Chapter 15: Blood and Bile

"Rot is sweet."​

"That beetle— thing." Ofelia squints. "Fer fuck's sake—"

Even at a great distance away, you can make out the edges of the demon's form. Its carapace looms above the top of every building. "No. It's a minor demon. It looks as if it has been feeding often, but on what—?"

"Minor!? It's..." It looks like she's going to be ill.

"It's what?"

"It's got corpses in its mouth, Richard. I'm gonna be sick—"

You grimace. There's no need to get a closer look. The demon is heading your way— and a faint glimpse of gray, rotten, dripping carcasses can be seen around the borders of one building.

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but stays firm enough to grab Ofelia's attention. "It's not too late to get the materials we need. Lend me a hand."

"You're crazy—!" She pulls on the back of your robes, trying to get you to hang back. "Wait. It's already heard us—!"

You firmly pull away from her. "There's no time to wait. Ray and Celegwen are counting on us. I thought you— I though you said I could depend on you?"

Ofelia huffs. "Yeah, 'course. But that doesn't mean we gotta' be suicidal neither."

Despite her protests, the halfling sidles up next to you. She struggles to match your pace as you sneak behind the myriad piles of debris at a breakneck speed. You keep your eyes almost completely fixed on the demon as it slowly shambles through the weaving piles of trash and waste. It seems to have entirely discarded the human torso it was eating, and has set its sights on you both.

As quietly as you're able, you get up to the first metal beam, and pick off the debris that's burying it. The object is quite thin, but will be enough for your allies to stand on.

The minute it's free, Ofelia catches up and moves to wrest the object loose. "Gimme a hand—" She suppresses a shout, and squeaks as she's practically lifted off the ground. "You're stronger than ya' look! Okay, okay— careful. Don't bump into nothin'."

The piece of metal is almost exactly as long as the corridor is wide. You strain a bit to lift it (now that Ofelia is shouldering far less of the beam), but it's definitely manageable. You'd compliment her for spotting it, but you're far more concerned with not knocking into any of the debris stacked and leering around you.

Your slim frame and the halfling's remarkably smaller shadow slip in between the myriad towers of filth, keeping out of sight of the demon as you continue to move back to the other piece of metal. You muffle a groan as you kneel down, and gently lower your purchase to the floor. The new target is slick with some sort of grime, though it's impossible to say what.

Skipping ahead— despite obviously being out of breath— Ofelia sweeps something up from a nearby mound of wreckage. She huffs, "stop— stop. Wait."

She rushes back to your side, and uses a rag to cautiously wipe down the object. Both of you breathe a sigh of relief, as the filth does nothing upon being disturbed. Long before she gets the metal in a respectable condition, you wrap it under your arm, and maneuver it out from the pile. Both objects in hand, you can't be bothered to care about impropriety. Your eyes are riveted on the demon the moment that you're done lifting. The source of the foul and blackened substance is heading your way.

Music

From an opening in the winding buildings ahead, you get a full view at the scale of the demon. It vaguely reminds you of a hister beetle— though you can't imagine it flying, given its size. The colossal, glistening insect casts a shadow over every spire of waste as it silently creeps forward. The minor demon's jet-black form drips with secretions of rot and ruin. Where the beetle's mandibles should be is a human female's face. The skin and features of the monster are grotesquely stretched to accommodate its larger frame— as within its maw are no fewer than ten human bodies. The corpses are in varying states of decomposition, and all are in the process of slowly being eaten. Hundreds upon hundreds of maggots crawl from within the wet pockets of her eyes.

Despite having ample prey at her disposal, the demon's attention remains entirely fixed on you.

​

Permitting this demon to live for even another second makes your skin crawl. Ofelia steals your attention away, tugging at the other end of both beams. "Come on—" She whispers, already worn out. "—this way."

You both snake around the piles of debris, and do your best to stay out of sight.

It might be your imagination, but it feels like the demon is moving towards you faster than before.

