Chapter 13: Blessing
Altilis's voice was as cold as ever.
"It's just some random abomination hacked by the moss."
Without hesitation, she raised her pistol and fired.
The shot rang through the empty square, the muzzle flash illuminating the night for a split second. The bullet struck one of the mantis-thing's limbs—flesh rippled from the impact, but the round barely sank in.
The creature didn't even flinch.
Martin barely had time to curse before it lunged.
A blur of raw muscle and thrashing tendrils surged toward Altilis—like a runaway steam train, a mass of speed and brute force.
Then, for the first time that night, Altilis smiled.
A rare sight.
The mantis-thing closed in—its jagged maw gaping, its tendrils snapping forward—
And then—
It slipped.
One of its grotesque, flesh-wrapped limbs skidded against the blood-slicked cobblestones, and its massive frame lurched awkwardly mid-charge.
Altilis moved like a shadow, slipping out of its path with effortless grace.
The monster's own momentum carried it forward, forcing it to stagger wildly to regain balance.
The mantis-thing regained its balance almost instantly — its raw, sinewed body jerking upright with unnatural speed.
A shrill, chittering screech echoed from deep within its torn throat — high-pitched, like metal grinding against metal — before its six whip-like tendrils snapped forward in a violent barrage.
Altilis's emerald eyes narrowed.
She darted to the side — a blue blur — her scimitar slicing clean through one of the fleshy stalks mid-air. Martin followed suit, severing two more with a single wide sweep of his curved blade.
Bright flames erupted from the wounds — searing orange fire crackling along the severed stumps — but unlike the moss-ridden corpses, the blaze never spread further.
The flames flickered and died out in mere seconds.
The flames flickered and died out in mere seconds — like a candle snuffed out by unseen fingers.
Martin's eyes widened in disbelief as the severed tendrils writhed and regrew — faster than any natural creature could ever heal. Thick cords of sinew coiled and knitted back together, steaming as fresh red flesh bulged from the stumps.
"It's... regenerating?"
He gritted his teeth, stepping back.
"This thing possesses the Blessing of Regeneration... from the Spirit of Regeneration—"
He cut down another tendril — the burning stump barely lasting a breath before the fleshy stalk began crawling back to full length.
"Or the Spirit of... Life or—"
His voice caught in his throat.
A cold knot twisted in his stomach.
"The Spirit of Flesh."
The words left his mouth in a breathless whisper — the name alone carried weight.
Altilis's eyes remained locked on the creature — her scimitar still raised.
"Most probably the Spirit of Flesh... judging by its appearance."
Her voice was low, steady — the same emotionless calm that had carried her through countless slaughters.
But deep beneath that cold veneer...
There was caution.
The Spirit of Flesh.
A spirit with dominion over flesh — not the mind, not the soul — only meat.
It healed
It destroyed
But most horrific it reshaped — twisted sinew, bone, and muscle into whatever shape the Musician desired.
A horrific power...
A Musician who sang to the Spirit of Flesh...
The mere thought was enough to twist the stomach.
There were many Spirits in the world — flames, winds, metal, death — but none were as loathed as the Spirit of Flesh.
But the Spirit of Flesh was most horrific as granted control — over the very essence of life itself.
A Musician who could sing to the Spirit of Flesh could twist biology like clay beneath their fingers.
Their songs would slither into the bones and veins of the living — reshaping bodies from the inside out.
A child could be grown into a towering monster of sinew and bone...
A beast could be stripped of its skin and rebuilt with human hands and faces...
A soldier's heart could be stolen from his chest and made to keep beating in another creature's body.
The Spirit of Flesh obeyed no fixed laws of anatomy or evolution.
The only limit...
Was the imagination and power of the Musician.
"Is it really blessed by the Spirit of Flesh, Captain?"
Martin's voice cracked—half hopeful, half desperate.
Altilis's blue eyes flicked towards him—cold, calculating.
"Better be safe than sorry."
Altilis's voice cracked through the night like a whip.
"Martin! Maintain distance—don't let it touch you!"
Her blue eyes snapped towards the crumbling square.
Her voice howled through the street—
"Seven on the Square! Emergency!"
"We suspect the creature to be blessed by the Spirit of Flesh! Priority is to defeat the abomination—The blessing of Concealment won't be enough."
"Ignis! You are the most capable — put up a temporary barrier!" Altilis commanded, her cold voice cutting through the crackling flames.
"The performance can be delayed for some time."
