Chapter 199 - Behind the Locked Door III
“Ugh… my head hurts.” Lia winced as she pressed a palm against the side of her temple. She had already healed; her health regeneration had removed the shoggoth’s toothmarks from the spot she was touching, and her hair had grown back to its usual length, but her head was still spinning.
“Uhmm… I think you’ll probably be stuck like that for a bit,” said Sylvia. “It had to stick a tentacle in your head to nom on your dreams, so you’ll probably have to rest while your brain sorts itself out again.”
“Please stop,” mumbled the cat. “I really don’t want to imagine something messing with my head right now.”
“I approached the brink of insanity,” muttered Arciel. “I cannot even begin to recall the number of times that I attempted to escape.” In her hands sat a cup of viscous purple liquid, drawn from the deceased eldritch abomination and heated by the bonfire in front of her.
The squid normally would have preferred to consume it raw, but chose to boil it out of concern for the possibility of adverse effects. She, of course, was not the only one eating. The group had already set up camp for the night; the sun had already set, and by Sylvia’s account, the weakened debuff was sure to persist for a few hours while their brains double-checked all the required connections.
“Tell me about it. I felt like I was going to lose it, with how long I had to keep my berserk going.” Lia slowly brought a shoggoth-meat skewer to her lips, but set it back down on her plate as soon as her nose caught its scent. “Is there anything else to eat? This seems a little… unpalatable.”
“A warrior must always consume their prey,” said Matthais. “Especially if it bested you.”
“A rhiar warrior perhaps, but we Paunseans don’t really do that.”
“Then maybe it’s time to start.” The mantis took a bite of his own skewer and swallowed it with a grimace. “It’s well worth the momentary discomfort, if you manage to acquire the devour skill. And there is no single ability more important to any monster hunter.”
Arciel raised a hand and silenced the mantis, before turning towards the cat. “When it comes to this, he will nag at you until he has his way. You will unfortunately be better off listening, even in the case that you find yourself plagued with indigestion.”
“If anyone’s going to end up with indigestion, it’s going to be her.” Lia looked over at Claire, who was chewing away with her usual indifferent look.
“I’ll be fine.”
She had no preference for the shoggoth’s flesh. Its flavour was hardly anything of note—mildly fishy, with a strong gamey aftertaste—and its texture was no better. Flaky, dry, and brittle, the meat crumbled in her mouth like a shell full of sand. And yet, she couldn’t stop eating once she started; every last morsel on her skewer was swallowed as quickly as her manners would allow.
“You’ll be more than fine.” The mantis smirked as he handed her another serving. “Those that eat their kills grow stronger.”
“I took no part in its death,” said Claire, “because you wanted a duel.”
He laughed awkwardly, taking another bite to hide his smile. “I’m sure you did still participate in some way or another. At the very least, you didn’t end up like the other two.”
“It caught us completely off guard,” admitted Arciel. “I don’t think either of us were expecting to get sucked in like that.”
“Neither was I,” said the rhiar. “The cat, I can understand. There was not much she could do, given her lack of magic, but you should have protected yourself, or perhaps even the both of you with one of your barriers.”
“Yes, Matthias, I am aware, and I shall endeavor to do better should any similar situation arise,” she said, with a groan.
The knight frowned, but returned to his meal without any further comment.
For a while, the group sat in an awkward silence. Only Claire and Sylvia appeared to enjoy the abomination’s flesh and blood. Everyone else ate reluctantly, or not at all. Even the man that had suggested the idea to begin with found it difficult to swallow. If anything, the mantis was the one having the hardest time. He winced every time he bit into the flesh and stopped after a single skewer, hardly enough to feed a fully grown rhiar.
“Claire.” Arciel spoke after finishing her first bowl of blood.
“What?”
“I would like to see the form you took when you flew through the storm. I do not believe it to be one I am familiar with.”
The lyrkress took a moment to raise her ears over her head before unraveling her body and extending it through the subterranean chamber. There was just barely enough room for her to stretch out her neck and spread her wings without running into the wall, but she refrained regardless. It would be in poor taste to stretch in front of an audience, especially with some of its members so intently observing.
