Only the merciful deserve mercy. 2/?
There was a spider stalking through the dark. Twenty troops hunted through one of the halls, they'd given up on finding the key, and decided they'd kill the intruder before it killed them. If only they knew how badly outmatched they were.
"Hold! Anyone else see that?"
There was a spider on the wall. It wasn't particularly large, it wasn't particularly frightening. Still, it was a spider, these people were human. A fire bolt sent it screeching into the dark. Then the noise started. It was as if hundreds of tiny legs were scuttling over eachother. One spider crawled out of the dark, followed by another, and another. Soon the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in the things. These ones however, these ones were big, a foot in diameter.
Arachnophobia is a very common phobia in humans. It was no different here. The troops took a step backwards, then ran. One looked back and almost shit himself. The spiders were faster. He tripped, and fell. In an instant the spiders swarmed over him. His colleagues didn't hesitate. They heard the horrifying scream of him being eaten alive, that was more than enough motivation. Soon the remaining eleven ran into a dead end. The spiders approached.
"NOPE! IT WAS A PLEASURE WORKING WITH YOU ALL!"
The troop put a finger to her head, cast a spell, and decorated the walls with her brains. The rest of the troops looked on in shock, then saw the approaching mass of spiders. A quick suicide or get eaten alive? It was an obvious choice.
184 remaining.
The spiders came across a pile of corpses, seems the poor souls killed themselves. The mass merged and shrank back into the form of Alaric. He walked away. After five minutes and ten decapitations, he heard something peculiar.
"FACE ME COWARD!"
Someone was doing something very stupid. Revealing your location while a killer was there wasn't very smart.
"STOP HIDING IN THE DARK LIKE A LITTLE BITCH!"
Well, crushing the arrogant was a fun pastime. He found the source of the apparent bravery in a training room, holding a great axe out in front of him. With a wave of his hand, lights all along the walls burst into existence. The moron turned around to see his duplicate, hands behind his back.
"Well? I'm here."
"WHAT MANNER OF DEMON ARE YOU!?"
The troop dashed towards him, bringing the axe down to split the skull. Suddenly the doppelganger was behind him, a strong kick sent the troop to the floor. The axe sent slliding across the floor.
"The righteous kind."
The troop whirled around, then leapt to his feet, a new axe spawning in his hand.
"RIGHTEOUS!? IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL SLAUGHTERING HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT LIVES!"
The troop did the same move as before. This time Alaric sidestepped, then elbowed the troop in the face.
"Innocent? You really believe that to be true? All the lives you've ruined mean nothing?"
The troop swung the axe around, aiming to split the doppelganger in half.
"HA! THAT FILTH DOES MEAN NOTHING! THEY ARE NOT HUMAN, THEY ARE NOT EQUAL!"
And Alaric was done listening. He caught the blade, shattered it, then grabbed the troops brain. He may have used too much force. The troop fell to the ground, it seems his head exploded.
173 remaining.
Twenty troops stumbled upon a door, they opened it, then immediately wished they didn't. The room was completely covered in miscellaneous insides. A pile of skeletons stacked in the vague shape of a Christmas tree. The troops immediately shut the door, and ran to the main door. To hell with what the intruder said! They needed to escape NOW.
There was a man waiting for them.
He moved so fast it looked as if he teleported. Within a second, two hundred slabs of flesh and bone fell to the ground.
153 remaining.
After finishing off two cowering failures in a library, Alaric felt something strange. Something in the room resonated with him. It was as if he heard something calling to him. Something dark. Something powerful. What was something like that doing somewhere like here? He followed the trail, there really was a lot of garbage in this library. He counted nineteen books whose events he was there to witness. A mere hundred or so years ago, a blink in his lifetime. Finally! He found the source. One particular book on a table, pitch black cover, three gray words.
The Tyrants Fist.
Why did it call out to him? He was no tyrant. Granted he used to be but that was in the past, he'd atoned for those sins. Did this have something to do with his recent dreams? He had seen himself with a gauntlet that certainly fit the description of a tyrants fist. Or the more worrying answer, Peri had raised the theory of the dreams being events witnessed through an alternate Alaric's eyes. If these dreams and this book we're connected, that was bad. He took the book, he'd learn it's contents, then he'd erase it from existence. He almost heard laughter when he picked it up.
151 remaining.
Anyway back to the slaughter. He left the room then heard conversations a few rooms over. Walking into the room he saw eighty troops trying to open a portal to escape. But Alaric's spell restricted all travel in and out, these people were wasting their limited time. Alaric morphed his wings, unraveling them into eight tendrils, ten times their previous length, each ending in a sharp barb. He calmly walked towards the group, tendrils gracefully trailing behind him.
"Come on come on! Why isn't this working? Ain't you supposed to have twenty years experience with this Jimbo?"
