He awoke to the sensation of every muscle in his body spasming. The world before his eyes was a twister of tumbling images and overlapping objects. His body burned from the heat he felt on his brow, while coldness numbed the flesh of his naked back. Both set on fire and freezing, his thoughts drifted in all directions without going anywhere. A sensation as alien to him as his self. He had to find something to lock onto to, less he be devoured by this maelstrom of madness.

Yes. Something to keep him grounded. Yes! Like locking a harbour castle to a rock pointed circle… No… That made no sense. His thoughts were a mess. An endless merciless bombardment of ideas and concepts that had no meaning, no point of reference. And, for some reason, they explained everything. He felt disconnected… Lost… Trapped.

“Recom-hather of D-sa-A atra-uence o nine-gara’tfa.” Fresh pain engulfed his brain as the cold emotionless words reached his ears.

He had to ignore the voice. Its structure was the cause of the pain, not the words. Its tone unnatural, unlike anything he had ever heard before. Even the growls and primal sounds of the giant reptilian super-organisms were more natural than this voice. No, there was a different word for those creatures, one he thought he knew, but it alluded him, stuck somewhere at the tip of his mind.

He had to focus.

The words were the key. The building blocks of any language. Words convey meaning. Words convey emotion. Words have power. Words are the base of magic. Each spell is a pre-designed combination of words, charged with specific and irrefutable meaning. Yes. Finally, he could think without it causing him pain.

He had to continue. To stop is the same as expiring.

Words. Yes. Words, magic, trigger. Yes! Specific meaning or a trigger. A mnemonic trigger for underdeveloped psionic powers. Developed during the tribal or primitive stages of society.

Yes.

No!

That made no sense to him. He knew all these strange words, and he knew they had a meaning, but they just lacked any logic. Magic was magic, it was simply that. It wasn’t as rare as ordinary beings thought it to be. However, only select few could properly use it. Only those with the gift granted to them by the… By the… There was a word that explained the concept of entities that governed the natural processes of a massive flying rock speeding through emptiness. Gods! Yes, only those with the gift granted to them by the Gods could us magic.

He could feel his sanity slipping away again. Focus on one thing at a time. He had to stop overthinking things. Follow the thoughts, do not question them. Think, create the concept, envision it, understand after that. Words, meaning, power.

Words have a meaning, meaning gives power, power is the goal. Only those with power are allowed to survive. He had power, he stood above the majority of his kind. But he had failed to understand the meaning of the words. He knew that therewith was the key, but the key to what?

“Subject A is kathal’is a’satha. Implant thartaik.” There was that same cold voice.

He realised it had stopped talking. He had been listening to it this entire time. Listening to the words, allowing the sub-cognitive part of his mind to analyse them, to understand them. He had to only listen.

“Subjecti B through ra, progressing at bala seventy-nine p’tfa.” The voice droned in monotone.

“Good.” There was a new voice. This one had emotion to it – cruel emotion.

“Subjects jala through Q progressing at ratla of sixty-four per’tfa.” The first voice continued without taking notice of the second one.

Yes. His assumption was correct. The key was in the words, and to learn the words, he need only listen carefully, and wait for the unnatural sounds to become defined.

“Acceptable.” Cruel spoke again.

“Subject R progressing at forty-six percent. Implant organism a ik yotla.”

“Interesting.”

“Subjects S and T progressing at eighty-four percent. Implant organism rejected. Powerful latent psionic rafta a’stark.”

“Odd.” Cruel injected a hint of confusion to its tone and added softly. “I want a complete geth’e a subjects S and T.”

“Yes, Cthu’Io Fal’kata.” A third voice replayed. It was also cruel, but it was also excited.

No, that was putting it too generally. All of the three speakers were cruel, but only the second one sounded cruel. Just as the first one sounded emotionless and bored. By that logic, the third one he would refer to as excited. Even more strange words and concepts flooded his tortured psyche. They would only hinder him, he had to focus on what the three voices were saying and ignore everything else.

“Metra’cor thai Pathari Saar es rex…” He stopped his rushing mind.

He wanted to smile. The key was in the meaning of the words. With them, he would have the power to take back control of his own mind and body. And his captors had just given him the key to this torturous prison. Rex also meaning king, ruler, regis.

He was Regis.

With this revelation came the pain and the dizziness as the memories of who and what he was came flooding back at him. There were shouts around him coming from his captors, but they were so faint and distant, he could believe he had imagined them. It was too much to process and he thanked the creeping bliss of unconsciousness that embraced him.

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Regis opened his eyes slowly, fearful of the pain. He knew he was the first one to wake up. The information he had collected and processed during the strange ritual, was enough for him to work that out. At first his vision was blurred and the colours were off, as if looking through someone else’s eyes. Slowly his vision cleared and reached a point where he could almost ignore the discord between what his eyes were seeing and what registered in his mind.

