Chapter 50: Pandemonium

"Nightmarish release." ​

It's getting harder to breathe— or even to think— with abuse being laid into you on all sides. The pulsing agony and unbearable relief is so overwhelming that only one thought keeps you grounded. One hope for not blaspheming any further.

"M-Mercy—!"

She's on you in an instant. Flecks of gold burst into your vision in euphoria and agony as the Goddess blesses you, drives away the urge to linger, and incentivizes you to stay on your feet.

I missed you, too.

The demons all around are kicked up into a frenzy. The blows that make contact through your defense— through the necessary display of Her tenets— feels utterly unreal. Your chest is tight, ravaged, and slick with blood, but every wound along your body slowly begins to mend through the assault.

Marred by your lack of restraint, the soft gold and light of the Goddess is nowhere near as intense as in days past. It's not quite prayer that escapes you, as tendrils of blood creep out from Celegwen's glyph, and strengthen the aura around her. The invocation is not tainted. It's impossible to deflect every attack that's directed at you, but your prayer and connection to the Goddess is far from undone.

As a demon comprised entirely of sharpened points attempts to lance one of your shoulders with a spiked paddle, you are graced with Her agony.

"Our grace is immaculate."

Mercy's forgiveness is endless.

"Our heart reaches out to you, to—" You fearlessly reach out towards the demon ("Aaahn—") as it attempts to strike out again. "—to the sinner. To the damned!"

You drop your shield, your cane, and are compelled to let more than your souls make contact. "Our hands are— mmmnn— open to you."

Your administrations are virtuous. The pain that lances your hands as the creature falls to its knees is unbearably good. It is inert. "We are Merciful."

Light emanates from within the demon's static eyes, in stark contrast to the darkness and blood of the corridor. Light catches on the sight of countless other demons before you.

Imps depart, and countless weaker demons step back. They crumble— one after the other— utterly incapable of withstanding your connection to the Goddess. Celegwen's strength holds. A steady pile of bodies mounts around you as you work over the demons in the crowd. A part of you is aware that it's growing harder to think.

They are not weak. They simply know nothing of Mercy. They will be forgiven, and thanked for the blessings that they have given me in turn.

The crushing, beautiful sensation of a swift punch to your side nearly knocks you off your feet. It brings you back into the moment. Back into so much blossoming "Mercy—"

There's a line forming. A literal queue of demons forms (all looking as powerful as the one that struck down Father Edmund), as you are granted a few seconds of reprieve.

Through the less congested corridor, a demon made entirely of eyes parts the mob that's been laying into you. The creatures scrutiny is not seen but is felt in paralyzing intensity. It's been gazing at you throughout this entire ordeal, seeing every gasp and moan. Every disgraced blessing from your Goddess. Its legs are red tendrils that creep across the floor. Fully exposed irises of every color look you up and down. Judging. Staring.

You want to seize up on instinct. To glance away. To avoid hundreds of stalks of eye contact at all costs.

More demons of its caliber encroach on the new space that's opened around you by the second. It looks as if it will be far easier to pick a path through the crowd— but you can't help but worry for your life. Demons comprised of nothing but dripping acid, a gathering of wasps stuck together in the shape of a man, countless nightmares reminiscent of insects and more beasts that you still cannot see are on the edges of the corridor still.

You can't look elsewhere. The demon before you is staring. You don't know if it's trying to waste your time and wear out Celegwen, if it's planning a more physical attack, or if it's merely afraid of getting near to you. But it is paralyzing in its intensity.

Breath heavy— skin flushed and damp— even a few seconds of air isn't enough to get your composure back. Mercy's healing is so much slower than usual, you doubt they'll be fully worked over before you have to release Her again. You're strained. Strained to contain the Goddess, to stay with Her through building tension, and through all the agony of needing more.

Through the seizure on you, you choke out, "Celegwen! I'm here. You have to run! Come with—!"

