.
Deleim anxiously searched her mind for an answer in the waking world. To have Fin so close yet so far away that she couldn’t deter him was beyond frustrating. She looked to the windows of the inn that she had distanced herself from. If she dove into the nightmare she could perhaps reach Fin, but there were no guarantees of a swift arrival without knowing Hanna’s current position in all of this.
She bit her lip as she grasped at straws. “Fin,” she began, “If you don’t check on Ange, I am going to confront the Blood Claw myself.”
“What?” Fin replied looking upwards, stopping in his tracks. “Don’t. I told you not to.”
Deleim had made a gamble. Would Fin care more about his rage, or more about preserving the people he had left? At best, it would be reassuring, at worst, Fin’s nature at his core would have been revealed.
“I’m my own woman, Fin. I’ve lost just like you have. I have a right to face my family’s killer. That’s not something you can decide.”
“You’ll die,” Fin said, blood from his gashes leaking past his eyes. “I saw your head rolln - it’ll happen again!” Fin yelled like a man struck by madness.
Deleim knew to assume that Fin was referring to some nightmare and took his ravings as a mark of concern.
“Then check on Ange, Fin. If you chase after the Blood Claw then I’m chasing too. If this is where we throw it all away, these last twelve years, then so be it.”
“...” Fin remained silent.
“Ange isn’t dead Fin, stop being so stubborn and check on her dammit!” Deleim was like a mother shouting at a child through mail. Though she chastised him, there was no way to know if he was going to do what she advised.
Fin, frantic, looked at the waning rift.
“Fin,” Hanna called, “Come on, help Ange.”
Fin looked down at the girl that brought them here and held back his tears. He looked once more towards the rift and then he forced himself away, hobbling towards his friend.
“I don’t want anyone to die,” Fin muttered through blood and tears, “Please don’t.”
Deleim, having heard Fin’s mutterings, caught herself before she fell all the way backwards. A wave of relief had washed over her; Fin was placated; now they could focus on the next hurdle, Ange and Hanna.
Deleim raised her arm in the outside world. A magic circle was drawn a few centimeters from her palm, traced with mana. From her palm, a ball of light shot into the sky, far beyond the jungle trees and exploded in a giant flash of green light. It was the flare spell, a spell specifically recognized as someone being in need of help.
“If we can’t get Hanna to stop,” Deleim whispered, her body lightly reflecting the light, “Tonight will be a tragedy for many.”