Chapter 282: Of Monsters And Men

The bad-things were massive, even compared to most bad-things; they were dwarfed only a rare few of my former enemies, like the leviathans of the mana-water lake or the fire-water serpent that guarded the lesser Core of flame. Each was more than two not-Needles in height, with long arms stretching down to their knees and fists shaped like boulders.

But the Great Core’s Coreless did not falter.

The faithful screamed as the bad-things tossed themselves against well-sharpened fangs. Each scream carried its own meaning; here, there was [fear]; there, there was [anger]; and there again, was [defiance].

But, regardless of the meaning of the scream, there was one more thing that held itself above all others - [faith].It flooded through the connections between myself and the Great Core’s newest followers in a near-overwhelming torrent, bringing to mind the great downpour of shining mana-water that had flooded into the lake of the leviathans on my previous journey to the Death Core; like the great stream of mana-water, it was loud; like the falling liquid, it was powerful.

It was beautiful.

I hissed in glee, even as one of my faithful found himself smashed beneath the fists of a bad-thing. The bones of his shoulder fractured with a thunderous crack, forcing the Coreless’ once-readied fang to dip out of position. Yet, only an instant later - even before, I knew, the[Little Guardian’s Focus] had time to truly repair the damage - the faithful had shoved his fang forward with wild abandon, throwing his entire body into the attack.

The fang passed through the bad-thing’s flesh, driving upwards towards its heart. The bad-thing staggered, and another fang immediately joined it, passing through its flesh. And then another. And another.

The bad-thing fell - and, before it, the faithful began to roll his once-wounded shoulder, testing its restoring range of motion.

The torrent of [faith] from that particular Coreless surged, growing ever-louder, and he threw himself back into the battle, immediately taking a glancing blow to an arm that he hardly seemed to notice.

“Like I said, they’re a bunch of crazy bastards,” the Unrepentant One grumbled, his emotions shifting somewhere between [disturbance] and [pride] - likely both perturbed by becoming so quickly overcome in faith by the very followers that he’d taught in service to the Great Core, and yet overjoyed to see their faith’s ascendancy. “I’m half convinced that they’ve gone and mutilated themselves so much in training that they hardly feel pain anymore. Or at least they don’t seem to care.”

I wasn’t sure what he was so [worried] about with that last set of noises. I was rather pleased with how things were going. Not only were the faithful receiving a demonstration of the strength that came with resting beneath the Great Core’s light, but I was soon to receive what I hoped would be a powerful new Blooded Trait from the corpses of the Coreless’ defeated foes - even if consuming their corpses would be horrifically troublesome.

Even better, I’d done little more than shape some stone to receive it. Stone that would remain behind to forever exhibit the Great Core’s glory to any future faithful that encountered it. All in all, it was shaping up to be a glorious day.

Will, still standing beside the Unrepentant One, nodded. “It works in their favor, for now. But, in the future, we’ll either have to force some bad habits out of them or make sure they never fight outside of the range of the Little Guardian Statues, to be safe. It’s a big limitation, but…” my disciple paused, his eyes landing on yet another of the Great Core’s newest faithful. The Coreless, a female this time, threw her hand in front of a falling “...it’s a little terrifying to witness. They don’t fight like people should. Sure, they think as people do. They follow tactics and orders. They work together. But, at the same time…”

“But the way they fight,” the Unrepentant One nodded back in some unknown [agreement]. “They fight like monsters.”

“Like nothing else matters but victory.”

A nearly delirious giggle tore past Fenn’s throat as a giant, descending limb nearly smashed directly into his face. Only the last minute sacrifice of his arm - or at least its bones - slowed the blow enough for his skull to avoid a disastrous rearrangement.

The [Little Guardian’s Totem] against his chest felt like a fire, sending its flames through his heart and into his blood; the pain in his arm flared as it began the process of putting itself back together again.

Fenn welcomed the pain. It meant he was alive. And as long as that were true, the Little Guardian would make him whole again.

He thrust his spear forward with a single hand, the wounded arm beside it acting as little more than a guide for its uninjured brother and unable to add much in the way of force. Still, Fenn refused to allow that to mar the thrust.

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The speartip slipped through the behemoth’s defenses, finding its way into the meat of its knee. Fenn twisted, and the monster shrieked. Fenn screamed with it, a roar of defiance that ripped its way past his lips.

By the time that he yanked the spear out again, ready for another thrust, his nearest allies had fallen upon the enemy. Metal pressed into its now unprotected flanks. Some scored off of bone. Others passed through the gaps in its ribs, finding more valuable targets within.

