Demon Core - Chapter 33: Scenes from around the country

~ [A Cathedral In an Irrelevant City] ~

They’re almost there.

The organ screams as fingers furiously pound down on its stained ivory keys, and the blinded woman next to it sings her song on the precipice of the altar. Her black-gloved hand rests over her chest as the notes of her wordless aria resound around the crumbling cathedral together with the metal cry of the instrument. Both sounds of music overpower the clashing of steel, iron, and teeth as boots press their way, cutting through swarms of monsters in a determined effort to reach the end of the cathedral gauntlet. The ceiling of the structure has long since collapsed in on itself from the heat and the rain, with the wood and the stone giving way.

Through the broken rafters and crumbling upper floors, the true night is visible. Thousands of stars shine above the battlefield, watching them like the curious eyes of a grand spider, only for its pupils to be plucked away, one after the other, by the great arm that rises up toward the night sky and steals them from it. The Thing that Gathers Stars plucks them down over the edge of the horizon, leaving the night a little darker than it was before.

That’s how it always is — always just a little bit darker.

The adventurers pull back together in a tight formation, looking at one another as the dead bodies of hundreds of monsters lie strewn around the cathedral that has been acting as a monster spawning location — a nest — created by the Demon-King. Usually, wild monsters outside of dungeons simply breed to multiply, like any other animal. However, in high magic zones, there are instances of monsters just ‘spawning’, like they do inside of dungeons — just materializing out of thin air, essentially, as an area’s natural ambient magic is condensed into monster shape.

The Demon-King’s corruption has left many places across the world in such a state or is actively transforming them into one.

This cathedral they’re fighting to destroy is one such place. After the Demon-King’s hordes raised the city, thousands of undead, demons, and monsters of intangible shapes swarmed the walls. Then the corruption took root.

The voice fills the air, singing in the presence of the organ.

All around, glows begin to take form, manifesting as bodies. Fresh monsters begin to rise as the energy of the corrupted cathedral, an incredibly powerful holy place, is twisted and channeled into this dark task by the manifestation that guards it — the boss monster, the spawn guard — the once virtuous high priestess of the cathedral, who has succumbed to demonic influence.

Her arms rest together over her chest, two hands folded there as she sings. Another two arms spread out to the sides, gesturing around the area. Another two arms reach around behind her back, hammering against the organ as she plays it, with the original organist lying as a charred skeleton down below it. Two more hands clutch her face, pulling on the sides of her own mouth as she practically screams her song, her lips never closing.

The relentless cacophony of battle and the discordant symphony of suffering intertwine, creating an unholy dirge that resonates throughout the desecrated cathedral. The adventurers, their faces etched with terror and determination alike, forge onward through the gauntlet of monstrous abominations. With every swing of their blades and a flash of steel in the ever-darkening twilight, they cleave through grotesque flesh as if seeking to carve out a path toward salvation.

Their gazes are drawn inexorably to the source of that eerie lamentation, their breath catching in their throats as they behold her: the boss monster, spawn guard — once a virtuous high priestess, now twisted into an agent of demonic influence. Her multiple arms move with unsettling grace as she hammers against the organ’s aging keys, while her other hands continue to act as she sings her dark song.

As her soul-chilling aria reverberates throughout the cathedral’s shattered remains, fresh monstrosities materialize from nowhere — tangible manifestations of the ambient magic that suffuses this accursed place. They rise up like an unyielding tide driven by forces beyond mortal ken, threatening to engulf all who dare to defy their dark master’s will. With grim resolve etched upon their faces, the adventurers prepare themselves for yet another onslaught, steeling themselves against insurmountable odds as their hearts pound within their chests like funeral drums.

A new wave of monsters spawns, with hundreds of corpses glowing all around them.

They’re almost there.

The music of the organ intensifies, and the high-priestess screams as if begging to be put to mercy.

