“There are things we can’t see, but we can feel. These are by the machinations of Gods and Monsters, beings separate from the mundane. Rarely do they intervene, but when they do it is usually a signal for a changing era, a time of upheaval and great change. And I believe it is about time for debts to be paid.”

  -Cardinal Pochi

  Knives/Lucilfer

  I am given a new form, one of feather, talon, and fire. With every flap, I feel the wind lift me in towards the sky and with every step, I feel the ground push me forward. Little boons, little gifts, all culminate into what I am now, a reward for a painful choice.

  I have sacrificed something, I know not what it was, but the witch asked it from me. I have seen the blood of my men spilled by the craft of the wretched pillar of rotting flesh. It carved the ground, taking chunks off of structures and roads, all in a desperate bid to strike me. It was foolish of it to try.

  I am and was Knives Daggershade, a bandit who dreamnt of more. I came from parents who saw a different future that what I am now, before I lost them all, such is the fate of any orphan. Now I made my own family, one built by small acts of kindness and debts. I had named it Swallowdive, as swallows have been symbols of good luck and new beginnings, a promise I made to them. I promised them a better life.

  But now many have perished in that dream.

  So I sacrifice, for vengeance and salvation. One day I will have a kingdom that reaches the land, one for the downtrodden, poor, and destitute.

  Now I fly on leathery wings of beasts, crowned in horns and starlight. I fly to drive a wretched thing that towers a land that does not need it. It breeds death as insectile creatures spread it’s malice toward the fleeing masses, one of flesh and carrion. So I burn it to ash.

  I burn it again and again and again, yet it rises in a new body of worm and sinew. I fear that the being is truly deathless, so instead I trap it in a shell of fire and burnt flesh as I eliminate the fog of death that it endlessly spews out. The cloud of flies and damned are turned to black soot as I reach near them, twisting and cracking like simple trunks in a forest fire.

  One by one I tear apart her army of undead, one by one I prevent another death.

  It was going well until she started to dig. Worms, as it turns out, are very proficient in burrowing, an oversight on my part.

  So I burn it again.

  Despite all the power I gained from Beelza’s ritual, I can’t seem to make a significant blow to the damned zombie. It’s a stalemate right now, but I’m slowly getting weaker. At some point I’ll slip and she’s going to get a good shot, severely damaging me in the process.

  I need something to deal with the infinitely regenerating giant undead worm lady. Maybe Lodur could drop something to flatten it....sadly it might just absorb the dead and make a bigger mess. Maybe some witchcraft that Beelza knows? No, if there was a way she’d have already done something

  I heard a swishing sound behind me, one that kept clanging as it hit those fly creatures in high velocity.

  Speak of the devil.

  “Beelza, what are you doing here?!”

  She looked exhausted, totally drained in fact. Her hair was a mess, her face was even worse, and her clothes were now just rags. She was panting like a dog in the summer, completely overworked.

  “Haa haa haaa, you down now!”

  “Okay but-”

  “NOW!”

  She grabs him and avoids a house sized chunk of what used to be a road crushed into a ball. They barely avoid it as sparks flew as stone met iron and flame met rock.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Yeah you’re right, I think I need to retreat for now.”

  He spread his wings and blasted the surroundings in flame, encircling the titan of worm and death. This provided enough cover to let them escape it’s clutches as smoke from burned flesh burned the eyes of the giant.

  Lodur

  Everything rots.

  That is a truth that he has found out. The rot of things is not something born of malice or simple sorrow, but of a nature to change. Like how every forest needs it’s fungal growth and carrion to breakdown the large canopies of trees, so to does the dead and living people. Something must eat them to give a chance for something more.

  Every tree needs to fall as it cannot always stand and steal the sunlight from the sprouts below it. If it did, it would eventually fill the forest with starving saplings, yellow in leaf and soft in trunk. The roots would fill the ground till nothing could grasp the soil.

  Lodur looks at the towering woman of worm and dead flesh of cinders.

  Now it looks like someone is trying to take root, someone with no intention to let others pass.

  Hundreds upon hundreds escape the march of the risen dead, and hundreds more rise from the corrupted life in the woods. The towering woman spreads her hands through things that warp the flesh, one with the intent of domination.

  He inspects another of the butchered worm beasts, caressing the worms as it does no harm to him.

  Poor thing, you were supposed to give second chances weren’t you, now this generation of carrion are slowly becoming mindless brutes hellbent on gluttony.

  He suspects that even if they somehow solve this catastrophe, many lands would be tainted by the worms.

  He sighs.

  After the meeting with the God below, he sees things differently now. It is as if he feels the nature of the blessing of blackened hands even clearer. Funny how the curse of a God brought him closer to the arms of another. Now he sees, now he listens, and now he plans with the others to bring back what was stolen from his God. He owes him that much for the enlightenment.