The monster fell, and Fenn could swear that the [Little Guardian’s Totem] pressed against his chest pulsed with approval, feeling like a bonfire. He raised his spear, screaming out his victory. His throat tore with the strain.

But only for a moment.

The Little Guardian made him whole again.

I hissed in glee as a group of my faithful defeated yet another bad-thing, screaming in [faith] and [defiance]. Already, they had begun to whittle down the massive bad-things’ numbers; the disgusting things had gone from a third of my faithful’s numbers to less than a fifth of them.

And, unlike the bad-things, the number of my faithful hadn’t gone down. Sure, some of them were injured. I could feel the [pain] in some, even [agony] in others. But none had died. And, with three [Little Guardian’s Focus]es to heal from, it was unlikely they would.

Especially with my disciples watching. I could tell, from the way that they occasionally twitched in [concern], that they were ready to spring into action at any moment. As if called by my attention, I felt a brief burst of [terror] from one of the faithful; I followed it to its source, catching sight of a bad-thing’s fist falling upon a toppled female Coreless. With the weight of its body, her flesh - even covered in thickened hides as it was - would be pulped.

Admirably, the Coreless understood that, [terror] shifting into [spite] - and did all that she could to prop her fang up against the ground before the blow landed, aiming to deal a grievous wound to her killer even in death.

A shining needle-fang streaked through the air, biting into the bad-thing’s eye, and it toppled. I turned towards Needle, noting that she was readying another, watching the battle for any other faithful in need.

I gave her an appreciative hiss. Even that, I knew, was in service to the Great Core. The faithful that had been saved was worth saving; not only due to her inherent worth as a follower of my Creator, but because her faith had never faltered. Not even when it seemed that she would meet her end.

And now, that same Coreless’ [faith] soared to even greater heights. She pulled herself from the ground and, rather than contemplate how close she had come to death, threw herself into yet another battle with a scream.

I all but vibrated in approval, unable to stop myself from spinning my coils. This. This was the zeal that the Great Core deserved. The kind of defenders that it should have had, before, back in the times when I had been forced to hide away from anything and everything that approached.

It was glorious. A physical display of worship for my Creator, acted out in battle against the creations of its lesser brethren.

I couldn’t help myself; I needed to join them.

In a fit of pique, I threw my focus into the undead Coreless beneath me, taking full control. It, as always, was odd when I paid attention to it. My eyes were unnaturally high. My body unnaturally tailless. My legs disturbingly leggy.

But I persevered.

The blasphemer's soul fought against me for a moment, screaming in rage, but I pushed it back down into the dark with practiced ease. I didn’t want to be distracted. I wanted to fight. And, in such a crowded battle, I wasn’t sure that it was a good idea to do so in my normal body. I was too small and, even with my covering of ore-flesh, risked being crushed underfoot.

With the way that things were going, I didn’t want to risk turning everything that had happened into a false-life.

So, with distressingly leg-based movement, I carried my coiled form to the safety of the nearest [Little Guardian’s Focus], placing myself atop its stone scales. With the way that its very own version of [Illusion Spark] continually sucked in outside light to create the illusions that were its inky-black scales and the flame within its mouth, the glow of my ore-flesh all but disappeared.

My body was as concealed as it ever would be.

With that done, I finally turned my attention back to the battle. The bad-things had diminished in number yet again, but there were still a few holdouts. Enough for me to whet my appetite. I let my hands - and, yet again, that was weird to think about - curl around the giant makeshift fang that the blasphemer had once preferred, hefting it in my grip. Like the blasphemer himself, it was far larger than that carried around by the other Coreless.

But surprisingly light; its weight was almost nonexistent. I had a feeling that wasn’t actually true, a feeling that was confirmed every time I brought the butt of the weapon down onto the stone below.

It was heavy. My undead-self was just unreasonably strong. Satisfied, I began to lumber towards the fight. Inky blackness, like smoke with no true source, released with every step I took as the pool of death mana that kept the nonliving body whole and hale expended itself. Another reason that I didn’t force the former blasphemer’s body to exert itself often. I’d have to refill what was lost later.

But, for now, I didn’t worry about that.

Instead, I built speed. The faithful heard me coming; I was very loud. They began to make way. But even if they hadn’t, they would have been pushed aside by what came next.

The air screamed around me, brought to life by shining ore-flesh. It pushed at the Coreless in my path, nudging them aside, and I slipped through the gap.

I slammed into the nearest bad-thing with a thunderous crash.