Now, Threnosh World
Shira wasn’t too concerned despite the hierophant nearly wrenching their leg out of its socket. They had gotten used to pain a long time ago. Besides, what was a few moments when their power armor quickly healed any injury.
Indeed, Shira could already feel her leg begin to heal.
The hierophant shouted nonsense in Shira’s face as the giant humanoid held them upside down over its basin.
Shira cared not. Things were still proceeding according to plan.
When the hierophant plunged Shira into the blood-filled basin the Threnosh felt surprise. The foolish cragant merely sped up the healing process.
Shira’s power armor almost immediately started to absorb the blood.
Pain unlike any other they had experienced before filled every fiber of their being.
Shira screamed. They were no longer capable of conscious thought.
Caretaker emptied their recoilless rifle at the hierophant. The red shield sparked to life and blocked everything. “Malendrax, get Shira out.” They had muted Shira’s comms. The screams would only distract the rest of the team.
“Acknowledged.”
Caretaker reloaded and kept firing as they walked toward the hierophant.
The giant humanoid’s face was a mask of ugly rage. A sheen of sweat appeared on its broad forehead.
Caretaker’s algorithm wasn’t giving them more than rudimentary aiming assistance. The hierophant must’ve been using a lot of its magic, which somehow interfered with the algorithm in a way that Caretaker still hadn’t figured out.
Malendrax charged out of the darkness.
The hierophant’s eyes darted to the new threat.
“I am your enemy,” Caretaker said as they continued to fire and reload. “I will kill you if you allow yourself to be distracted.” They didn’t know how effective their attempt at trash speaking, as Honor had counseled.
The hierophant snarled and waved a hand from its basin toward Caretaker.
A whip of blood and other bits lashed out at Caretaker.
The algorithm gave two contradictory suggestions. As such things went in a split-second, Caretaker made a critical mistake. They hesitated.
Despite the sensory and reaction enhancements provided by their power armor the only thing they managed to do was to raise their recoilless rifle as a poor facsimile of a shield.
The blood whip was as hard as steel and as sharp as a razor. It sliced the rifle in half and scored a deep gash in Caretaker’s chest armor as the Threnosh frantically fell back.
Caretaker’s attempt at psychological warfare was crude, but effective.
By focusing on Caretaker the hierophant ignored the bigger threat.
Malendrax reached the basin. They grabbed the lip in their over-sized gauntlets and pulled it down.
Shira’s thrashing form slipped out along with the blood and body parts. Malendrax recognized the small, gray limbs amidst the larger, pale, pinkish limbs.
The hierophant pointed a finger at Malendrax and chanted words that made the Threnosh’s stomach churn.
The blood around Malendrax’s short, thick legs began to swirl.
They couldn’t move. Shira was still in the liquid. They were vulnerable.
So, Malendrax did the only thing that came to mind.
They picked up the heavy, iron basin and threw it at the hierophant.
The words suddenly stopped in the hierophant’s throat as the basin knocked them to the ground.
“Get Shira away from the liquid,” Caretaker said. Hopefully that would stop whatever the hierophant was doing with its terrible magic.
Caretaker drew their spire-made sword and viral pistol.
The hierophant roared as it picked itself up off the floor. It grabbed the basin in one massive hand and hurled it at Caretaker.
They reacted quicker this time. Without their predictive algorithm they had to rely on their own capabilities. It was for this very reason that they had always devoted time to training without their algorithm.
Caretaker brought their sword straight down. Their spire-made exoskeleton whined with effort as the superior metal of the blade sliced through the thick iron with only a little resistance.
The two halves of the bisected basin parted to either side of Caretaker.
One clipped their shoulder and spun them around.
Their power armor flashed red damage and injury warnings. Caretaker glanced at them. Nothing major. Contusions judging by the pain.
Still, this engagement was dangerous. Caretaker’s assessment was that this, the hierophant, surpassed all of the other boss monsters they had fought before.
It was made all the more deadly by the small size of their team. One of which looked to be down. While another was busy trying to keep cragant adds from joining the fight.
Caretaker wasn’t certain if they and Malendrax were enough. They needed to end it quickly. They snapped their viral pistol up at the hierophant and squeezed the trigger.
The hierophant had already reacted. Its hand was already up. The viral round impacted on the same red shield centimeters away from the cragant’s hand.
“I challenge you, gray one,” the hierophant rasped. “Blade to blade.” It pulled out a jagged looking knife from its belt.
