The cold grip of terror wrapped its claws around Fena’s heart as the sound of the monster’s scream reverberated through the air, rattling her mind with a horror so overwhelming it left no room for thought. It was the sound of a horse being flogged to death by its faithful rider, a child being tortured to death by their once loving parent. It was a noise so illogically vile, so fundamentally disturbing it seemed to carry the very concept of betrayal within it; a sound that dragged out painful memories from the depths of Fena’s subconscious.

The creature raised its rotted and putrid snout into the air, inhaling deeply. The hot sun had not been kind to the undead thing; its fur had almost completely fallen off, leaving only coarse patches that revealed a rotting black hide. Even worse, the creature’s shape was round and bulging, but not like it was overweight; rather it was like it had gained mass without growing new skin. The hide was stretched painfully tight, as it strained to contain the overwhelming mass of the creature.

It would’ve been an oddly amusing sight if not so disgusting; strange bulbous protrusions burst out of the former deer’s legs and head, leaking a thick yellowish pus that dried and clotted to the body like candle wax drip. Its teeth had warped as well, growing twice their normal length and stretching the horrific creature’s jaws apart even when closed. This was a creature that was wrong; a mistake of an herbivore that had been seized and overcome by something that was not meant for it.

The monstrous creature finished sniffing the air before turning its gaze towards Fena, fixing her with a single glowing red eye that leaked black blood.

An image of the enormous undead bear flashed through Fena’s mind, but her instincts told her that despite the similarities, this thing was far worse. It was a thing of destruction gone haywire, a mistake left uncorrected. It was an insult to nature; a joke that no one wanted to laugh at.

Fena's muscles began to quiver as they remembered the agony the bear had wrought, but her instincts screamed that this thing could do far worse. Her heart raced, pumping adrenaline through her body as it begged her to flee.

But with these instincts came something else. A peculiar emotion, one familiar to her yet much despised. It was a promise; a promise of the inevitable pain that thing was about to bring. A promise of the relief that would come after.

“Antony.” Fena’s voice was small, but tense. “Get back to the caravan. Warn them. I’ll buy you time.”

“W-what?” Antony’s response was slightly delayed, still recovering from the thing’s scream. “No. I can’t leave you here.”

“Don’t argue. We don’t have time for it.”

Antony opened his mouth to protest again, but the words caught in his throat as he saw Fena’s expression. Her eyes were as cold and unshaken as diamond, a glare that would defy even the gods themselves. Shaking his head, Antony reluctantly yanked on his reins, turning his terrified horse around.

“Fine. But ONLY to distract it. Don’t try to fight it alone, okay? We face it as a team.”

Fena gave a vague nod, but Antony could tell she was barely paying attention anymore. Sighing, he turned his horse around and galloped back down the road, his warhorse eager to flee as quickly as possible.

Eselin made to follow, but a firm squeeze of Fena’s legs held her in place. The horse was panicking, but not enough to defy her rider; something about Fena’s atmosphere had changed from a grouchy and distracted temper to a laser focused killing intent.

The monster began lumbering towards her, its gait awkward and slow. Its legs barely moved properly, hindered by the warped proportions of the creature they carried, and yet their movement was determined, unstoppable. It opened its rotting jaws again and let out another unholy scream, this one louder and more piercing than the last.

The terror still coursed through Fena’s veins, but its energy was transforming from anxiety to anger. This thing, this insult to life brought her a visceral emotional reaction. Its scream wasn’t just a noise; it was an emotion, one that she was all too familiar with. She hated it: hated the monster for making her feel this way, hated the memories it brought up and above all, hated herself for needing the pain it brought. Deserving it.

A sharp kick of Fena’s heels sent Eselin snorting and prancing forward unwillingly. Despite the horse’s resistance, she managed to get her to gallop towards the lumbering mass, drawing her Zweihander out as she did so.

Fena’s heart leapt into her mouth as they drew closer, the mix of rage and fear growing in her mind. Doubt began to seep in as the sheer insanity of her actions set in, and a small part of her considered stopping the frenzied gallop and returning to Antony and the others. If they fought together, Fena wouldn’t have to put herself at risk and they could defeat it as a group.

Why was she even doing this to herself? Would it ever stop…?

Haven't I suffered enough?

But as reason began to creep in, a familiar black shape swooped through the air in front of her.

“Come on!! Kill it!!” The Crow’s voice was full of energy, both anxious and excited. “You need this!!”

