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Chapter 23: Killer
🕑 Added 2022-12-23 19:16:45 +0000 UTCThe bright green-red lights around the camp slowly started to dim. Day was winding down, the miners finishing their tasks. Dan sighed in relief, his stomach settling into a slow mix. He and Sully sat over the camp on a cliff, watching the dying bustle like bored children on a high-rise terrace.
The older of the two was recounting his younger days, back when the camp was decently new and everyone faced backhanded brutality. Even the cultists were unmolested by the cave’s effects at the start, people died quicker and oftentimes in bloodshed.
Before the dome was fully utilized, monsters from within the Blood Rains made their presence known in daily culling raids. “They were lambs within an orchid full of wolves,” Sully said, recounting a particularly bad madness season.
While coldblooded murder would never be topped in terms of the worst effect, induced insomnia was often a close second. People, cultists, guards, and slaves alike, unable to rest, unable to dream. The madness corrupted their thoughts without any effort, changing something as simple as walking down a path into the same difficulty as scaling a mountain.
Some were guarded or downright immune from the disturbed influence of lack of sleep. Others died within the first few nights. Sully explained that eventually the cultists used the slaves as fodder and sacrifices to induce proper sleep. Some were ritually sacrificed, others simply put out as bait so that no one had to defend against the monsters and rather could rest.
During the stories, Dan practiced the finer aspects of his hold over light and magic. Following Sully’s tutelage, the human wove gentle strands of light, hardening and softening the constructs at set intervals. The pattern allowed Dan to feel the effects of proper magical utility without expunging the whole of his core.
While he estimated the high priest’s seal trapped two thirds of his total magical capacity, his remaining third was still significantly larger than the time before his evolution. Before the Void. Dan often thought about his time in the bleak darkness. To him, time didn’t pass. Being gone an entire year was as forgettable as any other.
The memory of the Void was nothing more than a blink. He closed his eyes, the darkness came, then he opened them and he was back. The effects of such a place were lost on him, other than evolution.
At least there was some positive for being gone a year… right?
It was hours of mindless practice before Dan finally focused on his core and saw his progress.
Light: Deliverance 1.82
Light: Manipulate 2.41
Light: Intensity 0.87
A shriek whistle of wind pulled Dan from his inner musing. Inside the dome, there was always the same wind. It came from around the mountain and mine, down through the camp, and dispersed by the far end of the dome. It often carried horrid smells, especially if a particularly bad round of food was served or if the guard had to dispatch any unruly slave.
But it never changed from its original route.
“What-“ Dan cut himself off, his skin blistering into hundreds of goosebumps.
His spine went stiff, mimicking his arm hair. Just then, as he gripped Sully’s cauldron, thousands of strands of madness attacked his lowered body. They swarmed him, casting themselves into a dark blanket of fear and anxiety. His mind kicked back, whiplash from the sudden ambush. He tried to touch upon his core, he tried to, to, to-
Golden light washed the cliff face in a yellow sheen. Rocks and the odd foliage had their dire shadows elongate and shift. The sickly inexhaustible green-red of the dome ran away, replaced with something far warmer but held all the same warning. The tendrils of madness withered away, thrashes of death encased in their soon limp bodies.
Sully was yelling something, his frayed beard jumping down and up in harsh rapid movements. Dan couldn’t hear, his mind didn’t let him. The wind had changed again, screaming loud and bolstered with unnerving apprehension. His mind sought to filter the invisible enemy, reducing his mental capacity to the bare necessities.
Dark fog spit from the ground, much as the madness did. It took with the wind, rushing at Dan and Sully. It fought for dominance against the single golden orb, failing to make a mark other than reducing distance visibility. The cliff face went desolate, cut off from the camp below and mine above.
Then the smell fluctuated.
The always present whiff of perfumed excoriate morphed, producing a sinister blandness. Sweat and ick were prominent within the dome, the lack of showers or baths doing wonders. The wind, however, brought nothingness. It was only a slight reprieve, one Dan’s rushing mind did little to notice or understand.
Inky droplets formed along the yellow casted gray rock, hiding another wave of madness and the express creation of sheers. Skin came first, thin and dead. Then came fingernails, serrated and sharp. They mixed into the dark liquid, pooling together and conjoining around the pair on the cliff face.
The sheers jolted and twitched, the continuous dark fog providing a well-to-do second.
Dan reeled at the situation, cutting down the horde of madness that continuously froze his muscles and plagued his mind. With his heart beating like an overwound clock and his core pumping with racing vigor, he looked for an enemy.
Sully continued to yell at him, but he put the old man out of his mind the best he could. Knowing Sully, he was probably shouting to leave him and run. The thought anchored Dan to the present. Escape, fight, or die. The words echoed in his mind, each time two falling away slightly until one remained.
A second orb of light came to life right as the ground erupted.
The sheers triggered, snapping closed like a bear trap. Loose gravel was flung by the concussive force, creating a hail of sharpness along with the spikes of nail.
