Michael’s bisected body fell apart for only a moment before dissolving into a cloud of spores that quickly reassembled back itself back into his body some ways off in the distance.
With a frown Michael addressed his attacker, “Not everyone is out to get you. Accepting help when it’s offered should be common sense.”
The scarred man didn’t lower his weapon as he stared towards Michael, “Why do you creatures always think you're the first?”
“What?”
The scarred man’s expression turned hostile, “Your kind always comes with deals. Monsters in human skin with promises of freedom laden upon their silver tongues. I’ve trusted them before, and I lost my eyes for it. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
Despite being several dozen meters away from Michael the man swung his sword, and the blade struck Michael as if he were standing next to him.
Michael’s arm went flying up into the air before quickly reattaching itself to his body. Michael grit his teeth and cursed, this guy was going to be trouble, anybody could tell that from a glance, but only he knew the true extent of it.
He could feel the flesh beneath his feet, and it stretched downwards for literal miles. This man was an expert in the art of killing, the sheer number of corpses was proof of that.
Michael outstretched his arms and sighed, “Welp, nobody can say I didn’t try”. With that he willed himself to teleport up to the roof of the dimension, but after an awkward amount of time standing there with nothing happening Michael turned his attention back to the scarred man.
“What are you doing?”
The scarred man grinned, “Nothing in particular. Just a trick I picked up over the years.”
Michael looked at the shit eating grin on the scarred man’s face and cursed, “Well, guess I’m doing this now.”
Michael immediately kicked off the ground and shot towards the scarred man, blood and chunks of flesh kicking up into the sky from the corpses beneath his feet as he moved. He didn’t have his weapons on hand, and if he tried to go get them he was liable to lose his head.
So he simply approached the dimension-making demigod barehanded, and a slight laugh escaped the man’s lips as he threw his sword to the side, “You’re actually approaching me? How surprising, usually your kind runs once they realize the difference in our strength.”
Michael didn’t respond as he swung his fist towards the scarred man’s chin, only to have it easily caught in his opponent's palm.
Slowly the demigod applied pressure on Michael’s hand, and it rapidly turned into a cloud of spores as Michael headbutted the demigod. Blood trickled down the scarred man’s face and his smile grew.
“Not bad.”
The scarred man's body suddenly moved at a speed nearly faster than Michael could perceive as his hands slashed through Michael like knives and he was forced to return to his spore state.
The scarred man took several steps back as an aura of magic slowly began to cover his body.
“You’re rather difficult to injure. I’ll congratulate you on that much, but now let's try this.”
The aura reached the spores in an instant, covering Michael in shimmering blue magic that burned like fire.
He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t, and he instinctively summoned the runic antlers.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
They immediately hovered over the cloud of spores, and the second that they appeared the magic covering Michael’s body disappeared and he felt an influx of energy enter his body.
The spores quickly solidified back into Michael; the antlers still present over his head.
The scarred man looked towards Michael with confusion plain on his face, “What manner of power is this?”
Michael spat a glob of blood onto the floor and shrugged, “Who knows, all I did was watch a god die and now I can use some of its power.”
He scoffed, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Whatever you say champ.”
Spores began to seep into the ground beneath Michael’s feet, and with some reluctance the flesh began to rise. Arms made from dead monsters rose up throughout the field. Each one unique thanks to the incredibly wide variety of corpses littering the ground.
They stretched upwards, long and thin, and sweat trickled down Michael’s face. He’d done this trick once before, albeit with far more willing flesh. This wasn’t ideal, but he’d simply have to make do.
The arms encroached upon the scarred man. Unsurprisingly most burned in blue magic before even touching him, and yet some made it through. They tried to restrain the man, but even they burst from something as simple as his touch.
Still, numbers threatened to overwhelm him, before eventually the aura covering the scarred man’s body spread across the ground. Arms withered and died as it flowed over them, and eventually the field was flattened into nothing.
The magic surged forward like a river and threatened to cover Michael himself, only to give him a wide berth when it got within ten or so meters of him. Michael could feel the power from the magic that surrounded him flow into his body as the runic antlers did their work.
Silence permeated the air as the two men stood across from one another, and Michael was the one to break the silence.
“I’m pretty sure I know the answer to this, but do you know what happened to your body back on earth after you fell into this place?”
Keith chuckled softly at Michael’s side, “He has no idea.”
The scarred man's expression didn't change, but he didn't advance either.
With a sigh Michael continued, “Well right now I can only assume that it's sitting in a containment cell inside some random SCP facility. Which means that no more monsters are going to be coming through those portals up there.”
Michael paused for a moment, “Well honestly speaking they may end up trying to dispose of more monsters into you, but that’ll stop the second I get back and prove that it's far from a full proof solution.”
The scarred man stared towards Michael expressionlessly, “What’s your point, monster”.
Michael rolled his eyes, “Just that the entire reason you’ve had all these monsters to fight is because your body back on earth was running around like a spaz tossing every living thing in sight down into this place, and that the reason it's slowed to a near stop over the years is because it’s been safely contained.”
Michael grinned, "Congratulations, you’ve cleared your own personally built hell of all its monsters. It’s just you and me here, and it will continue to be just you and me here. Up until I leave, then it will just be you here alone forever.”
“...you’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. So let me ask you to do one extremely simple thing. Trust me when I say that I want to get you out of here.”
A mixture of emotions entered the scarred man’s face, rage, confusion, reluctance. Truly a spectrum.
“You’re strong, perhaps strong enough to win this battle. Why bother to run, why do you even care about me? You’ve made it clear that you at least think you can leave this place. Why try so hard to bring me along?”
After a moment of thought Michael shrugged, “No reason in particular. Your story was sad, and I don’t need a particular reason to do what I want, but if you truly need a reason. I’d say it’s because you’re just a child lost in the dark. All you’ve ever known is pain and killing, and I’ve recently met someone who based their entire life off experiences like that. I couldn’t call myself a man if I knowingly sat back and watched somebody go down a path like that.”
Michael could see the hesitation present on the scarred man’s face, so he gave him one last push.
“Look, I’m not asking you to trust some random monster who ended up in your abyss. I’m asking you to trust the last monster that’s ever going to end up in your abyss. You’ve had something to do these past couple hundred years or so. Now imagine having nothing at all.”
…
“... very well. It’s not like I can lose my eyes again.”
Michael shrugged, “Actually, you could if you decide let me heal them, but I’m sure you don’t trust me enough for that.”
“Damn right.”
The scarred man walked over and picked up his sword, “So what’s this grand escape plan of yours?”
Michael pointed towards the pile of white spores in the distance and held up a small key, “We’re going to sell that throne to an IKEA.”
The scarred man’s eyes cut towards the pile of spores and then back towards Michael, “That’s not a throne, and what in the hells is an IKEA?”
Michael dismissed the question with a wave as he walked over to his supplies, “I’ll tell you later. I’m gonna go put my pants back on, but first tell me your name."
"I am... Calder."
Michael smiled, "Well nice to meet ya."