"Try not to die," Zalgo playfully chimed as he backed away and turned his attention to the war.
This Iris, the one standing before you now, was the same person who had tricked you into being kidnapped. Considering how she stood back and let the demon minions wrestle you unconscious, you weren't expecting to see this Creepypasta on the battlefield. She didn't seem like a fighter; however, Zalgo had directed Iris to participate in the dance of death. Either Zalgo didn't expect much from you, or Iris was a better combatant than you anticipated. The woman before you waited, studying you for distractions and openings. She was laxed in her pose, fiddling with her knife in one hand. It was difficult to determine whether she intended to strike first.
You really didn't want to initiate the fight, but someone had to; otherwise, you'd never get to Zalgo. Taking Iris down was your only option. Going straight for Zalgo would just have two powerful enemies against you, and since there was a choice, why put yourself at a disadvantage?
In fact, you had the perfect weapon to end this offense in seconds - your pistol. Should you draw it now, or wait for an opportunity to arise? Would it be too late if you let Iris make the first move? These were dire options, and only one would be correct. You rubbed your thumb across the last shuriken in your hand, feeling its smooth steel. If you were fast enough, it could be used as a distraction while you drew the gun. "Sounds good," you mumbled to yourself. Iris didn't seem to care about what you may have said, holding firm of her patient pose.
With a deep, sharp inhale, you cocked your arm and wrist back, then flicked the shuriken at Iris, simultaneously reaching into your jacket with your free hand. Iris deflected the shuriken with nearly as dangerous speed as Zalgo, her knife singing a metallic tune of taunting as both weapons briefly clashed. Upon the moment your initial attack was shrugged off, you had the pistol beaded on Iris' form. She didn't waste her abrupt chance to avoid lead poisoning, ducking and lunging in your direction. Iris rolled on the ground, just in time to dodge your bullet. The crack of your gun split the air, but that was all. Back on her feet, crouched low, Iris swept wide with her knife, aiming to slice you open wherever she could make contact. You hopped back, and witnessed your coat-flaps earn a new scar.
Again, you aimed your gun at Iris, trying to stay light on your feet. She rose up, pulled her knife back, and attempted a few swift jabs at your torso. Hops, skips, twists, and dives were all that saved you from impalement; they kept you too busy to hold a clean shot. Iris didn't let up; she dropped down again, sweeping a leg across your feet. You were able to jump in time, but Iris wasn't done. As you were falling back to the earth, her agile movements thrust her knife at your stomach. You were able to process the situation, reaching your free hand to catch Iris atop her forearm. With that, you pushed down, throwing your body upward, and swung your legs over your head to land behind the young woman. Once again, you centered your pistol's sights on Iris. She turned her head to stare down the short barrel. You pulled the trigger. Iris dropped flat to the earth, threaded her legs between yours, and was able to dodge the bullet for a second time.
"Bitch," you cursed Iris. She was as slippery as you in this tango. What were the chances of her skimming past all eleven of your shots? Especially in her current prone position. Squeezing your ankles together to clamp down on Iris' legs, you pointed the gun at your current enemy for a third time.
Iris rolled, twisting her legs from your meager grip; you didn't expect to keep her pinned that way. Even as Iris tumbled away for the next round, you kept your pistol trained on her. The shot wasn't certain, and you didn't want to waste your limited ammo. Shooting moving targets wasn't your forte, either. Eventually, the woman would have to pause. If you could keep a steady aim until that moment, then the fight would be over.
A pause to face you; Iris flung her knife in your direction. It collided with your pistol, knocking it from your grip. The blade and gun were floored away from Iris and yourself. The two of you exchanged narrow glares, and then dove for the weapons. Both of you landed just short of your targets, resulting in an entangling fist fight. You tried to get a good punch in on Iris, but she swatted away each strike with solid blocks. Iris made her own attempts at subduing you, but you shrugged off the hits with relevant ease. Iris wasn't nearly as strong as you; agile, yes, but you could tell from her punches that there was little power behind them.
