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Chapter 380: 380
The mages, along with Gurnak, watched as the mist fulfilled its intended purpose. They paid little attention to the side effects, as these were a necessary consequence aligned with their ultimate goal. The more irritable the ratmen became, the easier they would be to control.
Satisfied with the mist’s success, the mages turned their focus elsewhere, already plotting how to use it on other ratmen under their dominion. Gurnak, however, remained behind, observing the ratmen with growing unease. He noticed their newfound bravery as they launched reckless attacks against the hybrid.
Initially, he had been eager to see the end result of their experiments. Yet things took a dark and unexpected turn when the ratmen began feeding on the hybrid demon’s corpse. Gurnak could have intervened early on, but he had underestimated the significance of their actions.
Now, as he observed their grotesque transformations, he realized the mist had sown seeds of corruption, and the hybrid flesh had nurtured those seeds into a monstrous reality. He had overlooked their desperation, hunger, and capacity for self-destruction.
The signs of their societal collapse were unmistakable. The ratmen, once skittish but resourceful, had devolved into reckless, cruel beings. Their twisted machines, powered by hybrid flesh, were horrific constructs—groaning, hissing abominations that seemed almost alive. Infighting, paranoia, and grotesque mutations were no longer mere setbacks but hallmarks of a crumbling order.
The more Gurnak observed, the more he doubted whether the mages still controlled the situation. The ratmen had ceased to be tools; they were becoming something far more dangerous. He had seen them graft hybrid flesh onto their bodies in crude attempts to mimic the hybrids’ resilience. Their patchwork forms—sinew, scales, and fur grotesquely stitched together—were horrifying. He had witnessed their flesh-engines devour faltering ratmen, their screams drowned out by the rhythmic thudding of pulsating hybrid hearts powering the machines.
Gurnak knew he had to act. The underground had become a twisted pit of nightmares, and if he remained silent, things would spiral further out of control. Yet fear of repercussions weighed heavily on him. Among the empire’s elite, he couldn’t imagine anyone reacting favorably to the news he was about to relay. What should have been a success story, elevating his status as a Tower Master, now threatened to strip him of that title—or worse.
After pacing with his hands behind his back, Gurnak made a decision. Reluctantly, he called Vellok. The choice pained him; he disliked Vellok, a fellow Tower Master who always made him feel inadequate. Yet Gurnak had no other option.
The call connected, revealing Vellok’s youthful face framed by clear glasses. On his desk, a map lay open, marked with several strategic locations.
Vellok’s sharp gaze locked onto Gurnak. "What happened?" he asked, his tone serious.
Gurnak sighed and waved his hand, projecting a holographic view of the underground network in his city. Vellok immediately stood, enlarging the display and scrutinizing the chaotic scene.
"How did it come to this?" Vellok demanded.
"The mist succeeded in its purpose," Gurnak began. "The issue arose when the subjects came into contact with an unforeseen material—"
"The hybrid demon flesh," Vellok interjected, cutting him off. Gurnak’s frown flickered briefly before he composed himself, knowing he was now in a precarious position.
To his surprise, Vellok didn’t chastise him. Instead, he said, "This is valuable information. It’s good we caught this early—this could have been catastrophic if these changes occurred on the battlefield."
Vellok straightened, his tone commanding. "I’ll relay this to the Emperor. In the meantime, you must evacuate the citizens in your city quietly and efficiently. The situation has escalated beyond containment, and drastic measures are required."
Gurnak nodded, his heart sinking under the weight of his failure.
"You’ll need to take control of this situation yourself," Vellok continued. "While your report was insightful, your negligence has let this spiral far beyond acceptable limits. As the designated War Officer for this invasion, it’s your duty to defend your city. Losing it would mean losing everything—including your position."
The call ended, leaving Gurnak with a deep sense of dread. He had to act swiftly. The ratmen’s grotesque frenzy posed a direct threat to the empire, and the consequences of failure were unimaginable.
Meanwhile, Vellok leaned back in his chair, spinning it slowly as he studied the hologram. His gaze drifted toward the direction of the empire.
"Is this the outcome you were expecting?" Vellok murmured, as though addressing someone unseen.
Back in the capital city of the empire, in a grand mansion that stood out amidst the bustling metropolis, a burly figure resembling an ogre sat on an ornate throne. Dressed in royal garb, he rested his chin on one hand as he stared at the kneeling goblin mage before him.
