Chương 181: The real danger
Boredom. For almost his entire conscious life, he has been accompanied by nothing but incredible boredom. The curse of the long-lived, whose soul and mind are simply not adapted for such a long life. The ability to broadcast its own will through thoughts, even in its early stages of development, turned the unassuming-looking millipede into a very dangerous opponent for the entire Forest, making the situation even worse. It never experienced the excitement of battle, for it need not strain to lure another unfortunate victim to it. Sometimes, of course, she was unlucky enough to encounter some too hard-headed specimens, but the monster always had a couple of strong subordinates on hand to take them down for souvenirs.
So year after year passed. Time flowed differently in the Kingdom of Rot, and more than one generation of grotesque creatures had passed through the closed dimension. Some newcomers didn't even know that there was a world outside the Blood Vale, because with the destruction of the avatar, the vile mages had sealed the passage to the real world, and now only a few blacksmiths could accidentally summon some rotten creature, allowing it to smell freedom, and at the same time to get the necessary energy for their own development and strengthening. It was foolish to think of the past, though, especially since the millipede knew of the other world only from the stories of the talkative Ancients.
Alliances based on strength would eventually dissolve. Some managed to rise in the process, only to fall in the end, making way for more adaptable and stronger kin, while he continued his miserable existence on the outskirts of the Forest, not even expecting to move to the next level and evolve into something more.
The only glimmer of light in the years of endless hunting was a name. Ningetsukai. That was what one of the younger ones had called him, tugging at the invisible strings of his soul. It was a pity that the Puppeteer was too frightened by the sudden loss of control and instead of having an interesting conversation, he had arranged for an extraordinary feeding, although the danger was minimal.
Skills replaced the native whisper of Rot, and the apathy seemed endless, but at one point everything changed. The world itself shuddered, and from somewhere in the depths came the Call. Yes, it somehow sounded more like a pitiful squeak, but for creatures who had never felt such a clear influence of their aspect in their lives, it was too attractive, promising strength and freedom. It was unlikely that more or less intelligent creatures would give in to such pathetic entreaties, for there was no Force behind the call, but Ningetsukai simply wanted to dispel boredom. The death of a shell in another world wasn't something he'd die for, as his instincts clearly hinted at.
It was enough only to give in to this call, and now he was already gingerly climbing over the unusually fragile and thin paws, climbing out of a huge piece of flesh, suspended in the center of a monumental room, whose floors and walls were made of a strange black metal, mottled with magical symbols.
"Welcome to the Earth dimension," the Puppeteer was distracted from contemplating his new shell by a voice full of superiority. A strange man in a black cloak stood nearby, his face as if skinned. The monster's first inclination was to subdue the weak creature to find out what was going on, but as soon as he concentrated a little, probing his interlocutor, he literally froze, for the creature in front of him was a concentrated blob of purest rotten energy. The creature before him was a concentrated blob of purest Rot energy, the kind of unity with the Element not even the most powerful Ancients could emit.
"Master?"
"Oh, well, at least someone thought to use their brain," the man said, clearly pleased. - So you'll be perfect for the job at hand.
Arkane's orders were clear: capture the Crimson Lodge and bring it to the tower. The seemingly easy task was not so simple, for not only was it a dumb-headed creature with no telepathy and whose opinion had to be reckoned with because of the abnormal power, but the actions of the avatar of Rot had become more and more impulsive over time, as if he had never felt the full power of the aspect. Another order to all nearby monsters to grab the detected target would only result in the vessel being torn into many small pieces by the deranged creatures. Fortunately, the millipede's mental power was enough to stop and then drive away the determined younger ones. But with a normal human, telepathy suddenly misfired. The young man in the dark tight suit, at first glance, was nothing special, but he did not even notice the attempted mental attack, in addition, his strength and agility allowed him to avoid the deadly embrace, and afterwards, the two high-ranking monsters.
Even with the instant regeneration, the pain of the encounter with the ape-like kin was terribly unpleasant, and sobering at the same time. So the first impulse to kill the insolent man was pushed aside, and instead the Puppeteer first fully regenerated his wounds, and then decided to focus on his main goal, sensing a source of unusual energy nearby.
The monster had almost caught up with its victims. There was only a measly hundred meters between them in a straight line as steel flashed and the world turned into a merry-go-round, reflecting in its faceted eyes.
"This one's a little weak," he said with a light kick to the side.
"I gather he can control these things, it hardly takes outstanding strength to do so."
"It's still weird... Aggh!"
