Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dylan's back is turned away from me, but as the source of the nightmare sound becomes visible, he speaks, his voice disbelieving.

"But he promised..." Dylan shakes his head and begins to move away.

For my part, I take in the nightmare beast that roars its challenge. It is large, and its shape is hard to define. The best my mind can come up with is to call it abstract. Its skin is purple, brown, red, and yellow. The red seems to bleed out from the brown and yellow, like an infected open wound. The purple looks like a massive, stretched-out bruise. Eyes, red and mindless with rage, are open all over its body. It has many clawed legs, or maybe they are tentacles. All I know is that my mind is screaming with horror just looking at it.

Rows of sharp, jagged teeth open on its body, and it seems to turn sideways, like a falling building, and swallows a person whole.

Crunching sounds and screams of horror come from that mouth. Blood spurts and sprays onto the ground in great drops. I have to adapt; if I let my mind break, I will go mad, and that seems worse than death. I breathe in and out, taking in this horror...this abomination. I need to get used to it, so I keep my gaze on it, forcing my mind to take it in.

Strangely, it does get easier. The crimson river in my Domain churns with something I cannot name—not quite fear, not quite recognition, but something between the two. It is as if part of me understands what this thing is, while the rest recoils from it.

Finally, I am able to look at it without flinching or my mind trying to turn into mush. I focus enough to analyze it.

Fledgling Demonic Abomination level 25...Your analyze skill has increased!

A demonic abomination. It is the highest-level thing I have seen yet. As I watch, it eats another couple of people, and it is every bit as gruesome as the last. During the time I have been getting used to looking at the thing, Dylan has strode off, probably to join the fighting.

Everyone is trying to take this thing down, fighting each other forgotten. Vines pierce it, and something purplish-green leaks onto the ground. Warriors hack at it with blades, mages blast it with spells, archers shoot at it, and rogues dart in with blades, retreating like fading shadows.

Through the chaos, I spot Adaran charging the beast, his shield raised. Melanie and Riselle are behind him, providing support. They work well together, I have to admit—a coordinated team against the chaos.

All throughout, people are yelling, screaming in terror, and all of it creates a cacophony of chaotic noise. I cannot do anything; I simply lie here, flaccid. The scents of spilling guts, blood, and dirt fill my nose with every breath I take. My stomach roils, wanting to eject its contents in protest of the smells. I close my eyes and force myself to calm my mind. I need to do something. Simply laying here is not going to help.

Yet, what can I do? I cannot move...or can I? The Judge's message had said that I was only partially paralyzed. It does not feel that way, but partially is not fully, and that means I should be able to do something. I try to twitch my toes...they move! It is only a slight movement, the twitch of a snail, but I keep at it. At the same time, I try to move my fingers, and the fingers of my right hand twitch!

I am so excited I almost miss the fact that the demonic abomination is getting closer.

It does not seem to care in the least about all of the people attempting to kill it. It merely gobbles up the ones it can reach, crunching on them as casually as you might a handful of peanuts. I begin to panic, trying to move my hand. It will not budge! I can feel the tingle and twitching of my bones, the slight whisper of movement, but it is not enough! The abomination shuffles forward, unhurried, and yet inevitable. It is coming my way, I am certain about that now.

My eyes widen, my heart quickens, and I feel a cold grip wrap around my stomach and squeeze. I close my eyes tight and try to move my hand again. If I can just reach it...My hand moves! It is slight, but it is there, just a micro movement, but a surge of renewed energy pulses through me, and that cold grip vanishes. I can do this; it is happening. That demon is not too fast; it is content to stop and attempt to eat people every few yards.

I see Adaran and a group of warriors attempt to flank the creature, coordinating with archers who loose volleys of arrows at its many eyes. Melanie directs them from behind, while Riselle weaves nature magic to entangle its lower limbs. They are making progress, actually slowing the beast.

The people, for their part, are not giving up. They keep pelting that monstrosity with arrows, spells, and blades. Though they are paying a horrible price, dying in twos and fours, being eaten like pretzels. I can only try to move, and I am making progress. My hand inches closer to my bag of holding, slow as slime down a drain, but definitely moving.

It becomes a race between the monster and me. The monster is unaware and uncaring about being in one, but I know, and I will win. I am about halfway there now, and the abomination is closer to me. I do not succumb to the building storm within me. It wants to overwhelm me, and I refuse it. My hand inches closer, but so does the demonic abomination.

