Of course. Of fucking course.
A Class V—because a Class IV and a divine spell weren't already enough.
And I was so close to escaping… why? Why can't anything just be easy for once?
Elion was running for his life—just like everyone else in the group, an activity all too familiar to him in the past few months. The fleshy abomination that had fallen from the twisting bridge was sure to be on their tails.
It looked as though it were made from multiple corpses fused together, Frankenstein-style, forming a vaguely humanoid flesh monster. A myriad of tentacles replaced both arms, while the vine-like growths they had seen earlier wrapped around its torso, making it look like some cursed, living Christmas tree.
Strong muscles writhed beneath its sickly skin like parasitic worms—truly an appalling sight.
Its face stared blankly, with hollow white eyes unblinking and long clumps of bloody hair hanging from its scalp. A single horn—reminiscent of those worn by the Dwellers of the Depths—jutted from its misshapen skull. Simply put, it wasn't the most appealing of monsters.
But something was off for a Class V. It was terrifyingly strong, yes, but it lacked the overwhelming will so characteristic of beings in its class and above. It also seemed to lack intelligence. The thing was simply charging at them mindlessly, swinging its bulging tentacle arms around almost as if it were blind.
Without even looking back, Elion ducked under a strike that would have taken off his head. The spatial awareness granted by his new affinity was truly a blessing.
Kellta sent a wave of flames to deter it, but the monster shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Even Leonard's lightning barely made it flinch.
Farha's sword had been equally useless—its thick hide was nearly impenetrable.
Elion risked a glance over his shoulder, hoping to spot a weakness with his ability. What he saw almost made him trip.
Its weakness… wasn't on its body.
A single thread ran ahead, following the golden thread leading to the First Finger before disappearing into the scarlet forest.
This isn't the Class V, it's just a minion.
And it was leading them straight to the real deal.
The thing wasn't mindlessly chasing them—it was herding them, a twisted puppet of flesh manipulated by its master.
But it was slowing down, maybe because Eshrod's blood was acting as a poison in its system.
They gained some distance, but the closer they drew to the First Finger's location, the more oppressive the surroundings became. Scarlet vines grew thicker, and fleshy growths infested every surface. Stone formations grew sparser until, at last, a massive ruined wall of stone and alloy loomed ahead, overgrown with crimson vines, its surface riddled with patches of flesh.
It stood tall and imposing, though time had not spared it. Cracks the size of houses split its surface, and a massive tear in the middle revealed the ruins of a city beyond.
It wasn't exactly inviting—but the alternative was worse. The Frankenstein's monster wannabe was closing in, and the city might offer some much-needed cover.
The group of Unlocked dashed into one of the cracks in the gargantuan wall.
What greeted them on the other side stole their breath. A city as large as Mirth spread before them, its buildings in ruin and overgrown with scarlet vines. Patches of flesh painted the black stone red, filling the air with the overbearing stench of blood.
At the center of it all loomed a massive Gothic-style castle. Most of its spires had collapsed, but its tallest tower still stood proudly. Webs of flesh stretched between shattered stone, and crimson vegetation climbed all over the walls.
This was the source of the infestation—and, of course, the exact place where the First Finger was supposed to be.
Elion gritted his teeth and bolted forward, with the others close behind. The wet sound of boots squelching against flesh was sickening. The streets were narrow enough to hinder the imposing flesh monster following them. They managed to lose it somehow.
Elion collapsed against a crumbling wall, his chest heaving and his hands trembling.
"What the hell was that?!" Talom gasped, hunched over with his hands on his knees.
Eshrod stared at her bleeding hand, her expression dark. Her blood ran black—just like most Creatures of the Depths—which was new since the last time she'd used her ability against the High Lord's clone. She clearly wasn't thrilled about having something so vile in her veins.
Leonard silently handed her a bandage from her pack.
Now that the chaos had quieted, Elion felt something that sent shivers down his spine. The will of the Class V. He'd felt its weight since entering the city, but it had been faint—as if spread thin. Only now that it quieted down did he fully register it.
Either the Class V was weak—which seemed unlikely, given the strength of its minion—or it was exerting influence over the entire city, diluting its will across more ground.
If that was the case, then this creature was on the stronger end of its class. Taking an entire city under its sway was something closer to a Class VI's feat.
But that also meant its control wasn't complete—otherwise, its minion would have found them already.
Kellta looked even paler than usual.
"It was all real," she mumbled to herself. "The blood city of Erika."
Lumos turned to her.
"What else do you know about this place?"
"That the Light-Walkers brought an infection here long ago—a bioweapon to take over the city. It infected the citizens and turned them into monsters that feed the central tumor." She hesitated. "I always thought that was just propaganda from my people. But seeing this now… this isn't natural."
"That was a children's story?" Eshrod asked. "Seems a bit gory."
"It's not that gory," Kellta replied with a frown.
"What do you mean not gory?! Look around, Kel—don't tell me this is normal for you," the Gremlin said, gesturing at the mounds of flesh and dried blood.
"Well, it's not too bad," Kellta said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'too.'
Eshrod stared at her, speechless.
Multiculturalism strikes again!
A ball of writhing tentacles and bloody tendons floated overhead, a single bloodshot eye scanning like a grotesque surveillance drone.
The group pressed against the wall, holding their breath.
"It's looking for us," Farha whispered.
Fortunately, it drifted past without noticing them.
"We need a plan," Leonard urged, pulling them back to the matter at hand.
"The First Finger is in that castle—or close to it," Elion said.
The news wasn't exactly a welcome one, even if it was the very goal of their expedition.
"You want us to go in there?" Hela asked, horrified.
"Well—we don't have much choice. If Kellta's legend is right, there's an infection here. I'd rather not stick around to see how it works," Elion said.
"But the Class V is also there," Talom reminded.
The young cook looked at Eshrod and Farha.
"We survived a Class V once. Why not twice?"
Luckily, the mask hid his expression, but without it he doubted he could've said that with a straight face.
The others weren't so fortunate—they stared at him like he'd just suggested suicide, which, in all fairness, wasn't far off.
"Eli… you usually have good plans," Eshrod said. "But this isn't your finest idea."
"Well, what do you propose?" Elion asked. "Truth be told, we won't survive the journey down the river to—hopefully—find a First Finger, and I emphasises the word hopefully. I say it's better to try our luck here."
She turned to Lumos.
"What about you, sorcerer? You're a smart one too, what do you think?"
"Don't sell yourself short, Lady Eshrod—you're sharp yourself," he replied. "But in this case, I agree with Elion."
The Gremlin glanced at Farha. The Mute Demon just shrugged.
"I'd go too," she said simply.
"You're all insane!" Talom protested. "It's a Class V!"
Alphons and Hela sided with him. Leonard seemed indifferent.
"We're not fighting it—just taking a peek at the Finger and leaving. Dine and dash, really," Elion tried to rationalize.
"Still…"
"Unfortunately for you, Ironman, most of us are going whether you like it or not."
Talom clenched his fist, but he knew he wouldn't survive the Depths without Elion's group. He had no real choice.
Elion glanced toward the distant castle, careful to stay out of sight of the floating eyeballs of gore.
"Alright," he said. "Here's how we're going to walk straight into a Class V's den—and somehow live to tell about it…"