NOVEL NEXT Chapter 56
Angar stirred as consciousness clawed its way back through the fog of sleep. His eyes flicked open, and he found himself cradled in a recovery bed unlike anything he'd known.
He was getting tired of waking up in strange beds.
And tentacles. He hated them. And tendrils too. Anything cordlike and alive.
His body felt better, though he was still riddled with aches and wounds, and the back of his head throbbed painfully.
The surface beneath him was too firm but still semi-comfortable, a slab of dark and pebbled material that shimmered faintly with a jade-green sheen. Like scales, or something crafted to mimic them, warm and smooth against his skin.
It curved subtly to fit his frame, as if grown rather than forged, with edges rippling with organic contours pulsing with a soft glow, almost like the bioluminescent creatures of Vefol.
Thin and translucent tendrils, like veins of living crystal, snaked across its surface. They threaded into sockets along the wall, humming with a rhythmic throb as they fed faint streams of amber liquid into the machinery.
Above him, a canopy of segmented panels stretched, each plate etched with angular glyphs that flickered crimson and gold, casting a soft light across the chamber.
The panels flexed faintly, as if breathing, their edges lined with tiny, thorn-like protrusions that glistened with moisture, he thought perhaps to release the mist soothing the air, or maybe something stranger. He doubted anything nefarious.
A cluster of delicate-looking metallic spines dangled from the canopy's center, swaying gently, their tips glowing with pinpricks of green light that occasionally scanned him.
The bed itself jutted from a wall of blackened alloy with a pitted and scarred surface, streaked with veins of green that pulsed in time with the tendrils.
Beside it stood a low, hexagonal stand, the top a glossy obsidian slab etched with a sharper and more intimidating-looking Trey symbol than any of those he had seen.
Above the far door, which was strange itself, was a much larger Trey, its eye staring at him, this one red. It was sharper and more intimidating than the one on the hexagonal stand next to him.
A soft hiss filled the air, accompanied by a sharp scent of moss and copper, tinged with a strange musk that prickled his nose.
The chamber felt alive, somehow, as if he rested within the belly of some great and slumbering beast. The gravity and air pressure seemed more like that of Vefol too.
Angar shifted, testing his limbs. They responded with a sluggish ache, better, treated, but still not healed. He found a large patch on the back of his head, painful to probe.
He exhaled, his breath misting slightly in the cool air, and he continued to study this strange room as words showed in his eyes.
A Glorious Achievement!
By God's grace, you and your companions have cleaved through the ranks of vile Heretics, felling an Emissary. Its wicked chants, now a fading echo swallowed by the light, whisper of your valor. Yet, the path to glory does not end here; the next honor awaits at the slaughter of 10, where your name shall echo with more honor.
Glory Points bestowed: 1 (0 out of 3 unaided kills)
For God and Empire!
A Glorious Achievement!
By God's grace, you and your companions have cleaved through the ranks of vile Heretics, felling a Herald. Its evil cries, now a shattered dirge lost to the storm, whisper of your valor. Yet, the path to glory does not end here; the next honor awaits at the slaughter of 10, where your name shall echo with more honor.
Glory Points bestowed: 1 (0 out of 4 unaided kills)
For God and Empire!
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A Glorious Achievement!
By God's grace, you and your companions have cleaved through the ranks of vile Heretics, felling a Servant. Its treachery, now a crumbling ruin beneath your heel, whisper of your valor. Yet, the path to glory does not end here; the next honor awaits at the slaughter of 10, where your name shall echo with more honor.
Glory Points bestowed: 1 (2 out of 6 unaided kills)
For God and Empire!
Surprisingly, he hadn't received less than 1 Glory Point for each. He had to assume no less than 1 could be awarded.
He only received credit for killing two of the enemies unaided, and those were Servants at the fifth phase of corruption, while Emissaries and Heralds were at the sixth phase.
He noticed there was no message about the creatures crawling out of the three rifts, but he hadn't helped kill any of those.
Bit by bit, he'd figure all this out. With these awards, his Glory Points rose to 79.
Then new words began to glow in the air in front of him, not a System message.
Angar, a conspiracy seeks your death. Distrust all strangers. Those on this ship can be trusted. Because of your heartlessness and the unnecessary slaughter of so many innocent lives, I will not appear or aid you directly.
-Spirit
This message hurt his heart. Not learning of a conspiracy trying to kill him. He welcomed that.
