As the group watched the mad creature repel the swarms of insects, Fenn’s lips slid over his fangs, baring a pleased snarl.
“Is this god small enough for your liking, Imp?” the hound rumbled with a hint of amusement.
The demoness glowered at the hellhound she still rode, rising to her feet even as her body changed into that of a half tiger; complete with black stripes across the orange fur covering her from the waist-down. She bared her fangs in a vicious snarl, her voice coming out heavy, cutting through the din of the insects buzzing wings.
“Swords raised high
En’mies around
Hear our cry
Now go, my Hound!” She dug her claws into the back of Fenn, grabbing hold of a tuft of his fur as he took off. As if provoked by the intonation, creature’s attention fell on the group with an ear piercing screech.
Behind them, Wrath watched them leap forward as he drew his own weapon, Rage Bringer, waiting a short while before moving in behind them, his weapon at the ready and a defiant glare in his eyes.
The noise of rushing water, brief and almost lost in the eerie ambience of this sacred place, signified that Souta had armed himself in preparation for battle. Golden light from the seal reflected from his trusty Trawlers, the surface of the nasty hooks gleaming with liquid. So, too, did the wave patterns on his hoodie glow, ready to unleash their torrent.
Beckoned by the call of their mistress, a pair of flesh and metal abominations appeared from besides it, launching themselves at the intruders.
Fenn met the charge with his own, crashing against one of the beasts with a din of chiming chains and clanking metal. His charge took advantage of the sudden halt, leaping from her mount’s back as Fenn confronted the abomination. She sailed through the air as she let the momentum carry her forward. The shapeshifter landed on all fours with feline grace before pushing herself up onto her legs and darting forward, a sword and a shield forming in her hands as she left the skirmish to focus on the source of their troubles.
Wrath met with the second creature, ducking under a nasty swipe from it’s left arm and countering with a horizontal slash before dancing back to use his great sword’s reach to his advantage. Unfortunately, the Nephilim was quick to learn that the three huge blades integrated into the monster’s body held a distinct advantage over the greatsword of even a skilled warrior on his own, and whether it knew this or not, the misshapen thing attacked relentlessly. Keeping at least one of its front legs planted at all times to avoid falling, it stabbed at the Nephilim again and again. At that time, part of its metal shell attached at its rear end slid up, telescoping and curving as it did until most of the freak’s flesh was protected. A harsh light began to smolder from its dripping, slimy maw.
The first had found itself a less advantageous foe. Immediately the hideous toy began to slide backward, pointed legs carving grooves in the ground under the hellhound’s far greater weight. With the two creatures’ heads even, though, another avenue was open. From its grotesque vertical mouth-slit, a cascade of amber light poured forth. Fenn hissed as the ray coalesced into a beam of energy, not so much heat as plasma, reminiscent of lightning’s fury in the way it seized the muscles it fell on with a singing pain.
Souta too charged forward. He moved without the speed of his demonic precursor, and he felt the heat surrounding the demented creature even from further away. Writ on his features could be seen an unnatural hatred for the disgusting, abominable thing that stood before him. Perhaps its very presence drove him to crazed anger, but his every action gave off the conviction that he would put everything he had into wiping it from existence as soon as possible. Fire welled up around him, too, and where it met with his veil of rushing water, there came a blast of steam. From inside the steaming cloud there emerged a man changed – Souta, surrounded in bulky, ridged armor of stone, aflow with lava and water, and drenched in steam. Even a human, it seemed, could embrace the Charred Council’s Firebrand Trigger. He approached the mangled beast currently grappling Fenn and swung a Trawler at its legs. More like a giant grappling hook than a fishhook, the heavier weapon swept its back leg, throwing it off balance and angling the beam of light off target.
Retribution came swiftly. The hound’s large claws plunged into the creature’s fleshy throat with only the barest resistance eliciting a strangled cry from the abomination. The demon continued to push inwards and upwards, meat quickly tearing until the thing’s head had been completely ripped away from its resting place.
