Lukas felt paralyzed, surrounded by a nightmare beyond description.
A spike of raw emotion slammed into his being like a physical blow when he saw the massive, scaly tail rushing towards him. His addled mind couldn’t recognize a distinct one among them— hate, fear, agony, stubbornness, anxiety, failure —all of them were present in a vast melange, a cocktail so dense it nearly drove him to his knees.
Despair flooded through him. He was tired. He was struggling and running and dodging, but to what end? Nothing made sense anymore. No matter how much he tried to tread water in this ocean of madness incarnate, all he could sense was the endless paranoia burgeoning within him. All he could see was darkness.
There was no escaping this thing. No amount of resilience would save him from this twisted, nightmarish demon from hell. In just a moment, everything would be over. Everything—
“It’s time for you to….”
To what? To die? To become a splattered smudge of red on the ground? That was going to happen anyway. And yet, some part of his mind— a part that didn’t care about reason, about logic, about making sense of this insanity —believed. It believed that miracles existed, and if he was going to survive this mess, then that was exactly what he needed.
A miracle.
“Remember.”
Memories rammed into him like a freight train.
The massive earthquake— diving under the floor— opening up into a giant chasm— blood— pendant— pain. His mind threatened to tear itself apart as the memories kept flooding in, his pupils flickering left and right erratically as information, far more information than he could assimilate, kept coming in. Another memory— finding himself in the cave— anomaly, he remembered— the bat, the cinderfaces, the thoggua— fighting, learning, falling in pain— the KHORKHOI—
It all came back like waves crashing against the coast. He was seeing things that made little sense, a world that couldn’t have been real. The endless swirls of memories didn’t let up, and with each new one, his grasp on reality became thinner and thinner.
He was becoming More, and Lukas Aguilar was becoming Less.
He had no head. And yet, it shook in denial.
He had no eyes. And yet, they stared back in defiance.
He would break, but he would not bend.
Not to this.
And then, it happened.
His heart began to throb violently, the dull thrum slowly increasing in volume as a growing sense of unease became mounting dread and terror. Clenching his eyelids shut, Lukas tried to ignore the feeling, but every hair on his body was raised, and he could tell that something was coming. Something unnatural. A new, frightening uncertainty that was alien and taboo and wrong and, above all, far beyond his own understanding.
“Get out!”
It drew nearer—
"Get out!" he repeated, desperation beginning to color his tone.
—And nearer.
Where was it? Outside him, around him, inside him? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. The thrum only got louder and louder, and his heart was now practically beating in between his ears.
“GET OUT!!!”
Yet again, it was in vain. Instead, his vision became inundated with light— burning, dazzling, bright white light. His eyes burned with pain as he was bombarded with memories that tore through his mind. Uncountable and endless, they continued to flow in without pause or reprieve.
They simply would not stop.
With the memories came power. Came surety. Came confidence, all rushing back to him. An ever-boiling ocean of lifeforce stirred within him, surging through his body like silver lightning, taking back what was once its domain.
And it didn’t end there.
Dense, dark, purple power flooded through him. Power that was bestial. Power that was honed to massacre. Power that could regenerate every single part of his body with enough control.
Power that had no other purpose but to cause harm.
That… that was okay. If memory served, he had plenty of harm to start causing.
Lips splitting into a maniacal grin, his right hand moved up to take position beside the other, ready to defend against the incoming barrage. The tail had demolished a thirty-foot-thick concrete pillar like it was nothing. A regular human couldn’t deflect such an attack at close proximity.
Good thing he wasn’t human.
Liquid lightning rippled through his skin. It flexed and crackled and radiated power as space itself shattered around him like the flickering wisps of a blazing inferno.
Lukas Aguilar opened his eyes.
The massive, scaly tail slammed against him.
The force of the collision sent several cars hurtling away.
The very Earth shook.
His hands held.
Power emerged.
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Darkness.
Then there was a dull pulse, then a sudden throb that seemed both alien and familiar at once, then an odd whirling sensation in the pit of his gut, then a quick stab of energy.
It didn’t feel like an attack. An attack implied an act of force that could be predicted, countered, or at least migitaged in some way. This was something far more existential. It simply asserted itself, and by its very existence, dictated a new reality.
Reality? What was that?
And on that note… what was he?
He was— he was— he was Lukas Aguilar. He was the hoarder of secrets of the Lostbelt Earth, undecipherable secrets that slammed into his mind like a sledgehammer.
Ridiculous. Absurd. Insane.
Safety Off. Overclock Set.
Intended Soul Architecture Identification Activated.
Intercepting routines. Enact.
Set.
Information he couldn’t make heads or tails of flooded into his mind. The data could not be comprehended by a meager existence such as himself. It was akin to being forced to eat food that the human body wasn’t designed to digest in the slightest, and then passing it through his system in a single go.
The process had been excruciatingly painful and felt dangerous to his very existence. If anything, it was not one he was keen on repeating. Ever. Not if he could help it.
But in the end, he survived.
For he was no mortal. He was Anomaly.
Isolating Consumed Soul Prototype.
Balance Reality Foundation — Counterbalance.