What hurt his heart was the curtness and lack of warmth in the message. It was very unlike Spirit. And that she still called the people he killed in battle innocent really bothered him.
Mithas had tortured him for long hours. Spirit could believe the Eyes did good and necessary work, Angar was sure they did, but that didn't mean he had to tolerate being treated so poorly by them, as if he had no pride.
And the Eyes targeted Angar because of Spirit's own plan.
He went along with her plan eagerly enough and had no issue taking full responsibility for any of it, but Spirit seemed solely focused on how 'innocent' everyone in the Eyes of Providence were, forgetting he was too.
Spirit needed to pick a path and stay on it. She was too split, her goals too disparate. Her desire for peace and an end to war guaranteed she'd always reason madly and incorrectly, as the Lord merely wanted crimson tribute from glorious slaughter.
It was all so simple, and she only sought to complicate things.
He put that aside. She said he was on a ship. This room looked nothing like any he had seen in either spaceship he had been on. Or anything else he had ever seen.
As he had that thought, the door silently slid open, and some monstrous creature entered trailed by Venerable Sister Kenson, towering over her.
As the elder looked calm, and the monstrous creature wore Crusader Armor, he assumed it had to be a Reptiloid alien, not some spawn of Hell. According to Spirit, this species could shapeshift.
Its head was as impressive as it was utterly foreign and monstrous. Its elongated skull glistened with scales of deep jade mottled with amber, shimmering faintly in the dim light. A blunt snout parted to reveal serrated teeth, and a forked tongue flicked briefly, sampling the air.
Its golden, predatory eyes were slitted like a snake's, sitting beneath ridged crests that arced backward like a crown of ancient bone.
From the neck down, it was clad in Crusader Armor. The suit enveloped its reptilian form entirely, the plates sculpted to fit an alien physique.
With the armor, its shoulders were as broad as the men of Vefol, with a chest thick with layered plating, limbs shaped strangely and jointed wrong, and its gauntlets showed three fingers and a thumb on both hands. Or claws.
The armor bore a Trey at its center, and on the top right chest plate, a vivid blood-red claw stood out, three talons dripping crimson in bold relief set on black.
A sword hung at its right hip, the hilt bound in darkly pebbled leather akin to its own scales, the blade sheathed in a scabbard etched with sharp and dimly glowing runes that pulsed faintly with strange energy.
In its clawed gauntlets, it wielded an auto-blaster unlike the ones he'd seen Terrans using. It seemed more serpentine, the barrel curving like a living thing, adorned with crimson fins that shimmered with a bio-luminescent sheen.
Venerable Sister Kenson stepped forward. "Up, Angar," she said, offering a steady hand to help him.
Grasping her hand, he swung his legs off the bed with a loud groan he couldn't hold in, his body too racked with pain still, hoping they'd give him his maul. He'd also like a chance to meditate and refill his resources.
He stood, only to freeze as he realized he was unclothed. Heat crept up his face.
She handed him a robe. "Don't be absurd," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I've tended countless children in Cloisteranages. We've no time for embarrassment."
He pulled the robe on, wincing as his wounds protested.
"I am Captain Zyrakth Klyss of the Fellowship of the Blood Red Claw's Kill Pack," the Reptiloid said. Its voice was strange, a rasping growl underpinned by hissing 's' and 'z' sounds that lingered like a serpent's speech would. "I've healed you as far as I can without expending resources reserved for this pack."
It fixed Angar with its slitted, golden eyes. "Follow, brother. We're due for a meeting with this world's Eyes of Providence commander. I intend to resolve this matter swiftly. I'm already delayed for a mission on one of my own people's worlds."
Kenson clasped her hands behind her back, standing rigidly as she met Angar's eyes. "I intercepted Captain Zyrakth at the spaceport to serve as a neutral arbiter. He's the highest-ranking Crusader on this planet outside the Eyes. Commander Wallace has arrived with a Castigator Primus and a Juristae to oversee the proceedings.
"If all goes well, we can end this feud between you and them, allowing us all to return home in peace. We also need to address why high-ranking Heretics, the Episcopus of Zanaya herself, tried killing you."
She straightened as her gaze hardened, holding Angar's eyes. "I've requested the Eyes form an inquisition, a measure they won't take for one they deem Heretic, so be polite. We owe them our lives for their intercession. Without them, we'd be dead. You'd do well to thank them too."