Still occupied with his own opponent, Wrath sidestepped, ducked and weaved, unable to find an opening to take advantage of the monster’s attacks. The plated armor not protecting its back proved a slight issue in its own, but a protected back was far from indicative of anything else being protected. Jumping back from another thrust, the Nephilim sheathed his greatsword and flicked his gauntlets. Blades extended from them once more and he assumed a stance more fit to them. When the abomination thrust forwards a bladed limb, Wrath snapped out his left gauntlet to redirect it, using the motion to close the distance with the creature. Before the beast could react, the warrior unleashed a series of quick slashes on its chest and head before delivering a serrated uppercut into its chin.
Unburdened by intelligence, the loathsome plaything could not defend itself, and when the blow struck home it staggered back. Another burst of plasma escaped its slitted mouth to fly skyward, aimed at nothing. The next moment it was on its back, flailing its bladed legs but no longer any sort of threat.
His own opponent dispatched through the use of its own weight and poor balance, Wrath retracted the claws with another flick of his wrist and drew Rage Bringer once more. Approaching the flailing legs, he chopped them off at the “shoulders”, ensuring no attacks of that sort could be made before spinning the great sword and ramming its point into the monster’s chest and slicing up into its head.
While the rest of the Council’s agents dealt with the monsters brought to stall them, the female monstrosity loomed before Lily, taller than any human despite its appearance, yet still smaller than the demon she had ridden into battle. The sheer heat radiating from it, however, was far less restrained. Still, that was not enough to dissuade the demoness.
The mad one’s mouth hung open as if in shock that the same burning aura that dispelled Ourakekem’s swarms had no effect on this new interloper. The delay merely allowed Lily to dive into striking distance uncontested, where she lashed out with her sword in a rapid, flowing motion. Aware of the sudden danger, the monster began to move. The writhing tentacles that held her up unwound to splash into the ankle-deep pool (or what of it had yet to evaporate due to the Creatrix’ sunlike corona) to grab the rock and pull her to safety, but they were not fast enough. A nightmarish howl echoed across the flat landscape as one of the aberration’s branches was snapped off to dangle by a few scraps of flesh. Its candlelight died, and from the wound a viscous, fire-red ichor seeped. The blow carried Lily past the creature, where she whirled around to face it before retaliation came.
Suffused by insane hatred, the Creatrix turned, and as she did a now-familiar beam emerged from the aperture on her crown, though this one even more blindingly bright than the Seal itself. This beam of plasma flew toward Lily as fast as its projector’s head could turn – which was fast indeed, for one galvanized into action by pain and madness.
Lily's eyes widened in the split second before she was in the beam’s trajectory. She raised her Shield angling it off to the side as she dashed away, retreating from the beam as quickly as she could. Even through the shield, however, the sting of an electric current coursed through her. She was sent to careening off to the side, tumbling end-over-end for several meters before she finally managed to roll to her feet. Her face was a mask of surprise mixed with indignation; jaw clenched and brows furrowed. If it hadn't been obvious before, it certainly was now. Their opponent – the Creatrix – was a powerful one, more powerful than they had ever faced. The beam of plasma had raked across the stony ground, scoring black gashes into its surface but not its intended target. As the torrent of power died, the demoness’s enemy howled in frustration.
Lily stood up, reforming the sword she had held previously and discarding her shield. Her entire body tensed, as if every single muscle in her body coiled together like a spring. Her eyes narrowed and she lowered herself to the ground, one hand steadying her, the other holding her weapon the ready. Something, behind and off to the side of her foe drew her attention, and a smirk found its way to her features. Then, as she had done before, she let this spring uncoil and propelled herself forward with a mighty, cacophonous boom following in her wake. The beam that had struck her had originated from the crown, and so that was the aim of Lily this time.
From behind, a large hunk of flesh and metal torn from Fenn’s dead prey sailed its way, but the impromptu missile never found its mark. Moving as if creatures with their own consciousnesses, the mad one’s tentacles lashed out at the threat, grabbing the hound’s makeshift projectile and tearing it apart just like a kraken might rip a ship asunder. The defensive measure did take its toll, however, for the next second Lily cannoned toward it. Not able to counterattack, the Creatrix instead threw up her arms, a child protecting its face out of instinct, and the incoming blade cut into both wrists in a spray of ichor. The next second, Lily had passed her target, and nothing lay in range for the Creatrix to savage in repayment while her forearms eked light. A shriek of agony echoed out, though whether meant for the wound or the hatred was hard to say. Upon the Creatrix’s remaining branches, the candlelights flared to life with renewed fury, and the mad one’s aura of heat intensified drastically. Yellow lightning danced across its smaller tendrils whilst loci of plasma formed in the vents on her shoulders. The next moment, a fusillade of plasma bolts shot at the Creatrix’s assailant.