“I don’t know exactly what I am either.” Her voice echoed through the cave, bouncing off the walls in a way that sent a strange, uncomfortable tingle up the back of her spine. But even more off putting than hearing her words repeated back to her was the sensation she felt upon looking at the dead shoggoth; her drive to consume its flesh had grown proportionally with her size. “The class description is empty.”
“I have heard that is often the case with rarer classes.” The vampire squid got up from her seat and approached Claire’s talons. Extending a hand, she waited for the draco-qilin to nod before pressing it against the thick scales that covered her skin. “They are very smooth. I doubt it would be possible to lodge an object between them even in the case that you were caught off guard.”
“They’re surprisingly tough too. I have trouble cutting through them without enraging,” said Natalya.
“Not tough enough,” said Claire. “I still have to dodge most things.”
“I think that goes for everyone,” said the cat, with a strained smile.
Shrugging, the longmoose formed an icy cooking utensil in each talon and cut a piece out of the shoggoth. The next step was more difficult. She paused as she realised that her limbs were too stubby for her to bring the serving to her mouth, and there was no grace in bending her neck. Fortunately, her force magic allowed her to compensate. Moving the utensils with her mind instead of her body, she lifted the meat to her lips with all the usual finesse.
“I was of the mind that you were meant to be half centaur, half lamia. Your appearance is closer to a cross between a ropefish and a lizard.”
“I’m a moose and a snake.” Claire stood up onto her hind legs and pointed at her hooves before lying down on her belly and slithering around like a serpent. “See?”
“It is difficult to make the connection without seeing you in motion. Your wings are also of a completely different variety than most centaurian ones.”
“They make more sense if you’ve seen her previous form,” said Natalya, as she wrapped up her meal with a grimace. “She used to have flippers made of the same stuff, instead of hind legs.”
"I still have them." Claire flexed one of the large flippers growing on her wrists, and flapped it to fan the bonfire’s flames.
"Why don't you use your medium-sized form anymore anyway?" asked Sylvia. "Didn't it use to be your favorite?"
"Talons get in the way.” The ascended lyrkress placed a foot on the shoggoth’s corpse, “they’re too sharp for their own good,” and demonstrated by lightly dragging it along the monster’s skin. Surely enough, a large gash followed, the same fate that had befallen at least two of Olga’s carpets. "My true form is my preferred, but it’s impractical. It's too big for the town, and too conspicuous for hunting monsters."
Natalya covered her face with her hands, but she was unable to stop herself from breaking into a giggle. "I still can't believe they tried to stable you that one time we were helping that old farmhand break in his turberi."
"Oh yeah! That was hilarious!" Sylvia spoke as she climbed the length of Claire’s neck, took up her usual spot atop her head, and turned into her humanoid form, just so their size ratios could at least somewhat be retained. “He took one look at your hooves and decided you had to be some sort of a fancy horse.”
“I still need to get him back for that.” Muttering under her breath, she did the group the favour of slicing up and consuming the last of the shoggoth’s flesh.
“What happened to not holding grudges?” asked Sylvia, with an accusing stare.
“I don’t. This isn’t a grudge.”
“But you’re literally talking about getting him back! If that isn’t a grudge, then I dunno what is.”
“It isn’t a grudge if it’s well deserved.”
“I second that,” said Arciel. “It is only natural to strike at those that wrong you, but I do not believe said farmhand to have been entirely unreasonable. Your hooves certainly bear a resemblance to those of a horse’s, and he had likely never seen a centaur or any related subspecies.”
“Wait, seriously!? Why’s that the only part that you think is a problem!?” The frustrated fox’s shout—the sole voice of reason—echoed through the cave, a theme that would only repeat throughout the rest of the night.
___
While everyone else was sound asleep, dreaming the darkness away in their makeshift beds, Claire alone lay with her eyes wide open. She had been tasked with keeping the first watch. But even when left by herself, the lyrkress was not allowed to experience the wonder of a silent night. Her floofy ears were plagued by voices, voices belonging to creatures that did not truly exist.
“Are you stupid? It only tasted so good because it was a threat!”
