⑄ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 ⑄

『 Act XIII: divine delight 』

"Ｉ  ａｍ  ｙｏｕｒ  ｇｏｄ．"

normally soft, haunting even, now sharp and laced with a sadistic blood lust, the voice of the Overseer rang loud and clear over the chaos of a brutal massacre.

the assistant ducked behind a former clanmate, shoving them into the ethereal being's spell of frost - which quickly immobilized and froze the god-eater in place. the heavenly horror promptly slashed clean through the ice statue, nearly driving her spear into the ground with the amount of force she used.

"damn, alright then -" the antlered figure chuckled, albeit nervously.

he kicked the blade of his axe off the ground, briefly spinning it, before violently throwing the weapon into the ground, releasing a brilliant burst of violet lightning in all directions, and colliding with the faceless being's spell of frost. and upon doing so -

- cleared the entire area out.

apparently, ice and thunder create large explosions - and the overseer's dreams of divinity colliding with the lantern-holder's aerial rings left no survivors.

I suppose it was to be expected, of two powerful beings such as them.

the overseer paused, then tugged their veil back into place, straightening. "...I suppose that is taken care of."

"yeah, you don't say??" hissed the antlered figure, tugging his axe out of the frozen dirt. he sighed, leaning on the warblade. "okay, um...the Core isn't too far from where we're at. if we teleport we'll be able to reach it before the...what, third - fourth wave?"

"alright then. meet you at the Core."

"wh -"

the faceless was already gone. she just teleported out of the area, leaving the lantern-holder in the clearing by themselves for a moment.

"...wait no hold on -"

.

.

.

it only got darker the deeper the ethereal creature went into the grove - and their senses only got more overwhelmed.

although far from the attacking god-eaters, the grove did not prove to be any less nerve-wracking. tendrils grasped fruitlessly at the cryptids' horns, limbs, tail - bloody sap ran from overhead vines and from the bark of long-dead trees, and oh did the undergrowth reek of death.

and so did they.

black and mud red stained the almost-glowing white fabric of their overcoat, pale hair messy and horns chipped - their hands were pitch black, soaking through the thick silvery-blue material of their gloves.

oh, how the smell of her clan's blood bring back memories.

gory, bloody, sadistic memories of a false god and a barren wasteland, a silver-tongued deity burning everything they touched - till she had nothing to burn but herself.

sharp, pristine ribs strained against pale skin, threatening to tear her flesh off her bones - a twisted natural response. two hearts beat out of sync, rattling a skeletal being's chest -

krr - ACK.

"!"

only when the sound of shattering glass broke the silence of the grove, did the false deity snap out of her crisis.

.

.

.

the harvestman stared at the aged stone platform in front of him for a moment - bloody, overgrown, covered in rotted plants - surrounded by seven statues, all of which poured a disgusting river of souls and blood from their jaws.

all for two, at least.

the tall figure quietly reached forward with his naginata, tapping the platform with the blade.

once.

twice.

"...huh."

he wiped some ichor from his eyes.

"so this is what the Core looks like."