Caretaker considered for a moment. The hierophant’s wicked-looking weapon might have been a knife in the giant’s hands, but it was about the same length as Caretaker’s sword. It was also considerably wider, which meant that it had greater mass.
The cragant was noticeably shorter and slimmer than the rest of its kind. However, it was still a lot taller, heavier and more robust than Caretaker. Their assessment from what they had observed was that the hierophant had a definitive strength advantage.
The original plan had Shira engaging the hierophant with their superior strength.
Caretaker’s moment was over. They squeezed off three shots in quick succession. Each aiming for a different part of the hierophant’s body.
Each one was blocked by the magic shield.
Unfortunate.
They were down to their last few viral rounds.
Their power armor was essentially the same as the standard infantry armor. The spire-made exoskeleton and extra armor plates increased their strength and durability several times, but they weren’t meant for close combat.
Malendrax was still pulling the thrashing Shira away from the blood spill that had covered a wide swath of floor.
Blueballs was doing all they could to fulfill their task.
No choice.
Caretaker holstered their viral pistol and pulled the rectangular, metal shield from their back.
The hierophant leered. Then the giant humanoid charged.
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Malendrax kept an eye on Caretaker and the hierophant as the latter bludgeoned the former’s shield with thunderous blows.
The hierophant was terrible. It lacked the skill and discipline that even the lowliest cragant soldier had displayed in many battles.
Malendrax was not impressed.
They had pulled Shira many meters away from the blood. They were next to a set of empty cages along one wall of the structure.
Stained cloth was discarded all over the cage interior. What looked like animal waste product was piled up in one corner.
Malendrax was reminded of the biological matter that had come out of the basin. The prisoners’ fates were clear.
Shira’s power armor leaked red fluid from all over. As Malendrax watched. The trickle turned into a torrent.
Shira’s body thrashed violently until the fluid stopped emerging.
Malendrax watched, but nothing else happened. They turned their eyes back to the fight.
Caretaker cleverly angled their shield to cause the hierophant’s strike to deflect to one side and cause them to lose their balance.
The Threnosh slashed out as they darted to the other side. They scored a thin line across the cragant’s thick, rough skin.
Malendrax felt a hand on their leg. They looked down to see Shira’s monstrous faceplate staring up at them. Their eyes were red. Though Malendrax couldn’t tell if it was because of the lenses.
Shira weakly pointed to their fanged mouth.
Malendrax enabled Shira in the comms. “Are you injured?”
“The blood was wrong.” Shira’s voice was weak. So unlike them. “Infected my entire supply. Had to… purge.”
“Then you are no longer combat effective.” Malendrax knew the capabilities of their teammates. “Remain here. Now that you are out of immediate danger, I will assist Caretaker in completion of our Task.”
“No… don’t… leave… can fight. Need blood.”
There was a hunger in Shira’s voice, weak as it was, that disturbed Malendrax. However, the original plan had Shira as the main tank and damage dealer. While they and Caretaker added what they could or kept adds from joining in if they breached the walls.
“The Task takes precedence,” Malendrax said.
A section of their armor slid open to reveal a wiry gray arm with fine, but noticeable hairs. Their defect was a set of atavistic physical characteristics that hearkened back to an ancient ancestor of the modern Threnosh. They crouched down and held their exposed arm close to Shira’s bladed fingers.
“This… forbidden…”
“The Task,” Malendrax repeated.
Shira’s fingers twitched forward. A moment of hesitation and one finger stabbed forward.
Malendrax’s grimaced, which was perfectly mimicked by their life-like face mask. The pain was different, worse than when it was filtered through all of the protections of their power armor.
Malendrax’s eyes drooped. Warnings flashed in their faceplate. They were urged to seal the opening so that repair procedures could begin immediately. They resisted as they watched their pale-colored blood flow into Shira’s finger claw, which had pierced into their skin by the barest of millimeters. They grew weaker by the second.
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“Enough,” Malendrax managed to rasp out as their knees clanged into the floor. Their strength was almost gone. They couldn’t make sense of it. Shira was doing more than simply taking their biological fluid. It was as if Shira was draining their energy, as if their teammate was taking everything they had.
Shira didn’t respond, nor did they stop.
Malendrax grabbed Shira’s entire arm with their over-sized gauntlet. It took an effort, but they successfully pulled Shira’s finger away from their exposed arm. Their armor sealed shut immediately.