For a few more moments, the trading of blows evolved into grappling and submissions. Iris attempted a choke-hold, wrapping her legs around your own with every ounce of strength that she could muster. You struggled for a bit, finding the hold to be taking advantage of your weaker, less used, muscles. In a spark of inspiration, whilst trying to wriggle your head from Iris' strangling arm, you managed to dig your chin down enough for your lips to brush her skin. If you couldn't shoot Iris, then it was back to Plan A: bite.
Twisting your head to offer enough room for your jaws to stretch, you opened wide, fangs extended. Iris noticed what you were attempting and pulled her arm away, but it was far too late. You clamped down, bottom jaw holding tight to Iris' forearm. Your fangs sank deep into her flesh, injecting plenty of venom; you could taste it seeping from the wounds, combined with the seasonings of dirt, sweat, and bodily oils. Yanking against you, Iris did her best to get away, but you held firm and did your own yanking. With the strength of your neck and torso, you rolled aside and threw Iris over your body, slamming her into the disturbed forest floor with a deep thud. Iris gasped for air, the wind knocked from her lungs. You took the opportunity to pin her down, then finished the job with another bite to her throat. She was already screaming at the intense agony in her arm before you landed the second bite.
Despite her struggles, Iris knew that it was over for her. Wide, dilated eyes took in every inch of her view with anguish fueling the short life she had left. You stood over Iris, watching her gurgle on her liquefying esophagus. She kicked her legs as if making some form of effort to push her body away from you, but to no avail; each kick merely grazed over the forest floor. Rut marks were dug significantly into the earth. Eventually, the kicks became clumsy and slow, until the life in Iris expired, and her legs gave way to gravity. You had watched to the end, ensuring that Iris wouldn't have some deus-ex machina and surprise you at an inopportune moment during your fight with Zalgo. Every choice you made would either lead to success or death; you had to select wisely.
With Iris confirmed dead, you gathered her knife, your gun, and your shuriken. There was no doubt that the gun would be irrelevant to Zalgo, but it was best to prepare for any possibility when given the chance; thus, you ensured that the pistol still had a bullet in the chamber, and stored it back in its holster. Zalgo remained still, gazing out across the lake of chaos. If the two of you had a bird's eye view of the war, you were sure that it would resemble a disturbed ant nest.
You approached Zalgo, keeping yourself just within hearing distance. He knew you were done with Iris, tilting his head to eye you just enough. The mouths on his body cast cold smiles to you, and Zalgo said, "Must we commence so soon? I was hoping to postpone our little lover's quarrel for a while longer."
"Lover's quarrel," you echoed, scoffing at the very idea that you could find Zalgo desirable in any fashion. "I'm here to get my revenge from the last time we met." Standing tall, you tried your best to hold an imposing demeanor. Zalgo was the final fight; this was no time for appearing weak; you were winded and littered with minor wounds, sure, but your body had plenty of remaining steam.
"How about a tea party first," Zalgo summoned a familiar table and tea set for two. It rose from the earth like a phantom, ignoring the typical laws of physics. "Just one more," there was a faint plea in his voice as the black and red being strode to take a seat at the table. He poured you each a cup. Your steps were hesitant; suspicious. The earth beneath your boots mumbled crunches of wariness. Zalgo watched you patiently.
Two steps from the table and you failed to give into the demon lord's wishes. Instead, you raised a leg and kicked the table onto its side with assertive force. "Fuck your tea party," you spat, a growl rumbling within your throat. Tea, ceramic, and woven metal clattered to the ground in a violent mess, only to have the earth drink away all evidence. Zalgo seemed unfazed, but you continued the attempt of intimidation. "We're doing this my way," you gripped the backrest of the empty chair at your side, swung it up, away, and under like a softball, then launched it dead center at Zalgo's sipping form.
Strike! Zalgo, his chair, and his teacup broke into several pieces, tumbling in a way that reminded you of bowling pins - the chair, your ball. They, too, sank into the earth; all became quiet. Your eyes searched for any movement that would signal Zalgo's next ploy. All was still.
