The giant nightmarish-colored lizard's claw swings toward Virgil with so much force I can hear the air whistle through its movement. Virgil is helpless and immobile from the Amikuk's roar, the Ether being too insidious and infectious to hold off without preparation.
Upon seeing the incoming strike, I immediately redirect my Daydream that guards my mind and instead turn it to amplify the Bloody Palm from which the dream defends me. I'm going to need its healing badly for what is to come.
I take two significant steps with as much power as possible. Squelches and lizard blood go everywhere from the force of my movement, and I jump toward Virgil, placing myself between him and the claw as I push him out of the way. Then, I turn quickly as the deadly claw of incredible size comes flying toward me and breathe out my Struggler Gasp.
The air that comes out of my lungs full of Ether is powerful and pushes against the claw with tremendous might. The might of a miniature sandstorm or tornado. But it's not enough. Not nearly enough.
The Amikuk's claw moves through the air toward me, beset by a deafening zephyr. It only slows a little bit before it impacts my body, the palm of the claw slamming into my torso. The air from my lungs mostly just moved me to meet the palm's momentum, partly diffusing the damage to my body by moving with it.
But again, the effect was not enough.
A heavy crack comes from my body at the moment of impact, and I feel my vision go dark. Wind sweeps over my body until my back bashes into hard stone, and I roll over the rocks limply. Surprisingly, no pain is felt from the attack.
Gunshots and yells grow louder in my ears after I am hit, but I can barely recognize them. The shock from the claw that struck me is all-encompassing. My legs are numb. My arms are numb. My chest and torso are numb. My brain must have been rattled by the hit.
A few moments pass until my vision returns, and when it does, I see a worrying sight. One that does not reflect the lack of pain I feel.
My torso is bent and misshapen, and a considerable dent sits in the center of my chest, barely missing my heart. A spike of stone that the Amikuk must have created or shifted with its Ether pierces through my stomach, pinning me to the ground.
My legs are fine, just roughed up, but my right arm is ruined. It looks more like a zigzagging lightning bolt than a limb. Blood rapidly pools around me, fountains of it emerging from my wounds. The telltale sign of the Bloody Palm keeping its host alive.
I can see my body shift and heal toward the ideal state in real time. The Ether of the Bloody Palm intertwines with mine and regenerates my body at an unseen rate. It seems as though the longer I'm bonded to it, the more effective it becomes in every way. Healing my body and infiltrating my mind.
The inner demon I've come to know quite intimately constantly nips and bites at my mind as it heals me. I accept the Bloody Palm's help but refuse every attempt it makes on my soul. And to further condense my focus, I need to move.
Staying still and numb is terrible for focus, at least for me. I'm most concentrated on something in the heat of combat. I've learned that quite quickly these past few months. Or weeks? I'm not sure. I've never been good at keeping track of time.
It is almost winter, though, so that is at least a decent tracker; it doesn't matter, though. Not now.
I command my numb arms to move and lift me off of the spike that impales me. I need to return to the battle and help however I can. Slowly, my arms move amidst the cracks and shifts occurring throughout my body to recover. I'm on my back, so I move my arms to my left to work together in unison.
Eventually, my roughed-up palms touch the stone beneath me to my left. I take one short and limited gasp of air, my pain still numbed from the lungs that are particularly crushed, and I push.
Only when I push is the numbness overwritten. And it is overwritten with blinding pain that sends flashes of black and white across my eyes, the pain so great it physically affects me.
The demon within also lashes out at me harsher than usual; I'm unsure if it is trying to stop me from killing us or merely taking advantage of the distraction. But the reason doesn't matter, as this tantrum of whispers and dark murmurs finally breaks through.
At my weakest and most desperate for the poisoned well that is the Bloody Palm, it truly enters my mind. I can feel invisible fingers touch my very mind and move me. Fingers that scream with harsh sounds of survival, desire, and unending hunger for blood.
For a few moments, I lose control of my own body. And the hand that is not mine takes control of the reins. Watching like a passenger in my own body, I see myself push off the spike of stone and stand steadily despite the injuries. It almost looks like the Bloody Palm is so used to near-death injuries that nothing will phase its balance or coordination.
The second I realize that I am no longer the master of my own fate, I fight against what locks me within my own body. I rage against the dark rhetorical chains that it has placed on my soul that try to not only keep me from my own body but also devour me wholly. Like being trapped in a small box in the dark with only a small light to see out, I go berzerk and attack the jail.
The Bloody Palm takes a few more steps toward where Virgil, Vernon, and the Amikuk are fighting to the death, and while it does so, my body heals at an unbelievable rate. I watch its powers with amazement.
