by Wolfe Locke
But what choice do I have except to use them as well. And John was not the type to give up. He would see this through no matter what it took. At this point he had lost too much of himself to at least not do that.
The bottom of the staircase loomed beneath him. John did not slow as he reached the next floor. He did not even draw his axes. By now, he had become accustomed to the feel of this place. The constant feeling of wrongness. I’ve changed, but I won’t bow to this place. I refuse to cower. No, it’s better to walk with my head up, ready to fight, always ready, but not scared. The dungeon punished weakness, and John refused to show any more than he already had.
John looked around the floor on which he now found himself. As he scanned around, John could see that the walls were lined with iron wrought cells and as far as he could tell, it remained consistent further in. A prison, then?
As always, the light here was dim. It was as if this placed shunned any form of illumination, preferring the darkness and the shadows instead. But with the power granted to him through Body of the Depths, John had no issues seeing as a grey film covered his eyes.
John was about to explore further into the prison to find out what secrets or horrors that lay inside, but the sound of shuffling footsteps interrupted him. Monsters? Or People. Who comes for me?
From inside one of the prison cells, a figure stepped forward. From what he could see, it was a woman. He could tell by the curve of her waist and the rest of her features. A layer of bloody bandages wrapped around her head, only parting at the mouth to show rotted and yellow teeth.
The rest of her was covered in old, dirty, tattered clothing. The bit of skin that he could see was gray, as if it had been decaying. She walked with the shuffling steps of the undead. Of course, it’s a monster.
Upon seeing her, John drew his thrice blessed axes. He learned that within this dungeon, bad things came in groups. When I find them, or they find me, I need to assume they’re enemies unless proven otherwise.
Yet the No Men saw me as something of an ally. What have I become that I have thrown myself in league with monsters?
Look at yourself, John. You’ve become a bit of a monster too. You’ve been becoming one this entire time. I’ve just helped a little. These aren’t of me. They will kill you if given the chance.
John ignored the voice but listened to the warning. He focused on the other ambling forms that had come forth from the cells of the prison. It looked like he had been right, there had been more.
They came in various genders, but mostly they all looked the same. Faces obscured by bandages, old and worn clothing, decaying skin.
John was not sure what kind of undead these might be, but he knew not to underestimate them. Thanks to powers he had gained from bonding with the various “gods”, he was at least three times stronger than he had been before, but John was still cautious. He would not simply go barreling ahead because of his newly given strength. That was a good way to wind up dead.
As John watched, the number of the creatures progressively increased. They stumbled out of the depths of the prison like a grey tide. Before he knew it, John saw there had to be at two dozen or more of the things in front of him, blocking his path forward.
They have numbers, but they don’t look quick. I know undead can be strong, but I’m much stronger now than I have ever been. I bet I could match their strength easily enough. So, it’s all about cutting through them.
Looks can be deceiving John, but never should you tempt fate. There are more powers than those that claim this dungeon that we must all answer to.
The nearest of the figures got down on all fours, almost like a dog. It regarded John with a sideways tilt of its head, and a broad, bloody smile. Although he could not see its eyes, he knew they were boring into him with malice.
The creature moved faster than it should have been able to. Gone was the shuffling walk. It bounded along the floor like some wild animal, closing the distance in moments.
John brought up his thrice blessed axes to meet the thing. The undead stayed low to the ground, lashing out with its sharp nails.
John batted away the blows, swinging his axes defensively. But it somehow got within his guard, raking a hand across his face. John grunted with surprise and pain, and then his mind grew dark with white fiery anger.
You’ve your own monster form John. Two of them. Use them. Embrace what you have become, and what you are becoming. You’ll never return to being the man you were. You’re becoming something so much grander. *laughs*
I refuse. Never willing. John refused to become the thing that had slain the trio of travelers that he had encountered back in Macabre. Travelers like himself that were just trying to survive. No. He would not be that monster again. But as he went on the offensive against this attacker, he could not hold back the primal growl that reverberated from his chest.
The thing was fast, but so was John.
He sidestepped the next swipe of its nails and brought one of his thrice blessed axes down into the back of its skull with a sickening sound. The being fell and moved no more.
Calmly, John turned to the others who had watched the exchange silently.
“Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” he shouted, garnering their attention.
In response, the monsters transformed. John watched as the ends of their arms sloughed off to reveal sharp, stinger like appendages. Then they got down on all fours and charged.
To John’s astonishment, they did not just charge at him from the ground. He watched as they thrust their sharp limbs into the walls and started scaling them. They came at him from every direction. The floors, the walls, even the ceiling.
Well, this is going to be interesting.
John met the first of the creatures on the ground. It lashed at him with those sharp barbs, and he did his very best to parry with his thrice blessed axes. Suddenly, that creature broke off from him and two more came streaking at him low on the ground from either side. While another dropped from the ceiling.
