Horrific creatures with white eyes and long fangs rushed toward them from all sides.
"We move to the next building," the demon said emotionlessly.
Not the slightest trace of fear or tension appeared in him. With a single wave of his hand, he annihilated dozens of cultists, their bodies exploding in sprays of blood. He turned the city streets into a true bloodbath.
The nearest house was only a few steps away. They only had to cross the street. The hooded, robed figure was walking steadily ahead of the Cursed, stepping through blood and entrails.
But halfway across the street, new monsters emerged from the darkness. Tall and gaunt, wearing wide-brimmed hats and coats with long tails. Their hats concealed the upper halves of their elongated pale faces. Only two glowing eyes burned from the darkness. Their long, elongated chins lay beneath wide, ear-to-ear horrific grins, exposing long, terrifying teeth. In their long limbs, they held saws with countless teeth and pitchforks with long tines. They were advancing slowly and relentlessly toward the two travelers.
"This is bad," the demon said. He still did not turn around and avoided showing his face. "It seems the city is adapting to our strategy and developing one of its own, becoming more dangerous and more horrifying each time. These are the Flayers. With their pitchforks, they tear off the skin, and with their saws, they cut off limbs while the victim is still alive. They are relentless and know no mercy. They are almost immune to magical attacks because they draw their energy from the numerous servants of the Cult."
The Cursed cast the spell that altered space. One of the horrific figures in a hat and coat, holding a huge serrated saw, staggered and took several limping steps. Its legs seemed to have suffered multiple fractures in many places. Then it straightened up again and continued walking toward them as though nothing had happened.
"I told you, magic has no effect on them," the demon said. "Now it's time to get our bodies out of here before it's too late."
They turned around and ran in the opposite direction. Cultists with fangs were pouring out of the side streets. They were running toward the large public buildings ahead. About one hundred feet remained to the entrance doors.
Suddenly, something changed abruptly in the surrounding space.
"Duck!" the demon said.
His strong steel hand shoved the Cursed aside, and a huge iron pitchfork flew through the spot where he had been standing only a moment before. It slammed into the wall of the building with savage force, knocked out part of the stone masonry, and remained embedded there. Massive, menacing, inhuman.
The Cursed turned around and froze for a moment in surprise.
Four Flayers were moving toward them, gliding about a foot and a half above the street. They were closing in on the fugitives fast. Very little time remained.
The demon flung the door open remotely, and the two of them rushed into the interior rooms of the building.
The corridor in which they found themselves was dark. Lights were drifting near the walls. The door slammed shut behind them with a crash. They had no choice but to keep moving forward. After a while, they realized that the drifting lights were neither illumination nor artifacts, but the eyes of horrific creatures sitting on the floor along the walls. With those eyes, they were watching the intruders.
"Do not stop!" the demon's command rang out. Now the Cursed saw his eyes glowing in the darkness. "Run to the end of the corridor!"
Ahead, about three hundred feet away, the light from the lamps was flickering on and off, as though the lighting had been damaged or was malfunctioning. But they had to reach it. Through the entire dark corridor filled with strange creatures.
A blow of monstrous force struck the entrance door from behind. It seemed that the tall creatures in hats and coats, armed with pitchforks and saws, had finally reached their targets.
The Cursed and the demon dashed forward through the corridor drowned in darkness. They were running while a hail of blows pounded against the door behind them, and the creatures along the walls were writhing in strange convulsions. Then the blows outside suddenly ceased, but the creatures along the walls with their glowing eyes were still writhing in convulsions.
On the right, a door suddenly flew open in the darkness, and a tall dark silhouette with glowing eyes seized the Cursed's arm with savage force and dragged him inside. Behind the figure, in the depths of the room, enormous creatures were stirring, and unknown gigantic mechanisms were operating. The Cursed began struggling free, delivering powerful punches to the figure's head. The grip did not weaken. Steel fingers kept pulling him farther in. Then he created a long dagger and began driving it into the enemy's head over and over without stopping. The creature let out a piercing shriek, and the Cursed broke free.
"They are spawn that come from other realms in response to the magic of the Magister and the Cult of the Moon-Devouring One," the demon explained. "A side effect of their sorcery, one they themselves are not pleased with. They are drawn to powerful surges of energy and new sources of power. Their presence is dangerous, and they can drag someone away to a place from which one may never return."
They kicked away several of the creatures along the walls that had tried to seize them by the legs.
Then they reached the corridor where lamps with flickering light hung from the ceiling.
The corridor was empty, and at its end stood a door.