HPDBC Chapter 92 - 92: Becoming Insane
Chapter 92 - 92: Becoming Insane
"Bullseye! Head separated!" Lyerin muttered to himself as he landed softly through the shattered glass, his boots crunching on the broken shards beneath his feet. He straightened up, dusting off his hands, and surveyed the room.
The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay, a sickly blend of metallic tang and rotten flesh that clung to everything like an invisible fog.
His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him: the twisted, lifeless form of the unknown Eldritch Flesher, its head now separated from its body, and the crumpled Tentatorn, its once formidable body now broken and still.
Lyerin chuckled darkly to himself, shaking his head in mild amusement. "I'm surprised to see these two fighting. Normally, they'd avoid each other like the plague." His gaze flicked to the Tentatorn's corpse, noting the deep gashes and crushed thorns that marred its form.
"The Tentatorn must've been really pissed," he mused, his voice barely more than a whisper in the oppressive silence of the room.
He paused then, his keen senses picking up on something he hadn't noticed before—there were people here.
Lyerin's lips curled into a slow, predatory smile as he turned his gaze towards the huddled group of survivors, their faces pale with fear, their eyes wide and filled with a mixture of terror and disbelief. "Perfect, I knew this mutated shit can find humans easily..." he whispered, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
Without wasting a second, Lyerin raised his hand, and an aura of dark energy began to form around him. His fingers twitched slightly as he focused, drawing on the eldritch mana that flowed through his veins.
The air around him seemed to shimmer, distorting as if reality itself was bending to his will.
Suddenly, goo-like objects, resembling thick, oily slime, began to coalesce in his hand, dripping from his fingers in thick, black strands.
With a flick of his wrist, Lyerin sent the goo flying towards the group of survivors.
The black slime moved with lightning speed, faster than any of them could react. It splattered across their bodies, binding them in place with an unyielding grip.
The sticky substance tightened around their limbs, forcing them to the ground, their screams muffled by the dark tendrils that wrapped around their mouths.
Lyerin watched them struggle, a cold smile playing on his lips as he approached the corpses of the mutated Flesher and the Tentatorn.
He crouched down beside the Flesher's lifeless body, his hand reaching out to press against its chest. His fingers sank into the decaying flesh,
They could only watch in horror as Lyerin dragged them away, their fates sealed.
The rest of the group could only watch in silent despair as Lyerin disappeared into the darkness, the sound of his footsteps growing fainter and fainter until it was nothing more than a distant echo.
The scene shifted as Lyerin emerged onto the rooftop, the cold night air biting at his skin. He looked out over the city, the distant sounds of moaning fleshers and skittering parasites barely audible over the wind.
Below him, the bridge highway stretched out like a ribbon of concrete, the metal thorns he had made.