Kiss of Osiris

Chapter Eighteen

And how were their pernicious friends doing? It had been awfully quiet as of late. How close were they now? Evee poked her head just a smidge to get a lay of the land. A blinding red pain erupted on her temple as stone connected with her. The villagers had surreptitiously surrounded them, and one of the villagers had been waiting for them to emerge to chuck a rock at them. 

Evee slumped to the ground with her hand to her head, groaning. Something primal and terrible snapped in Al. "Are you okay?" "I think so..." said Evee. With his partner seemingly okay Al stood up. A deep burning rage like wildfire coursed through his veins. His eyes burned red like hell. One of the villagers screamed. Al realized he was hungry. He could no longer keep the demon inside. 

The rage at them hurting Eve, the stress of the pyramid and its revelations, and the hunger -- all were too much. He had reached his breaking point. His dark skin turned pitch black like the void and glowing red arcane markings ran up and down his body. Angry black horns slowly grew out of his temples. A few of the villagers ran the opposite way. Lucifys had said Alcinous had only scratched the surface of his abilities, that there was much more, things he could only dream of. His cheery, his benevolent nature had been the failsafe keeping the darker, and esoteric powers within him at bay. But now that seal had begun to crack, and it spelled the villagers' doom. A burly man with an ax rushed at him. Dark Al grabbed the ax with one hand and looked at him. A bellow of smoke and hellfire erupted out of his mouth onto the poor man. He let go of the weapon and dropped to the ground screaming and rolling the flames out.

Dozens of villagers rushed him all at once. He impaled one with his claws, draining his psychic and bio-energies and threw his husk at a nearby villager. Countless knives and weapons stuck in his hardened skin, like some nightmarish pin cushion. In his berserker rage, Dark Al shrugged off the pain and injuries and let loose his wrath.

He hacked and slashed at the villagers with his claws and would occasionally blow hellfire and ash at oncoming waves. He would try to shield himself from the rain of bullets with his wings but a few would still pierce through and stick in his body. He would worry about that later. As long as he had people to drain he could patch up the damage temporarily. His strength and speed increased and he was a force for the villagers to reckon with. They would have to come at him in teams of five or six in order to avoid being obliterated. One of the villagers had managed to impale him in the leg with a pitchfork and broke off the shaft, he paid with it with his life, but Dark Al limped for the rest of the fight.

In his dark state, Al was able to fight longer and endure more injuries than he would in his normal one. But it was taking its toll on him. There were just so many villagers. Even with the graveyard littered with dozens of bodies they just kept coming. Dark Al was injured in countless places. Knives and other sharp objects stuck in his skin. 

But his hunger was unquenchable, every third or fourth person he killed he would suck them dry and add their life energy to his own. After what seemed like hours he finally picked off the last of the men who dare oppose him (the women and children were safely hidden). The last of his opponents were killed, and he dropped to his knees at about midday. Steam-like mist drifted off his skin as he baked in the full light of the sun. Bodies lay scattered all around him, as did smoke and fire. There was one more nearby. One more soul. Slowly walking, suffering from hundreds of injuries, he headed to a large tombstone, where he smelled another human. He found a raven-haired female about twenty years of age. She had a large gash on her forehead and an adventurer's knapsack on her back. He raised his razor sharp claws above his head to stab her and feed on her lifeforce...