Chapter 579: Run. Hide.
The creatures of the fey cried out and fled as Mason raced through the godpaths. The Stag was back and running beside him, telling him the demon battle was still raging without needing to speak. At first the beast ran beside him in silence, then called out a warning. But not for him.
The Avatar of the Horned god hunts. Run. Hide.
He was right to warn them. Mason’s clawed feet raked the fey world’s soil as he sprinted. A piece of him wished some trickster creature would get in his way. Would warn him about ‘leylines’ or ‘rules’. Just so he could tear it apart.
He understood Cerebus, then, more than he ever had. The ‘horned god’ was a creature of violence and power—a wild beast that hunted and killed because he was hungry, and because he could.
To be told by lesser things there were ‘laws’? That other creatures could tell him what to do? It was why he’d fought the gods. Why he’d been willing to destroy the whole world to show he wouldn’t be tamed. There was no other reason.
There are no laws, Mason thought, as he imagined Cerebus had. Not unless something was willing to fight to the death, like he was. Otherwise, he’d go where he’d pleased. Hunt where he pleased. They were free to try and stop him.
It wasn’t the urge to destroy. It was pride and confidence earned from victory. The knowledge of strength, and anger at anyone who didn’t recognize it. At those who forced him to demonstrate.
As he reached the correct line of weeds and bushes surrounded by hills, he knew it was time for another such demonstration.
I cannot join you, Stag told him through their bond. I must rest in the fey.
Mason nodded and stepped through, unconcerned. The world shifted and solidified, the wind still howling and blowing rain. He saw Chinua and his people fighting in a circle at the top of the hill, sparks and flares of magic launching from their position. Demi’s protective magic covered everything in a green miasma. Flying demons lay around it like dead flies.
Mason summoned his bow, and ran. He smiled as his divine title glowed, knowing Demi’s would do the same. He could feel her up there, sense her strength and courage and life.
I’m coming, baby, he thought. Just hold on.
There weren’t many abyssals on his side, but he shot down the few he found. These were the smaller humanoids that ran like monkeys, probably thinking they’d sneak around for some kind of ambush on unsuspecting prey.
They died like that piece of shit imperial spymaster. He saw a flash of the man’s eyes—the complete disbelief. The terror. It spurred him on.
His Claws raked the ground as he climbed the slant with all four limbs. He roared to announce himself, coming up near the top of the hill before one of Chinua’s men turned and loosed an arrow at his face.
He deflected it away, giving the archer a glare before he reached the players.
“Uh. Shit. Sorry. I didn’t…sorry.”
The poor guy looked like he’d shit himself. Mason waved a hand in dismissal. He was so shapeshifted he couldn’t exactly ‘smile’ or give the others a properly friendly look. He was more wolf than man, and his flesh was covered in hardened Transformations. He probably did look a bit like a demon…
Demi smiled from ear and ear and rushed into his arms, not caring at all. She looked unhurt, a bit of strain in her eyes. He gave her a one-armed hug. There’d be time for softness later.
“Update,” he said, sweeping the hillsides with his gaze. “Where should I attack?”
“North.” Demi pointed. “I think there’s a portal out there. Or something summoning more demons. That’s where they’re coming from. Chinua and his people are holding them off, but we’ll all wear down eventually. I wish I had my stupid prestige power.”
Mason nodded, letting Demi go as he moved off without another word. He knew she’d be worried about the others, and would want to know what happened. But she also knew he wasn’t going to stop to explain.
He had a job to do.
Chinua and the others had spotted him now and seemed to be trying to get his attention. But from Demi and his keen senses he already had a sense of things. She was right—the creatures were coming from the north.
He also felt a familiar prickling on his skin—a painful energy on the air that made it harder to breathe. He could see the others were squinting and rubbing at their skin, or coughing into their hands, The demons were making the environment ‘abyssal’ somehow, or at least close.
It was time to trigger the rarely used ‘active’ portion of Apex Predator—the ability to produce natural terrain on a cooldown. Technically they were still in natural terrain, but he suspected it would blast away whatever the hell those demons were doing.
