Of Beasts And Men

Zildan hated how slow he felt as he walked between burning buildings, occasionally sending a gout of flame wherever he sensed the lingering presence of the Blight. His every step sent a jolt of pain lancing up his spine and pulled at his stitches in a mildly worrying way; had he less faith in his own handiwork, he would have feared merely walking would open up his injuries again let alone the running he anticipated needing to do. As it was, he kept the risks in mind and kept moving regardless.

There were few remaining Blighted on the surface, most having been caught in his molten gambit. What concerned him, however, was the growing sense of the vile sickness growing beneath his feet; he could feel it spreading like some spiritual cancer upon the very land, consuming everything it touched and leeching at the very soul of the world itself. Most would fear it, run from it, but not he; the Order had beaten such weakness out of him long ago.

To him, the sense of spreading sickness beneath his feet inspired a towering hatred that drowned out any fear he may have felt. That burning hate quickened his anguished steps and filled his half empty veins with molten fire; it was his duty to see this sickness purged or die trying, and he would not rest until one of them was scoured from the land. His master would kill him if he allowed the Great Pestilence to fester while he still drew breath, and that’s only if he didn’t kill himself first.

After deeming the surface as clear as he could make it, he made his way back to the only entrance to Kurzebald’s lair he knew of. Of course, when he arrived at said entrance he discovered it was currently buried under several feet of no longer molten stone, the buildings making up the alley itself having been partially melted in his furious purge. Where once a hidden exit lay inside a dumpster, now the very walls were sagged over, the dumpster was slagged, and the whole alley was filled in with a good foot and a half of solid stone.

Once again he found himself sighing, resisting the urge to press his palm into his forehead. His master was right, he really did need to think things through more thoroughly before he acted. He decided right then that he would be leaving this part out of his after action reports.

Looking at the mass of melted metal and concrete, he raised his remaining arm in front of him and concentrated. After a second of focus, the flesh of his forearm turned red as if being lit from within and steam began to waft off of it. He dragged his red fingers along a wall, and after finding the glowing trails of molten stone left behind by his stunted fingers satisfactory, he set in to dig his way into that damnable labyrinthe.

It took him far longer than he would have liked (especially with his desire to conserve mana being constantly weighed against his ever growing impatience) but eventually he managed to carve a tunnel large enough for him to wriggle through, if barely. While it was a rather tight squeeze and the rough edges of his admittedly rushed and shoddy tunneling pulled at his already ruined uniform, he successfully wormed his way in without tearing open any of his wounds.

Admittedly, that may only have been because the tunnel was still hot enough to treat like dense clay while he crawled through it, but whatever works he supposed.

As he dusted himself off on the other side, he gave a considering look to the hole he came through. While it was not his duty to prevent the spreading of dangerous animals and whatever other wretched abominations that mad man had created, it would probably be a bad idea to let anything out of here anyway; besides, he couldn’t be sure any of these monstrosities weren’t diseased.

Deciding it was better to be safe than yelled at by his master for letting some horrible contagion loose, he sealed the tunnel behind him. This did have the unfortunate side effect of cutting off the only source of light in this abyssal hellhole, but the runes along the sides of his mask’s eye lenses kicked in before he could worry and restored his sight. Some of his brethren preferred to sit in the dark for hours and hours on end in order to have actual dark vision, but his master had always deemed such precautions as something to be done on one’s own time.

Zildan had preferred to spend what little personal time he had experimenting with his Solar affinity and fucking prostitutes, though now he was mildly regreting that decision. The dark vision in his left goggle fizzled ominously every few seconds, the rather large crack across the glass apparently slightly disrupting the enchantments. A rather worrying development, it would not be good to find himself blind in a place like this.

Still, this was not the time to wallow in his regrets and misspent youth; he had a duty to fulfill, or die trying. Even if he would rather be almost absolutely anywhere but this Lords forsaken lightless pit.

Huddled in a dark corner and trying to ignore the feeling of insects crawling about beneath my skin, I initiated evolution. Once more my options flashed before my mind’s eye, though I could not tell if there were more or less than the last time I did this.

One that stood out strongly was obviously granted by my widely unbalanced Endurance stat and status as a carrier of parasites and sickness was a creature referred to as a “Rotbelly Stonrat”. It’s description spoke of insane durability that deeply appealed to me, but it was let down by being slow, inflexible, and producing a foul odor so strong it could be picked out even in a swamp filled with rotting bodies. A rather specific example I thought, but still poignant enough to turn me off; something like that would make stealth nigh impossible, and I still valued my stealth far more than my durability. I’d take not getting hit over surviving the blow any day.

Even without that, there was really only one choice that appealed to me; only one evolution offered a path beyond being quadrupedal and, best of all, offered hands. Even the most interesting of the rats promised a path of further crawling on my belly and tearing throats with my teeth, both things I was getting rather sick of. Hands and brains were what allowed humanity to conquer my home world, I currently only have one of the two; I decided it was long past time I fixed that.

I still gave the other options a second look, just to be sure there wasn’t anything worth sacrificing a humanoid form for before making my choice. Some of them looked to be quite interesting, but nothing they could offer matched up to having hands and walking on two legs again. With my mind made up, I made my choice and embraced the sweet oblivion of evolution once more.

I let the overwhelming pleasure sweep away my fears, my doubts, and my ever racing thoughts, if only for the moment.