Your words are cut short. Three demons tear at your moment of vulnerability, of distraction, and nearly carry you into the wave of demons at your back.

Teeth and anguish are on you. They can't possibly know that you need not speak to channel the Goddess. They can't fathom that drawing out their ire— focusing all of your mind, body, and soul on their violence— only heightens your connection to Her.

An opening in their claws and hatred presents itself. You place a single hand to one of your captor's skulls.

Gold and light courses through their mind, body, and soul.

They crumple to the floor, granting you enough leverage to rip yourself free of demonic bonds, and to clasp your hands together.

Music

The claws at your back and shoulder loosen themselves in agony. Blood and gold parts from your injuries, and is left trailing on their cursed skin. You look to them with light. You look to the imps running from the crowd.

They're knocked back from the sheer force of your devotion, in a devastating surge of heat and dedication. "We do not offer you what you seek!"

The demon of eyes snakes forward with freakish speed. It seems to blink into the area surrounding your body, and encases itself over you. As you are utterly taken with the Goddess— with the will to protect, to serve, and to love— you know that it can sense your fervor. Your ecstasy. "I will only offer you our Mercy!"

With a blast of radiance, you sear through the demon encasing you. Every one of its eyes is blinded. The nightmare recoils. You break free of its grasp, rush forward, and part your fingers. Another blast of light repels a wave of demons from one hand.

Tearing off your jacket with the other, you cross the last of the distance towards Celegwen, and throw it over your friend. Agony intermingles with so much shock across the sorceress' face that you scarcely recognize her.

No fewer than two dozen demons are now subdued, but so many more are coming. You scream over the music, unafraid of the pain that's sure to follow.

We welcome it.

"Do you trust Us?!"

The elf grits her teeth, silently holds your article of clothing over her shoulders, and turns with you to run.

Over the screams, the throbbing music, and over the deafening roar of the demons behind you— you can't help but call out. No demon can forget the orders of those it is beholden to, and you know what these demons are truly afraid of. "We seek none other than your master: Remigius!"

The light and heat coming off of your form is intensifying by the second. You pay it no mind. Your friend needs you.

Barbs, flails, and countless other weapons give hot pursuit. You keep as close to Celegwen as you're able, and wrap an arm around her— trying to shield her from the countless blows set to rain down on you both.

The demon comprised entirely of acid slinks along the walls with impossible speed. The sweat on you redoubles as it flings itself from the surrounding structure in a concentrated wave. Acid drips and sears onto your back in an entirely new kind of burn. You can't suppress the scream it elicits. There's no time to enjoy it.

You endure, loving the nightmarish release, with all of your focus bent onto a major demon ahead. The monstrosity is bent on skewering Celegwen with a spear made of sharpened flesh.

The elf swings up her staff in an explosion of starlight and space. The surrounding area resonates with warped air, taking in all light and heat.

You channel the Goddess around and onto the edges of the spell. The out pour of energy amplifies the radius of her ability beyond either of your individual capabilities.

Your combined might blasts the demon back with so much force, it's ripped off its feet, through the air, crashes through the wooden wall beyond, and sprays into a fine red mist.

The fractured pieces of the wall the demon was blasted through lifts off from the floor. It feels as if the hallway is stretching on indefinitely before you, as a massive collection of wasps carries the residual shrapnel, and begins hurling the pieces of wood towards you and Celegwen. The explosion of wood and stingers threatens the elf's bare features. Her delicate arms are thrown up in defense. A spell of dissipation leaves her lips, with shrieks and tears.

Something deep in the back of your mind is softening.

Something gives way that you don't want to stop.

Even after everything these creatures have done...

Even on the brink of death...

You would rather subdue them.

Better that than to watch your friend try to protect herself.

A colossal flare of light floods the entire corridor. Celegwen screams, throwing her arms before her eyes.

The sound of countless demons scattering barely registers through a wave of heat, and gold, and restraint, and peace.

