The horror wiggled in its fleshy prison and its head turned to reveal a newly formed jagged maw.
“NO!” it roared as if the suggestion of Sunday had hurt it. “KNEEL! DO NOT PRAY!”
Was that… fear in the voice? It was breaking down and barely understandable now, but Sunday was sure he had caught a hint of fear.
The strange reaction seemed to chase away some of the confusion and horror that had come in the wake of its disgusting creation. Even the world became less twisted. Do not pray? Isn’t that the whole point of those fuckers? Or perhaps… is it me who shouldn’t pray?
“I think I want to pray,” Sunday said with a playful smile. “I’ll pray really hard! I think I know one name… ah, what was it…”
The monster roared and started shrugging off the rest of the empty skin and clothes – all that remained of the woman it had been born out of.
Sunday didn’t give it a chance. He sent the Smash Ball directly at its side and the whole horrific thing toppled over from the force of impact and crashed on its side. It kept wiggling but it didn’t look half as scary anymore. It was almost pathetic.
“Vyn, can you fight?” Sunday asked not letting the monster out of his sight. It was like a worm trying to free itself from its constraints right now, but that didn’t mean it would remain that way.
The Smash Ball hadn’t done any damage either and Sunday picked it up, opting to conserve his essence. He worried about it too, as spells didn’t seem as simple anymore. It felt stranger than ever in his hand and he poured some essence into it, opting to keep it ready. The dull ache of his soul became just a tad stronger as his reserves grew lower. After the experience with Phantasmal Fall, he didn’t need any more surprises.
Vyn nodded, staring wide-eyed at the creature. “I think… I need a drink,” he said, and Sunday sighed in relief. If he was thinking of drinking, then there was nothing to worry about.
You and me both buddy. Still, Vyn was human and his stamina had limits. It had been a long day.
“This is just the beginning. If you want to tag along with me, better get used to it.” Sunday unsheathed his sword and without giving the thing a chance to fully escape the prison of bloody skin or Vyn a moment to answer, stepped forward and hacked at it. It was better to finish it during its ‘birth’ rather than wait. Fair play was for suckers.
The skin still wrapping around its bottom half tore at the same moment and an elongated extra limb hit Sunday in the ribs before his own swing could connect and sent him flying a few feet to the side. It was something of a repeat of his fight with Vela, almost as if to mock him. Sunday landed heavily on the ground, trying his best to hold onto the sword without gouging his eye out or cutting something off. If there was one thing to be said about Jishu, it was that he had kept the sword sharp.
Sunday quickly stood up, ignoring the pain and his torn shirt. Whatever had hit him had left a nasty gash on his ribs. Nothing worrying for a corpse.
Seconds later he saw Vyn engage in the combat with the monster. It was almost done shedding off the remains of the woman which was strange. The horror’s movements were slow and shaky, but the extra limbs that had appeared from its torso were fast like lightning. Still, they proved no match for Vyn’s agility. He ducked and sidestepped, treating them the same as swords.
I really should get him to show me some basic exercises or something. Sunday thought.
The human’s blade sank into the joint of one, but it only made it a few inches in before he had to pull it out and dodge again. That didn’t slow him down although he looked positively terrified and on the verge of pissing himself. The contrast between appearance and action was enviable.
The horrible god’s chosen was almost up when the Smash Ball clocked it into the skull again and sent it sprawling back on the ground. The neck twisted oddly, but it was not due to the force of the spell. Rather, it looked at Sunday and started cackling as if he had said something funny.
Fucker. Was it undead? Was it living? He had enough essence to use the Omen of Duality, but not being sure of its effect on the creature took away his best weapon. Healing it by accident was not something he wanted to do. Not that there was much to heal yet.
There was no telling what that thing was, but what was certain was that unlike the ghouls it was clumsy and slow. The only danger came from the extra limbs, and something told him they weren’t hard to deal with. The rest of it was unsteady as if it couldn’t handle its own weight or anatomy.
Sunday held onto his sword and tried to copy the stance of Vyn as he neared the thing. The monstrosity thrashed in a disorganized manner – like a puppet controlled by someone without skill. Or a newborn, Sunday thought.
What would become of it if it matured? Could the Divine simply do that with all of its followers, or was this a one-time thing?
It attacked as Sunday got in range, throwing its own body along the swing and rolling on the ground.
Sunday was ready and met the attack with the sharp of the blade. What were some bones and flesh? Jishu’s sword seemed to have no problem cutting through and the limb fell to the side. It was a clean cut but the monster cackled again. It tried to throw itself and headbutt Sunday but he stepped away, cursing under his breath. He had almost reached for Phantasmal Fall but thankfully stopped himself in time.
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The flesh and bone at the cut wiggled but didn’t regrow. The wound closed, leaving the thing even more imbalanced than before.
Fuck it. “Hey Vyn, catch!” Sunday said and threw his sword handle first. Vyn reacted instantly and stabbed his own sword in the earth, before grabbing the new weapon from the air. He gave it a few cursory swings and shifted it between his hands as if to get used to its weight.
He was looked on the verge of toppling over though and Sunday got an idea. A white moth sprung into existence over his outstretched palm and he winced as the pain of his soul rose once again. Nevertheless, the spell flew above, out of reach of the divine chosen.
The creature’s eyeless face instantly turned toward the moth, and followed its flight. Is it afraid of it? Does it want it?
It was hard to tell, but Sunday had no other tricks up his sleeve, and enough patience to decide his next action.
