Becoming Monsters

The long odyssey into darkness did nothing to calm Honoka’s anxiety. She felt like Lavinia Whateley being led to the gate out of Dunwich. Honoka tried giving herself more Perception to face her fears, but she couldn’t access enough free points to peer through the abyss. Yet despite - or maybe because of spite - the gnawing panic eating away at her resolve, Honoka pressed on and quickened her limping pace, silent and determined as she made her way down the long dark. She would need to ask Miaka to forgive her someplace later. It was the charming Japanese owl who brought it up during their first training meeting about survival and sacrifice.

She had found her 1%.

Honoka couldn’t stop herself, speaking towards the being she knew dwelt somewhere in front of her, the terror dissipating. “It is at this point I’m rescued by a sexy princess out of carbonite. I can’t see anything from the hibernation sickness, you laugh with a low, booming voice, and I’ll say I know that laugh…”

“Funny. The irony is, you might actually recognize me, sweet Honoka. After all, we did meet once upon a dream.”

Honoka froze, causing some of the guards behind her to bump into her back. She did know that voice, and suddenly there was no more courage or witty comebacks. How naïve of her to think there was nothing more to fear. She became terribly, terribly afraid. From the White, the voice that sounded like broken garbage disposals, the one that wanted to eat her thoughts, he was here. Deciding she needed to see, Honoka took all the perception possible and pumped her Attribute up to thirty-five points. The aphotic room leapt into focus, her eyes able to use the not-complete darkness to give her enough to work with.

What she saw would haunt her nightmares.

Immediately closing her eyes and allocating all the Perception back to where she had it, Honoka howled at the hideous filth she witnessed. It was a giant over fifty feet tall, seated on a throne made of skulls of every beast and Race available. The form of the creature was of a fat man atop a pair of skinny legs. Fat doesn’t do the term justice. Not someone overweight or the jolly friend who possesses a plump and round figure, this was the flop kind of layered fat, like his folds and rolls just kept growing in size downward. Honoka tangentially wondered if there was some kind of mold growing under each piece of overlapping skin. He was similar in shape to a pile of wet mud that slowly built up over the years into a hillish mound, then someone stuck two legs on the bottom of that and gave it life.

His weight and shape wasn’t even the beginning of his grotesque nature, because while the obese structure made up his outline, it was not what made him an abomination. All over his body, in patches ranging in size from as small as a piece of paper to as large as Honoka herself, he was a hodgepodge of a thousand things. And not all the spaces were filled. It was like someone would cut out a square of flesh, pull out the same amount of meat from another being, and try to fit it in without quite meshing. The pieces stuck out around him, making it look uneven. And the variety was so chaotic it caused nausea trying to take in the entirety.

His face was the worst offender. Part of his nose was a wiggling mass of tentacles, half of an eye glassy and dead, the second half bubbling out a foot from the socket, swirling in a myriad of colors. The other eye was entirely whole but it sat on an eyestalk, focusing its bloodshot gaze at Honoka. However, the pieces missing were the most disturbing, like the dark holes were someone’s sick idea of the anthropomorphic personification of Trypophobia given life.

In the end, descriptions did no justice because there was a Status effect in the air. Despite the wrongness, the awfulness of the being in front of Honoka, his Charisma was so high it drew the eye in and forced the person looking to absorb his essence. In that moment of searching, he was entirely inside her mind. The Ymirian could not look away from her own memory, Status locking her inside herself. Attempting to stay sane, she grasped for any bit of normality to focus on. Honoka settled on the space between his legs, noticing that for all his nakedness and deformities, it was smooth and dickless down there.

“Ha. Playing with Perception is a double-edged sword,” said the creature, clearly able to enjoy Honoka’s torment in this blackness.

“…eh…I’ve seen worse…” Honoka replied as she leaned down against her knees and breathed in and out, calming herself down. “…I mean, just yesterday, I was at your house and got a look at your mama in the shower.”

“Do you always mouth off against gods?”

“You’re not God,” Honoka replied with conviction and stood up, deciding this creep wasn’t worth her despair.

“Semantics.” Honoka felt the giant leaning closer. The next words brushed against her skin like the steam rising from a sewer. “Heralds are the new gods of this world because there are no other beings more powerful than us.”

Us. The word rang in Honoka’s head. As if a door opened, she imagined continuing to collect more and more women, becoming the thing in front of her. Shaking her head, she thrust that aside because there were more pressing matters than what might be, such as what is and what is true.

“The measure of God isn’t in His power, though that is eternal. He is our Father. Like all parents, He is only concerned about what we become, which is more like Him.” Honoka might be the size of an insect to this thing, but at that moment, she felt that they that be with her were greater than they that be with him. “God is charity, or selfless love. The love of a Parent.”

“Do. Not. Tempt. My. Patience.” He bent down with the speed of Wally West, his face only inches away, grotesque lips flicking drops of spittle the size of buckets onto and around the young woman. “You are like a malformed zygote, not even gathering enough cells to think beyond your secluded womb. You know nothing of why the Status came to Earth, what its purpose is or who you are. You are an abortion that already happened, and you are only breathing right now because I am mildly bored.”

Honoka needed this information. Gulping down her witty comeback, she tried playing to the ego. “I am sorry, I tend to lash out when I’m scared and ignorant. Would you please explain what we are?”

“Ha. Guess the black cat can sheath her claws.” He paused, probably thinking himself magnanimous. “We are the Heralds, crafted by the Status in the image of the collective powers that govern universal truths: Acquisition, Restitution, Consumption, Leisure, Desire, Corruption and...Instinct.”

