Re:Cursed

"K'C͗a̮i̖e̻s, forget her. She's already dead," K'Thorn shouted through the twisted husk of the Fleshforge… or what had become of it.

As his junior grunted her assent and ripped her staff from the spine of the lost cause, he fired off a volley of pot-shots, obliterating a dozen sharks in an instant. K'Caies leapt away from the smith she'd been keeping on life-support. And not too soon. A spear — one of their cult's own creations — swooped through the air she'd just occupied, missing her by a hair.

Without the needles of K'Caies staff piercing her spine, the unfortunate lower-creed Fleshsmith melted into a puddle of flesh. Soon to mix with the rivers splitting the formerly unbroken ground.

K'Thorn had been through a lot, but seeing the child's terrified, extant expression as her body succumbed to corruption was almost enough to shake him. Her screams bled into the background. The shape of her wailing mouth lost distinction as she became nothing more than fuel for the forge.

What was worse; he could not say for sure she was truly dead.

Two dozen rounds shot out of K'Thorn's rifle, rapidly accelerating beyond the barrel before each slammed into a respective target. One after the other, bubbles of nothingness expanded, then collapsed. As K'Caies ran to rejoin his side, the swarm of gummies fell dead; most of their bodies completely eradicated. The winged spear flicked the bullet away before it could implode. The fifth creed cultist would have complimented the craftsman of such a weapon… if they hadn't foregone corruption resistance.

"K'Th̳ǫ̅rn͗-t̲a͋̏a̍̕l̺, what do we do?" his former acolyte grunted at his side as he heaved the massive cannon on his shoulder towards a river of flesh. He fired, and half their vision was covered by the explosion. A much larger shark lurking beneath the waves had half its body removed, only to rapidly retake shape before the river crashed down around it. "We can't hold here forever."

"The same as before, K'Halloú̫̖-na̍i̅." He twisted his own weapon towards the great white, and pelted it with hundreds of bullets in a second. Nothing remained. "We rejoin those we can, and form a defence. It doesn't matter how many times we get separated, we will do the same until the upper creeds deal with the cause. That is all we can do."

"How did this happen?" K'Caies asked as she split her staff down the middle, taking cover behind the pair from the onslaught they faced. "How did a Dark Star happen in the middle of the Forge? Our wards and defences should make it impossible."

She shoved the split staffs into his and K'Hallou's backs. Long needles pierced his spine, and energy filled him. The burnt gash in his leg sewed itself together. Somehow, that shark had slipped past his fifth evolution core name dedicated almost entirely to his sensory capability; something he thought impossible.

K'Thorn didn't respond. How could he? He wanted to know just as much as she did. Which of his imbecilic superiors bore the responsibility for this disaster? Their cult was already in hot water for being the prime suspect for the Dark Star Event in the safe district. Now it was all but proven they were the cause. Even if they survived, their entire cult would be paying reparations.

And K'Thorn had seen none of the benefit.

That fact alone infuriated him as much as the danger he'd been unwillingly thrust into. Whatever bastard had put the entire cult at risk, had done so entirely for their own gain, and had failed. Twice.

No. It couldn't have been the same person. K'Thorn calmed himself before a snarl entrenched upon his face. Not even the cult leaders could survive being the origin of a Dark Star. The curses would be too great.

Regardless of who it was, K'Thorn had no need to concern himself over them. If they survived, burdened by curse, there were many more powerful than he after their pound of flesh.

The breakout of an argument pulled his gaze away from the fissures in steel that spawned the fleshforged beasts. Even looking away, he continued firing. The winged spear came in to swoop at him, but while it could dodge a single shell, it could not handle the dozen that burst around it, removing it from existence.

Between K'Thorn, K'Hallou, and a few other harbingers, they'd picked up a dozen smiths they were now in charge of protecting. They hadn't contributed to the fight, yet they had the gall to start shit before they'd settled their position? True, harbingers were the best at fending off monstrosities, but all self respecting cultist beyond their third evolution had ways of defending themselves. Why did they sit on their asses?

K'Thorn shrugged off K'Caies' staff, freeing himself of the long needles. He only needed a single glance her way. She got the message, and spread her fleshforged staff along the back of K'Hallou's shoulders and legs, creating an exoskeleton that pierced through his skin, and bound itself to his bones. With her help, he would be able to hold the line himself.

