Chapter 88: Abomination

It knelt in what looked like a prayer position, hunched forward with its unnaturally prominent spine that looked like a ridge of serrated bone that threatened to pierce through its pale, papery skin at any moment.

Its body looked shriveled on the surface, yet its muscles were still prominently visible underneath. They rippled like metal cords with every small movement it made in its praying position.

The three Ossuarists could hear it whispering rapidly. Chanting unintelligible words in an incessant mumble.

Finn tried to make out the words with his enhanced hearing, but the language was nothing he recognized. It was like a jumble of consonants and guttural sounds that were fundamentally wrong to hear.

He had at first thought they’d be similar to what he had heard inside the temple in the pocket space back in Aethelos. But this was totally different.

Suddenly, the whispers stopped.

And the creature turned its head to look back at them.

Without moving its body. Without shifting from its prayer position. Its head rotated slowly, making creaking sounds as the creature pushed the joint to the maximum as if it could feel no pain.

The three Ossuarists reared back slightly, tensing in expectation of a grotesque-looking monstrosity…

But its face was… normal? Human, even…

No.

Finn frowned immediately.

His Ferropteryx vision picked up details the others couldn’t see yet. Details that made his blood run cold.

The face was human and beautiful. Androgynous, and with delicate features set in a soft, peaceful smile.

But it wasn’t real.

The face was a mask. Finn could see the seams. He could see the tiny, precise lines that ran along the jaw, around the eyes, across the forehead. The seams looked like pores arranged in a honeycomb formation that resembled a beehive.

And within those seams, he could see something moving. Squirming. Like the entire face was made of thousands of tiny, compacted insects forming the illusion of human features.

And the creature’s smile never moved. There were no facial shifts in the slightest. The muscles were set in place like a wax figure. With a permanent expression of false calm that made Finn’s skin crawl.

Immediately, his Ferropteryx will flared at the abomination, filling him with the compulsive urge to attack the creature. To kill it.

And for once, Finn agreed completely with his soul mass.

His wings spread to full extension, shifting and stretching in their full glory. He let himself sink fully into the Ferropteryx embodiment, letting the predator’s mind merge with his own.

And immediately, he felt a difference. It was like he was back in Xanth on the top of the needle tower again.

His vision became hyper-detailed, picking out the individual segments of the creature’s spine, the exact angle of its joints, the subtle tension in its muscles that suggested it was about to move.

His hearing amplified, catching the slightest sounds in the surroundings. His sense of smell exploded with information, picking out the different textures to the stale rot in the air.

And most importantly, his predator’s instinct kicked in at full force.

His mind immediately locked on to weak points. The creature’s exposed spine. The joints at knees and elbows. The neck, which looked thin enough to sever with a single precise strike.

His muscles tightened as neurons fired rapidly within them in preparation for explosive movement. His wings adjusted fractionally, positioning him for a maximum first-strike speed.

And the bloodlust… gods, the bloodlust was glorious.

The Ferropteryx didn’t fear this thing. It wanted to dominate it, to prove superiority through violence, to establish itself as the apex predator by tearing this abomination apart.

Running wasn’t even a consideration. This thing was now his prey — a prey that was ready to attack him, and now the Ferropteryx ego demanded a brutal response to the creature.

Finn embraced it fully.

Beside him, Althea and Tron had reached the same conclusion without needing to discuss it. They all knew without a doubt that running was not an option. The creature had locked on to them. And now they needed to put it down before it did the same to them first.

Althea’s plain black sword materialized from her shadow and into her right hand, shimmering with black wisps like a wraith. With her left hand, she gestured, and a second soul mass morphed out of her shadow and dropped from the air. It was a faceless human female soul mass that landed in a crouch, perfectly balanced.

Its hands came together in a clasp, and immediately, eerie green flames materialized above its head, ready to be cast at a moment’s notice.

Tron dismissed his Griffin with a thought and dropped from the air.

But before he hit the ground, the atmosphere around him changed.

The air began to vibrate, thrumming with energy like it was boiling. He landed with a thud that cracked the dead ground beneath his boots.

And Finn suddenly understood why Tron was so confident, so dismissive of others.

He’s embodying a human soul mass. A body enhancer. And he’s maintaining complete control.

And this wasn’t just some random body enhancer. Finn could tell from the waves emanating from Tron that the person was powerful while alive. Extremely powerful. If Finn’s mind was clearer, he would’ve been able to tell that the soul mass was at least a Grade 1 Master rank! But even in his Ferropteryx bloodlust state, he still could tell the soul mass was powerful.

And yet Tron moved with absolute clarity. His eyes glowed green with power, but behind that glow was perfect lucidity.

He slowly pulled off his shirt, letting it hang from his waist as he rolled his shoulders, stretching his lean muscles that now rippled with unnatural strength.

Then he raised his left hand and manifested a second battle axe bringing out the second of the twin weapons, each one looking heavy enough that a normal person would need both hands just to lift one.

Tron spun them experimentally, and the axes blurred through the air with a thrum.

Then he dropped into a battle stance, coiled and balanced, ready to explode into motion at any moment.

The three Ossuarists stood ready, letting their killing intent spread wantonly.

Then the creature slowly rose from its kneeling position.

It was tall. Far taller than any human had a right to be. Nearly eight feet when fully upright, with limbs that looked too long, and joints that bent at angles that suggested its bones had been broken and healed wrong multiple times.

On its broad chest were two interlocking circles drawn with what looked like dried blood turned black. And beneath those circles strange inscriptions in a language none of them recognized were written.

The symbols themselves seemed to writhe slightly, as if they weren’t quite fixed in place.

The creature leveled its gaze with them, smiling that same uncanny, pleased smile that was locked firmly in place.

Tron snarled — an actual, animalistic sound of revulsion as he got his first clear look at the seams, at the wrongness of that static smile on the creature’s face.

Then suddenly, just as he was about to make the first move, the creature blurred at him with jarring speed.

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