Beneath The Surface

Fall 48 - Hero

Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia

Astaroth's POV
"Are you absolutely sure about your decision? You can still back out now if you want," Astaroth asked for the umpteenth time as her sword smoothly lopped off a screaming parasite's head.

She's been at this for the past hour. Slowly hacking through one batch at a time. However, their staggering numbers seemed endless. They just kept pouring out of the rift in hordes, covering what remained of the surrounding greenery with their dark-purple carapace. Ignoring the ravenous beady eyes staring at her soul, Astaroth pulled off her black gloves to touch a blade of grass. The burning sensation behind her eyeballs intensified. She had an inkling they're probably pitch black now. Pupils constricted as an unknown sensation flooded her system.

Flowers withered under her fingertips, their organic essence corrupted by the Void. Darkness slowly spreads, invading the land of the living. It stretched on as far as the eye could see. Everything with colour wilted without mercy. But do not be mistaken. The vegetation's not dead. Merely given new life. After all, she's not like Bel'Veth. Or the rest of their dysfunctional family for that matter. Oblivion has never been a part of her plan. It has always been world domination. Huge difference. Astaroth didn't want reality to fizzle out. All she asked was for the spot at the top of the food chain. Where she could properly command and remake reality into something more adequate. Something that would actually protect her precious gems, not seek to destroy them. And it could only be done through consuming what's left of this rotten era. Claim the remaining untouched territories as her own before the stingray could get its grubby claws on them.

*Hehehe. How many times must you ask this silly question? Relax. There's really no hard feelings between them and me. I'm merely... returning the favour. They dare boot me to this dogwater slum, so it's only fair if I spite them for eternity.*

Astaroth let out a soft chuckle as she brutally smashed her fist into a leaping voidling's skull. It's sticky blood splattered messily on her face. Making her look like a deranged serial killer. Well, it's technically not wrong. To them, she's indeed performing genocide here. But it's just so damn fun! Her exhilaration could barely be contained as euphoria rushed to her head. Her fingers tingle, aching to lay hands on something. Anything.

*Besides, do educate me on how to 'back out'. You are my host. WE are one. The moment I'm gone, the arsenic residing in your bloodstream will undoubtedly take your life.*

Oh yeah... There's that. How could she forget those crazed desert dwellers had injected her with tons of that substance? Enough to kill a medium-sized village.

The greyish deformed mass beneath her suddenly trembled as a violet glow flowed from its windy roots up the twisted stalk. Cracks of luminescence spidered across the entire ground, emitting an ominous hue. Blades of grass shimmered prettily. In a mutated sort of way. Shrivelled buds blossomed in full bloom. Lumps grew sporadically. Some even leaking of purple pus. As disturbing tumours encrusted the flowers, dark veins etched deeply into each individual petal. A frosty chill emanated from the corrupted sustenance. Concentrated Void energy spilled into the overworld, contaminating it with the stench of rot and death.

What's more, the metamorphosis showed no signs of receding. Some infected flora even began mutating beyond expectation, growing larger and larger until they now towered around her height. Serrated teeth jutted out along the edges and the insides of their petals, resembling that of a Venus flytrap. Venomous goo oozed out of the jaws jam-full with fangs. The moment a single drop dripped onto the surrounding greenery, they immediately corroded, gradually beginning their own accursed transformation. The butterfly effect went on. Like ripples in a still pond—unstoppable.