And then they fucked the tube.

The Dream Slave moved along the effluvia spattered tunnel toward the mist. Stepping over child corpses, stepping over the shit they defecated straight into their warped claws, cocks stitched to the palms, and tossed at him. He stepped – didn't/just – slipped too over the obscene quantities of ejaculate they shot from livid cocks over the side.

He – him/he – who he was – moved forward across this tunnel that deranged him, across this tunnel that warped his mind out of all existence because he was for this religious rite; he was the affirmation of a demonic chant; he was the the final apotheosis of that greed for nothing that they were sacrificing him to.

For they loved him, because he was nothing. They adored their Dream Slave, they worshipped their sacrifice – because he was born out of that nothing; needed he was the culmination of that nothing. He was the final/greatest achievement of that nothing.

That nothing that they loved.

– the next step through the corridor was through the mist –

That nothing into whose eyes they stared as they fucked.

As they fucked him.

All of them – mad faces flashing momentarily behind hoods; feeding on madness, on ecstasy, on the culmination, for he – he was through the mist next step – the next step through the corridor was through the mist – and they – were on their feet cumming, and shitting, and pissing and killing and consuming and ramming everything in the holes

they were already evacuating out:

a vast deformed performance of consumption and evacuation, during which they masturbated themselves continually; they killed and they fucked and they consumed the dead flesh of innocents they rammed inside their own arses – a great cloud of ejaculate swarming over the side and – hmmmmm – Dream Slave -

He was sacrificed.

Through!

He hit the mist at a pace that – through – speed/velocity/charge/energy/power/ through him/passed him through the mist at a rate that was impossible for a body; he was speed, rolling, back up the side – he –

dream slave

leapt off a wall-panel and rolled, and –

Demons –

he –

click-hit a –

it was glowing – the speed through him/it – pushed him – through

it.

New space. New Environment. New World. Same – glanced half out his head he – at pace incorporated it/it – same aesthetic reduced; same world but abstract; same vision but basic; two dimensional, flat panels; flat planes, and he saw

that they turned with him.

At the end of the corridor there were ways forward, ways out. The walls themselves repeated bowels, grease, panels, organs, the faces of children they had bled out – same face, same repetition, same child, same eyes, rendered reduced and basic and two dimensional – but he was turning; the images passed through him. The rates at which the images passed through him; he passed through walls.

No.

Speed.

New Corridor.

passed through the mist and now he was here:

This.

At pace he saw nothing passing through – that thing that hit his body; the only thing, spinning, rotating, the only thing – hoped – beside himself, clearly in three dimensions.

Ahead of him. His perspective now oriented on this new object that.

He felt it in his hand. – Even as he was all perspective – even as his vision was shorn of extraneous angles; sides of nose; cheeks – clear and pure vision, exceptional, and merely perspective. It was the world. It was pure reality-world; reduced to this abstraction, clearly a translation, merely – of the place he was out –

It was sorcerous; the object, and oblong – not unlike the staff of certain sorcerers that, but the thing was straight forward out of him: he couldn't explain to himself in any other manner, but – and in fact it was not one staff, but two of them – joined.

And –

if this was some kind of weapon then – it was a weapon, and he didn't know, except his hands held something that, clearly in what it was, the way it had been made anyway – there was a slot perfectly for his finger, that his finger already –

He pulled –

And fired in screaming layers passed at a velocity even faster than he was, out the two barrels of the thing that erupted in exploding flame, the first demon that leapt at him –

Exploding its body in guts and bowels all over the Dream Slave, and the environment that encompassed him. Stepping left, he missed the leap of the next demon through him hitting the wall; he reversed; turned back: facing this new threat.