  “Fire doesn’t work, slashing her in half too, how the hell are we gonna kill that freak?!” Rob said as he was looking over a map of the city, one stolen from those rich folks’ homes. He was strapped with tons of colorful and expensive looking knives, all of which were ‘donated’ to him from fleeing nobles who took refuge in their camp.

  Lodur was collecting worms in a jar to use for later. He took it out from the many wounded and bedridden survivors strewn out across the tents. He wasn’t hurt by them at all so he’s been pretty busy pulling it out of people.

  “I believe we need one of the paladins of the churches my family is well acquainted with. The Rustrata family has hands in most church affairs of various sects and denominations, so I believe it wouldn’t be too hard to convince one of their ilk to assist us. Though, looking at our composition, they might set them on us afterwards. And even then, the cursed dead might spread before they even come here, so I am hesitant to rely on their assistance.” Evan spoke, still beside Rob.

  Lodur liked the guy, it’s just that he spoke weird and acted strange whenever he’s with Rob. But even he was ostracized in the church before, so he just has to learn to accept him as he is.

  “I still think we could use the artifacts that angel gave us Rob.” He took out the sack strung on his back. He unloaded the sack unto the table. A rusty knife, a long smelly stick, a bag of rocks, a jar of butter, and a pretty hat fell out of it.

  Evans eyes widened.

  “How do you have so many artifacts? Just one is enough to purchase your very own duchy, but to have this much is unheard of.” Evan said as he sensed the strange magic flowing out of the pile of stuff.

  “Oh we got it from an ange-” Before Lodur could finish the sentence, Rob put a hand on his mouth.

  “Not in front of the rich bitch.” Rob whispered.

  “Haha sorry about that. Hey Evan could you get us some soup. Can’t think up a plan on an empty stomach.” Rob gave a strained smiled at Evan.

  “The soup? From the old woman?” Evan tilted his head.

  “That’s the one, better get one while it’s hot ahahaha.” Rob pushed the man with the hole in the chest out of the tent.

  He then leaned in and spoke to Lodur like they were in a back alley.

  “He already has the rope, I’m not gonna have him know we got it from the big roach. I already convinced him that we’re letting him borrow it, so don’t spill the beans until we take it from his lifeless corpse.” Rob whispered until they were face to face, eyes twitching and bloodshot. The stress must be getting to all of them tonight.

  “Rob are you alright? You’re standing really close.”

  “..... Oh haha, it’s just um. It’s just that I’m a bit stressed is all.” Rob sighed. “I just don’t know how to deal with the giant undead, I can’t think of anything to beat her.” He took the jar of God butter in his hands and grimaced. “I-I think I need to use the butter Lodur, my gambling instincts are telling me that this could solve all our problems.”

  “Oof, but didn’t you hear what Blattodis said it could be a blessing or a curse. He said the last one exploded Rob, exploded! Who’d in their right mind would willingly take that risk?”

  “.....”

  “...No.”

  “But c’mon, it might work.”

  “Yeah but it might not work too. What if you accidentally get a curse that makes you grow eight legs or replace your fingers with teeth?! I can’t have my bestfriend get cursed by creepy butter.”

  “Trust me dude, I can feel it. It’s a gamblers instinct.”

  “You told me you lost all your money from gambling, that’s why resorted to stealing from the ruins of the burned church.”

  “Well, it just means my luck is about to turn around.”

  “Look dude, all we need to do is get that tongue back from the giant lady and maybe she’ll stop regenerating. I-I think I should be the one to rip it out from her.”

  “Are you crazy?! You’re going to get inside that things mouth and rip the tongue out? Atleast if I ate the butter I might get something cool, going in the maw of that monster’s tantamount to suicide.”

  “It’s not that bad Rob, the worms don’t even seem to hurt me anymore. I can safely get in and get out without a hitch.”

  “Yeah, but there’s zombies there man. The giant lady’s body is made of things that could easily crush you.”

  As they both argued, Evan came back with a tray filled with bowls of soup.

  “I asked the nice woman for soup and she gave me some cornbread too. I must say, your Bandit hive might not be so bad.” Evan said.

  As Evan was holding the tray, two floating figures rammed inside the tent flap. One had dazzling wings of starlight and another sitting inside a giant mortar of iron. Evan was flung to the side as Beelza and Knives were then drenched in hot soup. Evan had his spine cracked by the impact of literal tons of iron.

  “My eyes!” Beelza screeched as delicious chicken broth flooded her corneas in creamy goodness.

  “Ahh! I’m drenched, Goons save me!” Knives while not seriously harmed, was still a bit of a pansy and hated being drenched in soup.

  “H-help.” Evan was begging for help as his body was folded in half.

  Lodur was in the middle of it all, speechless at how much chaos could happen in just a few seconds. Lodur and Rob then smelled smoke coming out of the table they were at just a moment ago. A candle was knocked over and caught the papers in it’s embers.

  “The map is burning!” Rob said as he used his cloak to smother the spreading fire.

  Lodur silently prayed to his new God.

  Nughul, ruler of the rotting and dead, please grant me strength.