Lily landed a ways behind the Creatrix, turning in time to hear the furious scream and watch the bolts of plasma speeding her way. Her body reacted quicker than her brain, dashing to the side, but too slow. A shout of pain split the air, accompanied by the smell of seared flesh and fur.
Souta, having found an opponent, sprinted forward. His heavy stone armor made for slow going, but in no time at all he came close enough to wind his Trawlers up and let them loose in a double sweep at the Creatrix’s lower half. Just as before, her tentacles moved to intercept the threat, but this time they locked with the attack, unable to wrench the weapons into pieces as they had the piece of plaything moments ago. For the moment, her defense was down.
When Wrath turned to face the Creatrix, he found her both exposed and angry. With the tentacles trapped, he could make short work of them or the body they were attached to, but since they were fighting a god, or at least an echo of her power, he opted to remove the defense and made a run towards the ensnared tentacles. Reaching them, he sliced down on the appendages with a heavy, crushing blow.
Assailed on all sides by the Council’s agents, its attention focused on Lily, and its tentacles preoccupied by Souta’s and Wrath’s efforts, the Creatix’s options were rapidly dwindling. As if smelling the blood in the air, Fenn leaped into the opening, incandescent fangs bared to crush the mad creature’s throat.
Even to one abandoned by her senses, the unmistakable feeling of imminent danger provided a rousing impetus. Wrath and Fenn, each a titan in his own right, bore down on the Creatrix, and she turned to answer them. In the six ports on her shoulders, a broiling, baneful glow accumulated at frightening speed, just as the telltale glow of the earth’s molten core – or the bowels of hell – appeared before a plume of magma burst through the ground. An instant later, a six-pronged geyser of plasma rolled forth. Much too late to alter his path, the blast poured over the hound, sending him stumbling back with a furious howl equal parts pain and frustration. The force propelled the Creatrix backward, wrenching her tentacles free from Souta’s grip and putting an easy hundred meters between herself and her foes in scant seconds.
Even as the plasma accumulated, Wrath attempted to move, diving to the left. That attempt wasn’t quite enough, however, and he uttered a surprised cry of pain as two bolts still found their mark; one in the Nephilim’s gut and the other in the shin of his left leg. He rolled to a crouching position on one knee, the hand not holding Rage Bringer putting pressure on his gut. While there appeared to be no blood, better safe than sorry. He remained crouched, watching the fight unfold. He would need another opening before he could join the fight again and not for the first time he cursed himself for not getting a ranged weapon.
Ichor bled from a few gashes in her tentacles where she’d allowed Wrath to get too close. Now, though, the ball lay in her park. As if drunk, she began to sway, the amber aperture in her chitinous crown flashing rhythmically. Above the battlefield, the seal itself began to flash in accord.
Lily, still crouched down where the monster’s fire had scored her hide, looked up and gritted her teeth. The mad creature was preparing something. She pushed herself back up onto her paws, a recurve bow rapidly materializing in her hands. Even before it had fully formed, she had taken position to fire, a half-formed arrow nocked on the string. Two arrows fled her weapon in quick succession, but were both swatted out of the air by the Creatrix’ tentacles without so much as disturbing the drunken dance. Her eyes narrowed with something like annoyance, tinged with thoughtfulness. Perhaps if they could blind the creature, a projectile could go through that barrier. But she would need to be in a proper position to take advantage of it.
With the ritual uninterrupted, another whirl of matter came to be alongside the Creatrix, though this one substantially larger than those that brought into existence the blade-legged beasts. This time, when the maelstrom faded, a
nightmarish thing malformed came to be. This one lay sprawled on the pool-strewn ground, having no legs to stand even had it the propriety to do so. Like a newborn babe it crawled, a mechanistic mewling echoing across the battlefield, toward its Creatrix’s foes to envelop them in its vile embrace.