John rolled backward and came up standing. He struck with his axes, gutting the creature that had just landed from the ceiling. But the other two were still coming at him. They struck together, and it was all that John could do to keep them at bay.
More of the things swarmed above him, their vicious grins belying their desire to see him struck down. They fell on him, and suddenly John could do nothing but defend himself. Their barbs struck out like snakes, fast and precise. There were at least five of them surrounding him, with many more waiting for their chance.
John took one of the barbs to the shoulder. No matter how fast he was, there were just too many of them.
The pain was excruciating.
I’m really starting to miss that ring right about now/
John lashed out with his axes in a wide arc, driving back the creatures. He hazarded a glance to his shoulder, but the wound was already gone.
His distractedness cost him as one of the creatures on the ceiling opened its grinning mouth wide and spewed a steaming green substance toward him.
John rolled to the side, earning more stabs from the creatures that were still around him. He did not avoid the green substance completely, and as some of it splashed onto his arm, the limb exploded in pain.
John watched as a small part of his arm literally dissolved. The skin sloughing off of it.
Around him, the creatures laughed. However, their mirth was cut short as black blood began to flow from the wound. It flowed over John’s arm, covering it completely. The pain was still there, but the wound had been closed off and over time it would heal completely. Albeit a bit…differently.
Never mind. The ring definitely couldn’t have done that.
At the show of near regeneration, the smiles on the creatures around John slipped away. Instead, they were replaced by vicious snarls and a piercing screech that stabbed at his ears. Then they charged once more.
> This time, John used the powers that the God of the Deep had bestowed upon him to his advantage.
He did not dodge the barbs from the creatures. Instead, he took them into his body, allowing the pain to fuel his anger. Black blood filled the small holes. Then, with the creatures unable to get away, he lay waste to them with his axes.
Blood and limbs flew as he went about his grisly work, hacking and slashing.
Yet it seemed that no matter how many he killed, there were always more to take their place.
Still, John fought on against the seemingly unending tide of enemies. At this point, he was not even thinking. He was simply letting the reflexes of his body take over. The years of training with his axes coming to the forefront. He parried and blocked and slashed and chopped almost without realizing what he was doing.
John made a mistake.
The powers granted him by the God of the Deep helped to get his body intact, and the aura of regeneration granted to him by Seonna would help heal him from almost any injury. John had taken more stabs than he could count, and now all that he felt in place of the wounds was a slight itch. He had even started to recover from being sprayed by the creature’s acid attack. His skin already regrowing. John knew he should be more careful, but another part of him told him to use the gifts that he had been bestowed with.
He was coming to rely on the healing factor that his powers gave him. He would take the barbs and accept the pain, knowing that he would heal because it would give him an advantage on his attackers. But then one of them drove a barb straight into the side of his knee.
Immediately, the limb went numb and John fell to the ground.
This was the exact type of opportunity that the creatures had been looking for. They swarmed over him like rats, pinning his arm to his side with barbs through his wrists. John screamed and thrashed. He sent one of the creatures flying into a wall with a kick of his booted foot, where it impacted with a sickening crunch.
But there were just too many. The creatures overwhelmed John, stabbing over and over. There was no way his healing could take this kind of abuse for long.
I’m sorry this happened to you, John. But it can’t be helped now. Forgive yourself for what you do when you need to survive. Do what you must.
John tried to resist. He really did. But the pain was immense. There was a sudden explosion of agony as one of the wickedly sharp barbs stabbed him directly in the eye.
He could not control it any longer. The beast inside him clawed and raked its way to the surface.
John was gone. All that was left was the monster within and its primal hatred and fury.
Chapter 27: What Lay Within
* * *
John’s mouth elongated and saliva dripped from his maw. The grey film that covered his eyes spread to the rest of his face as his body shifted and morphed. In his powerful jaws, John grabbed one of the creatures above him by the head and snapped its neck in a vicious bite that tore through flesh and sinew.
His arm grew long and thick as the differing bonds and essences within John transformed him into a monster. Talon like daggers sprouting from their ends once more, and then the limbs split down the middle once more. Revealing gaping wide openings with savage teeth. The monsters hesitated for only a moment before collapsing in on him in unified attack.
The creature that was once John Younger erupted from the writhing masses that had pinned him down. He slashed at them with his sharp limbs, and he bit them in half with any set of teeth that he could get a hold of them with.
The taste of their flesh in his jaws was like ambrosia. John reveled in it and sought out more as the hunger within him awakened. Always more. The monster he had become relished the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bone.
The monsters were being killed off in large numbers, yet somehow, some way, their numbers seemed never-ending. John never stopped fighting, never stopped enjoying the fight he had found himself in, but the creatures wouldn’t stop coming. Are they spawning here?
