The group crept back into the breeding grounds, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of gore and viscera that coated the floor. The chamber was eerily silent, the once-pulsating nest now a graveyard of shattered eggs and lifeless infant Fiends. The air was thick with the stench of death, a putrid mixture of decay and something fouler, something unnatural. The walls seemed to weep with dark, oily fluids, as if the chamber itself mourned the carnage that had unfolded within it.
Belial led the way, his sword held in a firm grip, its blade slick with dried blood.
His sharp eyes scanned the room, ever watchful for any sign of movement. He knew better than to assume the danger had passed. Xin followed close behind, his makeshift shard-spear clutched tightly in his hands, his knuckles white from the strain. HIs breaths came in shallow gasps as he struggled to ignore the grisly sights surrounding him. Raven, the silent sentinel, brought up the rear, his massive frame a looming presence in the dim, flickering light cast by the bioluminescent sacs still clinging stubbornly to the walls.
At the far end of the chamber, the stairs leading to the next level were destroyed. What had once been a passage upward was now a jagged ruin of shattered stone and crumbled debris. Belial frowned, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the distance.
"We can make that jump," he muttered, more to himself than the others. His voice was low but firm, an anchor of resolve amidst the uncertainty. "But we'll need to be quick."
Xin's gaze swept the room, his stomach churning at the sheer brutality of the carnage. The infant Fiends lay in twisted heaps, their grotesque bodies torn apart as if by some unimaginable force. Limbs lay scattered, their tiny claws frozen in the final moments of agony. In the center of the chamber, the alpha Fiend—once the dominant force within the nest—slumped against the wall, its massive form riddled with deep gashes and oozing wounds. Its chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, its once-feral eyes now dim and unfocused. Across from it, the armored monstrosity that had been the Queen's Guard lay motionless, its chitinous armor cracked and broken, its massive blade shattered beside it.
"What happened here?" Xin whispered, his voice barely audible as if he feared waking the dead.
Belial's jaw tightened, his mind piecing together the grim aftermath before them. "They turned on each other," he said grimly. "The alpha and the guard. They must've fought after we left."
Raven took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the dying alpha Fiend. "It's weak," he rumbled, his deep voice filled with certainty. "Now's our chance."
Belial nodded, his grip tightening on his sword. "We finish it. Then we move."
The group approached cautiously, their weapons raised, eyes scanning the dimly lit cavern. The stench of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of the Fiend's blackened ichor. The alpha stirred at their approach, its grotesque form slumped in exhaustion. Once a towering monster of nightmares, it now barely clung to life, its massive frame sunken in defeat. A low, guttural growl escaped its ruined throat, but the sound was hollow, stripped of menace. The battle had already stolen the last of its strength.
Belial took the lead, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. His Violet eyes locked onto the creature's sluggish movements, reading the flickers of resistance still buried in its hollow gaze. He surged forward, his blade slicing through the stale air with deadly precision. The steel bit deep into the alpha's side, carving through flesh and sinew with a wet, sickening squelch. The Fiend howled in pain, a sound that wavered between rage and despair. It lashed out with its remaining strength, jagged claws swiping at Belial's torso, but he twisted away just in time, feeling the rush of air as the attack barely missed him.
Xin was already moving, his shard-spear spinning in his grip like a cyclone of death. He drove the jagged weapon forward, piercing through the beast's ribcage with a bone-snapping crunch. The impact sent tremors through the Fiend's body, its thick, black blood spilling in sluggish streams from the fresh wound. The creature gurgled, a pitiful noise as its once-mighty chest heaved in a final, desperate attempt to draw breath. Its arms flailed weakly, claws scraping against the cavern floor, carving deep grooves into the stone as it fought against the inevitable.
Raven wasted no time. He moved in like a phantom, his armored form a blur of black steel. With a single, powerful motion, he brought his fist crashing down onto the alpha's skull. The impact was thunderous, a shockwave of force that splintered bone and ruptured flesh. The creature spasmed violently, its broken frame convulsing under the sheer force of the strike. A final, rattling breath escaped its bloodied maw before its body went limp, slumping into the muck with a heavy, sickening thud.
Silence followed, save for the faint dripping of Fiend's blood pooling onto the cavern floor. The group stood over the corpse, their breaths heavy, their weapons slick with the remnants of slaughter.
"It's done," Belial said, pulling his sword free and shaking the viscera from its blade. "Let's go."
But as they turned toward the ruined stairs, the ground beneath them shuddered violently. A low, rumbling sound filled the chamber, a deep, ominous tremor that sent shockwaves through the walls. The nest itself seemed to quake in response, the sickly, pulsating sacs lining the chamber walls bursting in rapid succession, spraying their putrid contents across the floor. The air grew thick with a noxious, cloying scent that made Xin gag.
Xin stumbled, his balance momentarily thrown off by the tremors. His eyes darted around the chamber, panic creeping into his voice. "What's happening?"
Belial's face paled as a terrible realization dawned upon him. His grip on his sword tightened, his muscles coiling with tension. "Get ready," he said, his voice tight, commanding. "It's not over."
From the depths of the nest, something stirred.
A shape—massive, grotesque, and nightmarishly unnatural—began to rise. The darkness of the chamber did little to conceal the horror that now unfolded before them. She emerged from the shadows with a slow, deliberate motion, her presence an oppressive force that seemed to suck the very air from the room.
The Queen.
She was a monstrosity of flesh and sinew, her grotesquely bloated body pulsating with a sickly, unnatural light. Her limbs were long and spindly, her fingers tapering into razor-sharp claws that gleamed wickedly in the dim glow. Her form was a perversion of nature itself, a being that should not exist, yet here she was—alive, breathing, and seething with wrath. Her eyes, black and soulless, bore into them with an intelligence that sent a chill down Xin's spine. And her mouth—her twisted, grotesque mouth—was stretched into a perpetual frown, a rictus of malice and fury.
Then she screamed.
A deafening screech erupted from her throat, a sound that reverberated through the chamber like a death knell. The force of it sent fresh cracks splintering through the walls, dislodging chunks of stone that rained down like deadly hail. The very foundation of the nest trembled beneath her rage, as if the catacombs themselves feared her wrath.
Xin's heart pounded, his grip tightening on his spear as sweat beaded on his brow. He had faced horrors before, but this… this was something beyond any nightmare he had ever imagined. "What… what is that?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The volatile Queen," Belial said, his voice grim but with a hint of W. "The source of all this. And she's not happy."