Chapter 14: Trap
Martin ran through the dense residential district, his humming never stopping. The mantis-thing chased him, ignoring everything else. Altilis followed close behind, her pistol and scimitar still in hand.
Moss-ridden corpses stirred at the edges of the street, drawn to the commotion, but they were too slow. The three moved too fast—blurs of motion through the abandoned city.
There was a sharp turn ahead.
"Now!" Martin shouted.
Altilis fired. The bullet struck the mantis's back but barely penetrated. It didn't even flinch.
Martin pivoted sharply, maintaining perfect balance as he rounded the corner. The mantis, however, did not.
The bullet lodged in its back shimmered—just for a moment, a ripple of something beyond sight twisting through reality itself. Fate wavered. A path that should have led to stable footing instead led to failure. Its limbs found no purchase. Its movements, once precise, faltered as if the very world had decided against its survival.
Momentum betrayed it. The mantis skidded, tilted at the wrong angle, and crashed headfirst into the building ahead.
Crash!
The creature slammed through the weakened structure,Stone and wood shattered, debris collapsing in an avalanche as the building itself seemed to conspire against the creature.
Altilis stopped, straightened her stance, and without hesitation, hurled her scimitar.
The blade sank deep into the center of the mantis's back—right where its writhing tendrils emerged.
Then—
Fire.
The entire building erupted in flames, unnaturally fast, devouring everything before a second had even passed.
"Do you think it can recover from that?" Martin asked, stepping closer to Altilis.
"Most abominations wouldn't," she replied, her gaze fixed on the smoldering wreckage.
Altilis suddenly raised a hand, stopping Martin in his tracks.
The burning debris trembled—faint, almost imperceptible at first, but then unmistakable. Like thousands of tiny maggots writhing beneath the wreckage.
"It's changing," Martin muttered, eyes narrowing. "It had more blessings than just regeneration."
Without hesitation, he tossed one of his pistols and a few bullets toward Altilis. She caught them with ease, her fingers moving with practiced precision.
Before they could fully brace themselves, the burning rubble convulsed violently.
From within the flames, something emerged—a humanoid figure, roughly the size of a man. Its entire body was raw and skinless, muscles twisting in unnatural patterns, as if sculpted by an unsteady hand. Where flesh should have been, patches of moss clung to its form, smoldering but refusing to burn away.
It had no face. No eyes. No mouth. Only the grotesque, shifting sinew of exposed muscle.
Martin tightened his grip on his remaining pistol.
Altilis exhaled slowly, leveling her weapon at the abomination.
In less than a second the abomination convulsed violently, its raw flesh shifting like liquid beneath the flickering firelight.
Six grotesque arms erupted from its back, each gripping a jagged sword—not of metal, but of living flesh. Veins pulsed along their lengths, sinew twisting and tightening like coiled muscle. The blades flexed unnaturally, shifting between rigid and whip-like as if responding to the creature's will. A thick, sinewy tail, rough like a crocodile's, slithered from its spine, whipping through the air with bone-cracking force.
Its legs twisted unnaturally, muscles swelling as if reshaped mid-motion. Moss spread like a living thing, creeping over its body and weapons, forming an armor that left only its joints exposed. All the while, fire continued to consume it—yet neither flesh nor moss stayed burned for long, regenerating as fast as the flames could take them.
And then—
It lunged.
Martin held firm, his pistol pressed against the creature's shifting flesh, while Altilis met its blades with her own. For a moment, they were locked in place, neither side yielding.
Then, the abomination's faceless head twisted unnaturally, the muscle and sinew splitting open down the middle. A vertical maw yawned wide, jagged rows of shark-like teeth glistening within.
Without warning, a whip-like tongue, covered in writhing moss, lashed toward Altilis.
She reacted instantly, breaking the deadlock and leaping back, narrowly avoiding the grasping appendage.
Altilis's eyes darkened with realization. Her grip tightened around her weapon as she took a slow step back.
"I understand now," she said, her voice cold.
Martin kept his pistol raised, but he flicked a glance toward her. "What?"
"It was never struggling," Altilis continued, her tone void of doubt. "It was acting weak. Distracting us. Wasting our time."
Martin's expression hardened. He understood the weight behind her words.
"We've walked into a trap," she said flatly. "A deep one."
She didn't wait for him to respond. "Run to the square. Now. Check on the church's performers."
