Chapter 44

The devilish creature that had once been Wil Brookmoor felt the woman’s presence fade, her body melting into sunlight, evaporating into the darkness. Growling in frustration, he returned to the Dragon’s corpse, struggling to fill the hungry void that gnawed at his insides.

There was nothing left to the Dragon but flesh, blood and bone, the vitality and mana that he craved was gone, drained, and devoured. He had grown stronger, but so had the desires within him.

Howling, he sank his teeth into still warm flesh, ripping and tearing, desperate to ease his starvation. There was something else inside him now, a creeping infection, lines of black tar that seeped into his body, staining what little remained of his soul.

The madness of the infection found little purchase, however, in a body ravaged by external forces. The demonic pact, the dragon’s essence, Wil’s own convictions, and now that insanity inducing infection fought against each other inside him, a cycle of destruction and creation, each trying to take control and overwhelm the others, but failing.

Spitting out a mouthful of dragon flesh with disgust at the lack of taste, Wil turned away from the corpse, searching with his crimson eyes for a target to satiate his needs. A chorus of voices shouted in his mind, each screaming for attention, to guide his actions.

“My brother, Brookmoor. Kill and consume the traitor! Grant me my vengeance!” Moloch howled, the pact pushing Wil to find the betrayer, to follow the thread that the infection provided and find the source, the Archdevil Mammon, and the Outsider that controlled his activities.

“This world is weak! Only the strong can rule. Slaughter the devils, murder the gods, rule this world as only a True Dragon can!” The draconic essence whispered, its voice pulling on his blood, stirring his pride and newfound draconic heritage to dominate and control.

“The One true god demands our subservience. Deliver this world to it so that all may be consumed by its darkness. Rip the portal open wider, feast on the so-called gods of this world!” The infection wailed, the vision of a tentacle creature with a single eye stared at Wil from the above, demanding obedience.

“We must close the portal. Protect this world, and everyone who lives here. Gods above, what have I done. That was Secundus! I would have killed her. I would kill everyone. Heaven help me, what have I become?” Wil’s true voice whimpered, hidden deep within the madness.

Screaming, Wil threw back his head, frustration and hunger nearly overwhelming him. With no voice louder or stronger than the others, Wil was lost, unable to choose a course of action. The world would have been doomed, if not for the actions of one being, attempting to place their thumb on the scale of the battle within.

“Well. Well. Well. What has fate brought before me now. A priceless treasure, free for the taking.” A voice echoed from the darkness. Greed tinged his tone, and a pair of coveting green eyes winked open in the Night.

A figure appeared before Wil, a man, dressed in gaudy clothing. Expensive silk robes, heavily embroidered in gold thread, he was adorned with a king’s ransom in jewelry. Gemstones of every color and precious metals hung from his neck, hands, fingers, even his ears were pierced with diamonds.

The man was confident and self-assured, swaggering out of the Night and stopping before Wil, eyeing him with the avarice of a beggar finding a gold coin on the ground.

The man stopped before Wil, exuding an aura of power that nearly pushed him backwards. His mana was strong, a match for the goddess he had seen earlier. Wil cautiously sniffed the air, tasting the man’s magic on his tongue. It was different, sweet, like the Dragon’s but with a tinge of tanginess that, while not off-putting, was different enough to make him hesitate.

The hunger within Wil howled for relief, to devour whatever was in front of him, but it recoiled slightly at the taste, the void in his belly retracting, wavering.

“A pity that you killed that beast. I had hoped to make it a permanent part of my collection. The Pact between us is now broken…but I believe you may be a suitable replacement.” The man whispered, his eyes glowing a bright green.

Tears leaked from the man’s eyes, leaving streaks of black tar on his cheeks. Wil recognized the scent of the tears, they were the ‘sweetness’ that had been present in the Dragon. Delicious. The hungry void quivered, its hesitation fading.

“What you are smelling is the taint of the Outsider. Infection! Disease! Tainted blight!” A voice screamed within Wil’s mind, joining the chorus. Wil couldn’t place the voice, his madness obscured the source.

“I can sense my brother’s mark on you, Wil Brookmoor. Selling your soul for power…Tsk Tsk, I thought you knew better. Didn’t that mother of yours warn you of making deals with a devil?” The man, the Archdevil, Mammon joked, his face splitting wide in laughter.

Wil watched in fascination as the man’s lips parted, revealing more teeth than a human should have, in two rows.

“But my mark is upon you now, as well as the One’s. This infection, as you mortals call it. No one can resist. Your pact with my brother is broken, Wil. Take your place by my side, you will join my collection. It will be…” Mammon prattled on, but Wil was beyond caring about his words.

Wil’s red eyes followed the line of black tar streaking down the Archdevil’s face. The sweet scent in the air grew stronger, and his hunger rose with it. Licking his lips, running his tongue slowly along his elongated teeth and sharp fangs, he savored the smell.

The Archdevil was retreating, a black portal forming behind him. From the entryway, Wil could smell more of the sweetness, an overpowering smell that drove his mind wild, pushing him further into madness. The chorus of voices inside him grew stronger, driving all thought away. His vision reddened, narrowing, until Mammon was the only thing left.

“We will join the others, Wil, on the black moon. It will be there that they we shall-” Mammon was cut off by a roar, draconic and ear piercing. Spinning around, he witnessed Wil, his wings outstretched, mouth open, as he screamed at the air.

Mana swirled around him, black and crimson and gold, a kaleidoscope of colors, clashing against each other, refusing to mix. Against his black skin, lines of red glowed from his veins, shimmering against his scaled flesh.

The roar continued, and with it, Wil’s power increased. Demigod and beyond, it rose swiftly and violently, an uncontrolled mess of mana that was as destructive to Wil’s body as it was to the surroundings. A tempest grew, the wind howled, and the ground shattered.

Mammon threw up his hand, covering his body in a layer of green mana, a powerful shield that deflected the debris from the storm.

“It’s futile, Wil! You can’t resist the One! Give up and come with me!” Mammon shouted, fruitlessly trying to be heard over the wind and the roar of the mad creature before him. Giving up, The Archdevil empower his body with more mana, ready to step forward and subdue Wil.

With a burst of speed and power, Wil shot out of the vortex, his outstretched clawed hands easily piercing the shield of mana the Archdevil had surrounding him. Penetrating magic, silk and flesh, Wil buried his claws into Mammon’s torso, before clamping his jaws around his neck.

For a moment, the Archdevil couldn’t react. It had never expected that Wil would attack him, that he would be able to resist the control of the One’s infection that raged through him. Mammon was infected himself, he knew how powerful it was.

With a surge of power, Mammon tried to wrestle Wil off him, gripping his forearms and ripping them out of his body. With a heave, he threw Wil away, taking a portion of his own flesh with him.

Breathing heavily, Mammon stemmed the flow of blood from his body, healing his own flesh with his mana. Wil crashed onto the ground, scoring a trench in the ground from his impact. Standing, he licked his lips, tasting the sweetness of the Archdevil’s blood, the tanginess of his flesh.

With another howl, the enraged beast the had once been Wil Brookmoor charged forward, ripping, and tearing at the Archdevil, all thought driven from his mind except for the overwhelming need to feed, to slaughter and devour.

Inside his body, the hungry void quivered in delight and his stomach quivered in anticipation.