Demoniac Screams

I grit my teeth as searing pain lanced up my arm, squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my free hand so hard I feared my claws would puncture my palm. After a moment, I felt a cool numbness begin spreading throughout my arm as the insects living within me actually followed my intents and began frantically biting me from within. I wasn’t sure if they were actually listening to my mental plea, or simply acting on some unknown instinct, but I was thankful nonetheless.

Not so thankful as to drive the unrelenting horror of their nature from my mind, but enough that I almost didn’t see them as pure nightmare fuel; I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was better off with them… but I would grudgingly admit they had some use.

I stared into the bound man’s listless eyes, commiserating in our mutual desire to be anywhere but here for a moment before pressing the blade beneath his chin. Immediately he started screaming, the white hot agony of a burning blade slicing into him drawing him out of whatever stupor he had been beaten into. His flesh was harder than I expected, requiring me to saw into him to actually get through the layers of his skin until I felt the even tougher muscle beneath.

Honestly, it was lucky for me he had such clear delineation between his surprisingly thick skin and the more valuable meat below; it would have been very bad if I accidentally opened up his jugular or carotid and fucked up the ritual. Fortunately, the same heat that was scalding my hand and causing him to thrash about as much as his restraints allowed was also preventing a lot of blood loss. I’m sure he wasn’t particularly happy about that, but I was; I never did like getting blood on me, and I’d rather prefer he didn’t bleed out and condemn me to take his place.

I worked quickly, knowing that even with the heated blade cauterizing his wounds, shock and blood loss would still set in with him; I was also more than a touch concerned that nerve damage would rob my fingers of the strength to go on if I took too long. I carved and tore, feeling boiling blood leak out over my hands as I peeled back his skin, slicing away at the tough connection to the muscle below. My blade slipped beneath his skin as I pulled it up, though I had to be careful not to damage the surface tissue. I took special care as I carved under his ears and around his throat, wanting to be sure I didn't accidentally cut an artery and fuck up the whole ritual. My sensitive nose filled with the scent of blood and burnt flesh as I worked, overwhelming everything else until the dueling smells were burned forever into my mind.

He never stopped screaming, even as I folded his lips over his eyes and carved under his nose; the constant, pounding scream echoed in my eardrums, drowning out all else as my world narrowed down to just me and him. When the flesh of his face finally cleared his eyes, I could see a thousand emotions warring for pride of place in them, rage and fear dancing with hate and agony, but most of all there was despair; for all his anger and disgust, he knew that he was already dead. He hated me, hated everyone here, but whatever slim vestige of hope he once had had been snuffed out like a candle in the sea as his skin pulled away from the meat below. With every scrap of skin carefully cut free, his struggles declined as he retreated into himself; shock and despair bringing him the bitter mercy of catatonia as I worked. By the time I began scraping my blade along his scalp and peeling the last scraps of skin clinging to his head, the fight had gone out of him entirely and he simply wept in silence.

Even numbed as it was, the burning in my hand brought tremors and shakes, forcing me to be more careful lest I fucked up and cut too deep into his flesh; tough as his muscle may be, the bare few millimeters of it between his skin and veins was far too narrow a margin of error for my comfort. I have no idea how long it took before I finally pulled his skin from his head, but I felt exhausted despite how little actual strength this took. Despite the trembling in my arms and how sluggishly my breathing came, I felt a tired thrill of success; I may not have wanted to do this, but I still felt a sense of distant pride in actually managing it nonetheless.

Still, there was one more step before I could label this damned initiation successfully completed. I took a deep breath as I placed his flayed face against his chest, looking straight into his lightless eyes; they were empty, no hope, no fear, barely even the slightest spark of life evidenced by the depthless agony lurking behind the nothingness in his iris. Without blinking, I drove the burning blade home through his severed face, between his ribs, and into his heart.

And that’s when things went straight to Hell.

Zildan grit his teeth so hard a distant part of him worried they would crack as he whirled to face the wall to his left, watching in mute horror as scythe-like legs split the stone like butter. Surprised and horrified as he was, his training still won out over shock and his hand immediately pivoted to blast a jet of flame into the snarling horror that revealed itself as the wall crumbled.

Of course, this also meant he was no longer maintaining the barrage keeping the horde of nightmares from reaching him. While the hall was entirely molten and huge drops of magma fell like rain from the sagging ceiling, the ravening horde charged through with a total disregard for their lives. Only the fact that they were halfway swimming through molten floor kept them from surging over him the instant he let up the flames.

Their howls of gleeful agony were drowned out in an instant by the earthshaking roar of pain and rage the new contender released, the wall of sound striking Zildan with enough force to throw him into the wall and going on to send waves of magma flying into the horde. The sheer violence of the wailing scream actually caused the weakened tunnel to cave in completely, though he could tell that wouldn’t keep the insane monstrosities on the other side out for long.