“Labeling it a threat is a bit of an exaggeration. It barely gave us half a level’s worth of experience. It was only delicious because it happened to be delicious.”
“Half a level is a lot, damn it. When was the last time we killed something that gave us half a level?”
“A week ago, my dear serpent.”
Neither the violent snake or its voracious equine counterpart had snout in their names, but both had discarded the source of their epithets and migrated to the bridge of her nose. Once present, they reverted to their usual selves and immediately began to bicker. Claire, of course, was very much annoyed by the development, but neither critter was willing to yield and return. They argued that her shoulders had grown too far apart for them to hold any discussions, but she knew that they were lying. They only preferred standing atop her face because they wished to ensure that she was aware of their presence.
“That doesn’t count. It was before we got the new girl. Right, new girl?”
The danger noodle craned its neck and looked over at Headhydra, who was lazing around with one of her heads stacked atop the two others. When addressed, it opened the eyes at the top of the pile, but quickly closed them again before long.
Shouldersnake breathed a sigh and slithered over to her newest coworker. “Get over it already, new girl. You ain’t some big baddie anymore. You’re a spirit now, so act like one.”
“Stop calling me ‘new girl.’ I have a name.” The three-headed hydra opened its eyes again, just to glare.
“Okay, Headhydra,” said the snake, with a sigh. “Whatever you say.”
“My name is not Headhydra! It’s Farenlight!” growled the tri-lizard.
“And that’s exactly what I was talking about when I told you to get over it,” said Shouldersnake.
“I for one find her attitude rather refreshing,” said Shoulderhorse. “And why not refer to her by her name? She is beautiful enough to deserve it, I’d say. She is not quite on my level, but her colouration certainly is both fair and light.”
“That is not why I’m named Farenlight,” spat the hydra.
“Then why are you?” asked Shoulderhorse.
“Faren is a term derived from the concept of death,” snapped the lizard. “I am the dying light, the end of all hope, and the herald to the dawn of the end.”
Shouldersnake winced. “So when are you getting over yourself again? Because this phase you’re going through is preeeeetty bad if you ask me.”
“Oh, Shouldersnake, you silly thing,” said the pony. “Her name is every bit as artistic as ours are. Why not allow her to revel in it for a little longer?”
Silently, the serpent slithered next to the horse and bashed their heads against each other,
“Ow! What was that for? You’re going to scar my beautiful face!”
“I’m going to bite your neck off if you don’t stop encouraging her.”
“I’m not even sure I would mind that all that much to be honest. It would give me a good chance to finally eat myself and find out how I taste. I know I will be supremely delicious, but the real question is how close I am to perfect. It is such a shame that my own palate is the only one I can truly trust to be discerning enough to offer a proper evaluation.”
“Can the three of you shut up for five minutes?” Claire eventually gave up and joined the conversation with a grumble. “I’m trying to think, and you three are making it so I can’t even hear my own thoughts.”
“Nonsense!” shouted Shoudlerhorse. “There are no thoughts more important than listening to my beautiful voice! Cast them aside, immediately!”
“I hate you.”
“Me too, Claire. Me too,” grumbled the snake.
“Why, thank you! I love the two of you too,” said Shoulderhorse. “You’re the best friends that my adorable face can buy. And of course, that goes for you too, Headhydra.” The pony’s declaration was met with five unhappy glares, but it noticed a grand total of zero and continued blabbing away.
To Claire’s dismay, such events had become the standard since her ascension. The three idiots would crawl out of the woodwork every time Sylvia fell asleep and waste half her night with their idle chatter. Strangely, even their lengthiest conversations had no effect on how rested she felt in the mornings, but their bickering remained just as annoying as had been throughout her youth. And while the newest and proudest addition shared in most of her distaste, the three-headed lizard did nothing to improve the situation.
Equal parts bored and annoyed, Claire nearly resorted to praying to seek a resolution. But fortunately, no such act was needed. Because out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a distant glimmer. The portal that had led them into the cave suddenly began to glow.
The centaurian scouts that had entered through it raised their weapons as soon as they caught sight of her. Because just like the group that had come before them, they had found an abyssal horror lurking within the darkness.