After one step, the hole that was punctuated entirely through my torso with the spike closes. The wound closes like the shutter of a camera.
After two steps, the dent in my chest fixes itself, almost bouncing back; it heals so fast and returns to normal.
After three steps, the internal injuries fade, and I feel myself breathing normally once again. Better than expected, actually, almost as if each and every breath imbibes Ether into my body.
After four steps, all the wounds over my whole body disappear, even the ones from previous fights that have not yet wholly faded. All the scars I've ever had sink away and are replaced by fresh skin.
After the fifth step, I realize that something awful is happening to my body. I look just like I did in the forest way back then, so malnourished it's almost as if I'm a starving zombie. It's devouring me to recover so that it can fight and consume more. Like a banker, it's thinking, lose some flesh now, make it back later. The thought of it makes me sick.
And on the fifth step, it only gets worse, as the Bloody Palm creates a spear of blood from the tip of its fingers on my left palm. At this point, my entire left arm is just bones with skin over them. No muscles, fat, or even tendons really exist. All the things that can be quickly devoured have been for more power.
The being that only seeks to feed aims at the most vulnerable target, Vernon, who has his back to me and who doesn't expect to be stabbed in the back. Virgil has recovered at this point and is still fighting the Amikuk, both of them being heavily wounded.
Every single step and action it took only made me fight harsher, more frenzied against its control, but the sights weren't enough for me to truly fight back until I saw this.
I will not betray someone. I will never stab a friend in the back. I refuse to be a traitor. Traitors deserve the Red Court of Suffering, the deepest part of the underworld. The one where the Red Judge punishes the dead himself. I not only wish to never meet the Devil, but I also don't want to ever hurt a companion.
So, I fight with the greatest impetus yet against the Bloody Palm, one more important than even my life. I'm not against dying; I'm only against breaking before I've done what I wanted to. There is much for me to do, and if I kill a friend along the way, what's the point?
As I, puppeted by the Bloody Palm, raise the bloody spear in my left hand, I push back into my mind with all I got. The whispers create an almost impenetrable cell to hold me in. I take a split second to recognize what is holding the mental me.
I'm being chained up. It might only be mental, but I know a way to loosen chains. Not only that, but I realize that my Daydream is still faintly active, the Bloody Palm unwilling to turn it off because it enhances the artifact.
Using my mind and connection to my own stream of Ether, I force it to reach me. A Daydream of an indomitable mind. One that cannot be touched in any way. One that cannot be overtaken or chained.
My inner demon might be very real compared to others, but that doesn't mean I can't dream it away, too, with enough willpower.
If even The Cabin says the world will shift to my dreams, then, even so, will this damned artifact.
I can feel the Daydream that is releasing me from the prison I am placed within, slightly resonating with my Sigil. A slight vibration comes from the back of my mind like a pulse of approval. I take this as a sign that what I'm doing is right, and using this stream of Ether, I rage against my mental prison just before the Bloody Palm releases the spear made up of my own congealed blood.
A shamble occurs in my moving body as the fight for dominance over it reaches a pivotal point, both inside and out. Right as I break out of the mental prison and meet the Bloody Palm once more in a contest of fortitude, the spear is released from my hand. But thankfully, the stumble and shift of positioning from my attempt to regain control over my body make the deadly spear of crimson essence change its destination.
Instead of hitting Vernon, who was diagonal from me, it is sent soaring through the air as fast as an arrow into the side of the Amikuk. The spear of my own life sinks deeply into the giant lizard before disappearing entirely within its body, and the creature immediately pauses in its assault on Virgil to look at me.
After seeing that not only did it not kill its prey but that the victim of its strike attacked it once more, it becomes outraged. The dark lizard that is the length of over five adult men charges at me with fury and another roar full of murky Ether that eats into my body.
Giant thunderous steps resound throughout the inner core of the Amikuk den as it charges at me with primal might. Each slam onto the ground shifts the rock and sand beneath my feet and urges me to win the contest of wills against the damned artifact.
I command my limbs to move, and the Bloody Palm does the opposite, doing everything possible to stay in control, but I don't allow any of it. A low growl comes from my core as I try to move before the Amikuk reaches me and either crushes or eats me.
I don't know what the spear of blood is meant to do, but it doesn't appear as though it is doing anything right now. I'm unsure what's more worrying, to be honest, an attack that would have straight up killed Vernon or one that would have insidiously entered his body. Either way, it's good that I was able to stop it.
But I won't settle for just that; this is my damn body and not the fucking artifact's body. The sheer force of my mental resistance against the Bloody Palm makes my body finally move, teeth gritting and hands clenching. Minor effects but noticeable signs of progress.