Souta, now finished with a moment of rest, heaved a heavy, breathy sigh. He then started his jog toward the Creatrix, moving to the side as he did in the hopes of avoiding the mangled homunculus. To his hand he summoned Deluge, which his Firebrand Trigger immediately enhanced with a stony coating, and at a steady rate he unleashed bolts of fused fire in its direction.
“Steam! Block her vision!”Even through the din of their fight, Lily’s voice cut clear through to Souta’s ears. She had morphed to her draconic visage, a greatbow replacing the recurve—arrow trained at the Creatrix’ chest, ignoring the newest monstrosity.
In response to Lily’s call, Souta ceased fire for a moment to hold out his other hand. Across it the flow of flame and lava increased, and their meeting sent a cloud of steam billowing around him. As this happened, the homunculus altered its path, evidently not pleased with the human’s painful spikes. Forgetting all about the steam, Souta trained his weapon on the Creatrix’ plaything and fired as fast as he could even as its shadow loomed over him, for not enough time remained for him to switch weapons. Heedless of the burning pain, the creature lifted up an arm to swat the fly before it.
There was a sound like thunder, and the shadow moved away from over him. Fenn had charged into the monster’s flank, the sudden tackle all but sending the lame infant sprawling on its side. The eager, near crazed look on the dog’s eyes as it jumped on the thing’s back – fangs and claws tearing at the flesh and shell of a screaming beast twice his size – did little to prove his rescue was more than a happy coincidence. A garbled yowl resounded as the homunculus felt pain for the first time and, eager, to end the tortuous sensation, it twisted itself onto its back in an endeavor to throw Fenn off or crush him beneath its weight. The dog allowed itself to slide off the thing’s back as the monster turned, teeth tearing a strip of flesh from its scalp as the thing tried to pull away from him. Chains unraveled and sought the wailing monster’s arms, trying to still the mangled thing’s struggle even as the demon sought its neck.
“Steam! Now!”
Lily’s snappish command tore Souta’s eyes from the brutal display. His voice, whether due to his armor or to some unnerving alteration beneath, rippled and reverberated as though he were trapped in the depths of a vast cave.
“You blind!? There’s steam everywhere!” A proper haze wafted from his hand as he gesticulated at the growing clouds across the battlefield. Through the screen of mist, the glow of the Creatrix’s crown could still be seen. From this range, Deluge was practically useless, so the smith resumed his run forward. Surely, Fenn and Wrath could deal with the homunculus. A glance back over his shoulder confirmed that Lily still held her arrow nocked, ready to shoot. Was she waiting for permission? Probably not, but whatever.
“Fire!” Souta bellowed as he thundered across the earth.
Meanwhile, beyond the veil of steam, the Creatrix was not exactly idle. Still locked in her eerie dance, she began to move her wretched form in new ways. Extra tendrils curled out from her thighs, hips, and calves; the two leathery strips that before flopped uselessly near her back stretched up, unfurling like wings.
The first arrow punched a hole through the mist, screaming for the Creatrix with deadly accuracy, even in this mist. There was a thud of the arrow hitting flesh and the rending sound of it tearing through the rest of her body, followed by a scream of pain and rage in equal measures. The Creatrix reeled, ichor streaming from both sides of her upper body, but she did not falter. Whatever fundamental organ that governed this alien being’s life was, evidently, not where one might find it in a human. A wave of searing heat washed across the terrain, melting away the bank of fog summoned by Souta. The agents of the Charred Council watched as the mad one’s leathery wings unfurled, and the paper-thin scales therein light up with the glow of fire. Defying her uncanny, obviously unsuitable form, the Creatrix lifted into the air. Below her, her tentacles streamed like a jellyfish’s, but they had nothing to do with her ascent; rather, the obscuring aura that surrounded the abhorrent madwoman hinted that she rose upon a massive heatwave of her own creation that her bizarre wings capitalized on.