Equalizing…
Base Focus Medium Chosen.
Host Identified.
Enacting Legacy Protocol…
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Darkness.
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A grin materialized on his lips.
Now that he could see it as clear as day, the khorkhoi creature looked vastly different. In the absence of pitch-black darkness, its nightmare-inducing caricature was reduced to something much more… palatable. It was strong, possessed power in spades, and unlike the one Inanna had reduced to cinders early on, this member of the species was larger, with more than two dozen tails sprawled around it.
Strange. I wonder where the rest of them were back in the anomaly.
Unless… unless he was missing something here.
Oh wait.
This wasn’t real. The world wasn’t real. It was just a projection of his subconscious. That meant the khorkhoi would be in its spiritual form— its peak of strength, according to the soul architecture.
But that didn’t matter.
The khorkhoi could be at its fullest potential.
At the end of the day, this was his subconscious.
And he would destroy the invader.
Lifeforce sang from within, begging to be used, and Lukas Aguilar let out a warcry.
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The ruthless tyrant smiled in the darkness.
Once again, it had taken time, but her Host had done it. For a passing moment, she had feared that the mortal would lose himself to the overwhelming presence of the creature and get torn apart. Given how he had lost control then, the possibility undeniably existed.
And as disappointing as it would have been, she would not have been able to blame him. He was a mortal, after all, and the monster he had chosen to slay was leagues above him as far as spiritual presence went. Creatures like the khorkhoi were able to cause the mind’s reality to mutate to suit their own existence.
For her? The creature was not worth an afterthought.
But for a mortal like him? The creature was nothing to scoff at.
That was why cutting off his power and sending him reeling into the folds of his own subconscious had been the only choice left. Inanna had watched from the darkness as the mortal’s mind conjured a mirror world where his past sense construed an impressive illusion of normalcy. One where he’d be comfortable, but also one where he’d be at his weakest. Most vulnerable.
Ignorant of his true self.
Unaware of his powers.
A mortal.
A human.
Weak, struggling, desperate for an opportunity to see another day.
Just like before.
That fighting this khorkhoi had caused both of them to reenact their commitments to one another was not an irony lost upon her. Such were the perverse delights of Fate, and mortal or goddess, no one was free of the chains of Destiny.
Dare she say it, not even the once-Supreme Queen of An.
There was just one complication. One she should have seen coming, in hindsight. A practitioner of the ritual would suffer the brunt of the devoured soul, as mastery over the animal was a measure of one’s growth as a warrior. But the mortal was not merely an individual.
He was also an anomaly.
One who held the shard of an Omphalos within.
And what was an Omphalos if not something that consumed new souls?
Whatever be the results of the ritual, one thing was for certain.
This shall be very interesting.
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Faster than the human eye could track, the khorkhoi’s tail struck at his face, aiming to shatter it in a mix of blood and tissue. Lukas projected one of his daggers, his mental training with Inanna finally coming to use.
In the real world, such a technique would have been useless. But here? He had an unlimited array of blades at his disposal. The metal met chitin with a harsh, grating noise, allowing Lukas to sidestep and throw a second blade, piercing into the tail and punching hilt-deep into the creature’s tissue.
The khorkhoi screamed, flexing its now-injured tail backward.
And sent a dozen more back at his face.
Lukas threw himself back as they entered into the space he’d just vacated, blasting into the ground and unleashing a gale of wind and dust. Projecting a third and fourth dagger, he swayed and ducked and sidestepped his way through, leaping on top of the tails and sprinting across the monster’s enormous form as he held them both in a reverse-grip.
The tails flexed as the beast flipped over itself in an effort to shake him off.
It was too little too late.
A burst of lifeforce propelling him forward, Lukas had already traversed the distance and begun slashing at the beast’s hide with an acute ruthlessness, unleashing a gouting cloud of purple blood. The creature twisted and writhed in place, but Lukas didn’t stop. Every single stab was empowered with the power of Burst, every slash coordinated to exact maximum impact. He darted across the titanic form, stabbing against its hide to gain stability as he launched himself upwards, using his inhuman speed and dexterity to outfight the khorkhoi’s insane thrashing.
Then, he realized something.
The khorkhoi— the hundred-thousand-fanged monster with dozens of tails that looked like Godzilla’s cousin —was afraid. Of him. Whatever the trigger may have been, it was clear the monster was done fighting back. It was trying to escape, as if knowing that its own defeat was imminent.
“Do not let it escape,” he heard Innana’s voice reverberating inside his head. He’d never admit to it, but hearing her after what felt like an eternity elated him to no end. “If you do, you shall never gain dominion over it.”
“I won’t,” Lukas breathed, agreeing wholeheartedly. Flipping the daggers in his hands once more, he narrowed his eyes as he stared down the creature. “But there’s only so much I can do to keep it above the ground.”
Inanna silently waited. The crafty woman knew exactly what he wanted, but it seemed she was keen on making him say it out loud.
Damn her.
“I… need a favor.”
“Do you?” The voice was mockingly surprised. “Two debts you already owe, mortal. Do you find it in your heart to make it three?”