"I do! Something's blocking it!"
"That would be me."
The group turned, something human shaped was walking towards them. Were those ribbons coming out of its back?
"Who!? What, are you!?"
"You won't live long enough to use the knowledge."
One of the tendrils suddenly shot out, skewering the troop through the chest. The others looked on in shock as this mystery person skewered their friend, then flung them into a wall.
"Same for the rest of you."
Alaric kept walking as his tendrils shot out, turning the humans into kebabs. Some tried to fight back, it didn't matter, he knew enough about the human anatomy to know where the heart was. Something he noticed was the more people he skewered on one tendril the harder it was to keep skewering. By the time he had nine people on each, he was running out of space. So to fix the issue he flew a few meters off the floor, and spun.
Carol was having a really really bad day. First her girlfriend died, then she got trapped in the home base, now she was probably about to die. At least she'd see Jane again. Hopefully the dead world allowed dual afterlives.
The intruder really didn't like her, she was sure he didn't hate her specifically, more a general hatred. What an unfortunate way to live, a life of hate wasn't really a life now was it?
Suddenly the intruder flew into the air, and flung her dead comrades into the walls. He decended on the rest of them like an angel, a really intimidating, demonic angel, but an angel nonetheless. A sharp pain sprouted from her chest, she looked down, it seemed she'd been stabbed. The edges of her vision went dark.
"I'm on my way Jane..."
She could feel her spirit leaving, she'd be gone soon. Ah well, she'd lived a good life, a life of love, of duty. Despite the circumstances, she was happy.
71 remaining.
That was strange. Most people died screaming or shitting themselves when Alaric stabbed them. Yet one of the corpses had a smile on her face. It didn't matter, a happy carcass was still a carcass. He left the room, morphing the tendrils back into wings. By his estimates there were sixty or so left, how to deal with the rest? Chainsaws? He could try mercy. He'd still kill them of course but he could try a swift death. There were still people in the dungeons he needed to rescue. Swift execution followed by a quick questioning followed by a rescue seemed a good plan.
He extended his awareness, slowly but surely the connections of the remaining troops became known to him. When he felt them all, he severed them, all of them. Some troops ran through the halls, or scowered rooms, or hid in corners praying to be spared, it didn't matter where they were. At once they all stopped moving, then collapsed to the floor, slowly disintegrating as the bonds that made up their beings fell apart.
1 remaining.
There was a spider stalking through the dark. Twenty troops hunted through one of the halls, they'd given up on finding the key, and decided they'd kill the intruder before it killed them. If only they knew how badly outmatched they were.
"Hold! Anyone else see that?"
There was a spider on the wall. It wasn't particularly large, it wasn't particularly frightening. Still, it was a spider, these people were human. A fire bolt sent it screeching into the dark. Then the noise started. It was as if hundreds of tiny legs were scuttling over eachother. One spider crawled out of the dark, followed by another, and another. Soon the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered in the things. These ones however, these ones were big, a foot in diameter.
Arachnophobia is a very common phobia in humans. It was no different here. The troops took a step backwards, then ran. One looked back and almost shit himself. The spiders were faster. He tripped, and fell. In an instant the spiders swarmed over him. His colleagues didn't hesitate. They heard the horrifying scream of him being eaten alive, that was more than enough motivation. Soon the remaining eleven ran into a dead end. The spiders approached.
"NOPE! IT WAS A PLEASURE WORKING WITH YOU ALL!"
The troop put a finger to her head, cast a spell, and decorated the walls with her brains. The rest of the troops looked on in shock, then saw the approaching mass of spiders. A quick suicide or get eaten alive? It was an obvious choice.
184 remaining.
The spiders came across a pile of corpses, seems the poor souls killed themselves. The mass merged and shrank back into the form of Alaric. He walked away. After five minutes and ten decapitations, he heard something peculiar.
"FACE ME COWARD!"
Someone was doing something very stupid. Revealing your location while a killer was there wasn't very smart.
"STOP HIDING IN THE DARK LIKE A LITTLE BITCH!"
Well, crushing the arrogant was a fun pastime. He found the source of the apparent bravery in a training room, holding a great axe out in front of him. With a wave of his hand, lights all along the walls burst into existence. The moron turned around to see his duplicate, hands behind his back.
"Well? I'm here."
"WHAT MANNER OF DEMON ARE YOU!?"
The troop dashed towards him, bringing the axe down to split the skull. Suddenly the doppelganger was behind him, a strong kick sent the troop to the floor. The axe sent slliding across the floor.
"The righteous kind."
The troop whirled around, then leapt to his feet, a new axe spawning in his hand.
"RIGHTEOUS!? IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL SLAUGHTERING HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT LIVES!"
