Now I’ve never seen what this Malign looked like, and I didn’t think I would so soon. But, with the responsibility of having to win the game, I supposed it was gonna come out sooner or later. And it was much better for it to be sooner.

We quickly arrived at the church, and Asunta dashed over to a stray tapayan and pulled out a woven abaca satchel. “Come,” she told me, and I nodded. As we ran out of the door, she looked over her shoulder to Ragul and said, “You, stay put, okay?”

Ragul only nodded, proceeding to put the wagon beside the upraised bamboo platform and sat against one of the trees. “Stay safe,” he said. “The Malign is hatred.”

We rushed down the slope of the hill and made our way to the bamboo house where once I was in. As we strode, Asunta was looking about her, as if going crazy, looking at absolutely every possible angle of the village from her head. In the bamboo house where I lay back then, a horrid pale white and red smoke wafted out from it. The smoke wasn’t even… smoke, per se. It felt more like viscuous fluid streaming upward, as if in revolt of the laws of falling.

We dashed into the room and I immediately saw the banig upon which I first lay—and, in truth, the great half of the room—covered in a white and red… goo? It definitely felt like goo. Or perhaps it was slime. Whatever it was, it was a strange viscuous fluid that seemed to breathe, expanding and then contracting. In random areas sprouted out red eyeballs with black slits for irises, staring out at us.

Asunta cursed. “A rather large infection.” She pulled some rock salt from her pouch and threw it at the eyes, chanting once again. The second the salt struck the white goo, it bubbled up and then exploded in a large gout of violet flame. “Leave this purified, holy place, you do not belong here!”

“What the hell is happening?”

“Purification, apo,” Orlok said, for apo was the term for grandchild. “The witch purifies the infection upon creation.”

After scattering rocksalt, she pulled out a ceramic pot, seemingly magically sealed. She whispered a word to it, and there was an audible pop, before she removed the lid. Dipping her fingers into the pot, she sprayed water upon the now receding goo, uttering once again: “Infections, be purified, in the name of the natural, in the name of the truth! Diwata curse you, and may you all be damned to back to Kawalan.”

I found myself shuddering at her proclamations, for her words seemed to streak up like lightning to the gods of the sun and moon themselves. “Begone, begone!” And I saw that it was working. Slowly, ever so slowly, like a recding tide, it disappeared, as if the reality of creation ate away at it and removed it from the world.

Asunta continued doing this until there wasn’t much left but a singular eye upon a weird, skeletal stalk made of that white and red goo. As Asunta sprayed the water, she turned to me and tossed out a single leaf-shaped dagger. Upon its blade were written suyats, probably used to enact some sort of magical force upon them.

“Begone, unanturality, manufactured by God!” Asunta said one last time, before shouting to me. “Now, Attainer, stab the eye and rid the world of the infection!”

And so I did. I walked forward, raised the dagger above my head, and then stabbed it down at the eye right as it opened its eyes. No blood escaped, nothing else really happened. Once the blade was lodged into the eye, there was an audible scream, and then suddenly the white goo dissipated, turning into little starlets of white and red, accursed to the eye.

“Come,” she said. “Take off your clothing and let me bathe you in this sacred water.”

“Why?” I asked, but I was already taking off my clothing.

“We must not risk an infection from the Malign—“

“Not yet, Witch!” snarled Orlok. “I sense more Malign from outside!”

“More? Ah, the spirits curse all. Come, let us meet them.”

We rushed out of the door of the house, and I had pulled out one of my steel krises. I wielded the both of them—the leaf-shaped suyat dagger and the steel kris. I realized that perhaps my rusted kris wouldn’t be too much help.

As we dashed out into the abandoned plaza of the village, the sound of a tree falling startled us to alarm. I immediately turned around to see if a tree from the church had fallen, but found that it was untouched. No, what I didn’t see was that from the surrounding forest, a large boar like creature had barreled through, knocking trees in its wake.

