Wood bent under the weight of a creature that talked to him from the other side of the wall. It used its own body to press on and with unyielding resolve, it wriggled and taped with an unknown amount of legs and hands as if trying to ascertain if someone was in or not.

The Hildebrant hand kept grasping the sword tightly never letting it go. It was his only reassurance and the hilt leg of the dark horse he personally carved into an alternative sword was prepared to be used against any harrowing monstrosity Icarus sent his way.

Then, however, all sounds of the creature ceased and as if possessed it moved from the ship, and with the sound of small legs and body slithering on white sand the creature became more and more distant until no sound remained.

His ear no longer could hear fleshly abomination organs move or bones twisting, and wood also returned to normal.

But was it truly gone? Would it just give up? Or was it the power of the moon that scared it away from his already destroyed wooden vessel?

There was not much left of the ship he once called his sanctuary.

The food he stored was also gone after his fight with the dark horse, so he needed to make sure the creature was gone before moving to another place. If not, he would need to walk around it and in the worst-case scenario even fight it.

But how could the transcendent lord have an easy time fighting against a pawn of transcendent viscount?

Sitting in silence he finally could not endure and took out a napkin he used to block dark horse vision and then looked through the gap out. The moon was still beautiful but avoiding looking at it, his gaze instinctively fell on the pit where dead corpses were supposed to be.

All there was before him however was dunes of white sand and a wall of sharp rock.

It was a good and peaceful sight, but he still felt uneasy inside of him as if something was observing him.

But maybe he just imagined it.

As he said before imagination was a fearsome thing, more than creativity but not as an adaptation. There was even a legend saying these three things were gifts of the first human who was raised from the ashes of a dark age to his children.

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What was true about it Hildebrant had no idea.

He was not a historian just a person who loved knowledge and discovery of new things.

That is why he started to read the Bible of the Almighty again.

Making sure no one was outside he pushed the napkin back and when he sat back on his place he froze.

The door blocked by various debris he found was now broken into pieces and a fleshly blob of shifting flesh, blood, and blood vessels was revolting close to him. Its harrowing body kept moving and its mouth and eyes on it opened from time to time letting out absolutely no sound.

But what made him grasp the sword's hilt tighter was a small baby head with human-like eyes staring at him with children's curiosity. It was possible that all the words it had told before were ordered to be told by Icarus's maddening psyche, or it just repeated what its creator said, but generally, Hildebrant had a hard time believing such a small head could be so loud, but it was.

"HIIIIIILLLL!"

It cried and with tears that fell from the creature's eyes flesh on its edge turned into a swift whip of pure flesh and came to him while tearing the air.

Without choice Hildebrant threw himself on the bed and a fleshly whip passed a millimetre away from his head crushing wood behind him into debris. Moon began to observe him, but Hildebrant avoided its gaze, and flames in his exploded after he poured them into his hand.

Flames that turned his body white blinded the child for a second allowing Hildebrant to jump out of the hole dark horse and creature created together.

With another cry child's eyes turned red and now its entire body began to change into a killing weapon. A fleshly sun made of tentacles began to attack the room, slashing as it desired and destroying the wood and steel creating it.

There was no time however to care about it because after finishing turning his house into ruins body reformed and its fleshly glory slithered out of debris like a caterpillar with unseen speed. It was not swift as a black horse, but it was still harrowingly powerful.

There did not look to be any weakness, but Hildebrant did not despair and as he stopped before the wall of stone dividing one part of white shore from another he listened to the sound of crawling and then pouring flames into his wrist, elbows, feet, and knees he exploded with strength and his sword that turned white slashed part of the stone wall.

Then he dodged to the side just to be welcomed by an oversized mouth crashing into an already weakened stone.

The strong wind passed through his hair and shrapnel of stones almost penetrated his head but before they could touch his skin they melted away and evaporated into the air while his eyes observed as the stone fell and a wall of sharp rock began to shake and scream.

Pawn of Icarus screamed too but the stone that he crushed began to assemble back together and fall, burrowing its fleshly body under the sea of stone.

Hildebrant watched it with glee but instead of attacking it, he began to make his way out of this place. This was already the second time this evening someone tried to kill him and ate his flesh, and he did not like it at all.

Jumping up on the rock Hildebrant wanted to use his augmented body to climb over the sharp wall and hide at the top of sentient rocks but when he was already at half of his goal, the rock wall shook and a fleshly blob with a scream began to ascend after him.