[TABBY] rushed face-first into the wall of metal, ignoring the sprouting masses of jagged blades that appeared on the surface. They dug into its body relentlessly, only to be soundly rebuffed by its equally thick, metallic hide. Newer layers of rock, metal, and organic tissue grew between itself and its progenitor, the partition reaching all the way to the roof and dividing the chamber in two.

The metallic sludge continued to not only attack it, but also the other two-legged creatures fighting it. But it was a mere monster, one that obeyed a single function bestowed upon it by its creator.

So it did not care.

The writhing mass of metal around him split, then split again, breaking apart from monstrous blades into smaller, razor-thin whips— thousands of them targeting [TABBY] from all sides. [TABBY] opened its jaws and pincers widely, snapping and biting and smashing its way through.

Gathering power, it leapt backwards and then ahead, again and again. [TABBY]’s agility was incredible, comparable to its strength. [LUKAS] knew it, and so too did it. Amidst the constant rainfall of metal, forming and reforming, it could still do a certain amount of—

A silver tendril latched itself around its leg and pulled it down into the ground. [TABBY] watched as dozens more tendrils rose up into the air, looking down at it like a fearsome, hungry predator looking down at trapped prey.

“Uppity food animal,” [TABBY] meowed.

Huh! Apparently, not all of its original tendencies were lost to the haze.

The tendrils came raining down at it. But it could deal with pain. Pain made it angry. And anger only made it want to smash things harder.

[TABBY] raised both pairs of arms, pincers and all, and growled in defiance at its prey.

Lukas did not smile. The job was only half-done.

Using the Puppeteer Protocol— really, who came up with these names —had added an obstacle to the Crypt’s path, and substituting his pet cat Tabby’s spiritual constitution had helped him out in more than one way. It gave him an auxiliary monster to fight alongside with, even though it was on the other side of a regenerating wall.

But there was more.

You have upgraded a Skill!

SPIRITUALIST CONSTITUTION [LEVEL 2]

Allows greater mental and spiritual awareness at ANOMALY stage during possession of Host facilities by Monster Prototypes.

You have upgraded a Skill!

PROTECTION FROM MENTAL ENCROACHMENT [LEVEL 2]

Increased resistance from foreign emotional hazes during possession of Host facilities by Monster Prototypes.

Already, Lukas felt the changes taking hold.

But more importantly, he was beginning to truly understand what he’d been doing all this time when he performed—

SCAN.

A deluge of pure energy rushed out of his body. This wasn’t a kinetic burst that he could use to break rocks and shatter bones, or lifeforce to modulate and enhance his attacks. This wasn’t mana either. No, this was anomalous energy.

Energy created from the Heart, the very Essence of an anomaly.

Energy that could morph, twist, contort, and create new species.

Energy that was the ultimate tool. The purest form. Creation itself.

And with that revelation came the next command.

ANALYZE.

The anomalous energy spread radially, expanding past his established diameter, searching, tallying, recognizing, comprehending— all information was useful to an Omphalos, but what Lukas needed was something very special.

He needed to find a conduit. A passage through which foreign anomalous energy— belonging to the Crypt —was being channelled into this disorderly mass of aqāru before him. And if he somehow hacked into it, it could lead him straight to the Crypt’s Omphalos itself.

“Now, if I was an Omphalos…” A grin threatened to tear his face in two as he realized the sheer irony of the statement. “Where would I be?”

A spiritist, by nature, was easily three times stronger than a regular bremetan without bringing their kami into the equation. Olfric readily proved this by leaping back six feet in a swift motion, clearing the horizontally swung liquid blade by a wide berth. He then sent a whip of high-pressure water at its base, cutting the structure into unequal halves. It was a display of phenomenal agility and power.

Tanya, ever the efficient one, chose instead to duck, allowing the blade to swing over her head by inches.

“Show off!” both of them spat at one other at the same time.

Elena chuckled.

“SHUT UP!” Both spiritists glared at her, then at each other. “STOP! DON’T REPEAT WHAT I JUST—”

Elena clutched at her stomach as she nearly doubled over from laughter. She reached out a trembling hand towards Zuken, grabbing his shirt from behind as her amusement petered out into giggles.

“Elena, would you stop distracting me?” Zuken muttered in a raspy voice. His eyes, she noticed, were still shut in concentration. “I’m close to finishing the spell. Give me a moment.”

“No problem,” she saluted. “I’ll mess around with Mr. Noble in the meantime.” That elicited a glare from Olfric, who barely managed to avoid getting himself slashed apart from being distracted.