He couldn’t hear them burrowing over the ringing in his ears but he knew their type, they didn’t possess the bare shreds of self preservation or sanity required to flee from obvious and overwhelming danger. It wouldn’t be long before they burrowed through the wall, presuming they didn’t all burn to death in the attempt.

Even so, the few minutes that cave in bought him only left him alone with a threat he immediately knew was far worse. Towering over him at easily more than twice his height at the shoulder, it was a vision of death straight from the books his master had forced him to read under threat of extra sparring; a Shrieklik Ravermaw, infamous for their nomadic nature and viscous cunning. Its long, sinewy neck swayed from side to side as it slithered through the air, investigating the new environment it found itself in. It stood in the opening of the tunnel it carved out for a long moment, tilting its head from side to side and clicking the massive maw that made up the entirety of its head.

Even though he knew it was incapable of making any expressions, he could have sworn he saw that massive, toothy mouth smile as it turned its eyeless gaze upon him. He could see the fine hairs covering its dull brown carapace twitching in time with his own heartbeat, rippling as if there were some breeze sweeping through this lightless abyss that only it could feel. It stepped fully into the tunnel as he picked himself up off the ground, its sword-like legs stabbing deep into the hard stone even as he swayed on his feet.

He could feel blood trickling from his reopened wounds, could see it drip off his glove and into a small puddle beneath him as he rose unsteadily to his feet. With a snarl he clenched his fist in defiance, snorting out a wad of semi-coagulated blood and falling into a well practiced stance; his master hadn’t beaten him half to death in training just for him to die to some fucking animal after getting a little hurt. He threw aside his cloak, three burning arms sprouting from the revealed stump and lancing out like striking snakes to attack from different angles.

The creature growled, a single one of its six massive clawed arms shooting out fast enough that even his well trained eyes couldn’t follow it. The limb sliced through all three of his arms with contemptuous ease, the sheer speed disrupting the technique enough to snuff out several feet of flame. The creature seemed mildly surprised to not have drawn any blood or screams, though Zildan immediately continuing his attack drew an irritated snap of its jaw.

He frowned, ignoring the blood running from his ears as he pumped more mana into his spell and summoned more limbs even as the creature effortlessly cut them down. His black eyes widened when the creature’s throat pulsated, a large bulge visibly working its way up the snake-like neck to its cavernous maw. On instinct, he threw himself to the side an instant before the creature’s jaw spread wide and a ball of viscous clear fluid shot forth, impacting the wall behind where he stood so hard it cracked the stone before splattering wide enough a few droplets managed to land on his cloak.

He was thankful for the numerous tedious hours of reading bestiaries his master had required when he saw the wall begin melting rapidly, tough stone reduced to a slurry of grey fluid almost on contact. He flicked his cloak with his free hand, though he already knew it was too late to prevent the acid from burning holes in it; even so, it was better a wasted effort than a droplet burning through his cloak and into his body.

The creature's head followed him despite its lack of eyes, its neck kept half bent over itself in a pose reminiscent of a serpent preparing to strike. It took steady but unhurried steps into the tunnel, always making sure to face him but taking little care in where it actually sunk its blades legs into the earth. He frowned behind his mask, tracking it carefully even as the strain of maintaining six independent arms and constantly attacking in increasingly complicated patterns caused his soul to ache. Knowing this was a war of attrition he was going to lose, he let three of his arms fade away as he channeled Hellfire into his flesh hand.

The creature immediately noticed the change, giving out an angry sounding grunt before spreading its jaws wide and sucking in air fast enough to create an audible wind. He smirked, letting the wind take his crimson flames, sending a swirling trail of red fire spinning away towards the monstrosity's mouth. The leading end of the tendril of demonic fire had just slipped past its teeth when the vortex cut out...

An instant later the world exploded, a wall of sound and force blowing away his flames and blasting him off his feet. He tumbled down the rough stone hall, feeling his bones bruise from innumerable impacts as he flipped end over end down the tunnel. He knew he couldn’t just let himself roll to a stop, couldn’t let the creature’s plan go smoothly if he wanted to survive this.

His hand, already filled with the lingering energy hellfire, burst into incarnadine flames as he plunged the charred bones at his fingertips into the already softened stone. His burning fingers dug deep, leaving five little molten trails behind him as he slowed to a stop in an almost prone condition. He barely managed to catch his breath with the razor winds lashing into him, causing his cape and what little of his hair had breached the cracks in his mask to whip about even as it began to die down.

An instant later, the beast flew inches over his head and slammed down on where he likely would have been had he not stopped his uncontrolled flight. It snarled when it’s claws sank into nothing, slowly turning its head from side to side and repeatedly clicking its teeth as it stood back up. The thin hairs covering its body twitched, and its serpentine neck whipped around to face him…

And received a ball of demonically infused magma to the face for its troubles. Zildan barely had time to grin sardonically before a horrendous shriek of rage and pain blew out his eardrums and the world went quiet.