The Writhing God

Dark, cold, and the feeling of suffocation, those were the only things that Thomas could perceive right now. He was gradually regaining consciousness. Then, he realized he was falling and that jerked him out of the sleep-like state he was in before.

He opened his eyes, but no light entered them, it was complete darkness, to the point that he thought his eyes were still closed.

'What happened?' He thought to himself. 'Where'

-Wellcome.- echoed a loud, deep voice inside his head. -O, Thomas of Man, do you know where you are?- It erupted again, it was so deafening that he held his hands on his ears to try and decrease the volume.

-Hmm I apologize, I haven't had a visitor inside this place for a veery long time- Said the voice, less loudly this time. He didn't know how, but even though he was hearing this voice inside his mind he could tell that it was mocking him. It had a playful tone, one akin to telling a joke, but he guessed the joke was him.

-Oh, you must be confused about how you crossed through the portal.-

Suddenly bits of memories returned to him as he remembered moments before his descent to this place.

They had moved as quietly as possible, as close to the cultists as they could, without getting noticed and tried to encircle them. John had thrown a grenade, but it was blocked midair by a red hemisphere that appeared and shielded the whole ritual sight. A few seconds later the barrier was shattered, it was Alexander. He had pushed the explosion back onto the red surface and used its force to destroy it.

That was as far as he could recall, Thomas' mind was racing -What happened after that?-

-AHAHAHAHA- A maniacal laugh boomed so violently it made his whole being shiver. -REMEMBER. THOMAS.- Every word was pushing against something in his mind, pressuring something inside to spill out.

Thomas wandered back into the scene that followed his previous hurdle.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Surprised by the unexpected visitors the cultists started to form defensive lines to cover the area of the barrier that had been shattered from the explosion. Now Thomas could see them clearly. They all had some part of their faces sealed or cut apart. Eyes sewn shut, mouths covered in a pitch-black substance, ears, and noses cut off. On their skin were tattoos that represented the senses they were missing, eyes, tongues... But what made this sight even more harrowing was that the more of them gathered together the less human they appeared. Like cogs of a machine working in unison, no, they were more similar to robots being controlled remotely, by some algorithm or automatic function. Their behavior, their breathing, their stance, all of it was too aligned, too synchronized. It made Thomas' instincts scream at him to back away as soon as possible.

He stopped perceiving these as people, to him right now what was in front of him was a single entity.

Even though the bodies that started amassing to repel them had stopped chanting the four individuals that they had suspected were the leaders continued. They were now speaking in unrecognisable sounds, groans, and screeching. The more they went on the more inhuman their vocalisations became.

Thomas rushed a few meters behind John, he took aim and shot. His bullet passed between the heads of the cultists and hit the nearest one of the four that were chanting. However, before it arrived at its destination the mouths of the four priests had already stopped moving.

The moment it touched the back of the priest's cranium it inserted itself inside without much resistance, it moved through the soft and wet gray matter and cleanly exited from the other side. The instance the brains of the priest splattered on the ground the members, that had come to greet the four intruders, were already panicking, shouting, and hitting each other without any reason or discrimination. It was pure animalistic fright, some of them were even hitting their heads on the ground and clawing at their faces.

Seeing this chaos unfold Alexander and Isabella were running with all their might to take advantage of the opening. Alexander stopped and held out his hands and then with both his palms opened he hit in froward. Isabella felt the air pressure behind her change, she jumped and was instantly launched with great speed towards John, who held his hands low for her to launch herself a second time.

Meanwhile, Thomas was shooting at the few cultists who were still standing. After he judged there was enough room for him to pass through, he dashed behind Isabella, who was still airborne.

The cultists had lost a priest, a vital part of their functionality as a whole. But the priests were not like the others. They couldn't control the rest without a fourth but they had still managed to finish the ritual and maintain control over it.

A very loud noise, that sounded like a growl, projected itself from the spire, that was now pulsing faster than before. It unwinded itself and was now separated into four different sections that released red electric energy.

"Ω ΡöμBoΚιμπoΚtaάΕΔro, ΑΚκοyCε μΑς!" Their expressions were full of glee. The energy was condensing itself in the center of the spires. Thomas shot at them, but the bullets were instantly disintegrated by a strand of red lightning.

The energy that was now formed into a small black-red ball in the middle of the four spires was being stretched into a circular, a rhombical, and many other shapes, trying to stabilize itself.

"FUCK!" Shouted Isabella, who could barely be heard under the vibrations of the air around them.

Thomas knew what he had to do. If they let whatever was waiting on the other side of the gate escape it would spill out an uncountable amount of destruction and death. If someone had to sacrifice themselves to halt something of that scale there was no problem of that person being him. He had no one, he was a ghost, known to nobody, even those who did know him would wish they didn't. His own lover had turned into a cold, abusive monster. What reason did he have to continue this sad existence anyway, he'd rather give it away if it meant thousands of new possibilities for the people who would live after his death.

He took out a grenade and gritted his teeth, then ran forward into his death.

He jumped in and instantly the electric energy attacked him, burning his flesh off.

"AHH!", he howled in pain as he let the grenade escape his hand.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

-That was a splendid performance-

-You, why?- Thomas was wondering why in the last moment a tentacle had extended from the gate and dragged him inside.

-SHOULD YOU REALLY BE ASKING THAT?- wrath was practically exuding every intent of the thoughts that were sent to Thomas

-They died didn't they?- Thomas was pleased, he had at least managed to take out the priests that maintained the gate, maybe even destroyed one or more of the spires.

-You know nothing, Thomas the trapped! I, the brilliant Rhombicuboctahedron, will give you a true purpose-

*CRASH* Thomas' fall had ended, he hit down hard and pain swarmed his senses.

-WHAT DO YOU SAY? O THOMAS, THE PAWN.-

Pulsing, red-colored light filled the darkness.

The being, the god of the cultists, had revealed itself.