"Embrace this poor soul, O Lord Vessa!"
The prayer echoed off the tunnel walls with the weight of genuine devotion and raw faith. It was the voice of a crazy man, but that of the one desperate for death.
The black pill disappeared down the old man's throat.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
The tunnel held its breath, waiting for something that might be salvation or damnation-or both. The tension was thick in the air, as if even the mountain itself was listening.
Then the old man began to change.
His skin began to darken, taking on the color of charcoal and shadow. What had been wrinkled flesh stretched and expanded, muscles bulging beneath the surface with unnatural growth. His spine didn't just straighten-it lengthened, adding inches to his frame until he towered over everyone present.
Bone cracked and reformed as his skull expanded, the sound like breaking bones echoing through the tunnel. His jaw extended with wet, tearing sounds, sprouting fangs that gleamed like ivory daggers in the winker-light. His nose flattened and spread, becoming something bestial and predatory.
But it was the horns that made everyone understand they were no longer looking at anything human. They erupted from his skull with spurts of black ichor, curving backward like a ram's but wickedly sharp at the tips. His hair grew wild and coarse, cascading down his shoulders in a mane that seemed to move with its own life. His fingers elongated into claws that could rend steel, each nail gleaming like polished obsidian.
His eyes burned with hellfire. When he blinked, the lids moved sideways like a reptile's, and his pupils had become vertical slits that seemed to drink in the light around them.
The tattered rags of his former clothing hung in shreds from his transformed frame, revealing skin that was no longer skin but something closer to hardened leather, marked with scars that formed intricate patterns across his chest and arms. Dark veins pulsed beneath the surface, carrying something that definitely wasn't blood.
The old man was gone.
In his place stood a creature torn from the darkest nightmares of men who ventured too deep into forbidden places.
Part demon, part beast, and a past human, filled with nothing but rage.
When it opened its maw, the sound that emerged was like grinding millstones mixed with the howl of a dying wolf.
-GROOOWWOO!
Saliva dripped from its gaping mouth, filled with rows of razor-sharp canines. The sound reverberated through the tunnels like a death knell, and the underground descended into chaos.
People screamed. They ran in every direction, stumbling over mining carts and each other in their desperation to escape the nightmare that had just been born in their midst. The organized world of the pit shattered like glass, replaced by pure animal terror.
Captain Sarkas stood frozen, the pale green aura around his sword dissolving like morning mist. It took him a heartbeat to process what he was seeing, and when understanding finally crashed over him, his face went white as bone.
He didn't speak. He didn't shout orders or rally his men.
He turned and ran!
Ran with all the dignity of a man fleeing a house fire.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" The curses poured from his mouth as his boots slapped against stone, his sword still clutched but forgotten in his desperate sprint toward the elevator.
The miners stood paralyzed for a crucial second, watching their supposed protector abandon them. They'd expected him to fight, to use his Deviant powers to save them. Instead, they watched his retreating form, leaving them alone with something that shouldn't exist.
When they turned back toward the beast, it was staring directly at Eighty-Seven.
Those vertical pupils had locked onto him like crossbow bolts finding their mark. The creature's nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of blood that painted him from ear to chest. In its alien gaze, there was only hunger and the promise of violence.
"Fuck!" This time, it was Eighty-Seven who cursed.
He dropped the pickaxe with a clatter and spun toward Russ. The scarred man stood watching everything unfold with that same satisfied smile, showing no concern for his safety.
"You bastard!" Eighty-Seven started running toward him, his wounded body protesting every step. "Like hell I'll die alone! You're coming with me!"
But just as he built up speed, something passed him like a lightning bolt made of flesh and fury.
-Swish!
It moved so fast that Eighty-Seven only sensed it after it had already gone by, leaving him staring at empty air and the lingering smell of sulfur. He slowed to a stop before Russ, confusion written across his bloodied features.
The beast hadn't come for him at all.
Instead, it was charging toward Captain Sarkas with the single-minded focus of a hunting hound. The captain was still dozens of yards from the elevator when claws longer than daggers caught him across the back, sending him flying through the air like a broken doll.
Sarkas hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet with the trained reflexes of a soldier. His sword had come up just in time to block the strike.
"Fuck!"
He cursed, raising his sword to block the following strikes.
Steel rang against obsidian claws as he defended. The impact sent him skidding backward, his boots carving furrows in the stone.
The beast's eyes had turned crimson, blazing with insane fury as it pressed its attack.
Sarkas looked up at the nightmare bearing down on him, then his gaze found Russ limping calmly toward the elevator.
"You sly fox," he panted between sword strokes.
Russ's smile widened. "I hope you liked my present."
As if summoned by some prearranged signal, miners began emerging from the tunnels-not the usual broken-down wretches, but men who moved with purpose, and among them was the giant. About twenty of them formed up around Russ, and one of them stepped forward to support Eighty-Seven's wounded form.
"I'll remember your support, Captain Sarkas," Russ called over the sounds of battle, his voice carrying easily through the chaos.
The escape plan had finally begun.
─── ✦ ✦ ✦ ───