Ofelia is seriously struggling with the items you're carrying.

Your limbs are burning as well.

This isn't going to work.

As you both arrive at the entrance to the passage, you motion for Ofelia to set down the metal, and usher her inside the corridor.

"I'm not leavin' you out here."

You set both beams down. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, but—"

"I'll be there. Go."

She begrudgingly turns from you, and sets to running for the rest of your company. It dawns on you that the corridor is far too small for the demon to fit through. If you tried to bring it inside, its body would block the exit entirely.

You're running out of time. A shadow casts over the entire cavern wall. Your hands itch. Though you desperately want to kill this demon, you have more than yourself to think of.

Gritting your teeth, you tear away from the metal that has been laboriously brought over. Ofelia is trusting you to come back alive. Running a good hundred feet from the cavern's far wall— and the passage housing your friends— you skid to a stop near more debris. The ghastly pallor on your face, your cold sweat, and the depths of your eyes lock with the demon.

You chuck a rock in its direction, and realize that the creature is utterly blind. It has been following the sound of your movement. The worms within its eye sockets snap towards the falling debris as you bring your hands together.

In revulsion, you pour yourself into prayer. This demon will not stop its march. You will stop for nothing.

"Flesh. Make skilled my hands. Steady them. Make me the instrument of Your design. Through my weakness, let us cleave away this disease! That we may rid this demon of its contemptuous form: Lend me your strength!"

Music

Red smoke parts from every scar upon your hands in thin tendrils. The coils of deadly intent sharpen into blades. You part your fingers— and strike them through the air towards her muscle and bone.

Your material weapon snakes through the open space between you and the demon in trails of smoke. It worms its way beneath the monster's carapace. You can't help but grin, and lean your head back as a God works through you.

A single crack appears in the demon's shell. It splinters outwards in a burst of gray and weeping flesh— and severs a colossal chunk of the demon away. The vertical slash parts the swathe of carapace and meat. It crashes to the floor of the ruins in a thunderous roar. A flock of birds flies off in the distance.

You have no time to consider the ramifications of how much noise has been made. Plumes of dust and smoke obscure the furthest reaches of the demon's lair from view. Its master parts her lips to scream, and half a dozen corpses slip from her lips to the ground far below. A silent wave of death is emitted in the wake of each dead body, as grubs pour out from the demon's throat in their place. They spill onto the bodies that are colliding one by one to the floor— and every worm crawls straight towards you.

You hold your ground for one more moment. Both hands are tightened into surgical knives. The shape of the corridor is in your mind's eye as you sweep your weapons through the air. You swiftly and decisively carve another tremendous portion of the demon's flesh from the opposite side of her body— and turn to run for your life.

Daring a look behind you could be fatal. At you sprint— and push the renewed muscle and sinew on your building frame to its absolute limit— you hear the monstrous crash of destruction at your back. There are no screams. There are shrinking piles of debris, and a carapace that fractures. Maggots scatter in all directions. Only when you reach the entrance to the cavern do you dare to turn and see what's heading your way.

The deafening collapse of another slab of meat and shell has pushed silt and debris high into the air. In its death throes, the demon writhes and collapses to the floor. All of her momentum makes her unable to stop, even on few remaining legs. The beast careens forward.

You lift your eyes for but a moment, to turn and run into darkness. Ofelia warned you to proceed with caution, but your battered shoes pound against the stone as the entire passage trembles and quakes. The screech of shell against stone is terrible. The demon collides with the front of the passage, and must be destroying the fragile structure at your back with each passing second. Your heart uproots through your lungs as you fly down the length of the corridor in a matter of moments.

Hundreds of fractures in rock, and dirt crumbling behind your feet puts terror through one command. "RUN!"

There's no opportunity to stop. Ray bounds after your heels as you make a mad dash away from the falling floor. Ofelia and Celegwen were already on their feet, and run right behind you.