Chapter 199 - Behind the Locked Door III
“Ugh… my head hurts.” Lia winced as she pressed a palm against the side of her temple. She had already healed; her health regeneration had removed the shoggoth’s toothmarks from the spot she was touching, and her hair had grown back to its usual length, but her head was still spinning.
“Uhmm… I think you’ll probably be stuck like that for a bit,” said Sylvia. “It had to stick a tentacle in your head to nom on your dreams, so you’ll probably have to rest while your brain sorts itself out again.”
“Please stop,” mumbled the cat. “I really don’t want to imagine something messing with my head right now.”
“I approached the brink of insanity,” muttered Arciel. “I cannot even begin to recall the number of times that I attempted to escape.” In her hands sat a cup of viscous purple liquid, drawn from the deceased eldritch abomination and heated by the bonfire in front of her.
The squid normally would have preferred to consume it raw, but chose to boil it out of concern for the possibility of adverse effects. She, of course, was not the only one eating. The group had already set up camp for the night; the sun had already set, and by Sylvia’s account, the weakened debuff was sure to persist for a few hours while their brains double-checked all the required connections.
“Tell me about it. I felt like I was going to lose it, with how long I had to keep my berserk going.” Lia slowly brought a shoggoth-meat skewer to her lips, but set it back down on her plate as soon as her nose caught its scent. “Is there anything else to eat? This seems a little… unpalatable.”
“A warrior must always consume their prey,” said Matthais. “Especially if it bested you.”
“A rhiar warrior perhaps, but we Paunseans don’t really do that.”
“Then maybe it’s time to start.” The mantis took a bite of his own skewer and swallowed it with a grimace. “It’s well worth the momentary discomfort, if you manage to acquire the devour skill. And there is no single ability more important to any monster hunter.”
Arciel raised a hand and silenced the mantis, before turning towards the cat. “When it comes to this, he will nag at you until he has his way. You will unfortunately be better off listening, even in the case that you find yourself plagued with indigestion.”
“If anyone’s going to end up with indigestion, it’s going to be her.” Lia looked over at Claire, who was chewing away with her usual indifferent look.
“I’ll be fine.”
She had no preference for the shoggoth’s flesh. Its flavour was hardly anything of note—mildly fishy, with a strong gamey aftertaste—and its texture was no better. Flaky, dry, and brittle, the meat crumbled in her mouth like a shell full of sand. And yet, she couldn’t stop eating once she started; every last morsel on her skewer was swallowed as quickly as her manners would allow.
“You’ll be more than fine.” The mantis smirked as he handed her another serving. “Those that eat their kills grow stronger.”
“I took no part in its death,” said Claire, “because you wanted a duel.”
He laughed awkwardly, taking another bite to hide his smile. “I’m sure you did still participate in some way or another. At the very least, you didn’t end up like the other two.”
“It caught us completely off guard,” admitted Arciel. “I don’t think either of us were expecting to get sucked in like that.”
“Neither was I,” said the rhiar. “The cat, I can understand. There was not much she could do, given her lack of magic, but you should have protected yourself, or perhaps even the both of you with one of your barriers.”
“Yes, Matthias, I am aware, and I shall endeavor to do better should any similar situation arise,” she said, with a groan.
The knight frowned, but returned to his meal without any further comment.
For a while, the group sat in an awkward silence. Only Claire and Sylvia appeared to enjoy the abomination’s flesh and blood. Everyone else ate reluctantly, or not at all. Even the man that had suggested the idea to begin with found it difficult to swallow. If anything, the mantis was the one having the hardest time. He winced every time he bit into the flesh and stopped after a single skewer, hardly enough to feed a fully grown rhiar.
“Claire.” Arciel spoke after finishing her first bowl of blood.
“What?”
“I would like to see the form you took when you flew through the storm. I do not believe it to be one I am familiar with.”
The lyrkress took a moment to raise her ears over her head before unraveling her body and extending it through the subterranean chamber. There was just barely enough room for her to stretch out her neck and spread her wings without running into the wall, but she refrained regardless. It would be in poor taste to stretch in front of an audience, especially with some of its members so intently observing.