The rocks hit Dan just before his two orbs flattened and set-up. Two golden panes transformed the opaque mountain into a corner of magic, blocking two of the four sides around Dan and Sully. The third side, empty and open, a drop down the mountain.
The last, however, went unprotected.
Stinging pain lacerated Dan’s back, cutting down to the muscle and bone. The sheers stuck in place, the bed of hooks taking to their fleshy new him. He screamed in pain, the agony being lost in the gale of howling wind.
A figure appeared in the black fog for a mere moment. Its indecent and gangly shadow was cast with gold light against the tide of twilight. Snubby four legs took the monster through the battlefield with great haste, only its jagged claws etching evidence of its short appearance.
Sully saw it. He tried to yell at Dan, he tried to warn him of the true enemy. But it was futile.
Dan was cloaked with madness, bound in tight restraints of misery and torment. He fought for control, pushing his core’s power into his hands and searing away the daggers in his back. Like cutting open a box, a single slice removed most of the fingernail shards, the tips still embedded within his skin.
Ink and dead skin fell to the ground, splashing out across the tired landscape. From within the fog, a low cry rose above the heavy wind. It echoed against the rocky area, sending Dan into a frenzy.
The human had long learned the sound of pain, monster and man alike. Keeping close to Sully, he sent forth a pane of light. The light flattened and sharpened, taking on the devious attitude of a murderer. First Jokaad, now this? Dan wanted to cause his attacker pain.
The madness challenged his grasp, his stomach and chest, the main focus. Bile and the distant remains of breakfast tugged at his throat and tongue, threatening their discharge. Lack of air and slowed movement brought his mind to a crawl. But he kept pushing, his body’s pain nothing more than an afterthought for his true design.
The needle of light was unleashed.
It tore through the darkness, disappearing into the depths of madness and derelict fog. The wind halted with the impact, sending the mountain side into stark silence.
“It's low to the ground!” Sully screeched, not letting the opportunity evade him.
Dan briefly looked to his mentor sitting within a cauldron but something more ethereal caught his eye. Behind the old man was a single tendril of madness, one the width of a worm and the length of the camp. It extended into the darkness, the opposite direction of where the light needle was launched.
The second pane took to its masters command, morphing and sharpening much like the other. Tracing the fading outline of the worm of madness, Dan let his new weapon fly the moment it was ready.
Through the silent mountain, a splatter of blood could be heard.
The sound was accompanied by a muted screech, one Dan recognized to be the madness’s. The worm ejected from its host in a sudden burst of boiling ink and scaled flesh. A smell of stewed pus and tar invaded the area, along with the familiar sound of rushed footsteps against gravel.
A moment later the fog dissipated enough to see through, giving Dan a clear view of the retreating monster. It was four legged and low to the ground, its morose form like a haggard mutt after a rainstorm of acid.
Dan recognized it as the inner camp slave that tried to intimidate him.
“A monster inside the dome!?” Sully shouted, his eyes wide and thinning hair stuck to his forehead in reek sweat.
Dan didn’t waste time and slipped the cauldron’s harness onto his tender bleeding back. The pain kept his adrenaline bountiful and the madness away. His core poured with magic, his back glowing with healing light. Fingernail bits and tips extruded from his skin like chiggers squeezed from their parasitic homes.
“Not a monster, a person,” Dan said, heaving Sully’s weight onto his back.
The old man made a sound in protest, but ultimately failed at stopping his younger friend. Together, they chased the four legged slave, traveling up the mountain path towards the cave. As they went, Sully tried to warn his friend. He tried to stave his approach, he tried to end his crusade.
But Dan had murder in his eyes and was only thinking of the future. No more ambushes, he thought.
Loose rocks and the constantly shifting weight of Sully made the chase slow and cumbersome. However, the trail of blood made the hunt easy. Black tar and pungent ink traced through the rocky path, up and around to the mine’s entrance. A set of spooked miners only added to Dan’s aggression, now others were involved.
The miners were bleary eyed and slumping with sore shoulders. They didn’t react well to the sudden appearance of the human or half-man. They took off running, tendrils of madness licking at their heels.
Dan didn’t have long to think about the effect of his presence, the magic swilling around his head was the primary issue. Cultists were the ones to use magic, real magic. Not the odd weapons some slaves and guards carried. Real magic tore through lives and branded punishment. Healing was the only exception, but Dan’s explained nothing of the sort.
He was ready for battle, even ignoring his previous memories of the cave. Nothing ever went well for him in the cave, why was he prepared to face the very location his nightmares reenacted?
The thought tripped him up.
Stopping right before entering the mine, Dan purged himself one last time from the madness. It was more difficult than usual, the cave’s proximity to the red double doors only enabling the powers that sought to harm him.
“We’ve come this far,” Sully spoke in his ear, his voice coming through like a whisper against the wind. “Are you prepared? You can still turn back.”
The words were said with pain and fear. Sully had long been a protector within the camp, killing monsters within the cave when the guard chose not to. He had lived for a long time, he had fought, bled, and seen more death than anyone. Even as an old man, he had traumas and anxiety. Last time he entered the cave, he lost a duel and half his body.
