Elion had just stepped out of the stairwell when he sensed movement all around him. Uneven shapes of varying sizes converged with a single purpose: to take their lives.
They didn't matter though. The only thing that mattered was getting the hell out of here.
The young cook wove through the twisting hallways toward the grand hall, Eshrod and Farha close on his heels, the other Unlocked right behind. They burst into the main chamber, emerging onto an upper balcony three meters above the ground.
The sight was breathtaking, but in the wrong way. It was seriously appalling.
At the center of the cavern rose the last unbroken spire, a monumental structure stretching into the darkness. In its guts loomed a massive pillar of bulging flesh, covered in a myriad of sickly yellow eyes, all fixated on the group with inhuman glee.
This was the true body of the Class V. Bathed in the hellish glow of Kellta's flames, it truly took the tendon-and-flesh cake for sheer grotesqueness.
Against his better judgment, Elion reflexively gazed at it with his ability. That was a mistake. A splitting headache slammed into his skull.
I thought I was done with these!
The weave was impossibly complex. Chromatic threads stretched through the entire hall like spiderwebs, each connecting to one of the countless minions outside.
Elion gritted his teeth and clutched his head, but he didn't slow down. He vaulted over what was left of the rail guard, not that it was much. It just looked cooler than a simple jump. A three-meter fall from the balcony would hurt, but fortunately, they were all First Fingers, so none of them would be slowed by it.
Already, tendrils of flesh were exploding from the Class V's body. Its minions closed in from both front and rear. The bridge would soon be overrun—they had to reach it before that happened.
The real problem, though, was their rear. The horde was faster than Elion anticipated, and they couldn't afford to fight without losing precious ground. In seconds, they would catch up to Lumos who was closing the formation.
What do I do?
An explosion would slow them down. But they didn't have any bombs.
Or maybe they did…
"Farha, I need your energy tank!" he barked.
She looked confused as to why, but she didn't hesitate. Pulling out her cleaved sniper rifle, she detached the last half empty tank and tossed it to him.
Those tanks were built to be stable—far too stable to just blow. But Elion knew how to squeeze every drop of power from them. Studying it with his ability, he traced the weave. Simple enough—nowhere near as intricate as his onyx sword. Within seconds, he spotted the weakness.
Bingo.
He struck it at just the right angle. The tank hissed, growing dangerously hot. Under Farha's stunned gaze, he turned around and hurled it back at the pursuing horde.
The improvised explosive clattered against the stone, its sound sharp and unburied beneath the wail of the abomination chasing them—because there was no noise. They were completely silent, mindlessly advancing with blank stares in the eyes of those who had the luxury of such appendages.
Only the weak sound of slithering flesh and heavy footsteps echoed in the hall, giving the scene an eerie, surreal vibe.
That silence shattered when the tank reached its terminal state.
A deafening explosion rocked the entire castle. A burning cloud of crackling blue energy rose behind them, sending dust and debris flying.
The shockwave hurled Elion to the ground, stone scraping his skin as his ears rang with pain. For a moment, he thought the entire fortress would collapse.
The blast was absurdly powerful, but it wouldn't be enough to kill the Class V or its spawn. At best, it bought them space—space they desperately needed.
"We need to move!" Elion shouted, though his words were lost in the ringing in everyone's ears. Still, they didn't need him to tell them.
They staggered back to their feet as quickly as they fell and resumed their perilous sprint. They were almost at the bridge—but something caught Elion's eye when he'd thrown the tank.
Behind the pillar of flesh, partially hidden, was a grandiose painting. He had only caught a glimpse of it, and it was weathered and worn with age, but it was unmistakable.
He simply couldn't forget that silhouette. He had felt so utterly relieved the first time he saw it, as misguided as that feeling might have been.
It was undoubtedly Mother.
The Class IV he had fled from while carrying Farha. The one who had inflicted the first wound on his psyche.
It was burned into his mind, the horns, the dress, the smile. This one felt just as reassuring as when he had been under her influence.
His heart clenched.
What does this mean?
Could she have been a Dweller of the Depths before she became that abomination?
If her portrait hung in the castle's great hall… then she must have been its queen.