The big green man roared in sudden pain as a multitude of sharp paws pierced his leg in several places, locking the limb securely in a gruesome grip. Without a second thought, he swung his sword at his own limb, giving himself room to maneuver, and the magic sword immediately began to slice the fat carcass apart.
"Damn, he's regenerating too fast!"
~Tresk~
"Shock batarang doesn't work? - Nightwing was a little surprised, because he remembered that last time the Dark Knight's weapon had made the enemy slow down a little.
"I don't care, just don't let him grow a head! - Frankenstein correctly recognized the main danger and, deftly moving on one leg, began to chop the place where the head should theoretically grow.
The battle lasted for about thirty seconds, when the heroes realized that now they had to use almost twice as much effort to inflict a new wound or cut off another sharp paw. It's almost as if their enemy is slowly adapting to the damage. And the saddest part was that despite the desperate resistance of the two heroes, the millipede still imperceptibly grew a head on the opposite side of the carcass, although it took a relatively long time due to the complex structure of the brain, which acted as an amplifier of telepathic powers.
"You will know pain! - Knightwing was distracted from his fascinating mutant slashing by a chillingly familiar hissing voice.
The young crime fighter realized that he simply had no time to do anything, and soon hundreds of creatures would run into the alley, as an unknown force abruptly pulled him off the ground and slammed him into the nearest wall. The Puppeteer himself froze, trying in vain to understand why a man in a purple suit had decided to help him. He thought until the new head suddenly shattered into pieces, catching a bursting bullet fired from a monstrous revolver.
"Joker? - Batman's adopted son said perplexed, rubbing his lower nineties where the former supercriminal had struck. - Hey, why?! - He was outraged when the man came up and gave him an additional ringing slap.
"As a precaution! You don't have the brains to go into an infected neighborhood anyway."
"Hey, guys, let's save the parenting for later. We've got to finish this thing off somehow," Frankie shouted irritably, whose other leg had also managed to get a couple of wounds.
***Ten minutes earlier***
Everything was going just fine. The Crimson Lodge had been found, his friend, whose arm had begun to mutate because of infected blood, was being helped by the best experts in the business (Gaius and Simon), burning out any hint of Rot emanations with demonic energy. All I had to do was wait for Green Lantern's personal transportation, and then I could get out of this asylum. That's what I thought until Beastboy, overly emotional from his meeting with the Justice League official, casually mentioned that a superhero in a tight black suit with a blue checkered chest had helped them. To be fair, at the very beginning of the meeting my unusual interlocutor could hardly control himself not to become hysterical, because his loved one was standing with one foot in the grave. Only after my assurances that everything would be all right, light spells of calmness and the beginning of treatment, during which the growth of rotten flesh was noticeably reduced, and the man stopped lashing out, obviously wishing to leave the area, Bistboy's good mood returned.
"I tried to slow down the stream of consciousness, which, in addition to the current situation, was just a sea of self-promotion, as if we had not an apocalypse in a single city, but a job interview for League membership. Apparently, the spell of calm was unnecessary, because my reputation is still not the best, even when compared to lesser known heroes like Green Arrow. - What did you say the name of the superhero who rescued you was?
"He didn't introduce himself, but he was definitely imitating Batman. I've seen him use throwing projectiles that look like batarangs," the green boy said excitedly.
"Does he look like this? - I create a simple illusion over the palm of my hand in the shape of a Knightwing figure, and mentally ask the universe that it was just a coincidence. It's a big world, and there's no telling who could have made a tight black suit with blue elements.
"Yeah... You want to invite him to the League? Maybe you'd consider me for the league. I can do this," I blinked, and instead of a guy, a green dog jumped around me, wagging its tail like a propeller.
"Or like this," the dog barked distinctly, demonstrating that he could control the depth of the change, since a dog's mouth was hardly suitable for human speech.
Another moment, and now a rather large green snake was slithering around.
The most curious thing was that the change of image was almost imperceptible, differing from the transformation of demons, during which you can easily see not the most appetizing details. Weight also appeared to be changing, as well as overall dimensions. Actually, the energy of the Crimson just allows you to change the body, adopting the properties of various living creatures, and not only from the animal kingdom. But such metamorphosis is usually very limited. For example, you can get the speed of a cheetah with partial transformation of legs or the strength of a gorilla, as Shepard did, to more effectively destroy opponents. Beastboy, on the other hand, demonstrates a full transformation with minimal energy expenditure. However, the guy's energy is still too low to maintain large forms for a long time, so in five seconds he returned to his standard appearance.
"You should start by mastering the transformation better and picking up a few optimal forms for different situations, so that you can transform on reflexes alone. And increase your reserve, so that you can hold the transformation longer."