"I told you lot to get ready to move," he growled as he approached the group of third to fifth creed cultists. None of those lesser had survived. "So why is it that none of you have gathered yourselves?"

"K'No͔͌͒̇ǐ̜͆r̢̥u̝s͕'s smiths are withholding their weapons. Prickly fucks. Even in a disaster like this, they clutch their resources when we could use them most." One of the craftsmen is all too willing to throw abuse at the other party.

"You would have us consume our bombs when we have such fine and capable harbingers here?" scoffs an ageing woman as she leans on a mixed bone and metal cane. "And what of you and your kin? Don't create fictions that you haven't any accursed creations of Z͐a̟͠n̖͐di̥s͈t̝̾h̡̞̠̃̔́ with you."

"Ha! You would oppose us if we tried," the first smith said again. The mouths along her leg braces groaned as they pushed her — and the substantial pack — high enough to tower over the older woman. "You're the ones that called them abominations."

"That they are." The old woman sniffed. "You'll bring about our enslavement to the Darkness with those things. Just as the other cults."

K'Thorn's mood soured with every passing exchange. The Zandisth and K'Noirus factions. Both were as bad as each other. He glanced back to the core of the Forge, where the hammer of Solan-K'Kant'l-Ru'an himself once hung. How he wished to use that hammer to wipe out those supposedly in his care.

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The rails which should be only a few hundred metres away, now seemed an eternity. Fissures and rivers wove over each other like thread on a canvas. Impossible, but manifested. Even the individualised forges surrounding the main one were now mountains around them; rivers of flesh and steel flowing from their open tops.

There was a ripple in the waves.

Subtle; barely more than a blip in the mass of information flowing into his mind. But K'Thorn's senses screamed at him. Years of moulding himself to detect the slightest of changes — even in such mind-retching environments — told him what was coming long before anyone else knew.

"Stop your bickering now!" His rifle was already firing into the ocean before he could finish. "K'Hallou!" he shouted his protege's name, but there was no need. His heavy cannons obliterated immense swathes of molten flesh and metal only a heartbeat after K'Thorn.

"I don't care if it sends you broke for the rest of your lives," he snarled back to the gaggle of smiths. "Use every weapon and tool you have or I'll kill you myself."

The swarm of encroaching sharks that swam through the ground to reach them finally abated, but K'Thorn never stopped firing. Each of the harbingers — those who opted for ranged options — unleashed enough firepower into the waves to topple a mountain, yet the craftsmen hesitated to act.

And then it was too late.

Ripped from its very foundations, the ground beneath them shook. Many of those behind him lost their footing. Before even K'Thorn could react, something struck the detached slab of metal beneath them, sending more to their knees. Only those with some additive to retain their footing did so.

The ground lifted like an iceberg toppling in an ocean, and the sleek metal slanted. Half the smiths screamed as they slid towards a grisly end in a sea of molten flesh, unable to grip. K'Thorn fired a spray of shots. Each bullet expanded into a void and carved out half-spheres into the smooth surface. He turned away. If they couldn't save themselves with that much, then they weren't worth the effort.

K'Thorn dashed to the new top of their sinking platform, joined by K'Hallou and K'Caies. They didn't have the time to readjust their aim before the beast showed itself.

A mountain of flesh and steel crashed through the surface, splitting the river down the middle and scraping along the edge of both the nearby fractured platform and their own. The jolt passed through his legs, and by the agonised screams, there was no doubt that some of those below had perished.

The heavy droning wail muffled the sound of gunshots. It was deafening. The rumble shook his chest, and made it hard to breathe.

It was a true defilement of the fleshsmiths' creations. Bound flesh and steel like K'Thorn's own weapon, yet given life of titanic proportions. This whale was a creature of the Darkness itself. Thick, curved metal sheets shaped its body, yet countless interlocking steel plates slid along the surface, almost giving it the appearance of a drill, if not for the lake-sized maw. A maw spread wide, and baring hundreds of razor fangs that each rose to the size of a building.

Enhanced by K'Caies staff, K'Hallou-nai and K'Thorn-taal unleashed their full firepower on the perverse fleshforged existence. Between his own sixth evolution high-precision, void-enchanting name, and K'Hallou's dual fourth evolution ability, they had the combined devastating might to destroy a mountain.