Then, a wall of darkness rushed up before your eyes, nearly brushing the tip of your nose. It was all you could to hold your ground and show no sign of weakness. You knew that Zalgo was messing with you - testing you. A legitimate fight with him was no laughing matter - not for you. If he was ready to kill you, then he would have made his strike much earlier. With unwavering eyes, you craned your head to look up at the towering form that Zalgo had assumed. For the most part, his face remained the same, but his antlers had branched into many more; thick and robust. There were additional arms arching from his sides, some from his back, possibly totaling to eight or ten; you weren't quite sure. Oddly enough, the number of mouths remained the same. His abdomen was inches from your face, bringing disgust and discomfort to your list of current emotions. Neither of you wanted to give way to the other.
The last thing you said to Zalgo echoed in your mind, reminding you to keep up the pressure. "My way," you mumbled, then threw your arms around Zalgo's torso so that he couldn't escape. You opened your jaws, flexing your venom-laced fangs, and sank them into the crusty flesh of the demon lord. His muscles tensed against your invading teeth, and all of his arms gripped a place on your body in an effort to push you away. You held on tight, but he was much stronger; the moment you felt yourself give way, you lifted your fangs to safety before they could be broken. Zalgo pushed you away with such force that he sent you skidding and rolling across the ground for a fair number of yards. In all honesty, the worst damage you sustained was a rattled brain; your vision took a second or two before it returned to clear, adrenaline-fueled focus.
When you laid eyes on the demon lord, you witnessed him using his own arms to rip his body in three. He discarded the portion that sizzled and dissolved where you had bitten. It squirmed and stretched, fighting to survive through your venom's acidic effects. Moments later, the malformed portion of Zalgo's dismembered body seized up, and then fell limp to become a puddle. The healthier parts of Zalgo had been rejoining each other. He didn't seem any smaller, just as he didn't gain size from absorbing the centaurian Zalgoid earlier. It was difficult to determine how much power Zalgo was gaining or losing, if his loss of mass was anything to go by. More troubling than that, you now knew that biting one area wasn't going to be enough to defeat Zalgo. Somehow, you needed to get the venom everywhere as quickly as possible. It sounded easy enough, but you weren't sure if you could produce enough venom that quickly - better yet, bite him that quickly.
Zalgo watched you addle over his simple response to your attack. He reared back his head, holding a dominant posture, and grinned.
"So, all those minions didn't actually die," you asked, holding a steely gaze with Zalgo's crimson eyes.
"They did," Zalgo bluntly replied. "And yes, they could have just done as I did, but where's the fun in that?" He was meaning the fun in giving you a false sense of superiority. Zalgo had an excess of minions to use as fodder. So, why not get you complacent enough to make dire mistakes?
You stood straight, scanning over Zalgo's mutated form in search of any sign of weakness - some glimmer of hope. All you could think of was the possibility that Zalgo would eventually lose enough power to ensure your victory, but how much that would take, you couldn't fathom. Your mind ran in circles, finding problems to your solutions that lead to problems with further solutions - a snake eating its own tail.
A snake.
Were there some traits that you had yet to unlock? Experimenting during this fight was a risky move, but if something worked in your favor, then it would be worth it.
"What will you do now, dear ____?" Zalgo's seven grins spilled with inky insects and mist.
Silence; save for the innumerable incoherent whispers that buzzed in your ears.
"What a shame," Zalgo pouted, but only for a moment. He didn't spare you a warning of his next move; rushing straight for you, eight (or ten) arms cocked back and ready to strike.
Vines coiled around your torso and chest, abruptly pulling you back from Zalgo's strike before he could make contact. Three of his arms slammed into the ground where you once stood, exploding dust and debris around them. Your back connected with a solid form, instantly relieving you, though you hadn't yet figured out why. When you craned up your neck to examine your savior, you discovered the only being you wanted to see at this moment: Slenderman. He held you tight against his hunched form, protecting you like a mother dog to its pup. The view fondly reminded you of the time Eyeless Jack attempted to steal your kidney; hollow hissing, split mouth, and tight skin. This time, though, Slenderman looked to have seen better days. He was littered with scrapes and bruises, and his jagged mouth had smears of blood and bile. His suit jacket and tie had been lost to the war, leaving only a shredded, white shirt with a half-torn sleeve. At least he wasn't dead, and that eased your mind, if only a little.
