The pan-rozum merge provided him with more than enough control to manipulate the tornado that he'd previously created. He was therefore able to dive headlong into it without having to worry about the winds slowing him down like the husks.
He blitzed cleanly through the roaring maelstrom as quickly as one might blink, and in rapid succession, he crushed each of the disfigured abominations into the ground with a bone-breaking blow straight to their skulls.
Within seconds, his work was done, and he and Overra separated again so as not to let pan-rozum keep draining their collective stamina.
It looked like Damian was just about finished as well, though his work was far messier.
Germal, meanwhile, was still on the ground and shaking his head.
Parson was just waiting for the rainbow ooze to reappear so that he could obliterate it with his most powerful attack. The Instant Air Burst. It would require sacrificing almost all of the flesh in his body, but pan-forma could fix that in no time, and Overra was still attached to his back, ready to activate it.
What happened next, however, completely disrupted his plans.
Overra gasped with sudden panic and activated pan-forma without asking. 'The Mad Demon!'
'Wh--?!'
That was all the warning the reaper managed to give him before the ground beneath everyone's feet erupted with the force of a volcano.
Parson was sent tumbling through the air, completely confused and disoriented. He thought he saw the rainbow again in all the mayhem. It wasn't until he transfigured oxygen all over his body that he managed to catch himself in midair and reassess the situation.
And indeed, it was true.
From his position in the sky, looking down on the smoldering crater where the restaurant and surrounding property used to be, Parson saw the man standing there amidst the smoke--the man whose face he had only ever seen in wanted posters among the Vanguard.
The Mad Demon himself. Morgunov.
The rainbow ooze was wrapped around his arm, thrashing wildly as if to escape his clutches, while Morgunov just seemed to be calmly inspecting it and smiling.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Page 1969
((The Mon/Wen/Fri Double -- page 2 of 2))
For a few horrible moments, Parson could only stare, eyes wide with disbelief. This couldn't be real. It was impossible.
And yet, it was also somehow... familiar.
He had glimpsed similar forms before with his waking eyes. Forty years ago. In the infinite infinities of Chaos itself.
They had been only fleeting images at best, but he was recalling them clearly now.
Madness.
He remembered, too, being underwhelmed. He remembered thinking that such impossible things couldn't touch reality, couldn't affect it any way.
Ha.
He'd been a fool.
The distorted husks all began moving at once, completely unlike their previously human selves. They leapt or crawled or scuttled to and fro--but it was clear enough that they were all coming for the trio again.
Parson and Damian did not hold back this time.
The nearest one exploded into meaty chunks as Damian pointed at it with a fist, and the one next to it was shredded to pieces by a flurry of wind blades. A dozen more were still coming as the two men stood back to back with only Germal between them on the ground.
Parson, for his half of the enemies, sacrificed most of his left arm in order to summon a small tornado. He didn't want to make it too large, else it would disrupt whatever Damian was doing. And the abominable husks all had an obvious heft to them, so the tornado didn't have enough power in it to send them flying--but it did have enough to slow them down.
He could see them struggling to summon various counterattacks of their own--flames from one of their many mouths or bolts of crackling blue energy or even bubbling green acid.
He didn't intend to give them the opportunity to use any of that.
'Rozum,' he thought.
And Overra obliged.
For a few horrible moments, Parson could only stare, eyes wide with disbelief. This couldn't be real. It was impossible.
And yet, it was also somehow... familiar.
He had glimpsed similar forms before with his waking eyes. Forty years ago. In the infinite infinities of Chaos itself.
They had been only fleeting images at best, but he was recalling them clearly now.
Madness.
He remembered, too, being underwhelmed. He remembered thinking that such impossible things couldn't touch reality, couldn't affect it any way.
Ha.
He'd been a fool.
The distorted husks all began moving at once, completely unlike their previously human selves. They leapt or crawled or scuttled to and fro--but it was clear enough that they were all coming for the trio again.
Parson and Damian did not hold back this time.
The nearest one exploded into meaty chunks as Damian pointed at it with a fist, and the one next to it was shredded to pieces by a flurry of wind blades. A dozen more were still coming as the two men stood back to back with only Germal between them on the ground.
