Divine System: Land of the Abominations

Nero slipped back through the camp like a shadow, his heart still racing from what he'd witnessed.

By the time he returned to where his party had set up camp, his mind was already working through what to tell them. Everything? Nothing?

Lucy spotted him first, her pale eyes narrowing as he approached. "There you are. Where the hell did you run off to?"

Nero glanced around. Aisha sat close to the fire, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold. Geor stood nearby, his massive frame casting long shadows. Obed was further back, his injured arm held carefully against his chest.

They all looked at him with strange gazes.

Nero sat down heavily near the fire, his expression grim. "We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous," Lucy muttered, but she moved closer.

Aisha's eyes found his immediately, concern written across her features. "Nero, what's wrong? What happened?"

He took a breath, choosing his words carefully.

"The refugees," he began slowly. "Some of them are transforming. Transforming into Abominations."

Obed huffed then sighed,

"I knew things wouldn't be so simple. But it was only to be expected."

Nero frowned,

"You knew this would happen?"

Obed shook his head gimly,

"No. But I believe everyone expects it. Most of those that will be transforming likely have been infected with the corruption for some time now. I suspect most aren't physical infections, but are possessions. Like Lawson."

Nero's face turned grim. .

It was no wonder all hose people hadn't seemed that surprised at all.

"I saw one of the Templars cut down an old woman."

His eyes narrowed dangerously,

"If the transformation rate gets too high, if they can't control it anymore, they'll kill everyone outside these walls to contain the spread."

Obed cursed under his breath, his good hand clenching into a fist. "Those bastards. They evacuated us just to slaughter us later?"

Geor shook his head slowly, his expression haunted. "So what do we do? We can't just sit here and wait to be culled like animals."

Aisha looked at him, her dark eyes reflecting the firelight. "There has to be something we can do."

Nero opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat.

The air changed.

It happened suddenly, a shift so abrupt that every instinct in his body screamed danger. The temperature dropped further, and overhead, clouds gathered with unnatural speed. They rolled across the sky like a dark wave, blotting out what little moonlight remained.

The scent of rain filled the air, heavy and metallic.

Then the drizzle began.

Soft at first, barely more than mist. But within seconds, it intensified, fat drops pelting down from the heavens. The fires around the refugee camp hissed and sputtered, dozens of them snuffed out almost simultaneously.

Darkness swept across the field.

Nero rose to his feet, his hand already reaching for the Silver Blade. "Something's wrong."

All around them, people were scrambling, confused and alarmed by the sudden storm. Voices rose in panic, calling out for loved ones, searching for shelter that didn't exist.

Then came the shrieks.

High-pitched and piercing, they cut through the rain like knives. Nero's head snapped upward just in time to see them descending from the sky.

Enormous wings, wide and leathery, stretched between skeletal frames. Their bodies were impossibly thin, covered in slick black skin that glistened in the rain. Each creature had claws that extended far longer than any natural predator, curved and deadly. Their mouths gaped open as they dove, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that seemed to go on forever.

They came from above. They came from the forest edge, walking on grotesque, bony feet that dug into the mud. They came from everywhere at once.

The field erupted into chaos.

Located closer to the rear of the long line of human on the road leading to Liedenstorm, Nero and his party were one of the very first to appreciate the look of the Abomination as it covered vast swathes of distance in seconds.

Nero didn't have time to think. The first creature was on him before he could draw breath, its claws reaching for his throat. He threw himself sideways, rolling through the mud as those talons raked empty air where his head had been.

He came up with the Silver Blade already in hand, the enchanted metal gleaming even in the darkness.

The creature wheeled around for another pass, its wings beating furiously against the rain. Nero didn't wait. He lunged forward, driving the blade upward as it descended. The point caught it in the chest, punching through that slick black skin with a wet tearing sound.

Hot blood sprayed across his face, shockingly warm against the cold rain.

The creature shrieked, thrashing wildly. Its claws raked across Nero's shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin. Pain flared white-hot, but he held on, twisting the blade deeper until something vital gave way.

The thing went limp, sliding off his sword to crumple in the mud.

Nero spun immediately, sensing movement behind him. Another creature lunged from the darkness, its jaws snapping shut inches from his arm. He brought the blade around in a vicious arc, catching it across the throat. More blood, more screaming.

Around him, the world had descended into nightmare.

People were running, screaming, dying. The creatures tore through the crowd with savage efficiency, their claws rending flesh, their teeth finding throats. Bodies fell into the mud, adding their blood to the rain-soaked earth.

Nero moved through it all like a ghost, his body responding on pure instinct. Duck, slash, pivot, stab. Each movement precise, economical. No wasted energy, no hesitation.

A creature dove at him from the left. He sidestepped, bringing the blade down on its wing joint. Bone cracked, and it tumbled into the mud, screeching. He finished it with a thrust through the eye socket.

Another came from behind. He felt it more than saw it, some sixth sense screaming danger. He dropped into a crouch, feeling claws pass over his head. Then he surged upward, driving the Silver Blade into its exposed belly.

The creature's shriek became a gurgling wail as its intestines spilled out, steaming in the cold air. Nero ripped the blade free, hot blood gushing over his hands, his arms, his chest.

The contrast was stark—the icy rain beating down on him, and the scalding blood of monsters coating his skin. Cold and hot, death and life, all mixed together in a hellish symphony.

More blood. The head was scalding against the cold.

Somewhere in the chaos, he heard Lucy shouting, heard Aisha's voice raised in prayer or spell, heard Geor's roar of defiance. But he couldn't focus on them.

A creature swooped low, trying to grab someone nearby. Nero intercepted it, his blade catching it mid-flight. The momentum carried them both down into the mud. They rolled, the creature's claws tearing at him, its teeth snapping for his face.

He got a knee up into its chest, creating space. Then he drove the blade into its belly and pulled, opening it from sternum to groin.

The creature's guts spilled out in a rush of heat and stench, coiling across Nero's legs like obscene serpents. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, coating him completely, mixing with the rain that continued to pour from the sky.

He shoved the corpse aside and rose to his feet, chest heaving, eyes wild.

The cold rain hammered down on him, washing rivers of hot blood from his skin, only for more to take its place as he lunged back into the fray.

The night was far from over.