"Ugh... I'm gonna be sick."
I didn't say it out loud. It was a silent, internal prayer to whatever gods weren't currently trying to end the world. But the feeling was real. A hot, sour tide rising in my throat.
The thing that entered the room was a walking violation of natural law, a masterpiece of surgical butchery that made the tunnel of flesh look like a high school biology project.
Its back was bent into a permanent, agonized hunch, but not from a spinal deformity. No, it was hunched because it was carrying multiple arms. Four of them, to be precise.
One was a skinny human arm, ending in delicate, well-manicured fingers that tapped nervously against its thigh. Another was a scaled, reptilian claw, glistening with some kind of viscous fluid. The third was a stump, ending in a mess of tangled wires and a single, blinking red light. And the fourth... The fourth was a three-meter-long prehensile elephant trunk that swayed and sniffed the air like a blind, fleshy snake.
Its legs were no less of a nightmare. The left was a powerful, digitigrade goat's leg, cloven hoof scraping against the stone. The right was a wolf's paw, pads silent on the floor, claws clicking softly. It loped forward with a gait that was both clumsy and terrifyingly efficient.
And its face... god, its face.
It was a grotesque patchwork of features. The left side was a handsome, bearded human face, with intelligent, calculating eyes that scanned the room with a practiced, clinical gaze. The right side was a boar's snout, twitching and sniffing, a single tusk protruding from its upper lip. A third eye, unblinking and reptilian, sat in the center of its forehead, its pupils a vertical slit.
It was wearing a pristine white lab coat, stained at the hem with something dark and wet. The coat was stretched taut over its hunched back, straining at the seams. And it was whistling. A cheerful, off-key tune that was a hundred times more horrifying than any roar or snarl could ever be.
"Ah, perfection," it said, its voice a bizarre duet of a smooth human baritone and a guttural pig-like grunt. The two sounds layered over each other, creating a dissonant, nauseating harmony. "The new gestation fluid is stable. The harmonic resonance is within acceptable parameters. Soon... soon we will be ready for the main event."
It stopped right in front of the central vat, the one holding the two-headed orc monstrosity. The elephant trunk-arm rose, the wet tip sniffing the glass just inches from where Beatrice and I were crouched. I could see the reflection of my own wide eyes in the green fluid, and for a second, I was sure the thing's third eye caught my movement.
"Patience, my darling," the creature crooned, its human hand stroking the glass with a tenderness that made my skin crawl. "Your soul is a messy tapestry, but the threads are finally holding. A bit more 'encouragement' from the harvest, and I'll have everything I need to carve a hole in this realm big enough for my patron to crawl through."
Beatrice's hand found mine in the darkness behind the vat. Her fingers were ice-cold, but they squeezed with surprising strength. I looked at her and saw her lips thinning into a hard line. She was measuring the distance. She was thinking about taking it down.
'Bad idea, Bea,' I thought, trying to project the message through my eyes. 'That thing looks like it has a 'Plan B' for every limb it owns.'
The patchwork doctor turned toward the workbench where we had just been standing. Its boar-side snout let out a sharp, wet snort.
"Hmm. Disarray," it grumbled, the human voice sounding genuinely annoyed. "Those acolytes are as sloppy with their filing as they are with their stitches. I should have used their tongues to patch the hole in 207-C. At least then they'd be quiet."
It began to shuffle the scrolls, its human hand moving with surgical precision while the reptilian claw absentmindedly scratched at the stone floor, leaving deep white gouges. Then it paused. Its human half's eyes narrowed. It picked up the very scroll we had been examining—the one with the corrupted binding circle.
"My patron is hungry," it whispered, its voice dropping into a feverish rasp. "It demands more than just a door. It demands a sacrifice. A worthy vessel. Not this..."
It gestured with its elephant trunk at the monster in the vat.
"...this crude attempt. No. The vessel must be perfect. A fusion of power and flesh. A creature that has walked both worlds. A soul that is... unique."
"Sigh..." It let out a long, frustrated sigh, a sound like tearing fabric. "The old methods are too slow. I specifically asked for the former succubus general for a reason, but that... Damn ignorant Red Baron..."
It then placed the scroll back on the table.
"He thinks he's so smart because he's a royal incubus," the creature sneered, its human lips curling in disgust. "He doesn't understand the delicate art. He just wants his little 'revenge' on her."