The crimson river in my Domain surges with renewed effort, as if lending me strength. I feel it flowing through me, urging my muscles to obey, to move faster. A faint memory flickers—standing against a larger boy, refusing to back down despite my fear. The memory gives me strength.

My hand is nearly to the bag, but I have run out of time. The abomination has made its way over to me. Its eyes focus on me, inhuman madness afire in them. Its mouth opens, saliva hits me, soaking me in slimy wetness, a rancid smell like that of rotten meat fills my nose, and I taste it on my tongue. I gag and throw up, the wet bile mixing with the slime that coats me, my face resting in the sick now.

The mouth falls on me, darkness swallowing my vision, but my hand has finally reached my bag. I will out an orb, one of the many I had enchanted with the blood shard enchantment. It settles into my hand, which all the while has been gaining strength as I moved it. I squeeze my hand as hard as I can.

The orb had been a glass ornament; it had never been very sturdy. In fact, they are fragile, as fragile as these things come. Meant to be smashed with ease, it is why I had enchanted them to begin with. All that means that even though I do not squeeze very hard, it is enough, and as those teeth attempt to swallow me, the blood shard bomb erupts in a cloud of jagged, crimson shards that explode with a storm of violence.

The shards pierce the demon abomination, and it shudders, the vibrations of its answering roar of pain shattering my eardrums as the demon rocks back, light welcoming my vision once again. The crimson shards seem to pulse with a life of their own, as if drawn to the creature's flesh. They burrow deeper, causing more damage than should be possible for such small fragments.

But the shards do not discriminate. Unlike my mental intention when I crafted them to "harm everyone in the blast radius except Jackson Grey," I watch in horror as they spray outward in all directions. The closest warriors caught in the blast cry out as crimson shards embed in their flesh.

Among them is Adaran, who had been charging forward to help me. Multiple shards pierce his throat and face. His eyes widen in shock, blood spraying from his neck as he drops his weapons and clutches at the wounds. He falls to his knees, his gaze finding mine in confusion and betrayal before he collapses.

You have used a Blood Shard Bomb (Apprentice Rank). You have been injured and slightly deafened. You have critically wounded a demonic abomination level 25. You have killed Adaran, level 14 Warrior.

Horror fills me, but survival instinct takes over. I cannot fall apart now. The demon is still here, still a threat. I remove another blood shard bomb, though my hand shakes. I will not relent. I cannot say whether it is me or the massive amount of damage the demon has taken from the others, but it is close to death, and now is the time to capitalize on that.

This time, I wait until others have cleared the immediate area, my guilt making me cautious. I squeeze the bomb again, and once again it explodes into a storm of bloody shards that lance outward, jagged bits of crimson death that pierce the demon's skin and sink into it.

I had not expected the shards to behave the way they did in the first explosion. I knew the enchantment was a powerful one; it was infused with weaves of blood and destruction, after all, but I expected more control. Once the shards sink into the demon, however, that is when it seems to do the most damage. The demon's painful roar splits the air, seeming to cause reality itself to warp.

My mouth twitches, but there is no satisfaction now. Only grim determination. I am killing it. The demon thrashes, and I squeeze a third blood shard bomb, making sure no one else is nearby.

That does it. The storm of dark crimson shards deals deadly destruction, and it is simply too much for the demon. It slumps to the ground, deflating like a popped balloon. Steam rises from it, and it moves no more.

You have defeated a demonic abomination, level 25! Congratulations, Jackson, you have increased from level 4 to level 7! Your enchanting skill has increased from Journeyman Level 1 to Journeyman Level 4. Reminder: You have 6 attribute points.

Three levels. Killing that...thing...has netted me three levels. I am not sure if it has been worth it, though. Not with Adaran's lifeless body lying just yards away. I decide since I cannot move yet, I will spend these attribute points. I bring up my attributes with a thought.

Attributes: Mind-12, Strength-12, Dexterity-17, Constitution-13, Will-16

I try to rub my chin, but my hand only moves an inch. Right, still paralyzed. I decide to spread out my points evenly: two to constitution, two to willpower, and two to mind. It strikes me as a little odd that I am doing this after just avoiding being eaten by a demonic abomination straight out of a nightmare—and after killing one of my temporary allies—but I feel my heart settle, my hand unclenching. The familiar actions are calming, and my mind eagerly focuses itself on the task, anything to avoid thinking about what I've just done.

