03-11-2021, 01:33 AM
He ran after Nox, plunging headfirst into a den of screams. But when he got there, for all his power and all his strategy, Nikolai found himself frozen. The horror of what unfolded was unthinkable. Every sensation crashed with the monstrosity. The shapes flickered in fire light, bursting out of nothingness. Nearby, Nox sank to his knees, lost to something within. The vulnerability seemed to stun a wedge from Nik’s own mind, and with a roar of inexplicable anger, he joined the attack.
Within moments, smoke filled the air that it burned his eyes and squeezed the throat. More and they’d choke on their own weaves. From the ground he pulled stone and in one motion formed it to slender spikes, flinging them like meter-long darts. A creature was devouring the body of someone whose legs alone remained. The force of his attack impaled it to the wall, but its victim was already pulp.
A wave tossed his stomach, but he crunched his eyes shut and looked elsewhere. He almost lost his balance on the wetness underfoot, but hurried on, one by one, helping the others to kill what creatures hadn’t yet escaped.
When the growls and howling of consumption ended, the weaves faded, but not so the Ascendancy’s will. Their group was dispersed a little. What remained of the encampment was burning in multiple places, the rest destroyed, everything trampled. Moaning pulled him off the obvious path. When he yanked away the remains of a cloth structure, a man was there. Still alive. Below the elbows, his arms were mangled stumps, useless defenses against a beast more savage than the wolf and more ferocious than the bear. Gashes dug chunks from his abdomen. His skull was missing above one eye. Yet he breathed. Not for much longer, but in that moment, he breathed.
He didn’t know if the man recognized him. If he could see at all. Or process anything except his suffering. Nikolai carried no gun to end his misery, but he was not without the means. A moment later, the suffering ended, and Nikolai had killed a human out of mercy.
Four others were in various stages of death when he found them: two more men, a woman, and a child. By the time he found the others to regroup, ash darkened his clothes and grey streaked his face where he’d rubbed away the sweat. Anger fueled his steps more than sickness, more than fear, and more than anything. He was fucking pissed.
“What the hell just happened?” He demanded.
Within moments, smoke filled the air that it burned his eyes and squeezed the throat. More and they’d choke on their own weaves. From the ground he pulled stone and in one motion formed it to slender spikes, flinging them like meter-long darts. A creature was devouring the body of someone whose legs alone remained. The force of his attack impaled it to the wall, but its victim was already pulp.
A wave tossed his stomach, but he crunched his eyes shut and looked elsewhere. He almost lost his balance on the wetness underfoot, but hurried on, one by one, helping the others to kill what creatures hadn’t yet escaped.
When the growls and howling of consumption ended, the weaves faded, but not so the Ascendancy’s will. Their group was dispersed a little. What remained of the encampment was burning in multiple places, the rest destroyed, everything trampled. Moaning pulled him off the obvious path. When he yanked away the remains of a cloth structure, a man was there. Still alive. Below the elbows, his arms were mangled stumps, useless defenses against a beast more savage than the wolf and more ferocious than the bear. Gashes dug chunks from his abdomen. His skull was missing above one eye. Yet he breathed. Not for much longer, but in that moment, he breathed.
He didn’t know if the man recognized him. If he could see at all. Or process anything except his suffering. Nikolai carried no gun to end his misery, but he was not without the means. A moment later, the suffering ended, and Nikolai had killed a human out of mercy.
Four others were in various stages of death when he found them: two more men, a woman, and a child. By the time he found the others to regroup, ash darkened his clothes and grey streaked his face where he’d rubbed away the sweat. Anger fueled his steps more than sickness, more than fear, and more than anything. He was fucking pissed.
“What the hell just happened?” He demanded.