Parson, for his half of the enemies, sacrificed most of his left arm in order to summon a small tornado. He didn't want to make it too large, else it would disrupt whatever Damian was doing. And the abominable husks all had an obvious heft to them, so the tornado didn't have enough power in it to send them flying--but it did have enough to slow them down.
He could see them struggling to summon various counterattacks of their own--flames from one of their many mouths or bolts of crackling blue energy or even bubbling green acid.
He didn't intend to give them the opportunity to use any of that.
'Rozum,' he thought.
And Overra obliged.
Page 1968
((The Mon/Wen/Fri Double -- page 1 of 2))
And abruptly, the tremors stopped. Complete quiet arrived, save only for the panicked and terrified breaths of the woman in Damian's care.
Parson waited. A part of him wanted to just attack the ruined building with every blade of wind that he could create, but the thought of hitting the civilians inside stopped him.
But then those same civilians began to appear from the rubble, crawling out from under the collapsed roof or climbing atop it or emerging from behind a half-destroyed wall.
And they were not as they should be.
Even if he didn't pay attention to their abnormal movements or their too-still faces, Parson could sense something inherently wrong with their souls.
They were missing.
Whatever these creatures were, they were not the people who had been in that building a few minutes ago.
The reapers could tell something was wrong with them, too, and tried to warn their servants, but Parson was too focused on what these soulless husks were doing to listen.
The husks all lunged toward them in unison.
Parson and Damian smacked them all down without much difficulty, but they refrained from using deadly force. Whatever was happening here, these were still, seemingly, innocent people. Even if their souls were missing, perhaps they could be recovered in some way.
That was what Parson's Vanguardian instincts were telling him, and he was glad to see that Damian was apparently thinking something similar.
When the tremors returned, however, so did the rainbow ooze from beneath the cracks in the ground. And when it began to slather itself all over the soulless husks, everything that Parson had just been thinking went out the window.
The husks changed. Their bodies contorted impossibly. Grotesquely. And they grew. As big as gorillas. New limbs sprouted from their backs or even their necks. Their heads twisted and twitched, some splitting a part and becoming two or even three.
The rainbow's swirling colors seemed to melt away into nothingness, but in their wake, their work was apparent. New faces were there on the husks, but not on their heads. On their bulging stomachs. On their extra-jointed legs. Or their torn-open arms.
And abruptly, the tremors stopped. Complete quiet arrived, save only for the panicked and terrified breaths of the woman in Damian's care.
Parson waited. A part of him wanted to just attack the ruined building with every blade of wind that he could create, but the thought of hitting the civilians inside stopped him.
But then those same civilians began to appear from the rubble, crawling out from under the collapsed roof or climbing atop it or emerging from behind a half-destroyed wall.
And they were not as they should be.
Even if he didn't pay attention to their abnormal movements or their too-still faces, Parson could sense something inherently wrong with their souls.
They were missing.
Whatever these creatures were, they were not the people who had been in that building a few minutes ago.
The reapers could tell something was wrong with them, too, and tried to warn their servants, but Parson was too focused on what these soulless husks were doing to listen.
The husks all lunged toward them in unison.
Parson and Damian smacked them all down without much difficulty, but they refrained from using deadly force. Whatever was happening here, these were still, seemingly, innocent people. Even if their souls were missing, perhaps they could be recovered in some way.
That was what Parson's Vanguardian instincts were telling him, and he was glad to see that Damian was apparently thinking something similar.
When the tremors returned, however, so did the rainbow ooze from beneath the cracks in the ground. And when it began to slather itself all over the soulless husks, everything that Parson had just been thinking went out the window.
The husks changed. Their bodies contorted impossibly. Grotesquely. And they grew. As big as gorillas. New limbs sprouted from their backs or even their necks. Their heads twisted and twitched, some splitting a part and becoming two or even three.
The rainbow's swirling colors seemed to melt away into nothingness, but in their wake, their work was apparent. New faces were there on the husks, but not on their heads. On their bulging stomachs. On their extra-jointed legs. Or their torn-open arms.
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