A precipice gives way from the demon's approaching form. Plumes of dust, a black miasma, and countless maggots are sent up into the air. Below the monstrous bridge you've brought into the corridor lies an endless abyss. All-encompassing darkness continues below, with such depth that you cannot fathom it ever ending.

Flesh leans into your exertion, keeping you moving, and taking you all back the way you came. The tremendous shaking and chaos subsides.

The dust hasn't even begun to settle as you slide to a stop, and look frantically around in the soot for your allies. Ray is wheezing. Ofelia is coughing. "Celegwen?!"

A hand sets lightly on your shoulder. You nearly jump out of your skin, but the touch rapidly retreats. "I'm right here, Father."

The elf sounds altogether too calm, given the situation. Ofelia is panicking, and no longer cares for how much noise you all are making. "The FUCK was that, Richard?!"

Covering your face with the hem of your sleeve, you delay a reply. Kneeling down and trying to get clearer air, you do your best to comfort Ray. He's clearly upset, but has yet to bolt, or do anything more than stay right by your side. "Easy, Ray. Easy. Stay, boy."

"RICHARD! SERIOUSLY?!"

"Calm down, Ofelia." Celegwen doesn't do so much as raise the pitch of her voice. "I'm sure that he has a valid explanation—"

You can't afford niceties. "Stop talking. Save your breath. I'll explain when we're out of here."

Your lungs aren't burning from anything other than the physical exertion. Flesh is keeping your body working as well as you could hope, but you're acutely aware that your companions are going to suffocate if they can't safely get out of this polluted air.

Plumes of dirt and decay can't obstruct your view to the demon's body. It has completely filled the corridor— leaving a narrow gap between the ceiling that you could squeeze through. You could certainly carry one (or even) two of your companions at a time with you while scaling its body. But you can't possibly get everyone to safety at once.

Your voice is low and even as you try and stress the severity of the situation. "Please help me cover Ray's nose and mouth. Do the same for yourselves, and stay back."

Both terrified women look between each other, but they follow your instructions as you kneel down. There is neither the time nor the air to waste on explanations. There's ample room to work as you fold your fingers together.

Ofelia's coughing fades into the back of your mind as you pray. Your holy symbol is cold against your neck and chest. Sweat soaks the back of your robes, slick against the gold and black. The smoke from your prayer to Flesh is rapidly dissipating, but the God is still with you— and you need more than His blessing to contend with this demon. You won't take any risks. Not when you're entrusted with the survival of your friends.

It scares you each and every time you pray to Vengeance. It's also something you love dearly. A genuine connection. The knowledge that you're understanding Him in a way that no one else truly can.

A familiar rush of blood flows from your lips and out from your hands, mere moments after wordlessly invoking Him. Your bond is terribly strong. You may have been unable to strike down Malimos with Vengeance, but you certainly are able to call upon Him now.

Your blood intermingles with black bile of yours and the demon's own making. You will strike down whatever remains of the demon before you— in the same way that it has done to so many others.

The mordancy pouring from your own Flesh seeps into the dust and stone. It congeals and networks with the demon's long history. You swallow the urge to vomit, and all the acrid bile dripping over your chin as a woman's face leers towards you.

The demon is still alive. She could not fall, even through the administrations of Flesh. Her eyes are clouded with decay, but something worse than a gaze bores into you. Through a haze of insanity and hunger, she seeks understanding.

You understand. You can taste the Flesh of the many creatures she's consumed. You can feel the absence of all the lives she has claimed. There is no regret. No Mercy. Nothing but a bid at power, and an endless search to fill the gaping void within her. The minor demon attempts to taunt you as you gain a greater understanding of her failings: A wasted life. More lives stolen. Maggots spill in heaps from her lips, as she is clearly incapable of speech.

You feel the pull.

The cloying embrace.

Not of a woman.

Not of a God.

The pull of the Catalyst.​

Every fiber of your being tells you to pull away. To turn, to run, to drop your hands, and to never look back on this place again.