Ignis's fingers tensed around the banjo's neck. Her brown eyes flicked toward Altilis for a brief second — uncertain — but she nodded without another word.
She strummed the banjo. The strings quivered under her fingertips, and a low, trembling melody echoed through the square.
Her voice followed — soft, wavering at first — then steady.
The song carried no grandeur, no beauty — a simple, short hymn of burning embers.
Within mere seconds, the flames obeyed.
A hemispherical dome of bright fire surged up, encasing the square — flickering, unstable, but searing hot.
Ignis's song faded, her breath shallow. Sweat beaded along her brow.
"This will last for 3 minutes... maybe less."
Ignis's voice came from inside the spear
"Can you start the performance by then?"
"Yes captain!"
"Martin, for now... we just need to buy time," Altilis said, her cold blue eyes flicking toward him without breaking rhythm — her scimitar cleaving through another lashing tendril.
Martin's breathing was ragged — sweat clinging to his temples — but he grinned through gritted teeth.
"Aye, Captain."
The Mantis lunged again — a blur of raw muscle and writhing flesh.
Both of them danced between its attacks — cutting, dodging — but the severed tendrils kept regenerating.
Every wound they carved burned bright for a breath... then flickered out.
Martin's blade slashed through another limb, only to see it coil back together like melting wax.
"This isn't working, Captain!" he growled, frustration leaking into his voice.
"I know," Altilis replied coldly — her blade slicing clean through a tendril, only for the flesh to pulse and reknit again.
"For now... we just need to keep it busy," Altilis's voice was calm — cold — even as she weaved between the flurry of tendrils.
"After the performance is over... we'll all be able to do something."
Martin's brow furrowed, slicing through another limb.
"Won't the performers be heavily affected by the Spirit's influence by then?" he asked, confusion flickering in his voice.
"They will be."
Altilis's scimitar slashed clean through another tendril — flames flickering for only a heartbeat before dying out.
"But they carry artifacts with the Blessing of Concealment."
Her blade whirled — faster than the eye could follow — carving through the next wave of regenerating limbs.
"We can still fight... together, even if they're under the Spirit's influence."
Martin snorted between ragged breaths.
"Captain... you're a genius—"
He parried a tendril lashing toward his throat.
"—but the higher-ups could've given us some artifacts with the Blessing of Concealment too!"
His sword cleaved through another limb, frustration leaking into his voice.
"Why are they so damn cheap?"
Altilis's eyes narrowed slightly — a flicker of dry amusement hidden beneath her cold mask.
Martin's carefree remarks — those little cracks of dry humor — were the only things that kept some sliver of warmth flickering inside Altilis's mind.
She had seen countless people suffer, at some point, it had all blurred into noise — distant, meaningless noise.
Indifference was the only shield she had.
But Martin's words — those light, teasing quips spoken even amidst the carnage — reminded her that there was still something worth holding onto.
"You know well, Martin... the number of artifacts a Musician can bless at once is severely limited — and Musicians are... expensive to maintain."
"That is true," Martin said with a light chuckle, cleaving through a mantis claw — flames flickering for a brief moment before dying out.
"Captain... this thing has bones inside." His voice sharpened with realization. "This is definitely not an insect."
Altilis's cold eyes flicked toward the severed limb — the exposed cross-section revealing pale marrow and fractured bones beneath the slick red flesh — for a moment before the wounds sealed shut, regenerating back to its former condition as if it had never been wounded.
"Which means..." Martin grinned, blade twirling in his hand. "It has lower durability than insects."
He glanced at the crumbling buildings around the square — walls cracked, windows shattered, weakened by fire and time.
"If we collapse a building on it... we can kill it."
"That will be hard to pull off... but we can try," Altilis said, her voice steady as she sidestepped a lunge from the towering creature — the mantis's clawed limb crashing into the cobblestone with a deafening crack.
"Martin! Take its aggro and lead it away from here—I'll think of a plan!" Altilis shouted, her sharp eyes fixed on the mantis's writhing form.
Martin hummed a string of words — a guttural, rhythmic chant that slithered through the air like a serpent. No one could understand what he sang — not even the other Musicians — but the abomination froze for a brief moment before its head snapped toward him.
The towering creature let out a wet, rattling hiss — its tendrils curling as if pulled by unseen strings — then lunged forward, entirely ignoring Altilis.
Martin dashed through the narrow street, his breath steady, the faint hum still slipping from his lips as he weaved through debris and shattered stalls.