It's been so long?
Marichi thought as he circled the grotesque man, his dagger held low, eyes scanning for an opening. Jorel mirrored him, sword ready, completing their eerie, desperate ballet.
"Just who are you exactly?" Marichi's voice was a low, cautious rumble, cutting through the heavy silence.
"What are you?" He added.
"Me?" The man pointed at himself, his body convulsing in an unnerving, almost ecstatic spasm. His numerous hands, a nest of wriggling serpents, twitched.
"You're talking to me?
"Right?!" His voice rose, tinged with a manic glee.
Then, in a chilling instant, his erratic movements stilled. He straightened, his form suddenly less hunched, radiating a cold authority that pressed down on them, an oppressive weight.
"I'm Lezschill." He intoned, his voice deep and formal, an accent unlike anything Jorel or Marichi had ever heard, alien and resonant.
"And you may refer to me as the lord of this here Half lit Zone."
Half lit Zone?!
The words struck Jorel and Marichi simultaneously, a wave of profound, primal unease washing over them.
They shuddered, a shared tremor, as the terrifying implication of such a place settled deep in their bones.
"Hey… Burtu…" Marichi turned, expecting him, but the air was empty, a void where Burtu should have been.
That…
Marichi cursed under his breath, a cold dread twisting in his gut.
"Oh, that's your other human." Lezschill's voice, a low groan of almost childlike annoyance, quickly became proactive and predatory.
"I'll get him!" He raised one of his numerous hands, a tendril of inky blackness coiling around his finger as he pointed towards the ceiling.
"Ahhhh!" Burtu's terrified shriek echoed, ripping through the oppressive quiet, as he plunged through the ceiling as his body flailed helplessly in mid-air.
"Hehehe." Lezschill chuckled, a grim, delighted sound that grated against their nerves, sharp and cruel.
With a sickeningly swift motion, his hand lashed out, a blur of grey flesh, spearing past Burtu's dented chest place and through his abdomen as he plummeted within reach. The limb plunged through and instantly painted a sickening crimson that extended from Burtu's back.
ACK!
Burtu coughed, a gurgling, wet sound escaping his lips as black blood bubbled and frothed, tasting of ash and metal.
He clawed desperately at the empty air, his body convulsing in a violent death throe while his eyes were wide with unfathomable disbelief as he stared at his own shaking hands, life draining from them with terrifying speed.
Lezschill, with contemptuous ease, flicked Burtu off his impaled arm. Burtu then fell lifelessly to the ground, a crumpled heap of bone and ruined flesh.
"Ahh… It's been so… so long." Lezschill sighed, a sound of profound, almost perverse contentment, as he slowly, sensuously caressed his blood-covered fingers together.
A chillingly serene expression, a mask of unholy bliss, spread across his multi-limbed face.
Jorel and Marichi stood frozen, their bodies screaming at them to flee, but their breaths were caught in their throats, paralyzed by the sheer horror of the spectacle unfolding before them.
"Now, whoever might take my place." Lezschill's grin widened, a predatory stretch of black teeth that seemed too numerous for a human mouth.
His hands extended, muscles bulging with a coiled, unnatural power, like a bundle of thick, taut cables.
A Halflit Zone? How's that possible?
Jorel's face was a mask of fear, mixed with a strange, dawning wonder, like a man confronting an impossible truth.
A Halflit Zone?!
But it wasn't notified on the map?!
Did we get an outdated one?
Marichi's mind raced, desperate for logic in the face of the absurd. He clenched his fists, planting his feet firmly in the ground, his gaze locked on the monstrous being, seeking an answer that wouldn't come.
"You all are standing there?!" Lezschill barked, his voice losing its serenity, a dangerous, impatient edge creeping into his tone.
"Now that's not fun." He swiped his hands in a swift, downward motion, a commanding gesture. Immediately, the air around them shuddered, then Jorel and Marichi were both propelled skyward and slammed their backs against the hard, unyielding granite ceiling with a sickening thud.
Lezschill, too, ascended effortlessly, his fingers wriggling with perverse excitement, a grotesque puppeteer delighting in his control.
Marichi, reacting on pure instinct, quickly rolled to the side, his body coiling like a spring, and sprang to his feet, dagger ready, already assessing the new, inverted battlefield.
Jorel, however, remained prone for a split second, disoriented, instinctively thrusting his sword forward in a defensive guard, a desperate, automatic shield against the unknown.