Could Dan pull him along, even if it was against his wishes?
“Choose, Dan. Right now, choose,” Sully said, calm and collected.
He reached out a bony hand and clasped Dan’s shoulder. Where he touched, the madness fell apart. Tendrils and hairs tarnished and died, streaks of influence and intrusive thoughts crumbled. Something rose from the decay, however, it was subtle and non magical. Something far more hidden than a cult within a bleeding forest, something far worse than madness.
Through Sully’s hand, a spark of reality came to life.
The cave was gone, the mine was absent. The mountain was eroded away, nothing more than a tectonic potential. There were only saplings, only seeds buried in the relatively dry ground. The morning rays angled down, three suns blazed in the sky.
There was a being, small and frail. It trudged through the land, its cursed body failing at every step. Rocks and dirt turned to dust in its wake, rivers and streams were dyed red before drying up. The being eventually fell and breathed in its last breath.
But its body didn’t decompose, if anything, it grew.
A worm of madness drilled itself into Dan’s chest, digging and gnawing through flesh and bone in hopes to reach his core. It died when Sully removed his hand, the world reverting to normal.
Keeping his eyes narrow, Dan looked around. He stood at the mine’s entrance, he stood waiting for battle.
What was that? he asked himself.
The question had grown redundant for the human. It held no meaning or expectancy. He had learned the simple answer to that question was always madness, magic, or monsters.
“I’m sure,” Dan choked out, his body falling victim to a wave of vertigo.
The hallucinations were worse at the cave, he reminded himself.
Turning, he found Sully’s smiling face. It looked like he made the right decision beside the past trauma and hardship the cave brought upon, right? Or was the old man smiling in anxious fear?
For a mere heartbeat, Dan saw Sully as something different. Old was replaced with young, dying and broken replaced with fit and limber. Short brown hair, non-graying beard. Human eyes that lacked the gentle ferocity his older clone always held.
What was-
The question was cut off by Sully’s words, “Let’s get going then.”
Dan ground his teeth and pushed through the entrance. The dark interior was drowned by a sea of green-red. Glowing crystals lined the walls at set intervals between bearing supports. Miners moved out of their way with sheer shock. Some huffed and stood tall, the madness holding their minds hostage and waiting to strike. Others cowered away, not wanting to add to their workload.
A guard eyed them starkly, but stepped aside without complaint. “Interesting package you are carrying,” she said.
Dan and Sully ignored her and slipped by, following the trail of black blood through the claustrophobic halls. The hunt ended abruptly by the source of the night’s misadventures.
Riding up the mine’s elevator and blocking the path down, was the mine’s primary taskforce. A dozen or so men and women stood crammed together in the mechanical lift, each sweaty and tired. They were yelling and groaning, some crying, and others starting to fight back. Their target, the four legged ambusher.
The monster-man snapped and fought with the crowd, using its inky nails to cause pain to those who stopped its retreat. He yelled at the miners, his voice flaring to life from its mouth-belly rather than the set of teeth along its minute face. As Dan and Sully neared, his screeches turned into pleading hopelessness.
Then the madness attacked.
Tendrils swarmed the dreaded slave, turning his panic into something more. Fog rolled from its maw as it started stabbing. Nails and dead skin punctured the miners, creating a pool of dripping blood.
The blood sung with the miners’ unease, fueling counter attacks and lunacy. Miner attacked miner, shovels and pickaxes flew through the air. The more beastly few pushed through, knocking down those weaker before stomping with hardened muscles.
The bloodshed increased as the miners decreased. Fallen bodies morphed into the ground, eaten and regurgitated into morbid pustules. Madness oozed from the walls, transforming the once rock corridor into something slicker and alive. Mucus drained from new open cavities, bone crystals pierced through the growing flesh.
“What is this?” Sully seethed from just past Dan’s shoulder.
Dan seized at the question, his body frozen mid step. He knew the answer, and it wasn’t madness, monster, or magic this time. It was something grander, something far beyond anything he understood, let alone the cult that formed above it.
“B’hithazad…” Dan whispered.
The cave shook at unnatural rocky development, the wooden support beams falling limp under the muscle overtake. Dust crumbled from the remaining patches of rock. Something gave within the fog, gravel trampled the pathway cutting off the entrance hallway to the elevator.
Dan and Sully watched as the group of miners fell, the elevator’s frame crumbling under the cave’s new orientation. A few had stepped out and were completely ignorant of their gaping hole. They battled and dueled, spilling more blood until there was only one winner.
It was the start of it all, the cause. The four legged man stood huffing and bleeding, ink and nails littering the now soft floor. He turned back, locking eyes with Dan as more gravel fell from the crumbled ceiling.
The mine halted its transformation, even reverting in some destitute spots. With feed, it could not grow.
Before the cave completely filled with loose rock, Dan fired off a needle of light, piercing the four legged slave through the torso.
It didn’t make a sound as it died.