“Sorryyyyy!” she apologized, quickly leaping to her right as one of the stray tendrils came jumping towards her. This liquid metal monster was funny. It wasn’t so much attacking them as it was trying to keep them distracted from helping Tanya. The blonde seemed to be its only real opponent, at least as far as the blob was concerned. The fact that Tanya raced into their pit to protect everyone else made the irony doubly funny, but she knew better than to point it out.

And then there was the strange, thin red line connecting Tanya’s head to… something on the other side.

Or someone.

Elena had a sneaking suspicion that that someone might also have been responsible for the adorable pet cat she was playing with turning into an enormous, four-handed rage monster.

Lukas Aguilar— the one person that truly, doubtlessly, absolutely terrified her. And she didn’t even know why, which made it all the more annoying.

Tanya, she could deal with. The spike of coldness that rose up within her when she thought no one was looking? It was manageable. Tanya catching a cold and going all frosty? Difficult, but not crazy. Elena had once calmed down a manticore, after all. Tanya with a cold couldn’t possibly be that difficult.

Olfric was like a puffed up peacock— amusing, but not dangerous. And Zuken was, well, Zuken.

But Lukas? Lukas frightened her.

Just being in his— was he even a he? —presence made Joey go crazy, and that was without considering how the Outsider had been eating monsters left and right without care in the world. Why did he do that, when they could just collect the monsters in the anomaly and take them back to Haviskali? She knew that as long as Lukas stayed around her, she’d never get a single night of sound sleep. She would always have to be watching her back, always living in terror for Joey’s sake, always—

Zuken cleared his throat, disrupting her line of thought. “Much better. Alright everyone!” A familiar spark of confidence returned to his eyes. “It’s time to put an end to this business for good.”

He punched.

Space distorted.

And the mountain of stone gave way.

Like an avalanche, the neatly constructed reticulum of rock and metal wavered, causing the loose joints to fall down. The more he saw it in action, the more Lukas was convinced that devouring the khorkhoi was the single best decision he’d made so far.

It wasn’t about strength or regeneration or endless amounts of lifeforce. At its heart, the khorkhoi was a shapeshifter. Slime. Heteromorph. Something that had a body, but no particular frame. Of course, body parts and organs existed, and the khorkhoi knew perfectly well how to use them effectively, but the concept of ‘slime’ overruled every other concept related to its existence. Any tissue could morph into any other tissue. Cells forming the heart could change into nervous tissue, and cells in its ligaments could change into brain ganglia. They were all, in essence, slime tissue.

It was this profound simplicity in the khorkhoi’s physiological constitution that made it the most dangerous monster in this anomaly. And he, courtesy of an ill-timed, hasty decision that had nearly gotten him killed earlier, had been able to overwhelm the monster and assimilate its prototype into his own Array.

“Hm…” the monster behind the metallic tendrils spoke. “You are a troublesome one. I cannot deny that. I’ve broken the wills of thousands of monsters, but you remain defiant. I try to touch the madness within you, but my attempts shatter like glass.” Hundreds of metallic tendrils wrapped around his torso— hands, legs, abdomen, neck —and began to pull in every direction. “But even if you can regenerate from wounds, will you reform if I tear you to pieces?”

It was a valid question. The Omphalos within him had helped him live amidst an apocalypse. Compared to that, this seemed rather tame. But even if he was fairly certain he could survive, he had no desire to find out like this.

Constricting every bit of power within him until it felt like he was trying to contain a tsunami in a soda can, Luka swallowed his body to become as fluid as possible.

And then, he let it go.

[ BURST!! ]

What erupted from him wasn’t force. No, it was sound. Pure and simple sound. The vibrations traveled through the metallic tendrils and resonated at extreme frequencies with each other in the worst way possible. This wasn’t an air horn or a marching band, or a gunshot.

It was the kind of sound made by a jet during takeoff.

And it had been unleashed inside a relatively small, enclosed, acoustically reflective area.

Had Lukas not already been morphing all over, his body would’ve been reduced to petroleum jelly. Even so, there was immense pressure on his skin and pain in his ears— significant, since he wasn’t supposed to feel a thing when allowing Monster Prototypes to possess him.

The metallic tendrils instantly deserted him like fingers touching a hot stove, and instead flailed on the ground like cut off tentacles doing a jig. Whatever the sonic attack had done, it caused considerable damage.

It hurt. It hurt, damn it. But even in his astral state, Lukas couldn’t help but allow himself a defiant grin.

“Get fucked.”