You lean into it.​

You are embraced by both Flesh and Vengeance.

Strength stirs within you. Amidst the hunger, longing, and retribution. There is no fear in your heart. You deeply missed taking Vengeance.

He listens.​

You close your eyes, and reach out. He grants you your purchase. Deep into what once was the heart of the minor demon— you take hold of this monster's appetite, and turn it on itself.

The demon writhes. She shakes the walls of the corridor. The blood and bile pouring from your hands has been coursing into the creature. The connection seeps out of her— and courses back into yourself. Into your hands, your nose, your lips, your throat—

You immediately turn and vomit. The taste of rotten flesh clings to copper and acid.

Great plumes of red smoke waft from the minor demon's flesh. She's choking on the already hazardous air. You can see through blood-streaked eyes that the monstrosity is wasting away. She's eating herself.

Flesh purges the last of the demon's influence from you. He clears the smoke from your lungs, and takes the rot from your throat. You try not to lose yourself to the pull of both Gods. They work together— through you— to destroy the demon's utterly.

It's not often that a human can endure the blessing of a single deity, let alone two.

You feel yourself splitting.

Divinity pulls at the edges of your strained mind and body. It's odd.

It reminds you of the Catalyst.

Hands trembling— clasped together as they are— you release Vengeance. The blood and bile completely dissipates, as if the liquid were nothing more than wind on the air.

At some point you must have fallen to your knees. As Vengeance parts completely from you, you collapse entirely.

Ray rushes to your side, despite your command to stay put. You try to throw an arm over the mastiff's side to help you onto your feet, but the sudden motion turns the last contents of your stomach. You vomit again, and mutter your gratitude to Flesh and Vengeance all through it. Your thanks persists for a good, long moment after.

You feel a pull once more. "Get up." Celegwen pulls you to your feet. It seems effortless for her to lift you, and she clearly doesn't mind the blood streaking your face and hands.

Ofelia shoves a handkerchief into your hands. Dazed as you are, you don't even acknowledge the gesture.

The elf wraps one of your arms around her shoulders, practically dragging you with her. You can feel Flesh's blessing leaving you— but as you try to resist, His strength floods through your tortured muscle and bone. A sharp pain accompanies it. Horror soaks you to the bone as you realize what you've permitted.

The sight of Flesh's vessel being lifted is a terrible offense. You rapidly try to right yourself, but it's too late. A voice that is decidedly not your own makes only one request.

"Release me."

You recoil in absolute mortification, and raise both filthy hands to your bloody mouth. As hard and as quickly as you can, you pull away from Celegwen and Ofelia. They're both coughing terribly, and are too consumed by the miasma of decay to run. Though you've successfully shaped the demon's corpse into a bridge to span the distance ahead, the air is still foul. Smoke continues to rise in plumes off of the demon's corpse as it consumes itself.

Now is not the time for apologies. There isn't time to make amends to Flesh, either. You need to show the God of Action that you haven't forsaken His teachings. You lower your hands from your face, and wrap the handkerchief around Ray's nose and mouth. With a slight touch to your holy symbol— streaking it with blood— you murmur a small prayer to Mercy to keep him safe for a moment longer. Pointing firmly down the corridor, both women look at you. They're baffled.

You struggle to force your voice into normalcy, and pray that your dog will understand. Looking him firmly in the eyes, you command, "go on, boy. I'll double back for you. Go slow."

He obediently heads towards the end of the corridor, nose to the floor. Your boy's rapid steps take him up the slope of the demon's face, and he narrowly slinks through the opening at the top of her body. He disappears from sight within seconds.

You don't waste another instant. Your hands tremble, but they whisk Ofelia off of her feet with ease. You hold her aloft with one arm, and take the elf by the hand with the other. They look at you like you're absolutely insane, but are too shocked to protest. Both women try their best to keep from choking on the noxious air as you tear into a run. The halfling clutches onto you for dear life, and Celegwen can barely keep up as you push yourself.