"Sorry, Zalgo," Slenderman hissed, his chest expanding and reverberating against your back. "I have plans of grandeur for this one." Slowly, he lowered your form to the ground, where your feet planted firmly. As the tendrils slipped from around you, an emptiness replaced them. You didn't want to leave his touch just yet.
The demon lord placed a hand over his chest, contorting his face into an expression of offense. "Well, I do hope that your plans don't clash with mine, for you see," he then sneered darkly as he dropped his sights to you, "I also have something in mind for our sweet ____." At this, you stepped back closer to Slenderman, glaring daggers at the enemy.
Whipping is tendrils through the air, Slenderman made the first move, exclaiming, "I won't settle for joint custody!" He jabbed a couple tendrils at Zalgo, hoping to pierce through, but the demon lord wasn't so vulnerable. His verbal response was not what you had expected, considering its hinted sense of humor. Perhaps Slenderman was playing at Zalgo's game, using similar dialogue, for whatever reason you didn't see.
Before Slenderman could land his attack, Zalgo sank into the ground, just as his tea party furniture from before. You shifted with anticipation, expecting Zalgo to surface from beneath your feet. Your master was expecting the same, thus gripping your shoulders and Slender-walking the two of you several feet away. One of Zalgo's hands breached the earth, much like you would expect of a ghost phasing through solid objects. Then, another seven hands followed suit, grasping at nothing, expecting something. One hand retreated back into the ground, then reappeared a little closer toward you and Slenderman. Then, another hand did the same. Then another. They trailed to you with rapid pacing, each time hoping to wrap their clawed fingers around the intended targets.
This time, you didn't back down; you didn't let Slenderman whisk you away to a safer spot. No, with your master to accompany you in this fight, a new sense of energy surged through your veins. Venom filled your mouth, and you knew just what to do: use it recklessly. You charged for the oncoming hands, arms ready to grapple onto whichever breached within your reach. Slenderman called for you to stop, but you didn't listen. A hand phased through the earth just in front of you, rushing up and gripping your torso. You gripped back, immediately threw wide your jaws for a piercing attack. The clawed fingers squeezed tight, threatening to crush your bones. A downward thrust of your head, and you sank your fangs between the knuckles; venom pooled out from your lips, sizzling and dissolving Zalgo's flesh almost instantly.
The hand dropped, loosening its grip, and toppled over; dismembered. Feeling the hand's defeat, you wriggled free and stepped back to ensure that it would deliquesce away. So far, so good. Zalgo wouldn't be able to salvage this writhing appendage.
Then, you were surrounded. The other seven of Zalgo's hands surfaced and towered into the air, arching over you with intent to swat you like a fly. There was no escaping this dome that Zalgo had created, and you braced for the inevitable.
A grunt, and a shadow. You looked up to find that Slenderman had once again saved you from a painful demise. His tendrils were woven together above the two of you, pushing back Zalgo's hands. Both sets of appendages seemed to be struggling against the other. Slenderman and Zalgo were nearly equal in strength, and you wished that you could be a part of that. But you had an idea.
With the openings about knee-height for you, Zalgo's arms were left wide open for someone smaller to attack. You sneered, brandishing knife and shuriken with a quick lick of their blades. Again, you charged into the fray, hoping that Slenderman could hold on for a little longer. With a drop and slide between a pair of arms, you jabbed the knife into one, using it as an anchor, and slashed the other as you slid past to round the former. You lunged forward and clamped onto a third arm, once again biting and injecting your potent venom. The dry flesh of a Zalgoid wasn't something you would get used to; taste-wise, anyway.
Before you could move your attack to the another arm, Slenderman slid by, wrapping his long arms around your waist to pull you along. His tendrils seemed to be busy pushing the two of you from whatever danger his predicted. It was just in time to avoid the other four arms that had diverted back into the ground for another surprise. Zalgo reached up, hoping to pin you again, but was rewarded with nothing. Meanwhile, Slenderman stood the two of you up in preparation for whatever strategy Zalgo had in mind.