Such a sight would spark panic if revealed to the goblin empire. Goblin mages held unparalleled status, ranking even above the nobles, and their subservience was unheard of. Yet here one was, kneeling and presenting a projection of Gurnak’s underground cavern, showcasing the current state of the ratmen.
The burly figure’s expression darkened with disappointment. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he sent the mage away.
"Was I wrong in my choice?" His deep, booming voice filled the hall. However, he paused mid-thought, sensing an intense gaze upon him.
Turning his head, he frowned, his piercing eyes seeming to penetrate the walls of his mansion. His gaze fixed on the palace not far away, where he could feel the stoic, unyielding eyes of the cloaked king watching him. The burly figure scoffed and turned away, closing his eyes in resignation.
Meanwhile, in Gurnak’s city, he struggled to devise a plan to evacuate the civilians without alerting the demon queen Vorenza, whose watchful eye never wavered.
Since Gurnak had unleashed the mist, Vorenza had not stopped smiling. Everything had unfolded in her favor.
The hybrids, initially a wild card she had introduced to sow chaos, were evolving into vital tools for securing her first victory in the invasion. Her smile never faltered, even as the ratmen began to push back and kill the hybrids. Though the mist’s effects on the hybrids were weaker than on the ratmen, every encounter with the mist-afflicted ratmen further strengthened the hybrids.
The Alpha hybrid had adapted, sending smaller hybrids whose sole mission was to retrieve the corpses of mist-corrupted ratmen. Consumed by their victories, the ratmen paid little attention to the disappearance of their dead.
These corpses proved to be a boon for the hybrids, triggering profound changes and significantly bolstering their strength. But Vorenza’s delight reached its peak when the ratmen began consuming the hybrid corpses.
Ordinarily, the hybrids’ flesh should not have caused such drastic transformations in the ratmen; the hybrids, after all, were only partially creatures of the abyss. But Vorenza had intervened. In a single, devastating strike, she killed a fifth-stage demon spider that had birthed the hybrids. Using its essence, she cast a spell that heightened the hybrids’ affinity with the abyss, allowing their flesh to corrupt far more effectively.
This was the horror Gurnak now witnessed. Near the city he presided over, an abyssal portal opened, and a tall, alluring woman stepped through. With a single stride, she traversed great distances, her feet landing on uncorrupted soil. A feral smile stretched across her face, her gleaming teeth bared. Though the pressure of the mortal realm weighed heavily on her, Vorenza noted a slight change—something had shifted in her favor.
She laughed, her voice ringing out with cruel delight as she gazed at the distant city. Licking her lips, her body dissolved into countless tiny spiders, scattering and reassembling in the abyss.
Vorenza had achieved what Ikenga, a divine being, had managed—but through her own demonic means. The more the ratmen interacted with hybrid flesh, the deeper they fell into her web.
Gradually, the ratmen began to glimpse her colossal figure in their minds. They worshipped her, carving crude images of her likeness onto their equipment. Soon, they created small statues in her honor.
Though Vorenza was a demon and had no need for their faith or prayers, she saw their burgeoning devotion as yet another step toward her ultimate goal. She cared little for their depravity—her sights were set on the throne of the Demon Lord, a position rivaling that of the Origin God.
To Vorenza, the deranged, corrupted ratmen were merely pawns in her grand design. Slowly but surely, they were becoming the very tools that would elevate her to that exalted position. 𝓷ℴ𝓿𝓹𝓾𝓫.𝓬ℴ𝓶
This brings us to Vorenza’s latest move, as she prepared to initiate an attack. Whether it was the ratmen or hybrids, both groups had become her pawns—an army entirely under her control.
The ratmen, who had begun worshiping Vorenza, developed a new profession among their ranks: the priests. These individuals bore no true power or blessings from their deity but were driven by an unwavering, devout belief in her and their self-proclaimed ability to interpret her will.
The priests were a grotesque and bizarre sight. In their fanatical efforts to emulate their vision of Vorenza, they did not hesitate to alter their own bodies. Over time, a standardized appearance for priests emerged: their lower halves were replaced by mechanical spider legs, while their upper bodies retained a twisted semblance of their former selves. Each priest carried a staff adorned with the skull of a hybrid, eerily pulsating with a faint, unexplainable life.