Martin was horrified. The usual ease in his demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw—something that clawed at his chest with cold fingers of dread.
He understood now. The dire reality crashed into him like a tidal wave.
He and Altilis weren't holding their ground—they were barely holding on.
"The Hive never left the city," he muttered, voice hollow. "It was weaving a trap all along…"
It had acted weak. It had pretended to retreat. And they had fallen for it.
Martin's grip tightened around his sword, his knuckles turning white. Anger surged through him, drowning out reason.
"WE FELL FOR IT!" he roared, bringing his blade down in a savage strike. One of the abomination's many arms was severed, flesh sizzling in the fire—only to writhe and regrow, fresh sinew stretching over burning bone.
Tears stung his eyes, hot with frustration.
"We failed!" he shouted, voice cracking. "I failed! Altilis—you failed!"
The words weren't an accusation—they were a bitter truth.
The abomination halted mid-attack. A new face—grotesque and grinning—pushed through the moss-covered flesh of its chest. Its jagged teeth gleamed beneath the flickering flames, its hollow eyes brimming with something cruel.
A deep, rasping voice oozed from its throat.
"So, you finally figured it out."
Its grin widened, splitting further than any human mouth should.
"Well, at least you've got some intelligence." It chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. "But it doesn't matter. You're all idiots."
Its flesh rippled as it gestured toward them with its writhing, sword-like arms.
"I played weak for days, and you fell for it. I acted like I had left the city, and what did you do?" The grin stretched unnaturally. "You got arrogant."
The face twisted with amusement, its jagged grin widening.
"You can do nothing."
Its voice dripped with mockery.
"All your wits, all your little plans—meaningless against thousands of years of experience."
Martin didn't wait. He lunged, sword flashing in the firelight, hoping—praying—that if he cut deep enough, it would die.
His blade tore through the abomination's torso, slicing it clean in two.
For a moment, it burned. Orange flames consumed both halves.
But then—
The severed flesh shook within the fire. The flames twisted, as if consumed instead of consuming, and the halves merged once more.
The grinning face cackled.
"Damn… Carro Inco really did a great job with this vessel."
It rolled its shoulders, the motion unnatural, its regenerated body unscathed.
"Much better than the last one."
Its voice dropped to a low, taunting whisper.
"Anyway, as you can see—nothing you do will affect me."
The abomination's voice dripped with amusement, its burning form completely unfazed by the flames.
"I haven't seen much of your music, but judging by the blessings on your equipment…" The grin widened. "I'd say both of you are Expert Rank Bards."
It chuckled, deep and guttural.
"You will make excellent vessels. Perfect subjects."
Altilis's expression darkened. She knew what that meant. Subjects.
It was a fate worse than death. A lifetime of torment. Of being experimented on, twisted into something unrecognizable, used for vile things.
Martin and Altilis didn't hesitate. They turned and ran—straight for the square.
Too much time had passed. The performance should have started already. The delay could only mean one thing.
Something very wrong had happened.
Altilis clenched her jaw. "Martin, if our fellow Bards are dead—run. Get out of here and inform the Church. I'll hold them back."
She didn't look at him as she spoke, keeping her eyes forward.
"You have greater stamina. Better endurance. You have a chance of making it."
But Martin ignored her.
He wasn't in the mood to listen.
Behind them, the abomination didn't give chase. It simply stood there, watching with amusement.
"Playing with subjects before capturing them is the best part," it murmured.
Then—its body convulsed.
Its torso split open, flesh twisting and reforming—its bloated belly swelled grotesquely, morphing into an oversized, fleshy snare drum.
Its six arms warped. Fingers melted together, bones extended, forming grotesque, jagged drumsticks of exposed ivory.
The drummer had taken the stage.
With every beat of the abomination's grotesque drum, the city trembled. Each strike carried an unnatural resonance, as if infused with the very essence of nature itself. The sound was not just heard—it was felt, deep and invasive.
As the rhythm spread, vegetation answered its call. Vines erupted from the cracks in the cobblestone, twisting and sprawling with impossible speed. Trees, gnarled and ancient, surged from the earth, their roots splitting stone as if centuries had passed in mere seconds. Shrubs and ivy engulfed buildings, consuming them whole, drowning the city beneath an overwhelming tide of unchecked growth.