"Your chutzpa is insufferable," Slenderman exasperated, letting out a hiss as he watched Zalgo's remaining four hands phase back into the earth, leaving the three that you had marked to writhe and melt away.
You refreshed the coating of venom on your blades, finding your mouth adequately flooding. All of this excitement fueled you; the feeling of outsmarting Zalgo with your master was just the exhilaration that you needed for an efficient output. "Yeah, but it's working," you snarked in reply.
"Don't get complacent," the Tall One growled.
Finally, Zalgo rose from the earth in his entirety. The hand thing was getting annoying. He climbed out, much like someone clambering up the side of a swimming pool, and even shook himself to remove any bits of earth that had dusted his body. Upon seeing his full form, you realized that you were indeed miscounting his several arms; he started with ten, rather than eight. Now, you only saw six; any stubs of the other arms seemed to have been absorbed. A fleeting concern over why Zalgo didn't just regrow those appendages flashed through your mind. Was he trying to cause a false sense of power again? You adhered Slenderman's earlier wise words, make sure not to fall for Zalgo's trick.
For a moment, Zalgo examined his numerous claws, looking disappointed. He whined, "Do you know how hard it is to keep this looking good? And just look at my horns!" He pointed up to the robust rack of antlers, which you didn't see anything unusual about them. "It'll take me weeks to file everything down again."
"Shut up," Slenderman hissed deep, hunching forward with anticipation to begin the next round. "You fill me with such ire; it could only hinder you further."
"Hinder me?" Zalgo's face stretched into that of shock, quickly sinking into a flirtatious glare, "Oh, I believe you misunderstand, ol' Slendy. I have yet to be hindered." At that, Zalgo's body burgeoned and swelled in sporadic areas; his shoulders, his knees, one antler, then the other, his hips and chest. He grew to a towering size that would have the centaurian Zalgoids pale in comparison. New appendages, jagged and chaotic, branched forth in every direction. Some pierced the earth, and some twisted into the sky. Slenderman moved you both away before being crushed by one of these rooting limbs. Nearby Zalgoids and allies were caught in the commotion, most of them either lucky or able to avoid impalement. You watched in horror, feeling your mouth dry up, as Zalgo gave the world a good, hard look at his intimidating form.
"How," you gulped, tugging on your master's half-untucked shirt, "How are we supposed to fight this?" No matter how hard you tried to tear your eyes from Zalgo's wake, they remained frozen with fear. From the network of vision, you could see everyone else pause in aw at Zalgo, cursing up a storm, and some even dropping their weapons with overwhelming despondency. If things weren't ugly before, then they were going to be downright monstrous.
Without turning his head in an expression to look at you, Slenderman held his anticipating stance, and gave you a stern word of encouragement that only you could hear, You're not done. He knew you had latent power. He knew you were far much stronger than this. Such few words, yet you were back to the daring individual that braved risky options.
A single nod. Your venom began to flow again, though still not at its peek. The only thing stopping you was the indecisiveness of where best to strike Zalgo. Appendages would be a wasteful effort. Would attacking his torso be more effect? This chaotic demon lord was able to grow and repair himself just about anywhere, so it nearly seemed as though the target board was even territory. Slenderman didn't bother giving you any advice; perhaps he was at a loss, too. "Tch," you briefly grimaced. Playing it smart was getting you nowhere, so you forced yourself to move to the one place that made sense: Zalgo's head. It was the only part that you had yet to do any significant damage to. You charged first, your master Slender-walking elsewhere in hopes of distracting the enemy.
With each step closer to Zalgo, you noticed that he was much larger than he appeared. Zig-zagging branches lifted and pierced the ground around you like hundreds of spider legs. Some had smaller appendages of hands, others like crustacean claws, and others that had faces and muzzles with gnarly teeth. You really didn't want to get near these things, but you needed a way up to Zalgo's hovering body. First, you had to get closer, dodging each leg that carelessly stepped each time Zalgo shifted. If you did end up dangerously close to one, you would slash at it with a laced blade, recoating it each time. At least, this way, you were doing some sort of damage.
