Aetheral Space

Chapter 450:15.4: Underground

"So," Tybalt asked cheerfully, hands behind his head as he walked. "Are we behind those guys showing up?"

"We’re not," Erica replied calmly.

The two of them strolled down the halls of the Thinker’s Comet -- followed by Tybalt’s bestial Id and ominous Ego -- their stride not even slowing as re

Ruth’s eyes widened fractionally. "Wait, Wolfram? You mean Wolfram from Elysian Fields?"

The Widow offered a curt nod.

"He’s a kid!" Ruth shouted, aghast. "What the hell is he doing here? What the hell is he doing with you?!"

The Widow raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How strange, Miss Blaine. When your Skipper had this boy fight for him on Elysian Fields, I wonder if you protested quite so strongly -- or at all."

Something vicious twitched inside Ruth’s brain, and it was all she could do in that moment to keep her claws sheathed.

"Keep his name out of your mouth," she growled.

"To be frank," the Widow thumped her cane again. "I knew Skipper far longer than you did. If anyone has a right to his name, it’s me."

Ruth took a step forward, snarling -- but before she could do something she could regret, Morgan blocked her path with his sheathed sword.

"You said you’re waiting for this Wolfram to return," he said seriously. "Where is he now?"

"Now?" the Widow says. "He’s doing pest control. You see… we’re not alone down here."

The old woman smiled thinly.

"...and he is our strongest."

Wolfram stepped calmly into the massive cavern, hands in his pockets, his jacket and the cap on his head shifting to reflect the grey stone around him.

"Wow," he muttered to himself. "These things really are everywhere."

He looked at the horde before him. His comrades in Vantablack Squad called these things Aether Awakenings, but that name had never felt right to Wolfram. Even the word ’Aether’ still felt awkward on his tongue. No, these things were better called… godsblood-spawn, or something like that. Something closer to home.

They came in every shape and size, but the ones arrayed against him right now didn’t look too impressive. Ghouls and goblins, smaller monsters with the simple minds of animals, their glowing eyes and teeth locked onto him. They were kind of like Guardian Entities, in their own way… but they weren’t nearly as strong. These things… infesting this tunnel…

…were nothing but vermin.

Guardian Entity: Byakko -- 100%.

As the horde leapt at Wolfram from every direction, he vanished from sight for an instant -- only for an instant. When he reappeared in the same spot, his return was accompanied by a sudden and tremendous burst of air pressure, blasting each and every godsblood-spawn into the walls of the cavern. For some, that alone was enough to finish them off, reducing them to paste.

The rest wouldn’t be much more difficult.

White godblood surged as Wolfram kicked off the ground, launching himself towards a pot-bellied ogre that had survived the initial attack. Without hesitation, Wolfram thrust his fist forward and plunged it into the monster’s stomach -- and then, he enlarged that fist to ten times its original size, tearing the beast apart from the inside. Scraps of mismatched flesh dissipated into purple godsblood as Wolfram turned to his next opponent.

He kept his arm enlarged and swept it through the air, producing a gust of wind that sent the bat-things flying at him into disarray. Then, he kicked off the ground again, shrinking himself to the size of a bullet in the process -- and like a bullet, he pierced through each and every bat as he zoomed through the air.

As he returned to his original size, still skidding across the floor, he snatched the meat-scythe of an incoming reaper and cleanly sliced it in half. Oozing meat fell to the ground in the moment before it faded… but Wolfram still had business with the scythe. Injecting it with his godsblood to briefly preserve it in this world, he hurled it through the air to pierce through the body of a charging bull-pig.

That last victim faded away before it even hit the ground… and Wolfram was left alone in the cavern once again. With the way these godsblood-spawn disappeared, it was as if the battle had never even happened. Wolfram finally allowed himself to take a breath.

█̷̨̼͕͍̰̖͓̺͕͊̐̐̉█̸̛̱͙͔̈́͐█̷̻̦́̚͘’̴̱̣͔͇̞̞̝̮̌̈́̂͋̑█̶̡̥͕̼̩̘̤͂̋̓̌̍̐͌̑̈́͘ ̴̥̤͗̎͆̂͛̈̊█̷̡̧̳͕͆́̉͐̈́̓̀͘█̷̧͔̪͎̼̺͈̠̹͆̎͊͒͌̄̊̃̒̉█̶̨̮̭͓̮̲̀̊̈́ͅ█̶͍̫͌͋͠ͅ█̵̲̼̤̙̠̃͗̇̑̒̚?̷͓̱̬̿̀̀̅͒̏̄͋̉̄

Nope.

This one Wolfram didn’t even try to fight. The moment he heard those ’words’ -- like needles squirming in his brain -- he dove behind a pillar, concealing himself from what was entering the chamber. He didn’t even dare to look at it. He’d done so once, and the memory of it felt like acid melting through his skull.

He heard sickly footsteps.

He heard sickly breathing.

He heard sickly words.

"█̸̧̋̒̊̌͋͘͠͠ͅ ̸̢̡̺͍̬̙̯̾̍͜█̴̢͓̟̹̔̑̅̅̏͒̐̌̈́̀͜█̴̨̩̜͐̕͠█̸̡̢̬͎̹̀̂́͌͝█̸̪͉̤̺̏͠ ̷̢͈̤̭͎̯̘̌̊̓͊̾̂̈́͒̿̅█̷̢̱̥̭̠͈͙̗̃̔̄█̷̖̩̲̒͝͠█̸̲̭̩͍͖̹̋͑͊̿̊̑̐̂’̵͉̣̞̝̪͎̚█̶̨͎̲͍̉̚█̶͕̘́̌̀͊͊ ̸͕̻̲̎̾█̷̞̳̑̂̐͂̊̓͛͝ͅ█̸̢̺̜̬̫̮̪͓̋̾̋͐̀͘█̵̫͈͔̮̳̩̺͐͜█̴̻̱̻̺͛█̸̢̝͎̩̜̠͙̠̠́͊̂̈́̂̾͝.̷̰͙͉̗̝̮̭̹̣̔̏̏̀͊̅.̷̢͇͈̫͚̯͔͎͚̳͌͋̍̚.̴̛̞͖̬͕̯͊̆̈̊͆̀̚"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Wolfram planted his hands over his ears. He could feel it instinctively: that was the only way to defend against this thing, this monster… this Black Blur. He stayed like that, crouching down, praying that the nocturn orphan would pass him by…

…and eventually, by the grace of the gods, he felt that presence recede.