Chapter 155

Jaldabaoth had no reason to rush regarding anything. He even waited a few days to give the quagoa who fled from him a nice head start and plenty of rest. He then summoned a few disposable demons and set out for the quagoan 'stronghold'. 'The survivors should be there by now, as should the escapees, though they probably won't have remained behind. And unless Pe Riyuro is utterly inept he should be reaching my master soon, maybe not in time for the skirmish, but soon after.'

Jaldabaoth had many thoughts of this sort as he trod on through the winding stone paths, tunnels, mining ways, and so on in search of the quagoa who stayed behind to buy time for their fellows.

He could hear them, so many breathing, so many panting in fear. It carried like an infection left with them by those who ran away in fear of him. 'They are the wise ones. The rest… 'foolish courage' is an expression for a reason.'

The demons advanced first, common ones that were weak enough that the quagoa could defeat them, but strong enough that they could inflict horrendous casualties before dying.

The quagoa strategy remained unchanged, drowning the demons in their life's blood by clawing their way up to the top and striking the eyes or open mouths. The insects were brave enough, Jaldabaoth would grant them that much.

The smell of blood filled the stale air of the cave, the desperation of the quagoa in their final hours was a testament to their resilience as a people, the way they hurled themselves on the demons with relentless abandon, pushed to the limit by Jaldabaoth's relentless experimentation with their abilities. They lacked the creativity of weaker races like humans, but did show unique physical resilience and significant amounts of courage.

But now he was satisfied. 'I know enough about them now… and Nazarick needs scrolls…' He thought, and entered the fray, stretching out his hand, and said in a tranquil sort of voice, [Burn]. Those within a three meter space around him had the air ignited in their lungs, and they toppled over, unable even to scream as they died.

The eerie silence of their deaths brought the breaking point, to the eyes of those who did not experience his slaughter technique as he walked into their desperate ranks, it appeared that they simply died by getting close.

An enemy that could kill simply by proximity was a hopeless fight, and yet still some came on, struggling against all odds to buy their own retreating people just one more minute of time between Jaldabaoth and their migrating flight away from their former refuge.

"He can't kill us all!" Some fool shouted from atop a rock while attempting to rally the flagging courage of those who surrounded him.

"Yes I can." Jaldabaoth replied as he lumbered on, an untouchable giant and impossible force of evil unrivaled in their world, or their history, or even in their most dreaded and feared mythologies.

"Just one more minute… hold him for one more minute!" Someone else called out just before they fell forward with their lungs incinerated, he toppled back, staring up at the stones above with the blank and empty eyes of the dead.

'I'll make soooo many scrolls out of you all, feel privileged that you get to experience the joy of serving the one Supreme Being… even if you're not alive to do it.' Jaldabaoth thought and opened his arms out wide like he was going to embrace someone, but all he did was expand the range of slaughter by a fair amount.

"And… now I'm bored." Jaldabaoth said, and beat his great wide wings, sending gusts hard enough that quagoan warriors were bowled over into their fellows farther away, knocking quagoa over in heaps.

Some looked on, disbelief etched on their open mouthed faces. 'Is he… running away?' They wondered, 'Did we… Did we win?!' They asked themselves, until the towering demon laughed and began to fly over their army, immediately their warriors began to die in masses. He flew low over their ranks, his wings battering the still air and carried him over the tops of their heads making their already futile efforts even more hopeless than before.

The area of effect skill, or spell, or whatever he used lost none of its effectiveness as he soared laughing over his dying victims. What remaining spirit they had was left broken with his unreachability. Quagoa began to knock one another over, scrambling, uncaring over the bodies of those they called brother not but twenty minutes before.

They pulled at the fur of others to claw their way over the heads of others, pushing off shoulders to jump as far away as they could from the remaining formation to run for safety after the tribe they were supposed to sacrifice their lives to protect.

This led to a quick end for some, who tumbled back away from their comrades and into Jaldabaoth's radius of death, they too died in silent agony.

The formations became carpets and the routed who fought one another for survival became dead little hills with silent screams displayed in the dark cave to reveal the horror of their deaths to anyone who cared to look.

When it was over at long last, with almost none remaining but the two or three who fled successfully after their kin, Jaldabaoth opened the portal to Nazarick and summoned a few of his servants. A dozen little imps emerged with their bobbing little tails, sharp chins, and dark hair hanging loose behind red flesh, they had a little stoop to their walk and claw-like hands with sharp teeth to match.

"Take the bodies, harvest the skins for scrolls and the meat to feed our beasts… then plunder this entire camp for anything we can use. Leave nothing of even the remotest value behind. Nazarick needs all the resources it can get." Demiurge gave the order while in Jaldabaoth's guise, and the little imps bobbed their heads up and down.

They were not the strongest of demons, but they were very quick and completely obedient, scurrying around like little rats. They carried the corpses two or three at a time over each shoulder, but they organized themselves quickly to conduct their work, transporting the bodies to his farm for skinning, while tearing through every box, barrel, and bag for everything down to a mushy piece of moss that might be consumable.

'It may take hours, maybe even another day or two, but what of it? I don't want to catch up to Pe Riyuro before he reaches my Master… that would ruin the dramatic flourish he seems to love so much, and if he loves it that much, it must be correct. Perhaps I should try to be more dramatic as well, he might appreciate that… a few lessons from Pandora's Actor might help…'

Jaldabaoth enjoyed the process of contemplation by itself while he took a seat on a bloody rock, crossed one leg over the other, folded his hands together and restied them on his thigh, and watched his minions work.