The blades and spikes on Shira’s arm had cut into the metal palm of Malendrax’s hand. The damage was slow to repair. Malendrax felt vitality return to them, just as slow. They didn’t know exactly how their power armor was able to repair itself and their biological body within. They didn’t know how it replaced the blood Shira had taken, yet as the readings indicated in their faceplate that was exactly what was happening.
Shira pushed themselves to a sitting position. “My trueskin has repaired the majority of the damage created by the hierophant’s blood. Combat levels at 4.4%. I need more biological fluid.”
Malendrax scanned their surroundings. The cages were empty. At one time they had been filled with prisoners for the hierophant’s magic. Both the beings that resembled Honor and captured Threnosh soldiers. Now all were empty, except for a handful in a cage brought close to where the hierophant performed its magic.
“Designation: Hierophant no longer has its receptacle.” Malendrax realized something. “Perhaps it will no longer be able to perform its magic. Perhaps you will not be needed.”
“No. I will fight.” Shira tried to stand and failed.
“Remain here. I will aid Caretaker.”
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Caretaker’s shield was battered, dented and cut. Their extra armor plates showed the same signs of damage. The spire-exoskeleton was being pushed to its limits.
Multiple warning signs flashed in their faceplate. The damage to their body was piling up. Soon it would match the damage to their power armor.
The predictive algorithm had been no help. It gave them nothing, not even a set of contradictory options like at the begin of the engagement.
They suspected that the reddish haze coming off of the hierophant’s body like rising steam was the cause. The cragant had significantly exceeded the strength and speed projections as their fight went on. Some kind of magical boost to their physical capabilities.
Caretaker recalled Honor describing a hormone in his body that was released when he needed to be pushed to the peak of what his body was capable of. The Threnosh lacked the same thing. It appeared that the hierophant had something similar, but much stronger. One that the giant humanoid could draw on at will.
“Weak!” The hierophant roared as it aimed a clumsy strike at Caretaker’s head.
Caretaker knew the optimal counter, but the cragant was too fast. They were barely able to get their shield up in time to deflect the blow.
The hierophant’s thick blade thudded into Caretaker’s shield like a thunderclap. Over twice as tall with long arms meant that the attack landed like a giant tree suddenly toppled over. It felt like Caretaker’s entire world shook.
The only reason that Caretaker had lasted this long was the hierophant’s lack of skill. It wasn’t in control of its movements, which meant that it was off-balance and couldn’t take advantage of the stunned Threnosh with another strike.
Caretaker recovered and lashed out with their spire-made sword.
The hierophant attempted a parry with its own giant knife, but it did it with the edge. Whether by design or accident. Its lack of proper technique was a boon for Caretaker.
Their superior blade sheared nearly all the way through the thicker, but normal steel of the hierophant’s weapon.
Caretaker twisted their sword and pulled hard. The top half of the hierophant’s blade went flying.
The hierophant’s arm went up over its head with the resistance suddenly gone.
Caretaker stepped in and thrust their sword into the hierophant’s stomach.
Or at least that was the intent.
Once again the hierophant displayed uncanny quickness as it brought its free hand in to block the blade.
The giant humanoid muttered undecipherable words, while the sword point stopped centimeters from the center of its massive palm. A translucent reddish shield radiated a web of cracks.
Caretaker’s exoskeleton whined in protest as they pushed their sword. To their surprise it moved. The blade slowly pierced through the hierophant’s shield.
The cragant’s face was a mask of exertion and rage. Sweat poured of it in waves, while spittle foamed at its mouth.
Caretaker saw the cragant’s shoulder tense. It was about to strike with its now halved blade. They stepped in and jammed the edge of their shield into its exposed throat.
The hierophant choked.
The shield vanished and Caretaker plunged their blade through the hierophant’s hand.
The hierophant hissed, but still swung their knife at Caretaker’s head. It clanged off of Caretaker’s shield, but sent the much smaller Threnosh tumbling out of control across the floor.
Caretaker’s blade was ripped out of the hierophant’s hand along with a quarter of the meat and two fingers.
“You’ve have despoiled the perfection of the Savior,” the hierophant wheezed, “I will ensure that you linger when I sanctify your existence.”
The hierophant lumbered over to the cage near the center of the structure. Within, were the last of its prisoners. A handful of Threnosh soldiers and one, poor, Honor-like humanoid. They had been ill-treated and could barely muster the strength to crawl to the back of the cage as the hierophant lifted the top and reached down. It pulled out the latter and proceeded to pull of its limbs one by one.