“I don’t know exactly what I am either.” Her voice echoed through the cave, bouncing off the walls in a way that sent a strange, uncomfortable tingle up the back of her spine. But even more off putting than hearing her words repeated back to her was the sensation she felt upon looking at the dead shoggoth; her drive to consume its flesh had grown proportionally with her size. “The class description is empty.”
“I have heard that is often the case with rarer classes.” The vampire squid got up from her seat and approached Claire’s talons. Extending a hand, she waited for the draco-qilin to nod before pressing it against the thick scales that covered her skin. “They are very smooth. I doubt it would be possible to lodge an object between them even in the case that you were caught off guard.”
“They’re surprisingly tough too. I have trouble cutting through them without enraging,” said Natalya.
“Not tough enough,” said Claire. “I still have to dodge most things.”
“I think that goes for everyone,” said the cat, with a strained smile.
Shrugging, the longmoose formed an icy cooking utensil in each talon and cut a piece out of the shoggoth. The next step was more difficult. She paused as she realised that her limbs were too stubby for her to bring the serving to her mouth, and there was no grace in bending her neck. Fortunately, her force magic allowed her to compensate. Moving the utensils with her mind instead of her body, she lifted the meat to her lips with all the usual finesse.
“I was of the mind that you were meant to be half centaur, half lamia. Your appearance is closer to a cross between a ropefish and a lizard.”
“I’m a moose and a snake.” Claire stood up onto her hind legs and pointed at her hooves before lying down on her belly and slithering around like a serpent. “See?”
“It is difficult to make the connection without seeing you in motion. Your wings are also of a completely different variety than most centaurian ones.”
“They make more sense if you’ve seen her previous form,” said Natalya, as she wrapped up her meal with a grimace. “She used to have flippers made of the same stuff, instead of hind legs.”
"I still have them." Claire flexed one of the large flippers growing on her wrists, and flapped it to fan the bonfire’s flames.
"Why don't you use your medium-sized form anymore anyway?" asked Sylvia. "Didn't it use to be your favorite?"
"Talons get in the way.” The ascended lyrkress placed a foot on the shoggoth’s corpse, “they’re too sharp for their own good,” and demonstrated by lightly dragging it along the monster’s skin. Surely enough, a large gash followed, the same fate that had befallen at least two of Olga’s carpets. "My true form is my preferred, but it’s impractical. It's too big for the town, and too conspicuous for hunting monsters."
Natalya covered her face with her hands, but she was unable to stop herself from breaking into a giggle. "I still can't believe they tried to stable you that one time we were helping that old farmhand break in his turberi."
"Oh yeah! That was hilarious!" Sylvia spoke as she climbed the length of Claire’s neck, took up her usual spot atop her head, and turned into her humanoid form, just so their size ratios could at least somewhat be retained. “He took one look at your hooves and decided you had to be some sort of a fancy horse.”
“I still need to get him back for that.” Muttering under her breath, she did the group the favour of slicing up and consuming the last of the shoggoth’s flesh.
“What happened to not holding grudges?” asked Sylvia, with an accusing stare.
“I don’t. This isn’t a grudge.”
“But you’re literally talking about getting him back! If that isn’t a grudge, then I dunno what is.”
“It isn’t a grudge if it’s well deserved.”
“I second that,” said Arciel. “It is only natural to strike at those that wrong you, but I do not believe said farmhand to have been entirely unreasonable. Your hooves certainly bear a resemblance to those of a horse’s, and he had likely never seen a centaur or any related subspecies.”
“Wait, seriously!? Why’s that the only part that you think is a problem!?” The frustrated fox’s shout—the sole voice of reason—echoed through the cave, a theme that would only repeat throughout the rest of the night.
___
While everyone else was sound asleep, dreaming the darkness away in their makeshift beds, Claire alone lay with her eyes wide open. She had been tasked with keeping the first watch. But even when left by herself, the lyrkress was not allowed to experience the wonder of a silent night. Her floofy ears were plagued by voices, voices belonging to creatures that did not truly exist.
“Are you stupid? It only tasted so good because it was a threat!”