The creature was only a few metres away now, yet Fena’s grip on the sword was still hesitant. Deep down, a part of her still resisted: a part that knew she didn’t want to keep doing this to herself. And yet-

“DO IT!!” screamed the Crow and Fena leapt from the saddle as a scream of frustration tore from her throat. The tip of the sword slammed into the monster’s forehead, the full weight of Fena’s momentum behind it. She could feel her arm sockets yank as her body came to a sudden halt, and her grip on the handle slipped.

Before she knew it, she was tumbling head over heels across the monster’s back and onto the hard gravel road behind it. She could feel her skin tear as the rocks ripped into her, and instinctively moved to protect her head from the fall until she came rolling to a halt.

Another scream echoed out across the field, piercing Fena’s eardrums until they bled and filled her head with a monotone ringing. She scrambled away from the monster and pulled herself back to her feet; she didn’t have time to check her injuries, and her adrenaline prevented the pain from registering.

Looking back at the monster, Fena was shocked to see that the Zweihander had embedded barely an inch into its forehead. With her strength and momentum, the hefty sword should have shattered the creature’s skull; yet the vast majority of it still stuck out of the monster’s head like an oversized, cursed unicorn.

As Fena watched, gravity regained control of the blade and it clattered to the ground, leaving nothing behind but a seemingly insignificant wound. The deer shaped thing tossed its head and snorted, or tried to; its bulging, oversized neck seemed to allow for very little movement. Nonetheless the monster managed to turn itself around, keeping her in its vision.

But that was far from the worst thing that happened. To Fena’s horror, the wound she had left behind began to twitch and move. Tendrils of muscle and flesh seemed to shift and move beneath the deer hide, converging on the wound like snakes. Fena watched closely, expecting the wound to heal then-

*SQuelcH*

With the sound of wet tearing flesh, the wound suddenly burst open, spraying wriggling tendrils of flesh nearly ten feet into the sky. It looked like a giant bonsai tree made of purplish flesh, fueled by pitch black veins that ran up its length - only it was moving, wriggling and convulsing in the air.

The deer thing snorted and fixed her with a glare of deadly rage. The tendril’s movement was aimless at first, but as soon as the monster focused onto Fena they responded, shooting towards her with shocking speed. Fena tried to leap back but the flesh was too quick; the largest tendril wrapped around her left wrist and squeezed.

Fena let out a scream of agony as the bones in her hand instantly shattered under the tendril’s immense strength. Her hand could offer no resistance as it was crushed like an egg; the tendril was nothing but pure exposed muscle, superpowered and incredibly dense. Her other arm grabbed it, trying to pull herself free- but the monster had other plans. Smaller tendrils, outgrowths of the main branch, began to snatch for her, trying to restrain her body. She desperately kicked them away, dancing and twisting her body as much as her captured arm would allow.

Fena clawed at the tendril with her right hand, trying to pull it off her, but the muscle tightened its grip, squeezing harder and harder. Even worse, the smaller tendrils were growing more accurate in their attacks; dodging them was quickly becoming impossible. Her hand went to her waist for one of her short swords, but before she could draw one another tendril lunged for her hand, seemingly aware of Fena’s intentions. She tried again, and again, but each time another tendril forced her to dance and twist away, rendering access to her weapons impossible.

Her frustration grew, as did her panic; she was quickly becoming overwhelmed and the prospect of being completely enveloped by this thing, feeling her bones shatter and pierce her own organs as she was crushed in darkness, frightened her to the core.

A surge of terror and fury ran through her at the thought, and in a moment of sheer desperation she wrapped her free hand around the main tendril that held her captive and began to squeeze it back. A couple of smaller tendrils wrapped around her arm and legs as her movement slowed- though they were not strong enough to crush her, she could feel the severe bruises they inflicted as they began to cut off her blood supply.

The main branch of muscle didn’t respond at first; it was so dense that Fena’s fingers didn’t even make a dent. She squeezed harder and harder, trying to crush the incredibly strong flesh with her own pure strength. It was a insane idea, born from sheer desperation; but the anger and fear burning within overpowered almost any logical thought. But Fena’s instincts weren’t stupid.

Whatever the deer thing was, from its twisted and disturbing proportions a part of Fena suspected it had far too much mass for its body. Those suspicions only deepened when its skin was pierced by the sword and the excess flesh was forced out into these twisted tentacles. Fena had no clue what kind of twisted magic had kept that mass contained until now, but whatever it was, it was powerful. Very powerful.

But despite its immense strength, Fena wasn’t giving up - after all, her ‘blessing’ had a few more benefits than just healing. Her knuckles strained, turning white as they conveyed a ludicrous strength of their own, squeezing the tendril of muscle as Fena let out a scream of agony.