The light abates. The demons immediately surrounding you are completely subdued. Their minds are lost. There's no telling how long the blessing will last for these creatures who were capable of being taken by Mercy, but it's enough time for you to reach the end of the corridor.

Several hundred wasps lie dead at your feet, in the only display of restraint they could ever know. A few are crushed underfoot as you have to practically drag Celegwen to keep running.

All that stands between you and the end of the nightmare you've made is a single succubus. She's blocking the exit by laying over the barbed wire demon as if it were a piece of furniture, legs spread and cackling. Dragging and drawing her tongue over her lips as she leers at you and Celegwen, you practically expect her to curse you both. To utter something so depraved that you'll have to deafen yourself to ever seek the favor of your Goddess again. That she's solely targeting you. That she's more interested in how much you've been enjoying yourself, the assault, and the need to endure.

Instead, she stalls. There must be a handful of major demons behind you, and they're rapidly coming out of your wave of restraint. "I'd love to keep warming you up for the master, but Daddy— your little friend has been having all the fun!" You hear Celegwen's breath catch in her throat. "I can't keep you all to myself— as much fun as you and your bitches are!"

The sweat over your body goes cold in an instant. "What have you done with Ofelia?!"

"Go see for yourself. You'd better hurry! The boys have a different way they want to play with you~!"

There isn't a second to spare. Every nightmarish scenario that could possibly befall your friend hits you harder than any of the blows that have befallen you this evening. "We'll find her, Celegwen." You keep your hold— putting yourself in between her and the succubus— and charge forward. "Come what may!"

The demon laughs hideously, cracking her whip. You tense— keeping your hold on your holy symbol, on your Goddess— and nearly turn on a heel to kill the demon where she stands.

No weapon strikes you, save for an open palm on your backside.

You try to remember yourself. Your tenets.

Restraint. Peace. Compassion. Mercy.

You don't even acknowledge the assault, praying that Celegwen hadn't noticed. You have far more pressing concerns right now. A quick glance backwards confirms that the succubus is licking the same hand, winks at you, and waves you to leave as the horde of major and greater demons close in.

You realize that you and Celegwen are too large to fit into the tear in the wall together. She hesitates to enter first. As one of the swifter monsters leaps towards you with a scream, you brace yourself hard against the wall, and protect your charge with the breadth of your back.

"Go!" A single, devastating swing is brought down across your back. Biting your lip is the most you can do to muffle the sound that is begging to escape. "Nnn— we'll be right behind you!"

Terrified steps are taken, as Celegwen keeps her eyes to you, and hesitantly passes inside the crimson and darkness.

There's no shout. No sign of distress.

The instant you're able to follow behind her, you enter the rift.

The darkness is absolute for only a moment.

Emerging into a small, narrow, windowless, and doorless room, you find yourself crammed face-to-face with a masculine demon. Three times as wide as you are— and almost twice as tall— he occupies nearly the entire space. Adorned in fitted black fabric from head-to-toe, only his hulking neck is visible (save for a small bow). Bright red eyes and yellow pupils fall on you, while the monster's four arms remain crossed before Celegwen's trembling figure.

The demon's smile is as broad as the rest of him. The voice he speaks to you with is nearly as deep as the abyss, though nowhere near as dark. "If it isn't our guest! Ho ho, aren't you a trouble maker? Good thing you knew when to quit. You're right on time. Step on in, step on in! The show is about to begin!"

Celegwen is panicked, and her breath is short— but she draws your jacket closely about her shoulders, and finds her voice. "Did a small woman enter here?! Blue cloak and attire, tall hat—"

The enormous demon waves one arm. "Right inside, right inside. Better hurry."

The room stretches out and away. With a familiar clicking sound and a small musical number, a black door appears at the end of the elongated space. Before you can blink, several dozen curtains unfurl from the ceiling. A red light hangs over the new exit. A small sign on a black metal stand catches your eye for only a moment as you and Celegwen rush forward.

It reads, "Enjoy the show."