Lukas swung the dagger, slashing at the beast’s maw and severing multiple fangs. The monster screeched and swept all around, pushing Lukas away with a desperate slap of its tail. He dodged most of the impact by driving one of his never-ending collection of daggers into its hide, holding onto it for dear life.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he swore, panting as he did so. “Now will you please help me?”
The goddess only sounded more amused. “You? Make it up to me? Now this I must see.”
He wove around several more blows, slashing and piercing his way through. Each time the creature sent a large pillar of slimy scales at him, he answered with a flurry of lightning-fast blows.
“I— I will. Now please!” he yelled. “I need a way to tie it down and prevent it from escaping.”
Inanna merely scoffed. Or perhaps it was petulance in her tone? “The ritual is about control, mortal. The difference in your relative strengths, mental prowess, egos… There are only so many things you can control, after all.”
As he sidestepped another attack and regained his footing, Lukas absentmindedly nodded, wondering where the hell this was all heading.
“The ritual always possesses a potential for failure. So the trick is to create a situation where there isn’t one.”
Changing the rules to win the unwinnable, huh? Lukas mused. Her words, albeit generic, made sense. If nothing else, it helped him understand the potential problem he failed to address— this wasn’t a physical fight, but a spiritual one. The khorkhoi had survived for who knew how long inside the Crypt of Fiendish Worms. Not to mention, it was a gigantic, monstrous, heteromorphic predator that exhibited skills and attributes that far outclassed his own.
No matter how much he tried to dominate it, he would always fall short.
For its Presence as a spiritual entity far exceeded his own.
To get out of this battle of attrition, he needed to change the rules, as Inanna had said. He needed a spiritual Presence that far outclassed both himself and khorkhoi.
And at the moment, there was only one such entity that fit the bill.
“You’ve got some nerve,” Lukas murmured, impressed despite himself. Just how far ahead did she plan?
The goddess smirked inside his head.
“So be it,” Lukas declared. “A promise is a promise.” He allowed the dagger in his right hand to dematerialize, taking a moment to step back and close his eyes, allowing himself to truly feel.
Feel the Presence that was always brimming inside him.
Feel Her.
Slowly, but surely, his lips began to move.
“HARBINGER!”
The words were his, the lips were his, but the distinct resonance was rather surprising. A measure of Inanna’s assurance and willpower flooded his tone, warping it into something else.
“LONGEST SHADOW! ETERNAL DREAM! SHE WHO IS CALLED ANUNIT…”
Fire erupted. The pavement around them exploded as giant infernos climbed out of the crust. The monster scratched and clawed as it dove into the ground, but the temperature brewing beneath was far too hot for it to stay buried for long.
“YOUR WRATH BREAKS THE DIVINE THRONES…”
He moved ahead, daggers in his hand once more, bathing in the flames as they shot towards the khorkhoi. With a deft slice, he chopped off an entire tail.
“YOUR WHIMS DEFILE THE MOST SACRED OF RELICS…”
The monster opened its gigantic maw and spat a torrent of acid at him.
A casual Burst flung it off his path.
“CITIES TURN TO MOLDS AND SHRINES TURN TO GRAVES…”
He felt the monster’s power spike as a massive earthquake erupted, threatening to obliterate the world around him. A single tentacle-like thing grabbed his leg and tore it clean off.
But it didn’t matter, for this world wasn’t real.
Fires of lightning twisted around his newly created stump, reforging the limb. He ran ahead, hacking away with his dagger and parrying attacking tails without pause.
“YOUR PRESENCE UNRAVELS EXISTENCE ITSELF.”
His body began to glow. Power— incomprehensible, alien, utterly mesmerizing —gathered around him like clouds in a thunderstorm. He could feel supernovas created and destroyed, their powers insignificant to the one whose Name he had invoked. Space warped around him as the foundations of reality itself began to unravel.
“WHERE YOU TREAD IS BATTLE…”
Chains of liquid fire impaled the khorkhoi from all sides, trapping it in a world of agony. The khorkhoi screeched louder as its regeneration kept rejuvenating it, cursing itself into an accursed existence of eternal torment.
“WHERE YOU SLEEP IS LUST.”
Her breathtaking, alluring form appeared in his mind, armed with her overwhelming sensuality. Beauty that had so much scope, so much visceral depth, so much power that it made him feel dwindling, insignificant, and very, very temporary. It was an emotion one felt the first time they laid eyes on the mountains, the first time one looked out to the sea, the first time one peered into the vast, bleak, majestic depths of the Grand Canyon.
Yet, it was present every single time one gazed upon Inanna’s visage.
“YOUR PLEASURE INCITES PROSPERITY, YOUR FURY HERALDS DEATH…”
He raised his blade.
High.
“IMPART TO ME THE ECSTASY OF DESTRUCTION,
BEQUEATH UNTO ME THE EUPHORIA OF CONQUEST,
BESTOW UPON ME THE RAPTURE OF VICTORY.
INANNA, BELOVED—”
The dagger moved in.
“BEAR WITNESS TO THIS DEATH, AND GRANT ME YOUR CURSES, YOUR MARKS, YOUR BLESSINGS!”
Blinding light ensued.
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