The three of you deftly scale the demon's carapace. Flesh's blessing courses into you with renewed need. You clear the length of the demon in a matter of moments. There are massive margins left between the corpse and the ceiling. You duck and weave over a number of pitfalls in the top of her monstrously long body, and catch the gray light of the ruins beyond. Massive plumes of smoke filter out of the corridor. You pass by Ray only a third of the way along the demon. A swift exit is made.

There are no maggots outside the corridor. No corpses. Anything and everything that followed you into the tunnel of death has fled, or is in hiding.

You set Ofelia back down, and release Celegwen. They both stare at you— mouths agape— as you tear back into the corridor to retrieve Ray. He's still slinking across the demon by the time you reach him.

You sweep your boy into your arms to carry him back across. Your steps are made quickly at first— but the demon's carapace groans under your combined weight. It shifts under you just as you reach the tail end of the corridor. Ray trusts you with his life, but squirms against your hold. He sensed the ground giving moments before you realize what's happening. You release him from your arms— practically throwing him to safe ground.

The demon's corpse groans and slides against the walls of the stone corridor. It screeches, and in monstrous roar— it tumbles out from underneath you. You leap across the last few feet of its body.

The precipice below the demon's form stretches on indefinitely.

Time slows as you throw every ounce of momentum towards safety. Towards the other side of the divide.

The demon's corpse falls far below the depths of the ruins. The treacherous cavity left in its wake is behind you, as you crash to the edge of the opening. Teetering for a moment, you swing every muscle in your body forward. A few steps are made onto solid ground. You right yourself.

Ofelia, Celegwen, and Ray all are waiting a few yards away— scared for their lives. You take a few more cautious steps forward, and away from the ledge. The sound of the demon's carapace crashing into some unknown depths echoes throughout the entire cavern. Ofelia takes a few steps back. She won't take her eyes off of you.

Celegwen takes a step forward, and slaps you cleanly across the face. Your ears ring for a moment from the force of it. Her words hit you a moment after she says them.

"Every creature in this entire level would have heard that. What were you thinking?"

You can't help but see the streak of your own blood and bile that's on the elf's hand where she struck you. Flesh is still with you. It's a good thing, too. It sounds like there's something else coming off in the distance.

You've never seen Ofelia look so frightened. You stare hard at the streak on Celegwen's fingers, unable to respond. The halfling's voice comes out almost as timidly as yours usually does. "We can talk later, Gwen. We need to hide—"

The elf spits, "no. I won't go a step further until I know we aren't traveling with a madman." She repeats, "what were you thinking?"

You lower your eyes— red as they are with blood and gift of Flesh. Your murmur is addressed to both the God, and to the woman standing before you. "I'm sorry."

The blood clears. The smoke fades. You release your connection to Flesh— empowering though He may be. You'll make it up to Him in other ways. You'll do better. Be better. The streaks of blood and bile across one of your scarred and shallow cheeks get smeared further, in an attempt to make yourself look less like a madman.

There's no use trying to clean yourself up. You can feel your robes snagging on your emaciated frame— and you swear to yourself to not disappoint Flesh in this way again. "I'm sorry." You say it again, with your voice returning to its normal pitch. Every word is still heavy with strain. Ray bounds over to you, worried sick. You don't quite give him the attention he needs, as you're far more concerned with the way Celegwen and Ofelia are looking at you now. Their judgement is far closer to what you're used to from other people.

To your immense relief, Ofelia's expression slowly softens. "Thanks, Richard. I know we couldn't have handled that monster. But— really, we don't have time for this. You have to be hearin' that, Gwen—"

The elf looks deeply conflicted. Her long ears are twitching. You try to reassure her. "I promise, I will explain later. We can't stay here."

Celegwen gives you a hard look. "If you jeopardize our safety like that again—"

You cut her off. The sound of hundreds of legs skittering towards you all is unmistakable. "Staying here is doing just that."