The pieces clicked into place. The Class V built its minions from the city's dead. It had likely done the same with her, intending to make her its most powerful soldier. After all, her ability mirrored its own: the manipulation of flesh, reshaping organic matter into her 'family.'
It must have granted her intelligence. That's what allowed her to separate and become her own entity.
That would also explain why it is now reluctant to grant intelligence to its minions. The loss of its perfect soldier must have been a harsh lesson to learn, even for a twisted abomination of flesh.
Yet the way Mother acted. The genuine benevolence that exuded from her gruesome actions. Even turned into a twisted puppet of flesh, some of her personality bled through.
She must have been kind and loving. Someone who cared deeply in life.
Such a tragic fate…
Elion shook his head.
Not now.
He forced the thought aside and continued his mad dash for the bridge. They passed the gate of the castle to reveal the blood-stained streets of Erika. Monsters were closing in from all sides.
Still, the only way remained forward.
Elion was starting to feel tired, his already drained mind wanting to give up, but he refused to.
They crossed the bridge, barreling down the main street and toward the outside gate of the city. All those lap-running drills back in S33 really came in handy.
Lumos kicked backward, sending a bipedal flesh thing staggering to the ground. More were already closing in. If nothing changed, they would have to slow down in order to fight the wave of minions.
Hela slammed her fist to the ground, emerald energy rippling outward. Vines and spikes of organic matter erupted, skewering their pursuers and weaving into a wall of sharp plants, containing the horde.
That's new. Looks like the new chapter of her ability improved it drastically.
That allowed them to make some space before the wall of crimson plant broke down. Space that would be vital to their survival. The ruined city flashed before their eyes, writhing abomination populating its streets.
The massive outer wall started to grow closer, but the cracks—their only exits—were already filling up with the minions that were outside the city.
Elion scanned the threads, choosing the path of least resistance.
"Second crevice to the left—clear enough. Go!" he shouted, his voice completely out of breath.
They veered off, darting for the exit, Kellta's flames lighting their way through the collapsing wall. Even inside, they didn't slow down their relentless marathon.
Elion felt as though his legs were about to give up, but he pushed on. The threat of dying was motivation enough it seemed.
The crevice was heading up, they climbed painstakingly, the sound of slithering flesh closing in behind them.
The scarlet forest was revealed in all its gory glory—trees were curling around stone formations, the sinew and vein-like vines covering everything and the sparse patches of flesh not denoting from the single tonal color of the area.
It was a creepy sight, but with what they had just gone through, it seemed like a chill vacation in a scenic forest of all mighty gore.
Almost.
Abominations were flooding in the crevices, spilling out in the scarlet forest. A truly horrifying sight. Fortunately, none of them had the time to give it a look, keeping their eyes forward.
Elion saw waves of chromatic threads rippling in the greenery, well… 'redery' would be a more appropriate term. Each leaf, each vine, and each blade of scarlet grass reacted to their presence.
Each one had a single purpose: stop them.
The vines moved to ensnare them, the tiny needles waiting to suck out all the blood in the unfortunate who might come in contact with them.
Hela, once again, shaking off her state of useless luggage in the eyes of Elion, used her ability. Brown vines surged forth, tangling the crimson growths, halting their attack.
She can control plants now…? What the hell happened to her useless ability?
Either way, it worked out well for them.
Up ahead, in the foliage, a familiar shape appeared. It was the Frankenstein's monster wannabe.
"Get ready!" Elion shouted—then smirked grimly. "To run."
A bit anticlimactic, but it was the best course of action.
That abomination was fast, but now that they were First Fingers, they could easily outrun it.
The beast lunged, its fist crashing down. Elion dove into a roll, sprinting past as if it weren't even there. The monster's blank eyes almost looked disappointed.
Or maybe it was just Elion seeing things due to being dead tired.
The edge of the forest appeared. The scarlet leaves thinned, and no fleshy abominations lurked ahead.
Just a little further.
At last, the eight Unlocked broke free of the Class V's domain. The crushing weight of its will lifted, letting Elion finally breathe.
After making sure they were far enough, he collapsed to the ground, barely clinging to consciousness. His heart was ready to explode out of his chest and his breathing was uncontrollable.
I don't ever want to do this again. But knowing my luck, I will.