The troop did the same move as before. This time Alaric sidestepped, then elbowed the troop in the face.
"Innocent? You really believe that to be true? All the lives you've ruined mean nothing?"
The troop swung the axe around, aiming to split the doppelganger in half.
"HA! THAT FILTH DOES MEAN NOTHING! THEY ARE NOT HUMAN, THEY ARE NOT EQUAL!"
And Alaric was done listening. He caught the blade, shattered it, then grabbed the troops brain. He may have used too much force. The troop fell to the ground, it seems his head exploded.
173 remaining.
Twenty troops stumbled upon a door, they opened it, then immediately wished they didn't. The room was completely covered in miscellaneous insides. A pile of skeletons stacked in the vague shape of a Christmas tree. The troops immediately shut the door, and ran to the main door. To hell with what the intruder said! They needed to escape NOW.
There was a man waiting for them.
He moved so fast it looked as if he teleported. Within a second, two hundred slabs of flesh and bone fell to the ground.
153 remaining.
After finishing off two cowering failures in a library, Alaric felt something strange. Something in the room resonated with him. It was as if he heard something calling to him. Something dark. Something powerful. What was something like that doing somewhere like here? He followed the trail, there really was a lot of garbage in this library. He counted nineteen books whose events he was there to witness. A mere hundred or so years ago, a blink in his lifetime. Finally! He found the source. One particular book on a table, pitch black cover, three gray words.
The Tyrants Fist.
Why did it call out to him? He was no tyrant. Granted he used to be but that was in the past, he'd atoned for those sins. Did this have something to do with his recent dreams? He had seen himself with a gauntlet that certainly fit the description of a tyrants fist. Or the more worrying answer, Peri had raised the theory of the dreams being events witnessed through an alternate Alaric's eyes. If these dreams and this book we're connected, that was bad. He took the book, he'd learn it's contents, then he'd erase it from existence. He almost heard laughter when he picked it up.
151 remaining.
Anyway back to the slaughter. He left the room then heard conversations a few rooms over. Walking into the room he saw eighty troops trying to open a portal to escape. But Alaric's spell restricted all travel in and out, these people were wasting their limited time. Alaric morphed his wings, unraveling them into eight tendrils, ten times their previous length, each ending in a sharp barb. He calmly walked towards the group, tendrils gracefully trailing behind him.
"Come on come on! Why isn't this working? Ain't you supposed to have twenty years experience with this Jimbo?"
"I do! Something's blocking it!"
"That would be me."
The group turned, something human shaped was walking towards them. Were those ribbons coming out of its back?
"Who!? What, are you!?"
"You won't live long enough to use the knowledge."
One of the tendrils suddenly shot out, skewering the troop through the chest. The others looked on in shock as this mystery person skewered their friend, then flung them into a wall.
"Same for the rest of you."
Alaric kept walking as his tendrils shot out, turning the humans into kebabs. Some tried to fight back, it didn't matter, he knew enough about the human anatomy to know where the heart was. Something he noticed was the more people he skewered on one tendril the harder it was to keep skewering. By the time he had nine people on each, he was running out of space. So to fix the issue he flew a few meters off the floor, and spun.
Carol was having a really really bad day. First her girlfriend died, then she got trapped in the home base, now she was probably about to die. At least she'd see Jane again. Hopefully the dead world allowed dual afterlives.
The intruder really didn't like her, she was sure he didn't hate her specifically, more a general hatred. What an unfortunate way to live, a life of hate wasn't really a life now was it?
Suddenly the intruder flew into the air, and flung her dead comrades into the walls. He decended on the rest of them like an angel, a really intimidating, demonic angel, but an angel nonetheless. A sharp pain sprouted from her chest, she looked down, it seemed she'd been stabbed. The edges of her vision went dark.
"I'm on my way Jane..."
She could feel her spirit leaving, she'd be gone soon. Ah well, she'd lived a good life, a life of love, of duty. Despite the circumstances, she was happy.
71 remaining.
That was strange. Most people died screaming or shitting themselves when Alaric stabbed them. Yet one of the corpses had a smile on her face. It didn't matter, a happy carcass was still a carcass. He left the room, morphing the tendrils back into wings. By his estimates there were sixty or so left, how to deal with the rest? Chainsaws? He could try mercy. He'd still kill them of course but he could try a swift death. There were still people in the dungeons he needed to rescue. Swift execution followed by a quick questioning followed by a rescue seemed a good plan.
He extended his awareness, slowly but surely the connections of the remaining troops became known to him. When he felt them all, he severed them, all of them. Some troops ran through the halls, or scowered rooms, or hid in corners praying to be spared, it didn't matter where they were. At once they all stopped moving, then collapsed to the floor, slowly disintegrating as the bonds that made up their beings fell apart.
1 remaining.