He saw the others, his Slayers, strapped to metal tables with thick steel braces, in a large circle around him. Thick tubes pumped a bright red liquid into their necks, while a collection of thinner ones extracted black, green and yellow substances from their livers and the veins on their arms. He did not question how he knew that. He simply accepted that he knew, just a hurricane of different terms and words of esoteric knowledge assaulted his fragile mind. Regis had only one option available to him – whether the assault. A few moments later, he could focus his attention on the other Slayers.

But there was something strange about his comrades. True they looked like the people he had known for the last decade, yet they were not the same. They were different, taller, bigger, in a way they were perfect. Each one of them was the picture of health. Not a single blemish, mark or scar spoiled their skin. Even, while in such a relaxed state, they radiated strength. Regis knew, rather he felt, that he had been as changed as they were.

Big Uhr and Inney were the ones he could recognise without question. Although they looked almost nothing alike to what he remembered. The large man had grown absolutely massive. He was bigger than the largest orc, Regis had ever seen. Big Uhr was a hulking mass of muscle that could not fit on the metal slate he was strapped to. His once mangled face was now that of a hero of legends - chiselled and hard.

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On the other hand, Inney had changed too much. However, there was no way Regis could have mistaken the elf. Her lovely light skin with its marvellous heugh of spring green grass was gone. It now had the colour of a newly grown blue spruce. The bark growths on her cheekbones and shoulders had turned into amethyst. The deepest purple amethyst he had ever seen, and Regis was willing to bet his life that it was the same for the line going down her spine. The thin straight hair now had silk look to it as it glistened under the light, instead of the original dull ivy-like one that he was so used to seeing and feeling between his fingers.

Regis, had loved the elf, in his own way. He had even liked her enough to keep her in his bed. But for the first time, he was truly attracted to her. Because they were no longer an elf and a human. Now they were of the same kind, he understood that on an instinctual level. He wanted to embrace her in his arms, so he pushed at his bindings. No matter how much strength he used, the flimsy steel braces did not give. Instead, his actions attracted the attention of the Hollow Gods.

The creature had blended so perfectly with the strange objects surrounding the Slayers, that Regis had missed it. He had been so occupied by how much his comrades had changed, he had failed to grasp how utterly strange everything was.

The god moved with hissing sounds and loomed over him. It was clearly over three meters in height and hunched. No, not hunched. There was some strange construct attached to its shoulders. It was thin with grey skin that glistened under the light above. The four ice blue eyes nestled on its elongated face stared into Regis. It was impossible to discern any intent because of the rows of black sharp glass teeth that too a third of its face. No… These were no teeth, it was a rebreather mask of some sort and the red vines were tubes that pumped the same red liquid as the one going into the bound Slayers.

“Good. So, it can think properly now.” The creature spoke in a cruel grinding voice.

It ran its talon-like finger across his face. A vibrating sound emitted from behind its mask and it narrowed its eyes before speaking again.

“Very good indeed. You showed the most potential out of all subjects. You should have slept for another sixteen hours, how interesting.” Its finger pierced the side of his neck.

“Do not fear little one. We have improved you. We have given you a portion of our knowledge to see if salvation is possible.” The Hollow God turned its back to him and walked towards Big Uhr.

“What makes you special? Why did you survive the process of modification, where so many have failed? Why did all of you survive?” It continued to speak as it pierced the neck of the hulking man.

Regis wanted to spit in the Hollow God’s face and hurl curses at it, instead, he willed his mouth shut. He needed more information. It was a difficult task when he saw the large wound left on Big Uhr’s neck. It took all of his will not to scream in surprise when he saw the flesh knit itself back together in seconds.

“Surprised? Yes, all indications show surprise.” The creature tapped an orb dangling on its wrist.

“We had to make you… Resilient. Sturdy and lasting. It is the bare minimum if we are going to use you as hosts.” It boasted as it turned back to face him.

“You are no god!” Regis finally spoke and was startled by how hoarse his voice sounded.

Again, that vibrating sound emitted from behind the mask and the leader of the mercenaries realised it was laughter. This god was amused.

“You came searching for us. You came searching for immortality. We know. We observed through the control group.” It said softly and pushed the tip of its finger into his ribs.

Regis ground his teeth, unwilling to show how much pain he felt at the touch.

“Nervous system responds correctly.” The Hollow God spoke to itself. “You should be happy, little one. We blessed you with the boom you sought. Does that not make us gods?”

“No,” Regis hissed back after suffering another jab in the ribs. “You said you gave us knowledge. I don’t know what you did or how, but this gift, tells me you are no gods.”

“Excellent!” The creature looked as if it would jump in joy. “The mnemonic transfer is a success! I knew that the key lay in increasing the speed of sub-cognitive information processing!”

It froze and stood still for nearly a minute. Looking at the man bound to the metal table, but not seeing him. Every few seconds a hiss came from its mask, followed by a minuscule release of thin red vapour. It made Regis’ eyes water and he choked. The vapour had a smell to it, one he could not explain. It was like nothing he had smelled before. However, he knew what it meant, because it was one of the building blocks of the world.

“Bromine… You cannot survive in the mortal realm.” Regis whispered and the creature snapped back to attention.