I turned around and saw three black lamanlupa, without any weapons, surrounding a large boar, one two heads taller than me. Its eyes were strained red, and what looked like white and red serpents writed and pierced its skin and corrupted it from within. Riding atop it was a black creature, more or less humanoid in stature and shape, but with legs and arms far too long for a normal human, and with skin the color of the blackest bark. Upon its scalp was a shock of white hair, and its teeth were stained black as well. Its eyes burned with that same horrible black and red taint, and it held in one hand a bamboo shoot that had been sharpened on its end to become a wickedly sharp spear.

“Maligno,” said Orlok, and I cursed. “That is a dalaketnon warrior. Treat him with caution.” In my mind’s eye, the warrior’s stats materialized.

Dalaketnon Warrior

Gahum 2

Ginhawa 3

Kalag 1

A warrior of the Dalaketnon race, people of the Dalaket trees. They’ve been shunned by most of the folk of heaven, and so a portion of them have decided to surrender to God and become His corrupted machines of war. Be cautious.

Bamboo Spear

Deals 2 damage to Ginhawa. Be careful of its far reach.

Corrupted Boar

Gahum 1

Ginhawa 5

Kalag 0 - Corrupted.

Natural Armor 1. Endurance 2. Tusks deal 5 Ginhawa damage.

A large boar, now corrupted by the Malign. Be wary. It has a 25% chance of corruption when struck.

“Shit.”

“Maligno, how have you come to this wretched village?”

“Do not play coy with me, witch,” said the dalaketnon warrior, his voice wry and snarling, like a scheming marauder. “I know of the wards you’ve put up, and they are nothing against my wit.”

She cursed again, muttering that she had forgotten to strengthen the wards. “Now you will fall to your folly, and we shall eliminate the Attainer! For the Godhead!” And at those words, they leapt into an assault. They all moved at the same time, right as I noticed that none of them wore any kind of armor, and I didn’t see anything about their Endurance or natural armor, meaning they had no way to blunt my attacks in any way.

Asunta was quick on her feet, even though she didn’t look like a witch that fought. With a snarl of her spell, she blasted one of the lamanlupa away with her Hamok spell, sending it slamming straight onto a house in the back. The dilapidated home crumbled under the impact, and I saw that the Hamok spell reduced the lamanlupa by 2 hearts, meaning he only had 1 left.

The two other lamanlupa glid past her, and I was forced to face them. As one leaped up to me, I cut twice with my left handed blade, the one with the suyat script. As I did, it burned with white light and its stats blasted into my mind’s eye.

Suyat-Inscribed Dagger

Purifying weapon.

Deals 1 damage. 2 damage to Maligno.

Hell yeah. My cuts sliced the strings of essence that the black lamanlupa had, but another lamanlupa to my right had taken advantage of my swings, and managed to claw my side. I cursed, as 1/4 of a heart withered away.

“1/4?” I asked.

“Even if you had Endurance and Armor, all attacks deal at least the minimum amount of damage. That is the way of this game.”

“Fuck. So the minimum damage is 1/4?”

I wasn’t able to hear Orlok’s answer because I had to dive out of the way of the incoming Corrupted Boar. I cursed as it slammed against the house behind me, completely smashing it and destroying it. As it did, the dalaketnon leaped out from its back and tried to skewer me with the bamboo spear. However, using my other kris, I began parrying his overhead attacks, until he had to land back down because that was the law of rising and falling.

“You fight well,” said the warrior. “Despite being a Dabbler. As expected, of an Attainer.” And then he was at me again, a flurry of strikes, a blurring cacophony of bamboo skewers. I managed to dodge most of them, but I was struck twice, and lost 1/2 of my health.

WIncing, I pressed forward, taking opportunity of a chink in his assault, which surely doubled as his defense. I managed to slither in a wide gash with the Suyat-Inscribed Dagger, followed by a quick and ravaging strike with my kris. He cursed out loud, and kicked me back, sending me skidding across the ground. However, using the daggers to stop my momentum, I skidded to a stop on my knees.

“Now, Attainer, the blood of dead BATALA burns through you! Use the Lightning-Bolt Flame!”

When Orlok said those words, a burning violent instinct rose from my heart, as if chains being unlocked. I raised my hand, right as the dalaketnon warrior was high upon me, and I snarled, “The force of my soul is the force of ten thousand hammers! Hamok!”