Beatrice went still beside me. Not the careful stillness of someone hiding. The kind of stillness that comes right before a volcano decides today is eruption day.
Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough to stop her.
Whoosh!
She dashed from behind the vat, not in her male illusion, but as her true self. Her wings flared, cracking like whips. Her crimson eyes were not just glowing; they were bleeding raw, furious light.
In a split second, she was on the doctor, her claws aimed for its throat.
"What?!" It tried to jump back, but her speed was something its stitched-together reflexes couldn't handle. Furthermore, Beatrice unleashed her magic, trapping the creature in a cage of pink energy.
"YOU!" she roared, her voice echoing in the chamber, shaking the very vats that held the failed experiments. "EXPLAIN NOW!"
The creature, for all its monstrous form, looked utterly stunned. Not just by the attack, but by her appearance.
"General... Beatrice?" it stammered, the human and pig voices merging into a confused squeak. "But... you're supposed to be?"
"SUPPOSED TO BE WHAT?!" she slammed her fist against the cage of energy, making it flicker violently. "SUPPOSED TO BE A HEAD IN A WALL? SUPPOSED TO BE ANOTHER FAILED EXPERIMENT?! TALK!"
"Talk, yes, of course, General!" the creature babbled, its multiple limbs flailing in panic. Or at least it seemed like panic. To me, it was more like... excitement.
"Bea... wait a second," I finally emerged from behind the vat, my hand raised.
"Stay out of this, Aza," she snapped, not taking her eyes off the creature. "This thing knows something. And I'm going to rip it out of him if I have to."
"I don't doubt that," I said, walking toward the cage. I summoned four hell chains. "I just don't want sudden surprises."
Beatrice understood my meaning. Four holes appeared on the pink cage that allowed me to pierce the creature's body, binding it tightly and nullifying its magic.
"Talk," I said, my voice cold and calm. "Or we'll start removing pieces. Permanently."
The creature looked at me, then at Beatrice. Its reptilian third eye narrowed, calculating.
"You..." it said, its human voice suddenly clear, devoid of the pig-like grunt. "I can feel you... the two hearts beating as one... no, three?... The shared power... A perfect fusion?"
Its tone wasn't one of fear. It was one of... academic glee. Like a child who'd just discovered a new bug to dissect.
"!!!" My heart skipped a beat. Three hearts probably mean my three forms. The Nephalem. The Angel. The Demon.
"This creature is dangerous."
Beatrice, however, was not impressed. She slammed her fist against the cage again.
"Stop talking nonsense and ANSWER ME!" she snarled, her crimson eyes blazing. "What do you know about the Red Baron? And what do you mean by wanting to use my body as a vessel?"
'Oh... Beatrice was a former general,' I thought, slightly surprised by the new information.
The creature flinched, its elephant trunk curling in on itself.
"The Red Baron... he's a fool!" it spat, its voice a mix of contempt and... something else. Fear? "A brute with a crown! He thinks he's in charge, but he's just a tool! A means to an end! He wanted you for... petty revenge. A plaything. I saw the potential! I saw the perfect vessel!"
"Vessel for what?!" Beatrice demanded.
"For the Ouroboros, of course!" the creature said, its human face splitting into a grotesque grin. "The great serpent! The world-eater! The one who will unmake this prison and create a new reality! A reality where the strong rule and the weak are ground into dust! Where men are men and women are... Well, you'll find out soon enough."
Beatrice's face paled.
"The Ouroboros..." she whispered, her voice filled with a dread that was deeper than anything I'd heard before. "It's just a myth. A story to scare children."
"Is it?" the creature laughed, a dry, rasping sound that made my skin crawl. "Or you don't want others to know the truth?"
"!!!" Beatrice's arm lashed out, her claws digging into the pink cage, drawing sparks. "SHUT UP!"
"Hehehe." The creature continued, its eyes gleaming with a feverish light. "Yes... That's the reaction I was hoping for."
"I'll kill you," Beatrice said, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "I'll tear you apart, piece by agonizing piece, and feed your remains to the lowest imps in the abyss."
"Kill me?" the creature chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "Why?... I'm doing you a favor, bringing your old brother back."
"WHAT?"