Chapter 17: The Spawned Harbingers
Chapter 17: The Spawned Harbingers
POV: Darot
A groan of agony escaped my lips as my mind swam in a haze of pain. My vision pulsed red, dark spots clouding my sight, while every bone in my body throbbed with unbearable torment. I tried to move, lifting my right arm—only for it to bend in ways it shouldn't.
I gritted my teeth and inspected my left arm. **Still intact.** That was enough. Using it, I pushed myself up from the blood-drenched ground, my movements sluggish, my body feeling both weightless and crushed beneath some unseen force.
Something was wrong.
I tried to touch the right side of my head, but my fingers met nothing—only the sickening squelch of warm, pulsing flesh and the **wet squirt of blood.** A chunk of my skull was missing. My breathing quickened, panic clawing at my chest.
**"No… No, no, no, no, no—"**
I muttered, my voice a broken whisper. My head throbbed, the pain escalating to an unbearable crescendo. Yet, through the agony, one thought burned in my mind.
**My wife.**
She was waiting for me. She was mine. She had always been mine. She would always be mine.
**"My wife, my wife, my wife, my wife, my wife—"**
I stumbled forward, each step dragging me closer to home. The battlefield, the corpses, the distant screams—they all faded into the background. Only she mattered. I had to return.
Then, the whispers began.
Silken voices slithered into my ears, each one dripping with **temptation and promise.** So many voices—some soft, some playful, some dripping with unbridled hunger. They spoke of pleasures beyond mortal comprehension, of **power, of ecstasy, of fulfillment.**
**"Join us…"** they cooed. **"We will give you all that you desire. Anything your heart longs for."**
I staggered onward, blind to the unnatural **pinkish glow** that now curled around my form like an insidious embrace. My steps became heavier, my vision darkening, yet the whispers only grew stronger—more intoxicating.
And then… I fell.
**Blood soaked the dirt beneath me, pooling from my ravaged form.**
**"She is mine. She is mine. She is mine."**
The words spilled from my lips, but they no longer felt like my own. I could no longer tell if I was thinking them, whispering them, or if the voices themselves were repeating them back to me.
And then, the change began.
The pink energy seeped into my body, warping and twisting my flesh in ways **no mortal body should ever endure.**
My skin **darkened to an ashen gray**, while violet scales spread like **a vile disease**, consuming my wounds. My shattered right arm—beyond saving—**melted away,** the **flesh sloughing off like rotting meat, exposing bare, glistening bone.** From the ruin, a **barbed, chitinous blade** erupted, gleaming with unnatural sharpness.
A sickening crack echoed through the air as my legs **broke and reformed**, twisting into **goat-like limbs** with **scaled, taloned hooves.**
When it was over, I still stood, yet I was no longer **Darot.**
For a moment, I was still. Motionless. **Like a lifeless puppet, waiting to be commanded.**
And then—
I inhaled, long and deep, as a **malevolent aura** surged outward, warping the very air around me.
**"Ahhh…"** A voice that was not mine—silken, sensuous, brimming with unholy delight—**purred from my lips.**
**"Finally. I am free from that wretched place."**
The thing that once was Darot stretched, rolling its shoulders, moving its new body in ways that defied reason. **Every motion was unnatural, fluid yet grotesque, as though it were testing the limits of its newfound flesh.**
**"Such a weak vessel…"** it mused, running clawed fingers across its warped form. **"If only I had time to find something… stronger."** It chuckled, a breathy, lilting laugh. **"Ah, but beggars cannot be choosers."**
Then, **it turned its gaze toward the battle raging in the distance.** The sounds of war—the clash of steel, the dying screams, the roars of monstrous entities—drew its interest.
And then—
**"Hmmm."** Its lips curled in a smile—**a cruel, knowing grin.** It bent down, picking up the fallen weapon Darot once wielded. As it touched the blade, it **twisted and pulsed**, shifting into a **grotesque amalgamation of flesh and bone**, veins pulsing with **corrupt power.**
**"Our majesty wishes for us to find it first… but why not remove the competition while we're at it?"**
With a final, **sickening laugh,** it **vanished—moving faster than mortal eyes could track.**
The hidden hunters watching from the shadows **remained still.** They had **taken note of this new variable… but had yet to act.**
For now.
---
POV: Pete the Cannon
**"Hahahahahaha!"**
I **roared with laughter**, the sheer **exhilaration of slaughter** filling my veins like molten fire.
**Blood and viscera rained down upon me,** staining my flesh with the gore of my enemies. I **tore through the battlefield like a force of nature,** my massive **cannon-arm obliterating anything in my path.**
A hulking figure clad in metal plating stood before me. A warrior—one of those tall, armored bastards. **A challenge.**
I grinned.
I **fired.**
**The round blasted straight through his chest, a gaping hole left in its wake.** Before his body could crumble, I lunged forward, **plunging my free hand into the wound.**
I **grabbed hold of his spine.**
And I **ripped it free**, **his skull still attached,** hoisting it high as blood spurted in thick, arterial sprays.
With a savage snarl, I **swung the severed spine like a flail, crushing the bodies of those unfortunate enough to be near.**
**More.**
**I wanted more.**
The hunger clawed at me, an insatiable, unrelenting need for violence.
And then, the **voice** came.
**A voice of decay. Of disease. Of rot.**
**'If you want more power, find something for me…'**
It was **disgusting**, yet **alluring.** I didn't hesitate.
**"Yes."**
I spoke without thinking. **"I'll find it. Whatever you want. Just give me more power."**
The voice **chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound—like flesh sloshing in stagnant water.**
And then—
**Pain.**
My muscles twisted. My **flesh bubbled and bulged, warping beneath my skin.**
**My arm—my cannon—fused into my body, its metal shifting, reshaping.** What remained was **a grotesque, organic barrel, lined with bulbous, oozing sores.**
**My fingers thickened, warping into bloated, clawed talons. My once-smooth skin turned leathery, marked by tumors and pustules that pulsed with unholy vitality.**
My **lungs burned**, yet my **body felt stronger.**
And then, the voice **snarled.**
**"Tsk. Disgusting filth approaches."**
A **wave of revulsion** washed over me.
**"KILL HIM."**
And so, I turned my gaze toward my new prey.
And I charged.
The battlefield would soon witness true horror.