Vyn attacked again, seemingly having gathered enough energy. The monster was almost up, using its four more regular-looking limbs to support itself, while the two it was using as blades elongated even and tried to keep Vyn away while dodging his sword. Its body became thinner in the process. It had finally fully shed off the human skin and looked like a thin monstrous bug made of spines and flesh with somewhat human proportions. Its smile was frozen on its face and it pushed from the ground with what could pass for its hands to stand on two shaky feet.
Jishu’s sword was shorter than the one Vyn was using, so the man had to get closer to do damage. He focused on shortening the dangerous barbed extra limbs, just like Sunday had initially managed to do. He managed to land a good attack and there seemed to be no resistance as the blade cut through, but then he was forced to dodge again and again as the creature started a frenzied counter-attack.
Sunday watched the fight with quiet calm, taking in every single movement and looking for an opportunity. He directed the moth toward the two of them and forced it to explode closer to Vyn, showering both combatants with the spell’s essence. It had immediate effect and to his great relief, it burned the creature and made it let out a ghastly shriek. The damage wasn’t comparable to what it had done to the ghouls though. However, it was as if Vyn had gotten a second wind.
“Thanks,” the man yelled and burst into motion with renewed vigor.
Sunday grinned. Spells never ceased to amaze him. He briefly wondered if trying out the black moth too would give him even more results, but it was dangerous with Vyn so close to the thing and the pain was becoming harder to ignore. Another moth would bring him close to his limits, and two would probably knock him out or at the very least make it hard to function.
The fight quickly turned into a one-man show, as the recharged Vyn moved faster and better, and the addition of Jishu’s sword made him a force to be reckoned with. Sunday hadn’t known the difference would be so large, but then again, a master needed a proper tool.
The horror lost more and more of its flesh and Sunday frowned. This was too easy.
Just then there was change. The laughter started anew and quickly grew and Sunday felt the world enclose on them. It echoed, jumping from ear to ear and piercing deep inside of his brain. It made the pain in his soul burst with more strength and he gasped as his knees gave out.
Vyn was in a worse position. The man had thankfully managed to retreat, but he had dropped the sword and was down on his knees. His mouth was open as if he was screaming but no sound was reaching Sunday, other than the awful ever-growing laughter.
The horror wiggled and its neck elongated until it bit on a large piece of itself that Vyn had managed to cut off. The flesh and bone melted and rejoined the body through the smiling mouth and the rest of it instantly bubbled and grew.
Sunday struggled to stand up and it took everything he had. The creature was regrowing before his very eyes, healing all the damage Vyn had inflicted, and that was not something he could let it do.
Each step was like battling an ocean’s current but the more he walked, the easier it became. He soon reached the sorry form of Vyn. His friend was curled up on the ground, hands pressed to his ears and crying. Blood was pouring out of his nose but Sunday had no time nor the resources to heal him. All that mattered was making the laughter stop.
He picked up Jishu’s sword and with a scream of his own hacked at the thing recklessly. One of its regrown limbs rose to meet the blade and was split into two like it was made from soft clay. However, the bone and flesh didn’t give up and twisted around the sword trying to reach the handle and wrestle it away from Sunday’s hand.
The Smash Ball flew out from Sunday’s other hand and hit the thing in the head. The spell bounced off into the air, and he fueled it again, sending another burst of essence into it and ignoring his soul’s cry for help.
It charged down and met the open smiling maw of the monster. A few of the teeth shattered and the spell fell to the side. Sunday felt a pang of discomfort, but there was no time for that now. I need something stronger!
Something Jishu had said swam up in his mind. Some believed that spells were the tools given to them to fight the Divine. If that was so… then there was no reason to be afraid a spell would help one of its monsters. Fuck it you old bastard, I hope you were as smart as you thought yourself to be.
Two moths, one black and one white, came into existence and flew slowly toward the gaping chest cavity of the smiling fiend. The world swam and Sunday crumpled on the ground again, letting go of the sword. With his last strength, he willed the moths to become one and saw them burst upon contact, bathing the monster in monochrome light.
The laughter stopped.
The world shuddered and returned back to normal.
And Sunday grinned as his head hit the grass. He remained conscious and watched the thrashing of the thing until it was no more, and he felt the foul breath leave the melting remains.
‘Small deeds are the mark of a small man,’ Old Rud had said. Sunday tried to chuckle but he wasn’t sure his mouth moved. Using a simple woman to fuel the birth of a monstrosity such as this one was not an act worthy of respect. A life ended to give birth to a pathetic creature that couldn’t handle its form – the chosen of a god. Laughable. The lowest sacrifice. The lowest act. The gods have truly lost their minds.
A voice joined his thoughts and brought color back into the bleak world.
A pitiful corpse forever stuck between life and death and a weak human challenge the smile of joyous madness and live another day. To slay a laughing horror, even a newborn one, is a service to all.
No one supports you. No one teaches you from the shadows. No one lends a hand. Yet you still trudge on, shaping the world to your liking and sowing the seeds of your legend. Keep struggling, and your deeds will be rewarded. Grow and fight, and piece by piece the Divine will fall by your hand and become the fuel to your ascension.
It was a soothing balm to the agony of his soul and the pain lessened until it was but a low hum. Sunday felt refreshing strength pour inside of him like never before. It was many times stronger than it had been back in the city and eclipsed his experience after killing Vela.
He could feel his soul space grow, and he could feel whatever issue had plagued it lessen under the overwhelming energy. He tried to laugh again and this time it came out as a weak exhalation. He was tired. So tired.
Killing the gods, huh? What would you say you old bastard? Is that a deed worthy of me?