Eventually, John began to grow tired. His monstrous form was not permanent and holding on to it was taxing on his energy. His movements slowed while the creatures that attacked him stayed full of energy, darting and attacking him as they could.
After a time, John’s body began the process of reverting to his normal self. The gaping maw of his arms closed and then shrank back to normal size. He managed to sever the head of one more creature before the dagger like appendages at the ends of his arms flowed back into his normal arms, and transformed back into his thrice blessed axes.
Finally, his snout like mouth, which had been in the middle of crushing one of the creature’s heads, shrunk back down to normal. John could still taste the blood and brain matter coating his tastebuds. The monstrous part of him roared for more but the human part of him that had now reasserted itself shrank back in fear and revulsion.
What have I become?? How have I fallen so far? The words spoken by Lachesis comforted him. Forgive yourself for what you have to do to survive. Still, the thought lingered. What kind of monster am I?
He pushed the thought away. Now was not the time to ask these questions. Bodies littered the floor, but more and more of these creatures flowed from the shadows. It was as if deep in the dark where he could not see, the monsters were being produced as fast as he could kill them. Yes. It had to be a spawn.
Onward they came. He raised his thrice blessed axes and prepared himself. He was exhausted. Even with the increase in his stats from the bonds bestowed upon him were not enough. But he had come too far to die now. I’ve been through too much. I won’t die here.
John mustered his strength and went on a desperate offensive.
Luckily, his transformation from earlier had made the creatures cautious. They did not relent, but their attacks were more measured and restrained. They think I maintain the same power from before. That’s the only thing saving me.
Eventually, though, the creatures began to grow bolder. They knew that they had the advantage of numbers on their side and so they regrouped and came in once more. John clashed with the creatures, hacking with his axes and kicking away any that got close. But after a time, his fatigue began to show. He moved slower and did not react as fast.
The creatures, seeing this, prepared to pounce once more. They swarmed over the walls and ceilings, getting ready to drive him to the ground again. This time, John was not sure if he would be able to get out of it. The first time, he had lost an eye. It was now covered in a layer of black blood beneath the grey film and he could not see out of it.
The next time, I’ll likely lose my life, not just an eye.
However, John was saved by a voice from across the prison.
“Over here! Come this way if you want to live.” shouted a voice that was familiar but hard for him to place.
John scanned the area for the source of the voice, finally falling on a section of the wall that he was sure had been solid before. Now, he saw that it had swung outward, and a man was standing in the open doorway. But not just any man. The Witch Hunter himself. Johannes Eckert, the very man responsible for the quest that had set John on this path.
John did not question what was happening. With the hope of salvation, he redoubled his efforts and pushed through the tide and toward the man and the open door. He killed several of the creatures on his way and took more wounds, but finally he made it.
Once on the other side, the man began to try closing the door, but the creatures were relentless. Once one of them wormed their way through and John had to dispatch it with his axes.
A tide of bodies pushed against the door. The stingers of the creatures lashed out, trying to clear away the man that was straining to close it.
Then, John was there, slashing with his thrice blessed axes and sending barbs and limbs flying and tumbling to the ground.
After what felt like forever, the door closed with an audible thump, and the man that had saved John put his back to it and fell to the groun
d, breathing heavily.
John had a seat and joined him and for a time, the only sounds were the clamoring of the creatures at the door and the heavy breathing of the two men. Eventually, the banging stopped and the men’s breath came easier.
“Thank you.” John said, once he had had a chance to catch his breath.
“Don’t mention it.” Johannes replied. “I’ve been trapped here long enough by myself. I heard a commotion and knew another had finally made it to this floor. I had no intention of letting you die. I figured that you might need some help. Turns out that I was right, eh?”
“You could definitely say that.” John said with a wry chuckle.
“An introduction is in order. You may have heard of me; my name is Johannes Eckert. Witch Hunter, and right hand of the Regent. I came to this place, this supposed Dungeon of Old Gods while searching for signs of the Regent’s nephew. I’ve been stuck here ever since.”
“I’m John, an adventurer, its good to meet you. A pleasure.” he replied, and though John wasn’t sure, he thought Johannes’ face twitched in displeasure.
“Oh, I doubt that it’s much of a pleasure under the circumstances. My mistake. I had thought maybe you were a Paladin to have made it this far.” Johannes murmured.
“Where does this passage lead?” John asked, thinking that he needed to change the subject. The rumors are likely true. The Witch Hunter has no love for adventurers.
“It doesn’t lead anywhere. As far as I can tell, it was some sort of storeroom. I’ve been holed up here for a while between excursions into the prison. I could not get past those creatures outside.”
“So what are we going to do?” John asked.
“Well.” Johannes replied. “I just came up with a plan a while back. All I needed was another person to come along and help me with it. Lucky me that you showed up, eh?”
