The mission was easy, and it had always been easy. Every time that a den of these bug-loving cultists was located, a kill-team was sent to deal with it. One by one, their lairs were purged of all within, monster and man alike, with no mercy given and none expected in return. They had all gotten so good at using the mass assault tactics of the cultists and their monster masters against them, using the narrow chokepoints of the natural caverns as places to funnel their hated foe into kill zones.

And, of course, should they refuse to go forward and into the shredding maw of their weapons, then they could risk a few pushes here and there to move up and further back their enemy into a corner. Like the barbaric savages that they were, they could not refuse a challenge on their own home turf, and as a result, they suffered immeasurably. Each assault, each purge left anywhere from tens of cultists dead to over two or three thousand, to say nothing of the numbers of eight-legged-freaks that were shredded by their firearms.

They had expected this one to be no different, but they were surprised to find that this was likely to be the main base of the cult itself. The most wanted man in the entire Republic of Theien, the self-styled ‘High Confessor’, was now before them, waiting for the reaper to claim him. After all that they had each experienced at the hands of the cultists and their spider masters, to kill the High Confessor would be a catharsis like none other.

The chaff before them fell like grain before the farmer’s scythe and, if they were counting properly, this would be the most of these fuckers they had killed in a single extermination ever, bar none. They were so close to simply decapitating the beast and leaving a power vacuum that would let the cult be hunted that much more easily, but then a monkey wrench was thrown into the works.

Perhaps it was that they were losing heart, perhaps their damned High Confessor or the spiders themselves demanded it, but either way, the monster-lovers held back, just out of the range of the guns that they had on them. If only they had brought something heavier, then they would have been able to keep up the assault and deal that final, decisive blow.

Perhaps had they done so, the current situation would not have occurred. No one was quite sure how this single person was bodying them so one-sidedly, but the fact remained that this one, singular person was handing their asses to them on a silver fucking platter. It was plainly clear to all of them, and even to the damned fucking cultists, that this single person in his white and red ensemble was just toying with them.

The man (or at least they thought it was a man) was treating them like a cat playing with a crippled mouse. He could easily have crushed them all in mere moments, but instead of that he kept them on the edge of defeat for what was only just a few short minutes but felt like an eternity. He tossed them about like an adult throwing a few small coins around, always making sure that they stayed alive by any means necessary.

It was beyond humiliating, and the man in white and red seemed to revel in that. Death was no escape, as the unknown interloper would just throw what looked to be potions of national treasure quality around like they were flasks filled with runoff. Everyone among them had now died and been fully revived and healed around five or six times in under ten minutes, and the despair that they had inflicted upon the cultists was beginning to set in upon themselves instead.

It would not be long before the last glimmer of defiance was snuffed out and all that would be left in the aftermath of that would be a pile of mentally broken men and women armed with tech beyond what should normally be possible.

…

High Confessor Gareth watched on in amazement as Vaile tore the men who had done so much damage to the cult to bits and pieces over and over again, going out of his way to toss priceless treasures on them each time they died simply to bring them back so he could crush them once again. The sight was terrifying, but it was also uplifting. He now understood why Mother desired that man’s body so much. His level had to be easily over a hundred at the very least. Any hatchling borne from a body like that would be absurdly powerful and Mother would be able to gain quite a bit of power simply by devouring the young born that way.

However, he had given his word that he would try and convince Mother to take a differing course, and he was a man of his word. If this would mean that he would be eaten alive, then that was a small price to pay. After all, if he died or was excommunicated, then a new High Confessor would be chosen, and they would not be in the same position he was in. They would not have made that bargain, and therefore they would not be required to seek Vaile’s freedom.

Still, he knew full well that no member of the cult, let alone any children of Mother, would be able to hold him down for long. To be this powerful, he obviously would have high resistance to poisons, toxins, and venoms. Likewise, hallucinogens and other mind-altering things would likely be ineffective at best, or downright useless at worst. Mother herself would need to be the one to catch him and seeing as She was loathe to so much as try to leave the pit She was currently in, the odds of that happening were small, to say the least.

As Vaile slowly stopped crushing the Exterminators like the insignificant nuisances they were (at least to he himself), the powerful man then began to toss even more of those precious vials of magically produced ‘miracle-in-a-jar’ all over the chamber. Each time they landed on someone or something, they would shatter into incalculably many pieces, reducing themselves to fine dust as the concoction within spread over anywhere from one target to five or six at a time.

Bodies that had been reduced to shredded meat, bone, and/ or exoskeleton began to stitch themselves back together as if their demise was played out in reverse. Tens, then hundreds then tens of hundreds of his brothers and sisters were brought back from oblivion alongside spiders both large, medium, and small alike. It was disgusting, yet also mesmerizing. How much else did Vaile have just lying about and waiting to be used in such a way? How many more of these miraculous potions did he have in his Inventory that he could just use them so casually and without any care for their true value?

These would be questions for later, but for now, he watched in stunned silence as something he had only seen Mother Herself pull off was done many more times over. He marveled at it, at the sheer lack of understanding that Vaile had regarding what he was doing. He was overjoyed that so many were brought back, but his past life as a merchant caused a part of him to scream internally as he watched priceless treasures be tossed around like they were worth less than a single copper coin. How many of those things did he have that they were so worthless to him?!