Chapter One Hundred - 100

Chapter One Hundred - 100

The darkness burned. It roiled, clouds of black grown heavy with a baleful promise. A wind grew from nothing, a thickness to the air that felt--

--Oily, slick--

Clicking segments brushed against his legs and he shook them off. The darkness resolved into shades of grey and bruised purple, tinted reality tainted by miasma. The thick wind swirled, gained heft, a soggy weight that dragged him down.

Below the surface.

He drifted. Beneath the waves, beneath the world. Where things crawled in the everlasting night. Unfurled, unseen in the liquid shadow. There was no sound, no sight.

Something bumped his legs again.

Ten thousand eyes lit up the deeps, malevolence in their rapidly approaching gazes. He sensed spines and sharp, chitinous legs slicing, their forms undulating through the dark water. Only a flex of his will and they were blasted away. The lightning of the Reign of Vellus went wild beneath the surface. It burst from him in a savage storm that was virtually unimpeded by the acid around him. It spread like the roots of an ancient tree, fine lines of blue energy branching outward to strike everything in reach.

But it wasn't the lightning that ravaged the approaching horrors; it never had been. The kinetic force behind Reign of Vellus shattered those nearby, churning the sea into a chaotic maelstrom of silt and monstrous effluvia.

More followed.

More.

He was rage. He was unbridled hatred. And he was Hungry.

Creatures fled before his power, things he didn't recognize. Shelled and segmented, covered in fins and spindly legs. Lights flickered in the depths, gathering far beneath him like a sea of stars.

Without warning, the sea became sky, and the clouds reemerged. Thunder boomed and rattled all around him, the shattering cry of vengeful monstrosities. He hovered above a vast city, the lights having resolved into a million points of illumination on the streets miles below. It was surrounded by mountains and draped in the velvet coverings of darkest night.

A new sound ripped through the air, a staccato burst of explosions. Fireballs the size of city blocks screamed toward him, heavy with heat and death, seeking his heart. He roared.

And everything was obliterated by azure lightning.

Vision streaked by jagged lines of white, he crouched low. The ground was soft, plants and soil and frequent rains having made for treacherous footing, but his people were nothing if not stable. His broodmate chittered nearby and stabbed the earth with her razor sharp legs.

Threat. Trees. Fear.

More concepts than words, they flagged a dark source of instinct in his brain and he swiveled toward the nearby copse of trees. His vision was faceted, wide, and could spot the heat boiling off a Mana Vole at a thousand paces.

So why did he not sense the terror beneath?

Hands of hardened shell burst from the soft earth below, grabbing at two of his legs with a frightful grip. A body followed, something entirely too large, nearly as big as him. He scrambled, scything out with his iridescent claws, but the creature brought him low. They hit the earth with a dull thud, and the creature swung atop him. It reached out and grasped its heaving abdomen and twisted and--

Felix lurched awake in the dark.

Frantically, he glanced around, but it was too dark to see. He experienced a half second of rising terror before activating his Manasight. The ambient Mana of the room pulsed into visibility, a sharp contrast that made his eyes ache.

He was in his room at the Drum Tank. How? When did I--?

The memory resurfaced, slightly hazy as if viewed through a dirty glass. Of himself sneaking across the Dust Quarter and though his own window. Of collapsing in his room as Pit materialized next to him.

Felix looked to his right, wincing as he saw the state of the window and, indeed, the room itself. The casing around the small window had been cracked and torn half-way from the wall, no doubt due to his forceful entry. Pieces of wood covered the floor, and the bed he was on was no longer even supported by its posts. The thin mattress and board now laid directly on the ground.

The Skill seemed to be a sort of shapeshifting ability, which meant that maybe he'd be able to control this thing. That it wouldn't just happen again like it did the previous night. Felix grimaced at the idea of increased pain during these transformations, but if he had his way he'd leave it at level one and never use it again.

I only hope it hasn't changed me already. The bloodlust I felt last night was-- Felix's thoughts stuttered to a stop as his mind made an intuitive leap. Oh no. No no no.

He opened his Status and checked his Race.

Race: Nym*

*Further Bloodlines Have Been Found. Processing 20%

Fear's grip on Felix's heart loosened slightly when he saw his Race hadn't changed yet. But it tightened back up when he noticed how much that progress bar had jumped. What did it mean? Was his transformation apart of this? He had questions.

And he knew where to find answers.

With a strange inward lean, Felix suddenly found himself falling through a perfect blue sky to land lightly atop a tall tower. His Bastion of Will spread out below him like a medieval citadel, the walls thick and tall and made of a dark stone. In the distance an acidic sea roared against a pebbly beach, and a dark smear against the horizon was a forest that had sprung up at some point.

Felix marveled at it. He had a tiny world here in his Skill, somehow, though he knew it was all some sort of mental construct. The 'how' of it was bewildering, but perhaps no less so than summoning acid from thin air or bending iron with his bare hands. He shook his head and headed down the spiral staircase that bored through his tower.

He had things to do.

The lowest level of his Bastion was a short hallway filled with smokeless torches. The hall ended in smooth black stone, featureless and seamless. With a minor effort of will, the stone shifted into a classic jail cell door, bars and all. Within was a small space, three feet by three feet exactly, too small to lie down or even move much. It was completely uncomfortable for any sane being.

The Maw stood in the exact center. It wore the face of Lhel, a Nymean woman nearly two thousand years dead, but it was stretched taut against an underlying skeleton. The Maw appeared to not have eaten in weeks, and its face was so hollow its cheekbones seemed sharp enough to cut glass. It wore a tattered dress that flowed and rippled in a nonexistent breeze, and its limbs were little more than bones wrapped in parchment skin. It looked terrible.

Why, then, was it smiling?

"What have you done, Felix Nevarre?" The Maw cooed, its eyes going wide with feigned shock. "Have you been naughty?"

Felix growled and stepped closer to the cell door. "What did you do?"

"I?" The Maw placed a gangly hand against its bony chest. "I have been stuck here, where you so graciously incarcerated me. Thank you for that, by the way. Truly a magnificent palace you've made for me."

Felix snorted. "You deserve even less. If I were able to scrub you from my mind altogether, I'd have done it in a second."

The Maw merely smiled at him, but its eyes were wide and its pupils dilated.

"What have you done to my Race? What are these 'bloodlines'?" Felix demanded.

"Winding are the currents of fate, they run deep and dark. Thick as blood," a rictus grin plastered itself on its stolen face, and the Maw spread its arms wide. "Change is coming. The earth quivers with it!

"Can you not feel it, boy?" Felix didn't answer, and the Maw didn't care. "Same as the gnawing hunger in your belly. The howling beast that sits in your soul and wants out, out, out."

A shrill cackled bubbled up from the Maw's throat.

"This is just the start, Felix Nevarre." A smile, flat teeth white and too big for its cadaverous face. "It gets so much better from here."

It took less than a second to reseal the monster back in its cage and flee his Bastion. Less than a second before Felix was gasping for true air. Before he stared into the dark sky, through a broken window he was sure he'd have to pay for...but then, Felix was far more worried about the bills he didn't yet know about.

Because sooner or later, every bill came due.