But not this mountain.

His protege's explosive cannon-fire erupted along the length of the beast. Yet it continued through the flames and smoke unabated. K'Thorn's own shots, empowered to his greatest capability, did nothing but scrape off the black charred coating, revealing the glowing yellow metal beneath. Attacks with a ten metre radius, against a creature more than a hundred times wider didn't even slow it down.

His void bullets had never failed to remove what he'd struck from existence — not even when he was a child taking part in his Trials — and now, when it mattered most, they failed.

K'Thorn had an instant to think. But that was all he needed. The shouts of harbingers and smiths behind him as the steel-berg continued to teeter. The two besides him that he almost considered his own children — if not for such thoughts being dangerous. He may not like the choice, but he would stand by it.

The rifle in his hands shifted; the muzzle opening wide. With gun handling skills only gained by decades of use, he grabbed the two besides him, and unleashed a downpour of shells into the ground. Heavy bullets appeared from the void, and rocketed out through the barrel of his weapon at an unparalleled rate of fire. The kinetic energy flung them out of the path of whale.

Leaving the rest to die.

K'Caies took a moment to realise his decision, and moved to have her staff connect the three of them. K'Hallou followed suit a moment later. The boy that was no longer a boy fired off his cannons to assist K'Thorn's irregular flight.

They watched the deaths of dozens he was supposed to keep safe. The steel island flipped, tossing each of the cultists into the molten flesh. If they didn't die to the burns, then they died to the sharks swarming them like piranhas. If they didn't die to the shredding bites, they died to the single, immense gulp of the whale as it crashed down on top of them.

While his superiors would accuse him of favouritism, and failing to protect the smiths — which were more important to the cult overall — it was hardly the worst thing he'd ever done. Considering the scale of the fleshforged beast, there was no other way. Maybe this time, the dead wouldn't even curse him for abandoning them.

Unfortunately, unlikely.

Suddenly, his senses screamed at him. Worried that the whale might have turned on them already, he spun to the source. Only to realise it was coming from the nearest minor forge twisted into the visage of a volcano. There was no whale. Instead, he found his enhanced sight piercing the distance and laying upon a girl climbing out the open top.

Only, the girl was anything but normal. Young enough to still be in a rearing ward, her appearance — and survival — in a Dark Star was objectively strange, but that wasn't even the beginning. Black feathered wings hugged her side. The red tips almost blended with the highlights of her robe. translucent, glacial-hued hair that seemed to glow under the warm light of the molten rivers.

Beyond that, three long tendrils sprouted from her side. They carried her weight as easily as her legs. Tentacles, like that of a Darkness monsters that hung below Coral, or that of an octopus… though some instinctual part of his name focused on senses told him that they were far closer to the former.

Had a child got caught in the Dark Star's influence? The morphing of her body was not an effect he'd ever seen, but trying to comprehend the workings of corruption was an impossible task. By all means, someone as young as that should be sludge in the river. But she wasn't. She moved naturally, and that was almost as unnatural as any other aspects of her twisted appearance.

Then, he felt watched.

It was distinct. Obvious. And only a moment later, flaked fragments of himself, his clothing and his weapon slid through the air. It wasn't K'Thorn alone. Both his companions had the tiny flakes flowing off their bodies, and heading towards that volcanic former forge. He narrowed his gaze again, and found them all ignoring gravity and accelerating towards a glowing gem in the chest of that girl.

That monster.

The burning gaze snapped off as they crashed down to a safe section of land, out of line of sight.

For something twisted to simply stay there and watch, it was eerie. K'Thorn wasn't one to jump at shadows — not when half his job was dealing with shadows — but in a Dark Star, who knew what sort of creatures could form. Even intelligent monstrosities that stole the form of a youth. It could be anywhere as dangerous as the girl it originated, to beyond the fleshforged whales.

His mind lingered on the image of her form, and for a moment he considered cursed mutations. But he quickly tossed the idea aside. In the dark star, it would progress so fast that within a minute there wouldn't even be a human left to go mad.

Regardless of what it was, or the threat it posed, they would avoid it. They needed to gather with the other Fleshsmiths. It was something a lot of the younger cultists refused to understand, but only together could they face the greatest threats. That usually meant the other cults or the beings that encroached their territory, but a Dark Star was no different.