“You are progressing too fast. We must limit the cognitive processing speed. The growth needs to be done in steady intervals, slowly. Otherwise, the mnemonic transfer will not be properly categorised inside the neural tissue. Knowing too much, understanding too much can also become… problematic.” It spoke in a loud and clear voice.

A beam of bright light pierced his eyes and Regis screamed. It was the same pain as the one he had felt before waking up. He suffered through the agony and spat in the face of the Hollow God as soon as the light was gone. The creature slapped him hard across the face and he tasted blood. It was odd, it had a more acrid taste to it, but he was getting used to the oddness.

“There is so much to be desired. But there is time to conduct proper trials. Let this be a warning. To you, we are Gods.”

Regis smiled for the first time, seeing his comrades stirring from their slumber. He had to keep the creature’s attention away from them. Buy them some time to slip from their restrains. He gave Big Uhr a command with his hand and almost giggled when he saw the giant nod.

“You proclaim you are gods. This is the first time; you have said something funny,” Regis spat again.

“I must admit, I am interested to know why this amuses you?” The creature laughed and slapped him again.

“A true god would not need to keep us in chains. A true god would not fear us. You are nothing but a pretender. Nothing but an arrogant fool.” He said the last part with as much venom as he could.

“Perhaps, but I am no fool, little one.” It pressed the orb at its wrist and the steel bindings opened with a loud click.

“We keep you restrained for your own safety, little one.” It grabbed Regis by the throat and lifted him off the table in one hand. “I am more than capable of dealing with your modified form.”

“As… I… Said… Arrogant… Fool…” Regis squeezed the words through his throat.

He clung to the arm that held him and forced a smile. He felt the inner workings of his throat being crushed under the creature’s grip, but he could not help but smile. It was true, the Hollow God was not lying. It possessed overwhelming physical strength. However, it had clearly underestimated its work. It had failed to understand how magnificently stubborn Big Uhr was.

The giant ripped away the braces binding him, tearing his bicep in the process. Even with eyes coated by tears, Regis could see the muscle split the skin and rip itself apart from the titanic might the big man displayed. Without so much as taking note of the pain, he launched himself off the table and collided with the creature. All three of them landed in a tangled mess near the metal table. Regis was the first on his feet. It took him a moment to take a hold of his bearings and take in the much-needed breath of air to ease the pain of his burning lungs.

This was all the time he had. Even with his newfound strength, Big Uhr struggled to keep his hold on the Hollow God. He had wrapped his trunk-like arms around it in a bear hug. The leader of the Slayers saw as the giant tore the muscles on his back and shoulders in what had been a titanic effort to keep his hold.

Regis climbed on top of the metal table and jumped. Both his feet landed on the creature’s head, crushing its mask and pushing the broken fragments into the mouth hidden behind it. He felt his ankle break in the impact and landed on his side. Biting through the pain he scrambled to his feet.

“Get the orb!” Regis screamed falling to the ground once more.

Without wasting his breath to speak, Big Uhr released his hold and grabbed the orb attached to the Hollow God’s wrist. He lifted the thing and crushed it with all his might into the creature’s head. The item shattered and pierced both the god and the palm of his hand. Slowly and carefully, Big Uhr stood up, not daring to move his eyes away from it.

The Hollow God stood still, its chest lifting up and down unsteadily. Sickly yellow foam was building around the ruin that had become its lower face. Big Uhr stepped over its body and offer Regis a steady hand so that he could get up to his feet. For the first time, the leader of the Slayers saw his comrade’s eyes - coal-black with irises the colour of frozen water. They felt as if they were seeing through him, piercing his very soul. As unnatural as they looked, Regis had to admit that felt right

“Your eyes boss…” Big Uhr spoke, his voice too deep to be human. “What, in the name of Bathá, has happened to you, boss?”

“The Hollow Gods of Scoria happened,” Regis grabbed the edge of the table, placing some wait on his broken ankle.

The pain in his leg was gone and quickly forgotten. He didn’t need to look down to know that it had healed, just as the torn muscles on Big Uhr’s body were healing before his eyes.

“Looks like you win that gold talon from me, big guy. Can’t keep insulting your looks, if your face ain’t ugly,” Regis placed his hand on the large shoulder of the man, giving him a broad smile. “Help free the others.” He continued before Big Uhr could freeze trying to grasp the meaning of his captain’s words.

One by one the Slayers began to gather around Regis. They had to hear what he was about to say before he gave them time to realise how much they were changed.

“Look at them!” Regis growled pointing at the corpse at his feet. “The Hollow Gods of Scoria are nothing but arrogant fools. Weaklings, who cannot rival the might of the Slayers! They cannot rival the power of the true Gods, and because of this, they chose to hide and cower. The Hollow Gods are no Gods!”

The mercenary’s captain pulled with all his might and tore the metal slab from its stand. A savage smile spread across his face and he forced the metal edge into the creature’s skull. Regis roared with all the anger he had kept inside.

“And we will kill every last one of them, because from this day on, we are Godslayers! And we have one rule. You stop.”

“You die!” The answer from nineteen throats echoed through the chamber with the might of an avalanche.