~ [A Tower, Somewhere on the Edge of the Nation] ~

The deaf girl yells in fright, falling down forward as her foot catches on the edge of a step of the spiral staircase. She roughly falls down, barely catching herself on all fours on the incline, and then scrambles, not stopping to nurse her palms and shins. She only spares a moment, looking back down behind herself at the section of the stairwell she had just traversed up.

It’s there. The thing. It’s right behind her.

“NO!” Screaming, she runs as fast as she can up the tower, trying to escape the monster that’s in here with her, her legs burning like wildfire.

There’s a problem, however.

Crying and gritting her teeth, she does her best to manage her breathing as she ascends.

— The problem is that the tower never ends. She’s walked up so many flights of stairs that she feels like she should have reached the moon by now. However, every time she passes by the little exterior window of the tower, all she ever sees is the same exact view, as if she hadn’t gained any height at all.

Sweat runs down her face, mixing in with her tears and snot. Her clothes are drenched, clinging to her and chafing; the skin rubbing raw where the fabric meets her body, as are her feet in her soaked boots. She’s been going for what feels like hours now, but she can’t stop.

If she stops, it will catch her.

It’s right behind her; it’s so close. She can feel its breath on her neck; she can feel it looking at her from right there — the monster. It doesn’t make any vibrations, it doesn’t have a smell, and it doesn’t have any tangible presence other than her sight of it, and so she runs and runs and runs, knowing that if she ever stops, it’s right there behind her.

But she can’t keep this up; running is one thing, but running up stairs is another thing. Ignoring her raw soles, which are swimming in her own blood in her boots, her body is just about to give up. It can only do so much.

Her eyes look at the small window that she passes as she runs by it again.

The monster is outside, looking in at her. She yells in horror, tripping and scrambling to her feet again.

~ [A Shaft, Somewhere Down in a Collapsed Mine] ~

It’s so quiet, apart from a single, repeating noise.

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

— That’s what he feels and hears.

The portly man with a strong build leans with his back against the wall. His thickly mustached face, invisible in the darkness, is covered in soot and dirt. It’s surprisingly warm here, but that’s how mines operate. When people think of the underground, they think of cold, dark places. The dark part is true, for sure. However, the coldness is debatable. Actually, it’s very warm down here. It turns out that the world, like a body, makes heat. The deeper you go, the warmer it gets.

He smirks, holding down a laugh, as his mind makes a crude joke at that thought.

It drips again.

He can’t see it. But he can hear it — the dripping. More importantly, he can sense it. Every droplet lets loose a soft vibration that runs through the stones toward him.

It’s only a matter of time now. He can’t see shit, but the others have stopped talking, stopped making noises, and stopped making vibrations. As far as he can tell, he’s the last one left.

His head rests against the wall as he stares up toward nothing. Given that it is dark as all fuck down here, there is nothing to see. He’s a good half hour, at least beneath the dirt. This mine was originally started because they found a strong vein of silver, however, as they dug it out, they began finding… other things, things of a curious nature that he can’t rightly explain, not that it was his job. He just dug, like all of them.

A droplet runs down his mustache and lands on the floor.

Drip.

It’s right above him.

If he reached out, he could touch it.

Drip.

The thing that was down here with them when the mine collapsed was the monster. He can’t see it. He’s not sure if any of them ever did. But it’s real.

Drip.

And its saliva is dripping down onto him from above.

He just sits there quietly, his legs outstretched with his hands resting on his lap, and the monster, the thing that lives in the underground, remains just as still.

There’s no way out. The core shaft collapsed. He’s trapped down here. Honestly, this is probably it. It already ate the others. He’s not sure what triggers the monster to strike, but given that nobody else is making any noises, he’s confident that it has already taken all of them into its belly.

The man idly claps his hand out, drumming against his own substantial belly in the dark with his fingers, as if he were bored and waiting for something to happen. The vibration runs through his body and into the stone.

“Hope you choke on me, asshole.”

— Something claps back from up above, soft appendages hitting against flesh over his head.

Drip.