Drip-Fed

The gathered demons followed Apexus knitting his body back together with confusion and interest. They were aware of the diversity of adventurers and their ability, but now they truly saw what the humanoid chimera was made of. All the liquid insides, the organs suspended within, and the regeneration that came with it all.

“Saltwater Bleeder, Slime Healer, Spark Craver…” Snarlesh muttered. “Spark Craver… Leyline Eater… Spark Eater… Spark Eater…?!” The demon of blood and gore howled, the realization hit him. “APEXUS! SPARK EATER! ENEMY OF EMPRESS! SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER!”

The Fleshgorger pounded the unnaturally level ground with his front claws, dog and human-like in equal measure. Realization washed over him. He thrashed and screamed, the other demons growling as they picked up the scent of genuine hatred. This was not the tantrum of a demon, this was the initiation of a herd response.

“CALM!” Bulubu roared. The Jitter spoke out of pride and caution. It was his right, as leader of the pack, to scream such riling phrases and he had enough mind to know that this would not be an easy fight – especially if Snarlesh was correct.

“NO CALM! SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER! EMPRESS, EMPRESS JOLENE, THER-“ The Fleshgorger suddenly stopped in his erratic screams. A ripple went through his body, then through the surrounding demons. They all backed away, head lowered in prostration to the entity that now spoke through Snarlesh’s teeth. “There you are.”

The musical tone of the female voice was more terrifying than anything else the Inevitable party had seen or heard on this Leaf. They readied themselves, yet remained still. Their bodies had chosen to freeze before they could even contemplate fight or flight.

Bones cracked. The hip bones of the Fleshgorger were forced to reshape, accommodating an upright posture. Hindlegs became the only legs, lengthening into feminine shape, yet retaining the texture of leathery skin and ending in clawed paws. The two-thumbed front claws lengthened into proper fingers. The eyes of the Fleshforger bulged, black blood streaming from them as the creature's jaw opened up wide. A torrent of ichor stopped at the barrier of parted teeth, the surface ripping, then shaping into the gorgeous face of the Empress of Blood. Her emerald eyes blazed.

“Oh, my darling Apotho had forsaken chasing you… you killed my child! My lovely Turlesh! Spark Eater!”

““SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER! SPARK EATER!““ the other demons echoed.

“You are a blight upon our blessed plans.” The grotesque fusion of mutated dog and gorgeous woman took a step forwards. “A reminder that pulls upon our long-slumbering saviour…” She reached down, touching Aclysia’s cheek gently. “…You could be so much more, like I became, child.”

The angel’s throat closed up, her own songstress’ voice feeling inadequate to shape an answer in the presence of this gorgeous trill.

“And you!” Jolene grabbed Reysha’s arm, the black ichor within pulsing at the touch. “Return this blood’s fealty to its true empress and you could be a demonic demigod, a bridge between the debtors and the indebted. Collect all that you could ever like.”

Reysha’s panic surged further, memories of fire burning behind her retinas. She tried to drown it deep in the combat meditation.

“Your face is unknown, little one… but I know your god. Your Hoard cannot compare to the riches that we are owed.”

Korith’s lower lip quivered.

The grotesque, possessed demon’s elongated tail whipped the ground. Her hand gripped Apexus by the throat, dragging him to his reforming feet. The humanoid chimera was shuddering. He remembered a city ablaze, ten-thousand lives gone in a moment to give this one entity access to the Branches.

“You have killed my lovely Turlesh,” she repeated. “You are an anchor for the remnants of that horrid empathy, foisted upon my darling. We deserve our god! Your blight will not be tolerated.” Jolene raised a hand, ichor streaming over her fingers and hardening into claws. She swung.

The side of a stone hammer blocked the living blades.

“You claim that you have more riches than Hoard…?” Korith mumbled.

Jolene pushed against the blockade, hissing at the weakness of her vessel. “All of Hoard’s riches belong to us. It is our right. He has lived in safety because of us!”

The kobold pulled her hammer back – then swung it with all her might. The grip on Apexus’ throat was removed, the grotesque monster forced several metres back. The Empress of Blood screeched in rage, her gorgeous face distorting into a visage worthy of the title ‘demon’.

“FOR THE HOARD!” Korith shouted.

The courage of the little kobold snapped the other three out of their frozen states. Reysha sunk deep into the ego death. Sword in one hand, axe in the other, she followed their frontliner into battle. Aclysia took to the air, to get an overview of the battle.

Only a part of the demonic host was supporting Jolene. Though she was an Unreav level demon, she was not owed fealty by all those present. Only those that were her direct vassals or were made in the image of Hellroot rulers friendly to the Empress of Blood sided with her in this brawl. The rest, more than half of them, were bullied into staying ambivalent by Jitter. The Lord of Discord was the enemy of Jolene and his vassal would not sacrifice himself in a battle for her goals.

Apexus directed his biomass consciously, focused on the recreation of bones and shredded muscles. One of the smaller demons leapt at him. The creature would have been terrifying to a level 10 adventurer. To Apexus, it was like it moved through molasses. All of his senses had spiked in their acuity. His reaction time had increased in a way that was disorienting, reigned in only by the control that a Monk always trained. He caught the leaping demon by the head and crushed it with such intensity that not even infernal regeneration could keep its connection to the Branches up.

“I promise you power or to suffer my wrath!” Jolene exclaimed. She was pouring as much power as she could into this vessel. The Fleshgorger bloated with muscle and viscera, blood bursting out of pustules forming on the epidermis. It formed into needles that attempted to spear the two attackers.

Korith and Reysha had none of it. The duo fought in silence, weaving through the attacks of the Empress of Blood and her minions. Her possessed body was strong, strong enough to keep two adventurers at level 30 occupied while tanking the spells of a third. Aclysia rained down sunlight on their enemy, thinning out their number. Still, it was all around equally matched.

Apexus pushed himself off the wall. He had only one completed arm. His feet were missing toes and much of the muscles used for proper balance. His wings were gone, his head was a shredded mess, his skin was still just blue membrane in many places. He was almost as grotesque a sight as the demonic sovereign, but he could fight.

The Monk leapt into combat. One jump to gather momentum, a second to slam into the enemy – that was the plan. Instead, he was before the empress in a singular move, ramming into her gracelessly. The vessel flew on its back, the Unreav growling. She attempted to pierce his skin, to rip his core right out of him. Instead, her claws broke on the Ironskin, shattering like a wooden weapon swung full force at a steel wall.

Eyes widened in surprise. Certainly, this vessel was weak, incapable of carrying even a fifth of the Unreav’s true might. Still, the humanoid chimera should not have been this strong yet. She was unaware of what Apexus had just done and how powerful the hand was that now met her sternum.

The Rippling Palm shredded her insides. The spine of the vessel exploded into a geyser of gore. Overflowing Ki flowed backwards, tearing open Apexus’ arm in turn. They were both thrown back from the raw, improperly wielded power.

Jolene slammed into the ground. She growled, the humiliation surging through her soul. “I will bring you to justice,” she hissed, then let her waning grip on the damaged vessel go entirely. The black blood that had formed her face lost its supernatural surface tension, flowing from the mouth of the Fleshgorger.

As the ichor pooled beneath him, the demon whimpered, “Spark Eater… Spark Eater… Please… don’t…”

Apexus barely managed to stand. “I will not,” he promised. “Thank you for defending the Roots, Snarlesh.”

The words of gratitude weighed heavily on the demon’s mind as he returned to the domain of his empress.