Chapter 101: Chapter 101: Bloodied Shadows
POP!
The sound of a balloon popping echoed through the water.
For a moment, Vikir felt his mind being snapped.
A tremendous impact struck his whole frame.
but this time, the seasoned hound didn't step on loss of life's door.
Grabbing onto the broken twine, Vikir gritted his teeth and continued the effect of the autumn on his complete body.
He seems up and sees that his limbs are nevertheless connected.
Vikir breathes a sigh of alleviation notwithstanding the pain. Now that he knew the outside of his frame was intact, it became time to test the internal.
... The internal was in higher form than he predicted.
My head became cracked, all my ribs were damaged, all my bones had been fractured, my legs were bent in weird guidelines, and my muscular tissues, organs, and blood vessels have been torn aside.
The ache and wounds would have killed a everyday individual numerous times over, but no longer Vikir, who possessed amazing regenerative powers.
This become an injury that could be repaired with the assist of the lavatory Salamander's Wraith imprisoned within the magic sword Beelzebub.
"...exceptional."
Vikir checked the giant pillow in which he had fallen.
It changed into the decomposed, gassy carcass of a Boggy lavatory Salamander.
It have been attacked by using swarms of bone-sucking mosquitoes, leaving its difficult pores and skin full of blood, flesh, and soft organs.
The unlucky salamander have been alive until Vikir climbed the crag, and seemingly died while Vikir was at the top of the height combating Madame.
The salamander's death and decomposition brought on gas to accumulate in its tough pores and skin, which made it even more puffy, and Vikir fell on top of it.
needless to mention, this didn't soften the impact.
Falling on water continues to be a shock.
Vikir pushed himself up through the pain.
"at the least it didn't have the salamander's bones."
If the salamander's carcass had a solid skeleton protecting it together, Vikir would had been even extra traumatized by using the impact.
fortuitously, the bone-sucking mosquitoes had eaten all of the salamander's bones, so she become spared.
however.
His bodily injuries have been commonly healed, however he couldn't help the stench.
The impact of Vikir's fall had exploded the salamander's carcass, sending gases, rotting guts, and blood anywhere.
The stench changed into sickening.
The stench is unimaginable, for the reason that it's the salamander that stinks so badly, and the rotting stench that's introduced to it.
in case you ever get out of right here, you'll probably should live within the tub for days straight.
... but.
The stench wasn't the problem proper now.
Vikir had some thing else he wished to test first.
"...."
Vikir became his gaze to the stable rock within the distance.
On it lay a massive, bloody chew of meat.
Madame eight-Legged, as powerful as she turned into, reputedly didn't have the stamina to withstand the impact of a collapse a cliff.
"properly. You ought to have sustained quite some accidents when you raided Balak's tribe.'
Her entire exoskeleton had been shattered, all her critical organs-bones, lungs, coronary heart-have been spilled to the floor, and many of her legs had been bent in gruesome approaches.
however amazingly, Madame is still alive.
She barely manages to tug herself upright, shaking her 1/2-exploded and mashed body.
underneath her, mangled intestines ooze out of her.
"...."
Vikir stretched and walked slowly toward Madame.
Madame. Even a demon of depht can't assist but experience worry when they see the shadow of loss of life looming over them.
Madame shuddered as she met Vikir's purple eyes.
It become an emotion that coursed via her bones, down to the very core of her exoskeleton. It became worry, a hundred% natural.
"...Are you afraid?"
[....]
"Are you afraid of death too?"
Vikir laughed dryly, twisting the corners of his mouth in which rotten blood had dried.
Madame felt the brains in her shattered cranium, torn into pieces, shrinking away.
With every step Vikir took, her coronary heart thudded towards the outdoor of her ribs.
The antique madam, whose intelligence and reminiscence had been sharpened via her lengthy existence, had imprinted Vikir's cutting-edge look in her thoughts.
The flickering vision, the imminent terror, the looming death, and the hound, the death dog!
[Zaarak...]
The sound of the beast's cries turned into small and feeble, like a infant's whimper.
Madame staggered backwards, dazed, dazed, dazed.
The burst mucus sac was oozing out of her, but she didn't appear to mind.
Vikir staggered as much as her and plunged his awl into her again.
...Pfft!
Beelzebub dug deep into the cracks within the tarnished armor.
Madame shuddered and struggled, however her moves had been absolutely aimed at escape, and she confirmed no sign of fighting again.
...pow! ...pow! ...pow! ...pow!
The axe sank like enamel. Bikir's attack persevered.
He had no power left in his belly, so all he should do become press down together with his frame weight, however still, he changed into genuinely diminishing Madame point via factor.
Karma.