Her body tilted forward as she started to glide, and from the ports on her shoulders, streams of plasma blasted down to scorch the earth. The Creatrix dove the agents’ way with not-insignificant speed, prepared to incinerate them in an extraordinary sort of bombing run.
As the Creatrix dove for the agents of the Council, Wrath was already up and moving as fast as he could with his wounds out of her path, diving to the right this time and then standing to run. He glanced over at the Hellhound as he worked on the newest of the Creatrix’s summon and decided that leaving only one of them to deal with it would be folly. Adjusting the angle of his run, Wrath charged forward and rammed the tip of Rage Bringer into the homunculus’ side, driving it in deep before tearing the blade out with a wrenching sound.
Even then, the presence of her creation did little to halt the mad creature’s assault, and the homunculus wailing screams resounded through the Seal’s altar as plasma indiscriminately washed over the infant and its assailants.
Lily's wings unfurled instinctively, spreading wide before beating down and lifting her into the air, quick enough to avoid the twin beams of plasma otherwise threatening to sear her.
In ordinary warfare, to control the sky, meant control over the battlefield, and they could not let the Creatrix gain any advantage if they were to have a sure chance of victory. Wrath and Fenn were keeping the homunculus busy, while Souta seemed ready to strike, whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Up above, Lily beat her wings again rising up above their opponent, to both gain the advantage of altitude and an overview of the battlefield. Twin beams of plasma still raked across the ground, leaving deep gouges wherever they struck. So far the Creatrix had proven to be formidable in the ways of magic, but she seemed to lack any threatening amount of physical prowess. That said, she was no ordinary being, as a pierced heart had barely slowed her, if she even had one. So it was with those thoughts in mind that Lily handled herself downwards, warhammer gripped in her clawed hands, and let gravity and a powerful beat of her wings propel her downwards, ready to shatter every bone in the body of her quarry and sent her crashing to the ground. There were very few beings she knew of that could move without bones, and the Creatrix did not seem to be one.
Among humans, many cases existed where the blind purportedly gained hypersensitivity in their other senses as if to make up for what they had lost. Newts and other crawling things that inhabited pitch-black caverns went without their sight entirely, instead relying on other senses. In the ocean’s depths, sharks hunt not be vision or hearing but by detecting the electric signals given off by the muscles of their prey, using a special sixth sense. So to did the Creatrix, malformed yet magnificence, survey the battlefield. Rather than using eyes to see, for she had none, she saw with heat itself. Its molten cascade upon the battlefield, scorching the stillborn homunculus to ashes while it shrieked and scattering the agents of the Charred Council lest they be charred to nothing more than cindered, told her that she had the advantage. Reveling in that freedom, she rained lightning-infused napalm upon the ground without restraint. A disturbance in her field of heat from above, however, stuck out like a sneeze at a silent auction.
The candlelights ablaze on the Creatrix’s remaining branches flared into a frenzied state, breathing a shower of sparks that shot skywards towards her assailant.
Too late, Lily realized the mistake she had made. At her speeds, she could only brace herself, wrapping her wings around her like a cocoon just before explosions engulfed her. Moments later, a blackened figure emerged from the conflagration, careening downwards in an uncontrolled plummet.
The Creatrix merely jerked to the side, letting the figure fly past her to crash on the ground below. The abomination returned her attention downwards, intent on scorching the remaining intruders, but in the short interim where she had been preoccupied with Lily, something had occurred. Cold, lifeless objects entered her field of vision. Her tentacles bunched up and swung like a pendulum in an effort to wrench her out of the way, but the chains followed her movement as though they had a life of their own and wrapped around what passed as the monster’s legs with crushing strength. The Creatrix screeched as the links grew taut, pulling her downwards from her perch in the sky even through the powerful updraft she had created.
Her tentacles smashed against the earth as she crashed, swaying as they took the landing’s impact in the stead of the Creatix’s humanoid body, but Fenn’s chains did not loosen. Standing next to the charred humunculous, the Hellhound drew his arms back with an impatient growl, forcing the Creatrix’s tentacles to anchor themselves to the rock platform to prevent her from being dragged away. There was a grinding sound, and a shrill cry escaped the Creatrix’s lips as her body turned into the rope for a tug-of war game between the chained hound’s unyielding binds and her resisting tendrils. Tentacles pressed around the chains themselves, attempting to pry them off, but the dog would not budge from his position, and the chains only wrapped themselves more tightly, refusing to be dislodged. The struggle shook loose waves of plasma sparks from the Creatrix’s branches to careen toward Fenn en masse, but even their chain explosion did not dissuade the hellbent hellhound.
