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Chapter 385: 385
This is not the end. The thought burned in his mind as he stumbled forward. His people could still be saved. He would not die until he saw it through. Death would be the last thing to claim him.
Suddenly, he collapsed, clutching his head in agony as laughter echoed within his mind—a woman’s laughter.
Vorenza, the demon of temptation, watched him through unseen eyes, a sly grin curling her lips. She had not expected these ratmen to produce such a strong-willed soul, and her interest was piqued. The Chief’s defiance made him all the more enticing—a soul worth breaking.
"Ah, such stubbornness," Vorenza murmured to herself, her gaze alight with wicked delight. "I’ll enjoy watching him fall."
Her thoughts danced with depraved anticipation, imagining the transformation and corruption of a man so determined. The Chief’s story was far from over, and Vorenza intended to play a starring role.
Back in the clearing, the underground cavern echoed with the frenzied chants of "Sknull! Sknull!" The ratmen roared their approval, their collective voice shaking the very air. Sknull stood tall, savoring the adoration, his bloodied form a triumphant figure against the dim torchlight.
But then, like a blade slicing through the noise, silence fell. One by one, the voices died out, replaced by an uneasy hush that swept through the crowd. Sknull stiffened, his sharp ears twitching as he scanned the cavern. Something—or someone—had disrupted his moment of glory.
One of his is glowing, mechanical eyes locked onto a group emerging from the shadows. At first, the sight made his lip curl into a scowl, irritation flashing across his face. The priests. Their solemn, hooded figures moved with eerie precision, their mechanical spider legs scittering across the floor. But as they came closer, Sknull’s scorn shifted into confusion. These were not the usual emissaries of the goddess. The lead priest was conspicuously absent, replaced by one clutching an ornate book that gleamed unnaturally in the dim light.
Sknull raised a clawed hand, his voice low and gravelly. "What is this? Where is your leader?"
The book-bearing priest did not answer immediately. Instead, he halted, his head bowing in mock reverence as the shadows behind him shifted. The faint clinking of metal reached Sknull’s ears—a sound he knew all too well. His breath hitched, and his claws tensed as the noise grew louder, joined by an ominous, rhythmic clatter.
Chains.
The crowd murmured nervously as the source of the sound became clear. Emerging from the darkness behind the priests were figures bound in thick chains. Hybrids.
Sknull’s mechanical limbs locked momentarily, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. These weren’t ordinary hybrids. Their hulking frames, twisted with grotesque ogre-like features, radiated raw power. They were an elite breed, creatures of destruction whose very presence could tip the tide of battle.
"How..." Sknull muttered under his breath, taking a cautious step back. His earlier confidence crumbled as the reality of the scene set in. "How did you subdue them?"
The priest with the book stepped forward, his voice smooth and dripping with menace. "The goddess has her ways, Sknull. There are loyalties even your brute strength cannot command."
The hybrids moved in unison, their glowing eyes locked onto Sknull, their movements fluid yet restrained by the enchanted chains. The ratmen in the crowd shrank back, their earlier cheers now replaced by whispers of fear.
Sknull’s voice cracked as he blurted, "Where is the lead priest? Why is he not here for something as important as this?"
The book-bearing priest tilted his head, a faint, chilling smile curling his lips. "Our brother is now with the goddess. He sought atonement for his... failures. His devotion demanded no less than the ultimate sacrifice." The priest’s tone carried no pity, only a cold, merciless finality.
Sknull’s claws twitched as his gaze darted between the hybrids and the priest. The weight of the situation bore down on him like a vice. He had been outmaneuvered. The priest’s machinations, subtle and insidious, had robbed him of his moment and replaced it with a nightmare.
The priest’s smile deepened as he strode forward, his book glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. He reached out, grasping Sknull’s massive hand. The abomination flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. The priest raised Sknull’s hand high into the air, his voice resonating with unyielding authority.
