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278 - Skullhead [Cherno]
🕑 Added 2025-05-19 05:10:22 +0000 UTC“I won this flesh in a fair duel agreed-upon by both parties,” the skull-headed man said, smugly.
Favonia gave him a hard stare. With a measure of controlled, yet seeping disgust in her voice, she spoke.
“How many before him did you bait into duels they had no chance of winning, by concealing your own strength, by devouring and impersonating those they had quarrel with?! Spare me your hollow words, and I will spare you mine — you and I both know this is no matter of law or heresy. Your existence offends me. I will slay you because it is inevitable that you be slain.”
The baneworm gave an exasperated chuckle.
“I suppose that is as valid a reason for killing as mine. There is just one problem — you wish to kill me, but I am in no state to take a new host just yet. What say you we reschedule, hm? Perhaps a few weeks out so that I can digest you properly? I’m joking, of course. I know of the lengths to which you have gone to ensure no creature such as myself can ever take hold of your flesh. How about I leave? I just walk into the steppe and go be a problem for whomever you wish, whomever the church needs destabilizing. How’s that sound? No? Try to kill each other, then? We can always do it elsewhere, away from the city.”
“There is more than enough space here for me to dispose of you,” Favonia spat, raising her left hand.
“Alright, so be it,” the baneworm acquiesced, holding his hand out to the side as he took up a swordsman’s stance. A vaguely sword-shaped distortion took form in the air. Krahe couldn’t sense the same explicit threat from him as she had from others of strength greater than her own, but there was an undeniable sense of foreboding nonetheless. It only made sense that a baneworm of this man’s provenance would have learned to conceal his true hand. As if to confirm this, he continued by openly unfolding several of his cards, doubtlessly to distract from an ace up his sleeve. “Electroplating. Repulsion Field. Contra-Barrier. Flesh Union. Freedom of Thought. Bone Crucible. Vasara Invincibility, Third Layer. Omniphage Blood. I have no illusions as to my ability to slay you, slaughter-witch, but how many of my defenses will you breach before I make my escape, I wonder? I am a monument wrought from the greatest strengths of all those I have bested. Not an iota of resentment courses through me, for all whom I have slain died believing me to be their rivals, they died having agreed to hand over all that was theirs, flesh and blood included! So come, Saint, try your hand at cutting down he who has shamed your high and mighty Twin Churches by walking the narrow path of your law!”
“Cast in the names of Igaria and Zavesh most holy, I decree you guilty! Hexenmesser: Airgetlamh!”
Krahe had neither the sight nor the speed of perception to comprehend Favonia’s ensuing transformation — all she could see was a blinding flash of red and silver, and the shockwave that passed through her when the transformation took place. Even the skull-headed baneworm staggered back. Favonia’s Mamon Armor, if it could be called that, was no full-body suit of techno-arcane plate, but a skintight sort of armor with fewer hard plates, and not even a full helmet, but only a lower-face mask, doubtlessly so as not to impede her hair. Her left arm had grown to an exaggerated extent, and its heretofore subtle blade was now half as far as Favonia was tall. Even her hair had grown, a writhing mass of tendrils more in line with what Krahe had seen during her dive earlier, glowing with a heat that somehow turned red into pink and even white towards the middle of larger bundles.
For a moment, Krahe thought she may have unconsciously entered another astrro-dive, so strongly it felt that the world had slowed down. Everything seemed to grind to a halt under the tyrannical presence, the oppressive avalanche of violent intent spilling out of Favonia as she fully settled into her transformed state. Even the baneworm, whom Krahe had mentally tagged as Skullhead, seemed frozen in place, struck still in a snapshot of smug self-confidence.
Favonia exhaled a great gust of scarlet steam through her mask, and the writhing aura of silver-red that was about her seemed to settle.
A MAJESTIC MOUNTAIN
PILED WITH THE CORPSES
OF GODS AND DEMONS
ATOP IT A SCARLET FLOWER
BLOSSOMING FROM GNARLED WOOD
UNSTOPPABLE VIOLENCE
IN THE NAME OF RIGHTEOUSNESS
MAMON KNIGHT
HEXENMESSER AIRGETLAMH
Slowly, ever so slowly, Skullhead’s sword hand tilted upward. No more than four seconds passed, despite stretching on and on. The exchange of entirely inhuman violence that followed was well beyond Krahe’s ability to perceive. Everything shook and her ears rang as a rapid series of explosions rocked the warehouse, and countless new gashes joined the many that already painted the floor. What little furniture still remained scattered about was quickly annihilated in the incomprehensible exchange of blows, painted to Krahe’s sight only as smears and flashes of writhing light and vague motion. Every once in a while, here and there, she could pick out part of an exchange, but that was it. Suddenly, the very idea of acting within the battle of these inhumans seemed absurd.
But even so, she waited, waited and watched, observing as the general zone of annihilation resulting from Favonia’s and Skullshead’s battle moved through the warehouse. They could traverse the entirety of it withion moments, and they did zip back and forth, but for some reason they tended to clash within the same general area. She could vaguely make out some shouting whose volume far surpassed any human voice, but couldn’t discern its contents — her only hint as to what had been said was the fact she suddenly began noticing a great deal more attention from Skullhead directed towards her. Just occasional glances, but the caution and focus within them was piercing and cold.