In the throes of agony, the light in the crown’s opening took on a blinding radiance as the Creatrix turned her head towards the brutish demon.
Abruptly, a crystal spike found purchase in the Creatrix’s shoulder and just as suddenly exploded, blowing open second hole on her torso. The wounded goddess let out another shriek, her body contorting in pain and the light in her crown losing some of its brilliance.
Souta’s hate-filled eyes remained fixed on the writhing creature as he readjusted his aim. A second spike sailed over the mad one as she tried to twist away away, but a third punched into the Creatrix’s hand as she vainly brought it up to defend itself. The next second the fused fire exploded, ripping the appendage open and sending ichor and fingers flying.
This was the end. If the creature continued to resist, it would be torn in apart by the Hellhound’s chains or be slowly obliterated by the Smith’s enchanted weaponry. Could it be that a mad god would be brought low by a pack of outsiders—by this capricious rabble!?
A pitiful wail surged from behind Fenn, as though refuting the battle’s conclusion. The hound barely had time to throw a glance behind him before the homunculus’s burned arm crashed against him. Unprepared as he was, the blow sent the hound hurtling to the side. Having used the last of its strength on the intruders that had harmed its mother so, the infant monster let out one last harrowing cry, then fell limply in place, dead.
The dog stood again drunkenly, the blow having disoriented him only momentarily, but the interruption had tipped the balance of the struggle. The moment Fenn’s chains slackened, the Creatrix had slipped out of the restraints.
No sooner had the lunatic been freed than she hurled her tentacles towards Souta with a speed made terrifying by desperation, and the human barely had time to throw himself out of the way before he was struck. Even the glancing blow walloped his rock carapace, fracturing his defense and sending him rolling across the ground
As the smith tried to scramble back to his feet, he was treated to a perfect view of his encroaching doom. The Creatrix approached him, her tentacles carrying her towards his prone form. Those writhing limbs held up the Creatrix’s body like a broken puppet. One of her arms ended at the wrist, ichor bleeding profusely from the wound Deluge had inflicted, mixing into a puddle with the liquid oozing from the holes in the creature’s chest and shoulder. But perhaps most frightening was the easily recognizable, almost human grimace of pain and rage that twisted the mad one’s features.
As one, every light surrounding the Creatrix’s mangled body grew in brightness as they prepared to incinerate the invader before her.
The sound of running footsteps coming from behind interrupted her. The Creatrix turned and found Wrath rapidly approaching her. The Nephilim, knowing he wouldn’t reach her before her rage was unleashed on him in Souta’s stead, hurled Rage Bringer at the crazed goddess, the weapon rapidly spun end over end before burying itself in her chest, sending another spray of blood across the ground on impact. The blow staggered her long enough for him to close the remaining distance. Wrath leapt onto the Creatrix’s suspended body and grabbed the hilt of his weapon, feet pressing against the Creatrix’s mangled midriff.
“Rest in pieces, bitch.”Heaving, Wrath brought his great sword up in a vertical slice, turning the Creatrix’s upper body into two halves as he jumped off of her and away from the suddenly writhing tentacles. A hiss escaped his lips as he landed, but the warrior wasted no time in making his next move. Wrath sheathed his sword and flicked his wrists to extend the blades of his Wrath Dealers before vaulting over the monster. A writhing tendril reflexively lashed out to meet him, but he spun over it, his clawed blades flashing out mid-pirouette.
He landed behind the monster, legs buckling on impact. The Nephilim fell to his knees, breathing heavily as his free hand reached towards his wounded side.
A few paces behind him, the twin halves of the Creatrix’s head flopped meatily onto the ground, neatly severed where the metal had met flesh. They were soon followed by the rest of the fallen goddess’s corpse.