In the distance, Slenderman used his balled-up tendrils like a club, smashing and bludgeoning the attacking legs as he Slender-walked from one to another. Most of them recovered or used their new joints for increased dexterity. Hands, claws, and teeth would sometimes manage a grip onto Slenderman; tearing clothes, marring flesh. There was only so much that the Slender-being could do to Zalgo, if he was causing any permanent damage at all. Why he didn't simply stick by your side, you weren't sure. Perhaps he was worried that Zalgo could track his Slender-walks, thus wanting you to sneak your own way to him.
Eventually, you did make it as close as you could get to Zalgo's torso. The rest of the way consisted of choosing and climbing up a leg full of grabby-bity things. You did your best to jump from one muzzle to another, avoiding the arm and claw appendages with every chance you were given. The chaotic twists and turns of the clearly unstable legs made your arduous scaling that much longer. Unfortunately, you weren't always able to clear the danger. A sly hand or claw would avoid your view until you were well within range, thus snagging you by the coat or hair (or anywhere, really) when you thought you were safe. Luckily, they were easily slashed inert by your venom-laced blades.
The climb had rendered you heavily winded, to say the least. You had finally landed at Zalgo's hip, a clear view of his, thankfully, barren crotch. A quick focus on Slenderman revealed to you his current status: covered in more scratches, and now quite shirtless. You could only see brief hints of his topless body, but nothing to get worked up over. This wasn't exactly the time, either. Instead, you hoped that he would read more important thoughts that ran through your mind, Just bring me to his head! I can't keep climbing like this. And you can't keep fighting like that!
When did I ever give you permission to order me around, Slenderman snarled back. You saw him flash a daring look in your direction before having to return to his unrelenting fight.
With a sharp inhale, you fought back the submissive nature that your master had tried to ingrain into your head, I'm giving the orders because you're being an idiot! How are you helping right now? You're just wearing us both down and setting us up for failure! With him having Slender-walked closer, you managed to see Slenderman visibly flinch at your accusations. He had done it again. The clever Slenderman had let himself mysteriously be influenced by your presence. That's all it took for him to choose so unwisely. Slenderman froze at the sinking feeling in his chest. It was a fatal pause of realization.
One of Zalgo's nearby legs diverted its drop to the ground just enough to pierce right through your master's stomach, planting him into the mangled earth. Slenderman gripped the leg with his tendrils, crying out in agony, as he tried to break it away, pull it off of him, or anything. Meanwhile, you watched with trepidation and guilt, unable to reach your master for aid.
A shriek of fury pierced the air. Venom and saliva splattered onto nearby parts of Zalgo, though not enough to do major damage. You turned to the wall of flesh that you stood upon, stabbing it over and over with the knife you had stolen from his most loyal minion. The screaming didn't stop. You wouldn't stop. With each bout of audible ferocity, your lungs seemed to expand a little more than before. How dare Zalgo mortally harm your master? How dare he?! You wouldn't allow him to get away with this! Each stab with the knife had caused a grotesque ulcer in Zalgo's side, some of it sizzling from the venom you had originally licked onto the blade. If you could, you would dig straight through Zalgo with just that knife.
"You've always been pests," Zalgo's voice thundered through the air, halting your screams. "Buzzing in my ears with threats and fruitless aggressions." Then, you felt weightless. Zalgo's titanic form dispersed into a cloud-like swarm of void-black insects. The hum of their wings rattled your ear canals. It nearly distracted you from your hopeless descent.
Your shoulder crunched under the graceless weight of your body colliding with the earth. A heavy groan escaped your throat, but you struggled to inhale for a few moments. Gasping and coughing, you managed to steady yourself, climbing to your feet. One arm was busted now; great. Your eyes glowered at the darkened sky, wondering how to handle this new situation. A quick glance at Slenderman told you that he was still alive, but quite incapable of providing any assistance. It was back to just you and Zalgo.
The swarm condensed, drawing closer to you. The buzzing synchronized into Zalgo's booming voice, "It's oddly amusing to see just how far an inferior being will strive to overcome its superior, don't you think?" You swore you could vaguely see a grinning face in the myriads of insects.