“This is not the way,” the hierophant muttered. “The suffering is to be savored to draw the most out of the sacrifice. Cursed gray ones, forcing me to profane the holiest rite.”
Whether the pale-skinned humanoid suffered was unclear to Caretaker. It, she, judging by the difference in body parts as compared to Honor’s scans and his previous general descriptions of his species, was already insensate to the world. Her eyes were glazed over and there was no outward sign that she even noticed what the hierophant did to her.
Whatever the case. She was dead mercifully quick. Caretaker watched her life signs weaken then stop completely as the hierophant emptied her blood in a circle.
The hierophant spoke words that Caretaker couldn’t understand.
Caretaker fired one of their last remaining viral rounds. The shot impacted on the same red shield.
The hierophant stood straighter. Their labored breathing eased. The open wound in their left hand closed. All of the cuts that Caretaker had inflicted followed suit.
All that effort was undone in a matter of seconds.
“I suppose it was a valiant effort, gray one. Though you are weak and tiny, you have… hurt me. Futility. No one will ever know what transpired this night. I will pry your weak bodies from your strange shells and make use of you to do the same with the rest of your kind. As is the right of the Savior, by the Savior.”
“No, that will not occur.” Normally Caretaker wouldn’t have seen the point in engaging in discourse with an enemy in the middle of a battle. They found the notion strange to say the least, yet in this particular scenario the hierophant’s speaking bought time. “We will defeat you.” They didn’t know what else to say. “We will defeat you with the necessary amount of effort. No more, no less.”
The hierophant frowned. “Presumptuous meat. If your fresh lifeblood was not required for my workings then I’d have you all dead.” It took a bite out of the female humanoid’s leg and chewed with relish. “This is truly the only value lesser lifeforms have,” it grinned, “meat and blood.”
Caretaker felt something Honor would call revulsion as the hierophant’s open mouth revealed a bloody mess of missing and rotted teeth, with bits of a sapient being’s flesh between. For another thinking being to be treated as sustenance disturbed the Threnosh. They couldn’t comprehend it, let alone abide it.
“These humans are superior to you gray ones in a lot of ways. Your kind does not have enough meat to make the effort worthwhile. Your bones are so fragile that they break at the slightest touch. Quite an annoyance, always getting stuck in my gums,” the hierophant sneered.
Before Caretaker could rise to their feet the hierophant threw the partially eaten leg to the ground and returned back to the cage and the handful of Threnosh soldier’s within. They looked so frail outside of their power armor.
Caretaker had almost forgotten what it was like before the spires had appeared and granted their gifts. Power armor that almost seamlessly fit over the body like a second skin replaced crude, by comparison, exoskeletons. Seeing Threnosh without was jarring.
The hierophant tore the Threnosh soldiers apart.
“See, so fragile, like tearing paper. Useful nonetheless.”
The hierophant chanted strange words and rust-colored smoke suddenly appeared out of thin air around the cragant.
Caretaker recognized the cloud as it slowly spread out around the hierophant. They couldn’t help but take several steps back as it drew closer.
“Ah! You recognize it?” The hierophant was pleased. “My finest working. I combined several known principles, but it was the Savior granting me insight into the nature of your people. The man, woman, or thing. I have been as of yet unable to determine your gender. Hundreds of captives yet all physically the same. Are you copies, I wonder? Though you’re different, you and the other strange ones. No matter, I have all the time in the world to create a working to discern the nature of your people once we have conquered it in the Savior’s name. I digress. I realized, with the Savior’s invisible hand guiding my ruminations, that your people are inextricably linked with your automatons. It is as if they were a part of you. As my fingers are of me.” The hierophant raised its maimed hand. “Cut me and I will bleed.” The hierophant sneered. “Your own lifeblood… to destroy all of that which you had wrought.” It narrowed it’s eyes. “But, you already know this, don’t you? The general was right. That’s why you hid in the ground. Why you stopped giving battle. Why you just sent your automatons. You knew that I needed your lives to fuel my working.”
The hierophant stared expectantly at Caretaker.
Silence stretched out for several seconds.
“Yes,” Caretaker said. They were uncertain as to why the hierophant was asking questions. The rust-colored cloud had stopped expanding. It was close enough to touch. They backed away another few steps. “This is all you are capable of.”