"Behold your champion!" he declared, his words both a proclamation and a veiled mockery. "Behold the will of the goddess, who sees all and spares none!"
The hybrids snarled, their chains rattling as they leaned forward, barely restrained. Sknull, for the first time in recent memory, felt true fear. The crowd looked on, their loyalty wavering as they sensed the tides turning.
Sknull’s heart thundered in his chest. This was no victory—it was a prelude to something far darker, a reminder that even he, in all his monstrous glory, was a pawn in the goddess’s game.
The priest’s voice reverberated through the cavern, his tone laden with reverence and cunning authority. "The goddess does not err," he began, his grip on Sknull’s raised hand tightening as though sealing a pact. "It is her divine will that you, Sknull, stand at the forefront of her blessed army. Your strength, your ferocity, your triumphs—they are not your own but gifts bestowed by her grace." n𝚘vp𝚞𝚋.com
Sknull’s lips twitched, his teeth gritting as he fought the instinct to snarl at the priest. He wanted to rip his hand free, to lash out, but the hybrids’ unwavering stares held him in check. Their chains clinked softly, a grim reminder of his vulnerability. He had no allies here, not among the ratmen, not among the hybrids, and certainly not among the priests. The goddess’s shadow loomed over all.
The priest continued, his words weaving a narrative of inevitability. "It was the goddess who guided you to this victory, Sknull. The goddess who gave you the cunning to outmaneuver your foes. And it is the goddess who, even now, reveals the path forward. Through you, her will shall be done."
The ratmen, sensing a shift in power, began to murmur once more. Their fear of the hybrids was now mingled with awe for the priest’s proclamation. Sknull could feel their eyes on him, their fragile loyalty teetering between reverence and trepidation.
The priest turned to the crowd, releasing Sknull’s hand and gesturing with open arms. "Behold your chosen leader! Sknull, the instrument of her might, the one who shall bring her vision to fruition!" His voice swelled with fervor, his words calculated to stir the masses. "Through his strength, we shall conquer! Through his leadership, we shall rise! But know this: it is not by Sknull’s hand alone. It is by the will of the goddess, eternal and unyielding!"
The crowd erupted into a new chant, their voices ringing out with renewed vigor. "Sknull! Sknull! For the goddess! For the goddess!"
Sknull’s clawed hand twitched as the chant filled the cavern once more, this time with a reverence that felt foreign, suffocating. His victory, his hard-won moment of glory, had been repurposed into a testament to a goddess he neither served nor trusted. Yet he could see the tides of power shifting, the ratmen looking to him not as their conqueror but as the goddess’s chosen one.
The priest turned back to Sknull, his expression serene yet edged with authority. "Do you see now, Sknull? You are not merely a leader. You are her chosen, her weapon against the world that defies her."
Sknull’s chest heaved, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. But he had no leverage, no allies, and no choice. He could not defy the priest or the hybrids; doing so would mean his death, or worse. The goddess’s will, whether he believed it or not, was a force too great to resist.
Reluctantly, he inclined his head, his voice rough and low. "If it is the goddess’s will... then I am her chosen."
The priest’s smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "You have taken the first step, Sknull. Accept her guidance, and your power will know no bounds."
The hybrids, their chains rattling ominously, remained silent but watchful. They too were pawns in this grand game, but their presence was a constant reminder of Sknull’s precarious position. As the chants of the crowd grew louder, Sknull felt the weight of the role thrust upon him.
The priest leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for Sknull. "Remember, chosen one, you may lead them, but you lead them for her. Do not forget your place."
Sknull’s claws flexed, but he said nothing. He couldn’t. For now, he had to play the part of the goddess chosen. But in the back of his mind, the seeds of resentment began to take root.
At the surface, Gurnak, so occupied with quietly moving the citizens in his city, had no time to pay attention to what was happening underground.
The words and news of his punishment have spread among the mages who share his tower with him, some decided to stay back while many packed up their things ready to be teleported away.