That fool!
Marichi thought, his gaze darting to Jorel as he watched Lezschill dart towards him, a predatory hunger in his unnatural movements.
Lezschill threw a hand at Jorel, a blur of grey flesh and dark energy, but it was expertly blocked by the his blade, the clang echoing sharply in the confined space.
Lezschill merely smiled, a chillingly serene expression fixed on his face, as his other hands, too numerous to count, darted out to snatch Jorel, tugging with relentless, agonizing force.
"Ahhn…" Jorel grunted, a choked sound of pain, enduring the searing agony as the hands began their agonizing pull, threatening to tear him limb from limb.
"N-Now you." Lezschill stuttered, his attention shifting to Marichi, a new target in his sights. He charged across the ceiling, feet thumping with a disturbing echo in the enclosed space as he approached.
Marichi braced himself, his body already nimble, loose and ready, his eyes fixed on Lezschill, who still held Jorel immobilized as if he was a trophy.
Lezschill then delivered a clean swipe, a lightning-fast attack that blurred through the air, but Marichi, swift as a viper, dodged to the side, a mere blur of motion. In the same fluid, almost graceful movement, he plunged his dagger deep into Lezschill's side, past skin and muscle.
Jorel, still held fast but saw the momentary distraction, he wriggled free with a desperate surge of strength, pulling his sword from the sheath and let the empty scabbard clatter loudly to the ground.
"Hyah!" Jorel roared, a primal sound of defiance and rage, cutting himself free from Lezschill's grip. His sword was instantly painted black, the blade glinting with fresh, otherworldly ichor.
"Yes! More! More!" Lezschill grinned, a wide, terrifying stretch of black teeth, his eyes gleaming with mad delight, drawing strength from the violence.
He quickly clamped a hand around Marichi's head, fingers pressing firmly against his skull, a crushing grip that muffled Marichi's shout as he struggled against the impossible force.
"The fight started with me and you," Jorel snarled, his voice low and cold, cutting through the regenerating hands reaching for him and watching the wounds on Lezschill's skin instantly heal, like a fabric mending itself.
Jorel bolted forward, a blur of focused motion, evading some hands with practiced ease, cutting others clean off with brutal efficiency. The black blood sprayed everywhere like an abstract painting on the unforgiving stone, a macabre masterpiece of destruction.
"And it's me that's gonna end it!" He swiftly positioned himself behind Lezschill, his sword readied in a piercing stance, a deadly, unwavering intent in his eyes.
Finally!
I get to use my sword, not going to let that peasant take everything.
No more fists.
Jorel let out a deep, focused breath, channeling his honed power, the air around him seeming to hum with anticipation.
Kanma-ryū style...
... Forward!
He pierced his sword directly into Lezschill's back. Lezschill let out a sharp shout, a surprised yelp of pain, which almost immediately dissolved into a chilling, guttural chuckle.
"Even with that sword, still nothing?" Lezschill mocked, turning slowly to face Jorel, his grip still crushing Marichi's head, adding salt to injury.
He then thrust his hands out to the side, a sweeping attack of numerous limbs, but Jorel, sidestepping with renewed agility, dodged most. Only one brushed against the side of his chest, a glancing, painful blow that left a searing trail.
"Ahhh!" Marichi groaned, a raw sound of agony, he then mustered a desperate surge of strength and raised his dagger, with a swift, brutal motion, sliced Lezschill's hand clean off.
The severed limb dropped to the ground with a wet thud as black blood gushed out like a grotesque fountain, a geyser of darkness and unnatural vital fluid.
"T-The first dismemberment…" Lezschill held his bleeding stump, his grin widening, almost sexual excitement in his voice.
"Now this is getting somewhere." He chuckled, a deep, satisfied rumble, using his remaining hands to fight both Jorel and Marichi with renewed, frenzied vigor. The black blood gushing from Lezschill's severed limb began to intensify its pressure, pulsing with an inner life.
As Jorel and Marichi watched in horrified fascination, the blood slowly started to form veins beneath an invisible, ethereal hand, then the bone, then the flesh, and finally, the pale, off-putting grey skin of a new hand, fully formed, solidifying from liquid horror.
"What the…!" Jorel exclaimed, his mouth gaping open in disbelief at the impossible sight. A new hand lashed out, forcing him to block it with a grunt of concentrated effort.
---The end of chapter 28---