The Wraiths of all the Balak warriors who had died innocently, and the Wraiths of all of the natives of all of the tribes of the jungle who had died countless times earlier than, had been weighing on Vikir's wrist.
The karma she had accumulated up to this point had become enjoy factors, making him stronger... however not as robust as he turned into at this second.
The contact of those many Wraiths dragging her down into the depths of the abyss became genuinely self-inflicted.
Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!
quickly, Madame's soul started to be sucked into the orb of Beelzebub.
/ awl
-1 slot: Burn-Cerberus (A+)
Slot -2: Silent Hill – Monsieur Hushu(A+)
Slot -3: first rate Regeneration – Swamp Salamander (A+)
3 formidable creatures of A+ threat.
Their Wraiths at first occupied every of the 3 orbs beneath Beelzebub's blade, creating a annoying strength stability.
the brand new arrival, Madame's Wraith, disappointed the balance.
Madame's Wraith become the first to are trying to find out the slot that held the Wraith of Cerberus, with whom it had never gotten in conjunction with concerning similar territory.
[grrrr...]
The Wraith of Cerberus, who had lengthy occupied the first slot of the purple Ball, bared its tooth at Madame's intrusion.
As a Wraith, Cerberus nonetheless remembers the humiliation of being stripped of his territory by means of Madame and banished to the seventh Ridge.
but the hierarchy of the Wraith global is typically no longer lots specific from that of the living.
Madame changed into vicious as a Wraith.
[Cackle! Cackle!]
As in life, Madame took Cerberus's territory and set up a nest in its area.
/ axe
-1 slot: Venomous-Madame eight-Legged (S)
Slot -2: Silent Hill – Monsieur Hushu (A+)
Slot -3: high-quality Regeneration – Swamp Salamander (A+)
sooner or later, Beelzebub's first slot modified proprietors.
The passive ability that Vikir received from it turned into Venom, a poison so concentrated that there was nothing in the global that would suit it.
It flowed into Vikir's frame and shortly dissolved into his crimson blood.
whilst harmless to Vikir himself, it'd probable be a deadly poison to others.
meanwhile.
Madame turned into nonetheless fleeing at this second, frantically shaking the floor.
no matter the reality that part of her soul had come to be a wraith and fallen prey to Beelzebub, she changed into nonetheless minimally aware and trying to escape.
perhaps it become due to the fact her mind have been shattered into many portions.
Vikir had attempted to keep on with his sword in Madame's again %, but he could not assist her fading attention.
He hadn't eaten or slept considering that his current climb, and his frame have been absolutely rebuilt nearly twice, so he had each purpose to be sapped of stamina.
This turned into specifically authentic now that he had released an air of mystery that had burned via each blood vessel in his body.
A normal swordsman would had been lifeless or crippled via now.
Thump-thump-thump
From past my fading focus, I listen the howling of a beast.
"...If it's a percent of dogs, we're in trouble.
What other creature within the world could dare to method this region while Madame eight-Legged become exuding poisonous energy?" ... Vikir was no longer in a at ease sufficient country to consider that.
sooner or later.
Shuffle!
Vikir collapsed on pinnacle of Madame's corpse.
....
Sleep took an awful long time, or maybe just a moment.
inside the darkness in the back of his eyelids, he acknowledges many faces.
Many faces I'd left behind during my journey through the Age of Destruction, and those I'd met considering the fact that my go back.
Faces of Chihuahua, Sindhiwendi, Pomeranian, Aquila, Camus, Aiyen, Dolores, Barrymore, and others upward thrust and fall to the floor without a sound.
Faces from Baskerville, faces from Underdog metropolis, faces from the dephts, faces from Quovadis street, faces from everywhere in the area, one after the alternative, without any connection.
amongst them were the faces of Hugo and Ahheman.
the instant.
"...!"
Vikir scrambled to his feet.
how many days, hours, mins, or seconds had exceeded?
He sees a shadowy silhouette soaring over his still-heat frame.
He waits for his imaginative and prescient to clean a little extra, after which he feels a heat tongue licking his face.
It became Baqira, the wolf, peering into Vikir's face.
And next to it, he ought to see the face of his steady companion.
Aiyen.
She sat down subsequent to Vikir, searching like she was about to burst into tears.
"Oh my God, Vikir! Are you wide awake! are you able to see me? hello! Ahun! Over right here! Over right here!"
" Vikir! You're alive! I'll get you some remedy right away!"
"Poison! Wash off the poison! Take him to the village!"
the arena is silent, except for the slow twitching of Aiyen's mouth, his blurred imaginative and prescient, and the acquainted faces accumulating around him.
"...is this a dream?
With that idea, Vikir blacked out absolutely.
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