The crimson river in my Domain seems agitated, churning with what feels like guilt. The destruction aspect pulses darkly, as if satisfied with the carnage.

The paralytic poison has run its course, you may now move again.

I stand slowly, my body aching. There is no relief, no exultation. Only a hollow feeling in my chest as I look around at the aftermath.

I am still weak, still bleeding, I am covered in rancid demon slime, and I smell revolting, like rotting eggs and sewage. Around me are corpses, and bits and pieces of flesh and torn ropes of guts that litter the ground. I walk through it all, looking for anyone that might be alive. I make it to the entrance, and there, where the two guards had confronted me, are Melanie and Riselle, kneeling over the fallen form of Adaran.

As I draw closer, Melanie looks up, and on her face is not relief, not happiness, but raw, undisguised anger. Her eyes are blazing, and they are directly on me. She stands up and stalks towards me, her stride that of an angry leopardess on the prowl.

"You!" she thunders, her features twisting with even more rage.

"You did this! You killed Adaran, you undisciplined murderer!"

I step back, eyes widening, holding up my hands.

"I did not mean to—I was trying to kill the demon—" I stammer, but even to my ears the excuse sounds hollow.

Melanie screams at me, jabbing her finger into my chest with force as she makes her way up to me.

"HE WAS ON HIS FINAL LIFE AND YOU UNLEASHED THAT BOMB WITHOUT WARNING! YOU SAW HIM CHARGING TO HELP YOU!"

She is hysterical. I try to back up, but she stalks towards me, unrelenting. My breath comes faster, and I shake my head mutely. The crimson river in my Domain roils with guilt and confusion.

"WHAT? NOTHING TO SAY!" she demands, screaming into my face. My ears pop from the force of her voice.

I do not have anything to say. How can I excuse it? I did not have much of a choice about using the bomb, but I could have waited, could have warned them. I have taken the action that led to Adaran's death; it has been my choice. It does not matter that Adaran might have died anyway; that is not what happened. What excuse could I possibly offer? So I offer none.

"I am sorry," I whisper, but the words feel inadequate, empty.

Melanie's blazing eyes bore into my face, but she takes a breath. When she speaks again, her voice is ice cold.

"Just go, Jackson. Get away from me before I kill you myself."

She walks away, leaving me to my haunted thoughts.

Riselle looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears. "You should leave," she says quietly. "She will not forgive this. None of us will."

Her words cut deeper than Dylan's blade. I helped create this plan. I took part in it willingly. And now I have cost someone their final life with my own actions, my own weapon.

Melanie does not show me where the exit is. It had been a part of our deal, but that is clearly shot. However, it takes me a surprisingly short amount of time to find it. I am not sure if it is luck or perhaps fate deciding I have been through enough for the moment, but as I walk the corridors of the catacombs, it is a couple of turns, and I find myself facing the stairs before I know it. They lead upward, and I eye them with a blank expression. My muscles are slack, and moving them causes a jolt of pain to shoot through me, like a tiny shock.

I do not want to go up the stairs. I want to sleep for a week. Pain is a steady friend at the moment, and I just feel done with it all. I stare at the stairs, knowing that going up them represents facing more challenges, putting myself in further danger. Thoughts of that abomination swirl around my mind like rancid toilet water. If something that so clearly defies comprehension exists, what more is out there?

The crimson river in my Domain has gone quiet, subdued by my guilt and exhaustion. I think of Adaran's smiling face as we shared rations around the campfire. I think of his eyes, wide with shock and betrayal as my shards pierced his throat. I think of Melanie's rage and Riselle's tears. I did not mean for this to happen, but intention means little in the face of consequences.

A half-remembered lesson from my mother surfaces: "We are defined not by what happens to us, but by how we respond when we've made mistakes." The memory brings no comfort, only more questions. Who was I before this place? What kind of person am I becoming now?

With a heavy sigh of resignation, I head up the stairs, each step heralding the challenges to come. The quest for Lazarus's tomb awaits, but the weight of Adaran's death will follow me there.

As I climb, I realize something has changed within me. The river of crimson flows differently now, as if altered by the demonic abomination's blood or by the guilt of what I've done. The strange thirst lingers at the back of my throat, and I wonder if I am becoming something I will not recognize.

Yet I must continue. If nothing else, I owe it to Adaran to make my survival mean something. To learn from this mistake—to be more careful, more precise with my power. And perhaps someday, to find a way to make amends.