Yells from Vernon and Virgil reach my ears, telling me to move, but I cannot act on them, my own left hand keeping me still despite the danger that approaches. Only when the nauseating breath of the lizard bears down on us and the imminent threat of death touches our senses does the Bloody Palm relent.
The main thing it seeks is survival, after all, and if I don't move now, we both die. From what I've sensed from the palm, it seems as though if the artifact loses a host, it will die too. So, the palm subsides its attempt on my mind temporarily, allowing me to jump to the side just before the lizard bites off my entire torso. Instead, a lack of feeling in my right foot emerges alongside waves of pain in my brain.
I look down to my right foot, which is now missing several toes and half of my boot, as I see the lizard slam into the spikes it had created for me to slam into earlier. Most tips merely cushion it, but some break off scales and draw blood.
The stupid lizard must have assumed me unable to dodge because of its roar and didn't even try to restrain me with its tendrils, mud, or roots, instead focusing them on Virgil and Vernon. After the close encounter with death, the Bloody Palm reemerges and attacks my mind, but now that I have control over my body, I also have control over all my Ether.
And while I may be exhausted after using Strugglers Gasp, it seems as though the Bloody Palm made an effort to clear some of the Ether from my body when it was healing my body with its own. I guess veins, muscles, bones, and organs fully saturated by Ether slowed down the effects of its own abilities. It appears as though the connection can be symbiotic, each of us clearing the other's system partially with our own Ether. Too bad the palm doesn't want symbiosis.
That might be something good to know for later. A sufficiently saturated system can repel foreign Ether. I guess that actually makes perfect sense because of how I pushed away the Amikuk's roar. That and that foreign Ether can partially remove Ether saturation. I suppose that what causes the breakdown of the body is too much Ether of the same type? Do different kinds of Ether get expelled at different rates? Who knows. I'm sure I'll figure it all out eventually.
I use this advantage of having some Ether cleared from my body and being pushed away from the Ether saturation limit to force everything I possibly can to Daydream against the Bloody Palm. I change it from using probably around ten percent of the maximum Ether I can reasonably handle at a single time to fifty, which also makes it almost impossible to keep up Adrenaline Surge as well without just killing myself from Ether saturation at the moment.
To solve this, I would need to get better at Braiding, Condensing, or Infusing Ether with my will to become more efficient, none of which I can do at the moment. So instead of being able to do anything at all without fighting for my very own body, I release the flow of Adrenaline Surge, feeling the wave of even more lethargy and weight from the restriction of Daydream flow through me.
This act does save my mind, although it weakens my body significantly. The whispers and constant assault on my mind recede as the chains around my whole body tighten into a vice except for those on my mind, those I feel loosen. More than ever before.
Gritting my teeth and cursing while looking at the Amikuk that is now turning back to look at me, I crawl toward the approaching Virgil, who is dripping blood and sweat in equal amounts.
The Amikuk sends over a dozen tendrils of shadow to grab me and prevent me from escaping. Unable to resist, I am restrained once more, only this time, it's a physical restraint that will lead to my body's death and not the end of my mind.
I thrash and fight futilely against the shadows that bind me as they slowly force their sickly Ether into my system and make me slow and fall even further into the depths of lethargy. After a few seconds, I lay limp in its grasp as it lifts me toward its mouth.
A cascade of bullets impacts the lizard's face near where I am heading. Vernon does his best to help, but the lizard shakes them off. Six fist-sized holes are just not enough to make the lizard flinch or retreat in what it is doing.
Virgil also tries to help me as he reaches the lizard, takes two quick steps, Flickers entirely through a claw, and climbs onto its head. I see him stumble and hold his head with one hand after the Flicker, the jump into the Bakwa's incomprehensible realm damaging his mind. But Virgil is not a man to be stopped by mere pain, even if it's to the soul. He flips his bowie knife into a reverse grip and stabs it into the right eye of the Amikuk.
Both of their efforts are not enough to make the Amikuk drop me, for it seemingly just wants to devour me like a night-time snack. The moment that the shadow tendrils place me into its open jaw, something incredible happens.
A rush of flesh, gore, viscera, and blood exit its throat and goes flying straight toward me alongside a cry of pain from the Amikuk. I open my eyes as wide as possible with the lethargy affecting me, unwilling to face my death like a coward.
If I am to be claimed by Death, I will do it as my teacher did. Unfaltering in my resolve.
But my resolution against death fades slightly as I feel something familiar within the flying massacre.
I feel the Ether of the Bloody Palm.