“Labeling it a threat is a bit of an exaggeration. It barely gave us half a level’s worth of experience. It was only delicious because it happened to be delicious.”
“Half a level is a lot, damn it. When was the last time we killed something that gave us half a level?”
“A week ago, my dear serpent.”
Neither the violent snake or its voracious equine counterpart had snout in their names, but both had discarded the source of their epithets and migrated to the bridge of her nose. Once present, they reverted to their usual selves and immediately began to bicker. Claire, of course, was very much annoyed by the development, but neither critter was willing to yield and return. They argued that her shoulders had grown too far apart for them to hold any discussions, but she knew that they were lying. They only preferred standing atop her face because they wished to ensure that she was aware of their presence.
“That doesn’t count. It was before we got the new girl. Right, new girl?”
The danger noodle craned its neck and looked over at Headhydra, who was lazing around with one of her heads stacked atop the two others. When addressed, it opened the eyes at the top of the pile, but quickly closed them again before long.
Shouldersnake breathed a sigh and slithered over to her newest coworker. “Get over it already, new girl. You ain’t some big baddie anymore. You’re a spirit now, so act like one.”
“Stop calling me ‘new girl.’ I have a name.” The three-headed hydra opened its eyes again, just to glare.
“Okay, Headhydra,” said the snake, with a sigh. “Whatever you say.”
“My name is not Headhydra! It’s Farenlight!” growled the tri-lizard.
“And that’s exactly what I was talking about when I told you to get over it,” said Shouldersnake.
“I for one find her attitude rather refreshing,” said Shoulderhorse. “And why not refer to her by her name? She is beautiful enough to deserve it, I’d say. She is not quite on my level, but her colouration certainly is both fair and light.”
“That is not why I’m named Farenlight,” spat the hydra.
“Then why are you?” asked Shoulderhorse.
“Faren is a term derived from the concept of death,” snapped the lizard. “I am the dying light, the end of all hope, and the herald to the dawn of the end.”
Shouldersnake winced. “So when are you getting over yourself again? Because this phase you’re going through is preeeeetty bad if you ask me.”
“Oh, Shouldersnake, you silly thing,” said the pony. “Her name is every bit as artistic as ours are. Why not allow her to revel in it for a little longer?”
Silently, the serpent slithered next to the horse and bashed their heads against each other,
“Ow! What was that for? You’re going to scar my beautiful face!”
“I’m going to bite your neck off if you don’t stop encouraging her.”
“I’m not even sure I would mind that all that much to be honest. It would give me a good chance to finally eat myself and find out how I taste. I know I will be supremely delicious, but the real question is how close I am to perfect. It is such a shame that my own palate is the only one I can truly trust to be discerning enough to offer a proper evaluation.”
“Can the three of you shut up for five minutes?” Claire eventually gave up and joined the conversation with a grumble. “I’m trying to think, and you three are making it so I can’t even hear my own thoughts.”
“Nonsense!” shouted Shoudlerhorse. “There are no thoughts more important than listening to my beautiful voice! Cast them aside, immediately!”
“I hate you.”
“Me too, Claire. Me too,” grumbled the snake.
“Why, thank you! I love the two of you too,” said Shoulderhorse. “You’re the best friends that my adorable face can buy. And of course, that goes for you too, Headhydra.” The pony’s declaration was met with five unhappy glares, but it noticed a grand total of zero and continued blabbing away.
To Claire’s dismay, such events had become the standard since her ascension. The three idiots would crawl out of the woodwork every time Sylvia fell asleep and waste half her night with their idle chatter. Strangely, even their lengthiest conversations had no effect on how rested she felt in the mornings, but their bickering remained just as annoying as had been throughout her youth. And while the newest and proudest addition shared in most of her distaste, the three-headed lizard did nothing to improve the situation.
Equal parts bored and annoyed, Claire nearly resorted to praying to seek a resolution. But fortunately, no such act was needed. Because out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a distant glimmer. The portal that had led them into the cave suddenly began to glow.
The centaurian scouts that had entered through it raised their weapons as soon as they caught sight of her. Because just like the group that had come before them, they had found an abyssal horror lurking within the darkness.