The hierophant bristled. “I will cover your entire world in my miasma! Everything your people have created will break and rot! There will be nothing left of your legacy!” Spit flew as the giant humanoid roared.
“No, you will not,” Caretaker said flatly.
“You will stop me?” The hierophant scoffed. “You are the least of opponents I have already vanquished and consumed. You, who cannot get close with your only strength being taken away. What can you possible do?”
“I? Nothing. But I am not alone. We will stop you,” Caretaker said.
Malendrax leapt out of the shadows. One Impact Fist gauntlet raised back, poised to strike.
The hierophant’s attention was on Caretaker. They didn’t see it coming.
Malendrax’s skull-cracking punch echoed throughout the interior of the structure like an explosion.
The hierophant staggered and stumbled. Then fell to their knees. Blood leaked out of its ears and nose.
Caretaker knew that they were on the verge of victory. Had their predictive algorithm been functional perhaps it would’ve disabused them of that notion.
The hierophant spoke. Their muscles bulged. Their eyes glowed a red that wasn’t blood.
The giant humanoid roared and it shook the building.
“Blueballs to Caretaker.” A voice somehow reached them through the comms.
“Yes?” Caretaker said dully.
“I successfully sealed the entrance. The cragants are now tearing through the walls. I am attempting to seal up the openings as you ordered, but there are too many. I believe we only have minutes before they get through. I request new orders.” Blueballs spoke without pause.
Caretaker instinctively reached out to his predictive algorithm before realizing that it wasn’t functional.
“Your orders?” Blueballs repeated.
Caretaker didn’t know what to say.
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Now, Earth
Men and women emerged out of the opposite stairwell.
Armed men and women.
They wore makeshift armor over regular clothing.
Keisha’s squad had the edge in that. Their armor was better made thanks to Remy Cruces’ mastery of metal. As one of the top fighters in the community, Keisha had been afforded better armor. Padded clothing underneath plate and mail that Cruces had somehow made lighter and more durable than the comparative historical versions.
Keisha also noted that the group was lacking guns.
The lead man was huge, like a lineman. He held a fireman’s ax in one hand. The other was raised toward Keisha’s group. “Hold up.”
Keisha frowned.
“What do we do, leader?” Trevor whispered.
Keisha flipped her helmet’s face shield down. “Get ready,” she whispered back.
The armed group in front of them parted and a smaller figure stepped forward. If there was any doubt that these were cultists than the woman’s appearance put an end to that.
She wore robes of an impossibly deep blue. Staring at it was like looking into the ocean. Waves and currents seemed to move across the cloth.
The young woman belied what Keisha had expected out of a crazed cultist. A serene smile played across the woman’s youthful, fresh face.
“We would like to avoid violence,” the young woman said.
“Then stop attacking us,” Keisha said.
The young woman’s beatific smile didn’t move one bit. “Surrender and you will be treated with kindness.”
“What did you do here?” Keisha said. She made a sign with her right hand, hidden behind her back. “Summoned more fishmen to kill my people?”
“Scions.” The smile didn’t change. “Please address them by their proper name. I imagine you’ve been called an ugly term at some point in your past. How did that make you feel?”
“Oh no!” Keisha snapped. “You aren’t gonna compare that!”
“Yeah, that’s a bad take,” Trevor agreed. “I mean your fishpeople are killers and kidnappers… totally no comparison.”
“Nicer robes, but same ugly attitudes,” Amber said.
The smile finally slipped just a little bit.
“Surrender on your terms or be carried out of here on our terms,” the big man rumbled as his grip tightened on his ax.
“We can’t guarantee your safety in that unfortunate event,” the young woman said.
“Nothing changes. People like you always want things on your terms. You try to frame it as freedom of choice, but truth is, there ain’t none. Least not if you can help it,” Keisha said. She wiggled her fingers behind her back.
Trevor dropped a large rock that he had surreptitiously sneaked out of his pack at Keisha first signal into her large hand.
“Always about power and control. That’s all your kind understands. Well… I got two words for you,” Keisha grit her teeth, “Power Throw!”
The rock boomed through the air.
The young woman’s eyes widened as she brought her arms up across her face.
The big man’s free hand lashed out.
Keisha stared in shock. The rock had been dashed to pieces.
The man’s fingers had lengthened into sharp, flesh-colored knives. No that wasn’t exactly right. It was the skin that had changed.
“Fleshcraft,” the man said with a smug look on his bearded face. “A gift from the Deep Azure. Join and receive it.”