Chapter 89: The Fall of Caelgorr Part 2
The grand stage was soaked in blood and shadow.
Caelgorr the Hollow stood victorious—his monstrous, shifting frame looming beneath the shattered visage of Nyxaris. Every member of Lucy’s cohort lay scattered across the ruined temple floor—bodies broken, breath shallow... or gone altogether. Only one remained.
Lucy.
The lone human stood before the snarling beast, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. His armor was a ruined mess—jagged tears exposed pale, blood-specked skin and bruises that bloomed like bruised violets across his ribs. Strips of fabric clung to him like ash after a fire. Dirt and dried ichor caked his hands. Behind his wind-battered hair, his eyes burned—golden, furious, and hollowed by exhaustion.
Caelgorr grinned. That awful, jagged grin split across his warped, beastly face. A face that seemed like it had once tried to mimic a man, then given up halfway through—horned, lopsided, and wreathed in smoke. His maw pulsed with black ichor between rows of uneven teeth, and his chest—riddled with twitching eyes and writhing veins—heaved with the effort of its unholy hunger.
That smile lit something in Lucy’s gut.
’Oh, you’re laughing? After everything you’ve done?’
His soul thread still clung to the living. He could feel them—those who still breathed: Gindu, Fenric, Llarm, Bruma, and Eri. Their threads pulsed like fraying cords soaked in agony. They wrapped around his chest like barbed wire.
’How dare you laugh, you bastard?’
His lips curled into a snarl. ’You’re going to pay. With your fucking intestines.’
Now that the others were out of the fray—either unconscious or worse—he could unleash everything. No more holding back from worry about hurting his cohort. This was it.