"Rob keeps telling him that, but Beastie won't even listen. He's all about being a superhero," the man in the magician's costume said.
"But I can really help people. The superhero who saved us was all about fighting and using gadgets."
"This 'superhero' is going to get his ass kicked as soon as I get my hands on him. So I suggest you think seriously about whether or not you need it," I left the last word to myself, activated the glyph under my feet, and galloped toward Nightwing's intended location.
Before I was even half a kilometer from the temporary camp, I heard Frankie's three-story curses. The living dead man, who had managed to lose a shin somewhere, was furiously hacking away at a ghastly eight-foot-long, fat mutant carcass, which looked like a millipede because of the pile of sharp legs and segmented body like a gut. The monster, despite the constant loss of limbs, was quite successfully growing new ones, which were trying to pierce the green big guy's head or at least wound his hands, and sometimes the damage still passed, leaving long wounds on his body, from which green blood slowly flowed out. Anyone else would have died of blood loss long ago, or gone insane from the horrible pain, but the genius of Dr. Frankenstein only cursed loudly as he continued to cosplay the fan.
Gloomy Mouse's protégé tried to do his part as much as possible, but it was obvious that he was doing the bare minimum of damage. The batarangs, including the ones that could electrocute, did the most damage to the top layer of his skin, after which it regenerated very quickly, pushing out all the unnecessary objects.
I was about to intervene when I noticed an unusual concentration of energy near the millipede's tail. I was about to intervene when I noticed an unusual concentration of energy near the millipede's tail, but the dark mana was quite dense, but at the same time it seemed too ephemeral, and the dense threads floating within the cloud were also suggestive of the School of Reason. And the total amount of energy hinted at the fact that the duo was a tough opponent, because the amount of his reserve was comparable to what I'd seen from Brother Simon. Even Abby was having some trouble with him; at least, she'd used at least a hundred of my reserves to destroy him.
The distance to the target was long enough to make firing a revolver seem foolish. So I began to shorten the distance, realizing at the same time that I was running out of time. The bastard had already managed to grow a head with a bunch of faceted eyes and at the same time to almost double the concentration of strange energy around it, obviously preparing to use some kind of telepathic ability. Considering that the enemy was practically oblivious to the pain of Frankie's attacks, I decided to break the concentration with a slightly unconventional method, and at the same time take my breath away. Hell, if this plan failed, we'd have to fight off hordes of mutants, and then it wouldn't be a good time to be educational.
I had to seriously weaken the blow and increase the area of effect, using the glyph to keep him from breaking anything. The plan worked perfectly, disrupting the creature's concentration, which was reflected in a sharp decrease in the density of the black fog. It was enough time to aim and fire an expansive bullet into the ugly creature's head, whose power was further enhanced by the light enchantments.
Dick's slap finally put me in a good mood, but it was too soon to relax. The monster clearly didn't plan to die so easily and began to concentrate his forces again, this time choosing the side of the carcass, partially covered by the wall of the dilapidated house.
"Frankie, stand aside! - I ready the napalm grenade along with the ice spear spell, which I had to modify immediately.
"Got it! - Helping himself with his sword, the dead man quickly left the target zone.
~Shuh, shuh, shuh, shuh~
A few batarangs stab into the mutant, but almost immediately the wounds heal, and the flesh is a little tougher where they hit. Holy shit, this is the last thing I need is another Doomsday parody to make me happy. Hmm, although one of the projectiles clearly penetrated deeper than the others, and the wound took a little longer to heal, so I choose an area with more pinkish flesh, where I launch the ready spell. The idea turned out to be right, and the ice spear is thrust deep into the carcass, where it opens like a flower, and then a napalm grenade flies inside the resulting hole. A couple more gifts are sent to different parts of the body to do as much damage as possible.
"It won't keep him long," the big man grumbled grudgingly, watching the monster convulse, unable to get the fire down. - We should try exorcism.
"Exile?"
"Uh-huh, most rotten creatures can be considered possessed since their real bodies aren't here. At least if Arcane hasn't had time to create a passageway...
- Hmmm... Why didn't John and Fate say anything about this?
"Because it's usually easier to damage the body itself and destroy the energy centers rather than do an exorcism, but this thing is too big and regenerates quickly."
"Huh, I didn't think I'd need John's lessons so soon. I tossed the gun, sloppily painted in red and green stripes, to the outraged Nightwing. Originally it had a black coloring and a Bats symbol on the buttstock, but my sense of beauty just wouldn't let me leave it as it was. - If you see a head formation, shoot it immediately, while Frankie and I prepare the ritual seal.
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