A sudden metaphysical rush surged through my body. Invisible force erupted from my body… which was then suddenly turned visible. The force of my will betrayed me, and the color of my soul shone through, emanating from me, a blessed magenta, and then congealed into the form of a black goddess, wielding spear and sword. That apparition seemed to surf with the force of my Hamok spell, and it slammed against the dalaketnon. As the phantom that rose from me passed it, the warriors screamed as black flames engulfed him, and then in a matter of seconds, he was cinders. 1/4 of my Kalag withered away.

My hands were glowing a bright color, and I would’ve stared at it and gawked and wondered what the hell is happening? When I decided to instead save my ass and dive out of the way to avoid being skewered by a boar.

I could no longer feel that rush, and the instinct was gone. Strange. I sent out a simple Hamok spell as I dove to the side, striking even as I rolled on the ground. I dealt 1/4 worth of damage to it, as another 1/4 of my Kalag went down.

The damage did nothing to slow him. Quite the contrary, actually. It turned to me and its crimson eyes seemed to blaze only redder, and then it dug its heels, drifted, and began charging towards me.

“Bitch mother!” I looked about my, and thankfully there was still a ton of space to dive to. However, my largest regret would always be not being confident if I could clear the boar’s wide girth with a single dive. So instead, I pointed my open hand down, screamed in annoyance, and launched a Hamok spell straight down at the ground. The concussive force against the ground, thankfully, did propel me upwards, as I thought it would. I was down to 2 and 1/4 Kalag Orbs.

I twisted in mid-air, avoiding most of the charge of the boar, and the boar focused its attention on me, trying to look at me even as he dashed past me. As I twisted in midair, I threw the Suyat-Inscribed Dagger straight down at him, and the dagger found its sheathe on the boar’s head, sinking deep and dealing 4 damage instead of the 2 I thought I would.

“A Critical Hit,” said Orlok. “However its armor and endurance still cuts your damage down.”

And I saw that it was so. I only dealt 2 full points of damage to it. The boar squealed, but 2 full Ginhawa hearts withered away.

I dropped onto the ground feet first, just as Asunta, appeared in front of the boar, grabbing a dead lamanlupa that had been cracked in half. Her other hand had two fingers raised upward, as if pointing to the firmament. “See my heart of cutting force, I shall end in you in a single stroke! Pinakahamok!” And around her too a halo burned, and her arms and legs burned with the color of dusky night, an ashen indigo.

She sliced down with her finger, and she, with her horrible witch magic, managed to condense the massive hammer force of Hamok into an invisible cutting blade. It sliced down upon the boar, sending the dagger I had thrown impaling straight down through its skull. But it did not stop there. Her invisible blade made a clear line straight through the length of the boar.

A light flashed.

The boar’s Ginhawa hearts were similarly cut, and he was left with no hearts, as the boar came apart, two halves cut vertically in half.

Asunta, the witch, sighed. With a casual shake of her hand, she dissipated her burning magical force, and then she turned to look at me.

The boar’s essence dissipated, turning into white and black strands that wove together to form a floating ball of white fire. It was a strange white fire as well, for it was all too pale and cast no shadows.

“Take it,” said Asunta. “And raise your Gahum.”

I walked forward to it and grabbed the flame. Instinct overpowered me once again, and so I swallowed the flame. It tasted like nothing, and the sensation was something I completely forgot after the deed was done. However, once the flame settled in my stomach, I felt power rushing straight through me.

In my mind’s eye I saw:

Gahum Ascension!

You are now Gahum 2.

Choose to raise either your Ginhawa or Kalag by 1.

I chose, of course, Ginhawa, for staying alive was more important to me right now.

“Alright, you’re done?” she said. “Good. At Gahum 2, you don’t get much. But at every odd Gahum after 1, you get to raise one of your Traits, so let that be something you can do.”

“How many Gahum levels are there?”

“33,” explained the witch. “But that will not be something you will be worrying for now. Come. Let’s check up on Ragul, see if he’s safe. I will check and repair the wards afterward.”

I nodded, but something strange writhed in my gut. Some strange, foreboding omen. I looked at the dalaketnon warrior’s body, which was being melted away as if it were cotton candy being subjected to water. Its still open eyes stared at me, and there was a knowing, even as it dissipated back into nothingness.