Chapter 60: Embrace
Blazing fury and the heat of the flames muted the uncertainty and fear, clearing his mind of possibilities. There was not much else to it—not much else, indeed, now that he thought about it.
The sheer size of the creature scarcely mattered. The presence with which it choked the giant hall was a mere weight upon his shoulders. So long as it was of flesh and blood, of life even if it was wicked, Valens could find a way in.
He sprang forward, breath rasping in his throat, heart thumping in his chest. Emotions rushed at him. He embraced them as he had never before. Turned deaf against the painful desire that had told him to reach for Apathy. There, it said to him, awaited a cure for the unexpected breach through the steely net that protected him.
Valens refused.
Light Feet carried him toward the wriggling cloud of tendrils ahead, through the broken flesh and spurting blood, into the chaos ahead as the Templars ripped a way open for him with their golden armor shining and sharp swords biting, stabbing, and hacking. He also felt the thrill in the depths of their hearts and heard the tune of their Resonance like the sound of mad laughter echoing in the darkness.
Frequencies came back to him in pieces as his hold over the Resonance grew stronger when he tapped into the mana pool in his chest, pulling the valuable source from the gurgling river and letting it pour into the flames of the Inferno burning high. He stretched a tongue of it with the back of his hand and caught a sneaky tendril making for him just before it reached his chest.
The stench of burnt flesh filled his nose when the Inferno ripped into the fleshy limb. The outer shell cracked, and black blood dripped down from the little holes burnt across its surface. Yet it was strong, resisting the spell with layers upon layers of condensed foul mana, slowly chipping away at the flames and worming stubbornly toward him.
That was when Valens understood.
There might be fear in that giant eye’s gaze, but it didn’t feel pain or try to escape. It was as though it knew Valens was no different than a dangerous, insidious thought that once seeped into its mind—he would take away something precious from it. That was why it couldn’t let him. That was why the Weeping Horror had to silence that thought before it could become real.
However, there was one thing the creature didn’t know. Valens did not need to hide in a Shrieker’s core or spread his presence to find a way in.
No.
For him, a single touch was enough.