The muscle finally began to respond - the black veins along its surface began to burst and the purple flesh darkened. The deer-thing let out what could only be described as a yowl; it began to shake and jerk about, but its own weighty body hindered its movement. It began to grow desperate; just above where Fena was squeezing, tiny tendrils shot out from the main branch, flailing and battering at her grip. Though they were weakest yet, they still riddled her hand with more purplish bruises.

In response Fena tightened her grip even more. Her shoulder and bicep muscles bulged and rippled in protest as she pulled and squeezed, and she had long lost sensation in her hands. The attacks of the other tendrils grew wild and desperate; Fena’s other limbs and torso cried out in pain as the tendrils imprinted themselves onto her flesh. On and on it went - a battle of endurance, and pure strength between two shockingly powerful foes. But Fena could feel herself begin to give way; any moment longer and she would-

“GAAAAAOOOOORLLLLLL!!”

With a bellow of agony, the enormous tendril suddenly went slack, releasing her now completely ruined left arm.

But despite the opportunity, Fena didn’t let go. With a growl of her own she yanked with her good arm, pulling the monster off its poor balance and to the ground. The creature was so heavy it felt like pulling down a house, but Fena didn’t care; the burning fury triggered by this thing had sent her into a hazy state that could only be described as bloodlust.

She stomped onto the tendril with her foot, holding it down as she began to pull the tendril apart. The other tendrils were no longer attacking her; instead they squirmed away from her, abandoning the large one she clutched in a death grip. Again her muscles screamed out in protest, but she could hardly feel the pain now; she only wanted to destroy this… thing.

Another scream of rage tore from her throat as she pulled and pulled. The tendril jerked about, trying to escape her, but there was none to be found - with a terrific rip, the tendril came apart, spraying a vile black blood across everything in the vicinity.

Clutching her damaged wrist Fena staggered back, regaining her senses as she watched the monster struggle to clamber back to its feet. It seemed to be moaning, or at least the closest approximation the creature could make. The tendrils from its head wound had all gone limp, hanging uselessly from its head as the blood from the destroyed tendril poured out like a river, squeezed out from the insane pressure within the monster’s body.

“Shit,” swore Fena under her breath. A wave of dizziness overcame her as she returned to her senses; her left arm was nothing but a tangled ruined mess of shattered bone and flesh. She had learned something, but she was still no closer to defeating the monster than before - she would need a cannon to pierce into the monster’s core.

“Crow!” She shouted. “I need ideas here!”

“Do I look like a philosopher?! You need to stab the core!!”

“Genius!” she growled back. “How do I pierce its body?!”

“You think of somethin-”

“Oh, fuck off!” snapped Fena. She was wasting her time. The weapons on her were too small to have any effect. She couldn’t stab it properly with only one hand anyways - even her first attack atop a charging warhorse had only left a small wound. The monster was practically invulnerable to piercing attacks, not to mention said warhorse was nowhere in sight.

Except the Zweihander was her only realistically viable weapon. If only it was a pilum instead - that would’ve at least had a chance of success… As that thought rushed through her head, the beginning of an idea formed. But she needed her weapon back.

She raced forward, past the monster that was still trying to get to its feet, and scooped up the sword. Sprinting down the road, she tried to buy as much distance as possible from the monster.

She couldn’t get far; only twenty metres or so when she heard that bone chilling scream echo out behind her. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Leaping into the ditch, Fena grabbed the butt of the sword and slammed it into the grassy bank, its point aimed as closely as possible to the monster as the thing lumbered into a charge.

A shout interrupted Fena’s focus, and she looked back to see Antony and Avairy galloping towards her atop a very reluctant warhorse, followed by the rest of the mercenaries on foot. She scowled and waved them off; the last thing she needed was them drawing away the beast’s attention. Fortunately, the thing seemed to have a one track mind; infuriated by the loss of its tendril, it was utterly focused on her. It grew closer and closer, lowering it warped and twisted antlers towards her and letting out another disgusting scream. The noise sent Antony’s horse rearing into the air, sending his riders tumbling to the ground, but Fena paid them no attention; the monster was almost upon her and she leaned back, holding up the long blade with her one good arm.

The creature slammed into the spear and Fena dived to the side as it just barely missed her. This time though the blade was far more effective; using the monster’s weight and momentum against it, it buried itself deep into the monster’s chest.

The reaction was almost immediate. It was like a bomb had gone off as the deep puncture wound suddenly released an enormous amount of pressure and the densely packed flesh of the monster exploded outwards into enormous tendrils. Fena was thrown back, but as she scrambled onto her feet she could already tell that nothing was left of the deer’s entire upper body. Nothing but an enormous wriggling mass of purplish flesh and tentacles that stretched up high into the air.