He was so adaptable these days he didn’t need it—his Abyssal Antagonist title was already ramping up to ignore the effects. But the others would be helped, and he doubted the demons would be thrilled. He hit the mental button, flinching as the thrum of power burst out from his body like a shock wave.
The rocky hill turned green with moss and grass. The demonic tingling in the air sucked away, and the storm itself slowed to a light rain. The dark clouds above them fell apart, blowing back as more moonlight lit the battlefield.
The others were all staring in confusion—except Demi, of course. She grinned and took a breath, giving him a wink and tossing back her wet hair. His eyes followed down to the curve of her neck. The skin on her legs as her grass-like skirt blew back.
If it hadn’t been for a demon army, and a good hundred people around them, he might have started tearing her clothes off…
Instead, he channeled all the rage of the mountain, and that growing, reckless energy, into a jump towards his enemy. He flew down the terrain, faster and better at controlling his boots as he judged the distance.
He struck near the bottom and rolled without slowing, up and running towards the demonic leaders and whatever they were using as a portal. His Marilith arms formed and floated up with murderous glee. His clawed hands flexed with anticipation.
The nearby, undisciplined waves of abyssals closed on him in a frenzy. He slashed and swatted them down, extra arms jabbing their long knives into heads and shoulders with a casual flick. A creature jumped on his back. Another wrapped itself around his leg with an almost rubbery, tentacle-like body.
His Marilith arms stabbed his demon backpack to death. He reached down and shredded his leg-friend to bits with his Claws. A larger, bull-like demon rammed into his side, but hardly even staggered him. He grabbed its arm on the way by, pulling it over before ramming his claws under its chin and dragging it with him.
Demons all around him pulled back, growling and dripping with rain. He ripped off the bull’s head and tossed it at the closest, smiling as he smelled their fear. His eyes glazed as he flipped his profile open to summon Streak. But he changed his mind.
He could feel the huge, ex-druid pet and arctic bear stirring in his mind.
The giant, magic beast swirled into existence with a gust of icy air. It reared up to twice Mason’s height, roaring with arrogant pride as it stared down at the demons. The bear was obscenely strong and powerful—a match for Mason in a short fight.
It was never here for a long time. But it was definitely here for a good time.
“Break them,” he growled. “All of them.”
‘Breaker’ dropped to all fours and loped forward, glowing with whatever magic he used to enhance himself—not to mention Mason’s Fang Brother. His tattoo-like, innate Sleeves and magic ‘boots’ swirled up its legs. The bear’s claws gained a sheen of green. As new, Marilith-blade inspired, furry looking limbs grew out of the beast’s sides, Mason damn near started laughing.
“Have fun with that,” he muttered to the horde of demons, turning and bolting straight at the others past them with Aspect of the Cheetah. He just caught a glimpse of Breaker slamming some other bull-demon to the ground like a folding chair. He grinned as he raced by.
Turned out the abyssals had some kind of robed, ‘caster’ demons in a circle. Their arms were held high, dark energy glowing all around them as they chanted and seemed to be opening a rift to the abyss itself.
They were surrounded by larger guards—huge, bestial creatures that looked like trolls made out of oil. As he got into bow range, the big beasts growled and formed a line to block the casters behind.
He doubted it was their idea. But today wasn’t a day for strategically picking off his enemies at a distance. He wanted them up close and personal.
He ran straight at them, wishing only that one would charge so he could smash his head into it out of disrespect. But the big guards held their ground, waiting with open maws and huge claws at the ready.
Apparently he was going to have to hack them all down. Then their smarter friends. And then probably rip apart demons until whatever portal they’d summoned sucked back up to their piece of shit homeworld.
They shouldn’t have threatened him with a good time.
He was bursting with Transformation and Shapeshift, his titles in full swing, his Duality of Strength itching for a new challenge. Whatever these things could throw at him, he was ready.
As he launched himself at the first abyssal troll, sinking his fangs into its neck, he tried to remind himself: the war would end. There would be peace, eventually. He did his best not to enjoy the violence too much.