He found it wrapped around what he could vaguely rember to be a gas station. Slight movents easily caused the walls and windows to crack and creak, but the wyrm only had eyes for Kreig. Kreig, in turn, only had eyes for the wyrm.
Fighting. Again. After all this ti. Hed gotten a month or so of rest, and now he was back at it again.
It felt wrong. He didnt want to be there and he didnt want to save anyone. At the mont, he just wanted to go back to his cell, back to playing cards and painting and that easy life that hed longed for. When he was first summoned, this wouldnt have been the sort of life hed longed for, but at the mont, he couldnt imagine anything better than warm food and a roof over his head.
Neither of which he had at this mont. All he had were two weaklings at his side and a strangely acting wyrm in front of him. If he wasnt curious about what was wrong with the wyrm, if Gerald wasnt there, he might not have cared enough to so much as raise a finger.
But that wasnt the case. He took a step towards the wyrm. He wouldnt kill it quickly and he wouldnt kill it rcifully. It had things to tell him, after all.
Its eyes were locked onto him. They were dazzling, swirling pools of stars. Then, its mouth opened wide. It had many small teeth angled towards the throat, made for pulling in prey rather than injecting venom, but Kreig knew very well that it was not about to lunge at them. Several holes, barely visible to the untrained eye, flexed inside its throat, opening up as the wyrm coiled.
Kreig took a deep breath. He wasnt relaxing anymore. No more taking it easy, no more casual chit-chat. Emotion drained from his mind like happy warm sludge. He raised his arms and fell into a posture. The world lted away, the dawn sky replaced with a muddy red, the pavent and concrete buildings crumbling to reveal mud and ash and too many bodies to count. He had no weapons, he had no armour, but he didnt need them.
The wyrm gave an imnse hiss as its body convulsed and a stream of black, acidic goo shot out of its mouth, aid as precisely as a master archer right at Kreig. In turn, he took a broad-legged stance and crossed his arms in front of himself.
Protect (X)
The concentrated stream of corrosive liquid splattered in an arch around Kreig, not even touching his skin once. Everything went slowly. When the acid hit the area around Kreig, it proved its strength, quickly lting everything it touched into a fizzy black ss. Was he hallucinating, or could he faintly hear voices, distantly behind him? No, he couldnt hear it. He couldnt hear anything at all, except for the sound of battle and the stream letting up. As the wyrm let up for a re second, Kreig bolted for it.
In terms of his own personal rits, Kreig was not a fast man. His power lay in his many skills, his physical strength, and his endurance. Speed and intelligence were not becoming of him, but compared to a regular human
He moved too fast to see.
The world seed to bend under his montous will, and in a re mont, he stood before the wyrm, his bare hands clenching each side of its enormous head. Then, as easily as a knife slips in a pumpkin, he thrust both hands into the snout of the beast, through the thick scales and the skin and the bone. It tried to jerk away, tried to leave, but he wouldnt let it. He shoved both hands into this dry, empty hole he created, and with a mighty jerk, he cracked it open, revealing all the wyrms secrets to the world.
It had no blood. It had no flesh, either. Both of these important things were replaced fully by white wire-like roots, crawling and nesting around its bones like the mycorrhiza of a fungus. As Kreig cracked open the Wyrms skull, he found a sowhat similar but equally alarming situation. The light-green squishy brain was still there, but large parts had either been gouged out, absorbed by the white roots or simply shrunk. If Kreig touched the shrunk parts, he found that they had gone hard. White roots spread over and inside it like a spider-web, snaking into the furrows and the gyri. The brain was overrun with white roots.
And Kreig had no idea what it ant. Just that it wasnt a good thing.
...No, that wasnt entirely true. He had seen sothing similar in soone much closer than hed like. In himself.
Aetherial Knife (III)
Kreig held out his hand and was rewarded with a semi-translucent but clearly strong knife. He balanced it in his hand for a second before turning the blade to the back of his arm and giving a swipe. For the first ti in over 30 years, he was hard more than skin-deep.
A red gash was opened up, blood pooling out of the wound as it should. But inside the wound, a bit harder to see but still clearly visible, white roots could be seen, snaking around his bones and webbing across his muscles. Like an extra system of veins, the white roots that his holy order was nad after. The white roots that granted him strength.
The white roots that seed to have completely overtaken the wyrm, in body and soul. Sothing here was very wrong.
With the flex of Kreigs hand, the Aetherial Knife was crushed, breaking into what seed like glass shards. Although Kreig was a man of curiosity, at the mont, he found no issues with completely destroying the body, beginning with crushing the skull and brain with a single stomp. Then, while the distant and mumbling voices seed to co closer, he burnt the body using Purge of the Holy. In a matter of seconds, the body and the white roots infesting it had transford into white snow.
And he was still in wonderland. Blood and mud and red skies. His enemy was dead, but he remained.
Breathing. In and out. In and out. The red skies swirled above, but their speed was slowing, turning lighter in colour, disappearing, slowly, slowly
-When a hand suddenly touched his shoulder and he instinctively attacked it.
There was nothing behind him, nothing for his fist to connect to. Just more mud and blood. His chest heaved. Up and down. In and out. Where the hell was he? Why was he alone? He shouldnt be alone. Not on the battlefield. He had to fight sothing, anything. And now. Fight fight fight. He had to fight. Otherwise, he died. Otherwise, every single person that had died so that he could live would have died in vain. Otherwise, he was a fraud.
His breathing grew quick. The mud beneath his feet swirled in ti with the deep red skies. Clouds and dust and a mist of death. All around him, everywhere, all that existed in that place, all that could exist, were enemies. Enemies, and fights, and-,
Kreig?
He was small. Young. Dirty blonde hair and a childishness that should never have been placed on the battlefield. Gerald.
He stood there, alone, up to his ankles in mud and corpses. Eyes light and confused and - couldnt he see everything that was going on? Why was he here? He shouldnt be on the battlefield. Allies shouldnt stand before Kreig. If they did, they wouldnt stand for long. Wrong place. Go away. Although Kreigs voice was hoarse, although his every breath seed to choke on the heavy air around him, he spoke. For Geralds sake.
Huh? Why should-, Im sorry, you dont seem fine. Has the battle been long? Have you-,
LEAVE! Kreig bellowed, taking heavy steps towards his only friend. Had to get him out of there. Gerald couldnt be there. What if an army attacked? What if people invaded? What if-,
And all of a sudden, Gerald wasnt dressed in his overall and his vaguely hopeful expression, he was wearing light armour. Light armour and the red cloth of the empire and his eyes were so big and not like a childs. K-, Kreig
Kreig stumbled back. The Empire? Here? Now? Attacking him with a re single soldier? Hah! They must be assured of their victory! Very well, if they so ask for it, if they beg him to show his power, then - in the na of the White Pope! By God, he will! This soldier will-,
Sothing touched him.
Kreig looked down and found a boy, barely of age, wrapped around his midsection. Gerald looked up. Their eyes t.
The mania was banished, the red skies expelled, the mud and blood was gone. Replaced with asphalt and blue skies and a deep, all-consuming sense of dread and sha.
You okay, Kreig? Gerald asked, disconnecting himself.
Kreig nodded, but he didnt feel okay. Not at all.
Not in the least.
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