With each breath, you felt your lungs loosen, easing themselves for better efficiency. You wanted to use that breath to blow Zalgo away, but you knew he'd just come back. It wouldn't be that simple. Then, an idea struck through your head like a lightning bolt of inspiration.
Zalgo's swarm drew closer, clearly creating a face of gentle expression as he hovered inches from your face. "Now then, ____. You seem to be in a predicament. So, I have a question for you."
"First," you huffed, "I have a question for you." You puffed, preparing your lungs for what you had planned, and then used the last bit of air to ask, "Are you afraid of the big, bad wolf?" Gawd, you hoped this worked, or you were going to look pretty damn stupid.
Zalgo knitted his bug-formed brows in perplexity.
Before the demon lord could reply, you rounded your lips and inhaled deeply, forcefully; each muscle around your rib cage pulled and stretched beyond the limits you once accepted. With every bit of air that you took in, so did Zalgo's swarming form. Each second felt like minutes as you focused on capturing each individual insect that obediently followed its cohorts. In reality, the feat only required a handful of seconds. And with the last fly screaming into your mouth, you chomped down to block its escape. The feeling of your chest having expanded easily three-fold was inconceivable, even absurd! It was almost as though you had become some character in a cartoon.
You could feel Zalgo's buzzing tickle your lungs, urging you to cough, but you had one last thing to do for this plan to work: you opened your windpipe, tilting your head back, and allowed your overflowing venom to run down into Zalgo's current prison. It flowed and flooded, and you could feel Zalgo panicking as his tiny, individual bodies bounced off the walls of your lungs. Carefully, you released bits of air to ease the strain on your body, knowing that Zalgo wouldn't dare draw closer to your venom, if he could help it.
Something bit your lung, and you couldn't hold it any longer. Lurching forward, you guffawed a spray of black insects, their tiny bodies glistening green. It took just as long to exhale it all as it did to inhale them. Your rib cage and skin shrunk like a balloon. A carpet of dissolving insects spread out before you, all screeching their tiny voices. Bile escaped your stomach, and you coughed out venom from your lungs for a solid minute. They burned fiercely, and you hoped that there was no permanent damage on your part.
Despite all that, you were far more focused on the success before you. A Proxy like you, so inferior to the full-fledged Creepypastas, had defeated Zalgo; or, at least, what you had been fighting of Zalgo. The war continued some several-hundred yards away. You noticed demon minions absorbing each other to gain power, but most were slain before they could escape or overwhelm their foes. No doubt, at least one was able to slither away into the ground, free to live another day as Zalgo's new vessel. As for the non-demon Zalgoids, some remained to fight until the end, while others abandoned any loyalty to their former lord. In the end, Zalgo had been dramatically abated; he was no longer a threat to the Slender Family or their allies; and, most importantly, he was no longer a threat to your master.
Coming to your senses, you whipped around, searching for Slenderman. He was propped up on an elbow, gazing at you with an expression you recognized: admiration. You've only seen it one other time, when he had awoken from his short coma in that abandoned cabin. His vague features had burned into your mind, savoring the rare moment. Here it was again; you had impressed the powerful Slenderman. You rushed to him, immediately seeing that his gaping abdominal wound was already regenerating. Slenderman used his tendrils to stand and hold himself upright until the muscular system healed back in his core. He reached out a long arm, and didn't bother warning you, before pulling your stunned frame into a gentle embrace. The both of you were aching terribly, and you reeked of blood, sweat, and saliva. Your shoulder was broken, your lungs and chest hurt, and the excessive adrenaline that had coursed through your veins was wearing off. Still, you didn't mind any of it. Such a reward, to feeling your master's warm embrace, for your stubborn endeavors was all you could ask for.
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FanfictionIt seems people have been stealing this story and posting it here, so I'll officially post it, myself. A novel inspired by this one-shot: https://www.deviantart.com/shadowsbyday/art/If-Only-Slenderman-x-Fem-Reader-472659391 Summary: [SlendermanxRead...