As he spoke the last word, it resonated within herself with the sublime stillness of a vast lake. Honoka knew, even beyond what he said, that this is what she was. Instinct. It made a lot of sense to the young woman, her instincts were a massive force in her new life. Nevertheless, the giant continued as if this wasn’t a life-changing revelation.

“Acquisition, Leisure and Corruption died early, killed and collected by those greedy fools Restitution and Desire. We all searched for Instinct, but you remained hidden. We never once considered you might have hibernated your powers until now. Ha.”

“Then do I have the pleasure of talking to Consumption?” Honoka asked timidly, or as timidly as she could manage.

“It is a title, an expression of what we are and encapsulate. My name is Enoch.” The giant spoke grandly, filling the darkness, enveloping Honoka and the guards - who stepped back a dozen paces without her knowing - with his deluded majesty.

“Enoch. If I may, and I am only inferring, but I am under the assumption I am here because you plan on collecting me.” She thought of the lack of appendage between his legs; the Beast was the key to her collecting. Gulping, Honoka dwelt on his title. “How exactly do Heralds collect?”

“I guess I can see your point, you’ve only one data point. That would make it difficult to extrapolate proper information. The Status gives all Heralds the same Class, but the manner of collection is determined by their Race. I do not know yours; it would be related to the mythology of this world, someone or something involved in a story of creationism. Though the Status is alive, active, it doesn’t come from Earth. It sifts through the collection of our stories and applies effects with the closest approximation of relation between what is and what we can understand. I am Consumption, so my Race is Ouranian, from the Roman god who devoured his children. The mythology is meaningless, only a way for the Status to communicate with us as the gods of this world, allowing us to create our own mythologies.”

Honoka suspected something, but keeping Enoch talking remained more important. “So…?”

“I will eat you, just as I’ve eaten all those sculpted in this room. I planned on eating a delectable cheetaur, but when presented with a steak, one can easily put off the salad for another day.” He lingered on the moment, sounding wistful. “Before my ascension, I was a nobody, a failed artist. I worked at a gas station and tried to sell my art on the side. No one saw my greatness. The Change fixed that, allowing me to grow in power until now, my art surpassing human and reaching godly ability. You, my delicious Honoka, will be my opus, the final piece before the end and Judgment comes to this world.”

That was a lot of information. Honoka paused to winnow through and possibly use it, her head bowed and looking at the floor. In the middle of this contemplation, a radio squawked. Cortez - him and his men trying to remain forgotten in this whole conversation - flipped a switch and spoke softly. “Yes?”

“The hostages are outside and unharmed,” answered the scratchy voice of Sanders on the other line. “One of the creatures is insisting on confirmation.”

“Honoka?” Quinn’s voice came through the radio. After pausing for a moment, Cortez slowly put the radio in Honoka’s hand, fumbling a little in the dark. “Honoka, are ya alright?”

Finding the right button, Honoka spoke quietly. “I’m fine. Are you safe?”

“We’re topside, went through another tunnel. We’re the same as ya left us.”

“Good. Not sure what’s about to happen, but I love you all.”

“Love ya back.” And with a click, the line went dead.

Honoka slumped, relieved her family was safe, returning the radio and rubbing her temples to stubborn through the Status headache. She’d improved her Status proficiency over the last few days, only glancing at Status in short bursts, but she’d been doing so much today she felt as if her head had cracked open. With a shrug, she pulled the shield off her back and dropped it to the floor. She couldn’t hear it, but maybe the guards relaxed a bit when her destructive weapon clanged upon the ground.

“I honestly can’t believe that worked,” Honoka said in the direction of Dick Face and his crew. “Those shields only store enough energy for one shot before they require recharging. We dropped a bomb on Hiroshima, and you guys surrendered because I said I was going to drop another on Nagasaki.”

That elicited a few growls. The booming laughter of Enoch kept them in check and drowned any response.

“HAHAHA!!” The whole room shook from his laughter, Honoka falling to her knees from the pressure. “I don’t know if I should let those women go for your cheek or if I should eat them in front of you. HA!”

Before Honoka replied or reacted, she was crushed in a giant hand and thrust into the air, stopping in front of the grotesque face. Squirming, Honoka resisted the urge to allocate and fight back. Timing would be crucial, saving her few remaining seconds of access to the Status before the headaches grew debilitating. And she wouldn’t reach that precious moment without more talking.

“…aren’t you scared…uh…I’d just stick my sword in the base of your skull, directly into your brainstem?” Honoka asked loudly. Her arms pinned, her breath coming in gasps, her bones creaked at the edge of breaking, Honoka felt like a gambler with all the money on the table and the dice in her hands.

“I have collected hundreds of potent Races. My skin is as tough as a dragon, my bones as strong as mithril. You, with your pithy collection, could not hope to match my might. With but a moment’s thought, I can heal myself of any injury. Truly, I am a god.”

Honoka rolled the dice, the final stabbing migraine washing over her. The Ymirian gasped, pushing through to buy herself a few more seconds from the chatty villain. “…there is but one God, and He is not you…”

Enoch leered in the dark, licking his lips. Honoka felt herself moving towards Enoch’s mouth and her final collection. “Status proves the only gods are those who rise up above their humanity. Die knowing you are wrong.”

The radio squawked again, Sanders coming back online and causing the Herald to hesitate.

“Sir! The giant snake turned into a naked white chick. What are your orders?”

And it was with those words in the air that Padmava, hanging down from the ceiling from her tail much as Honoka did last week, dug her fangs into the base of Enoch’s skull and pumped his brainstem full of naga venom, killing him instantly.

********************

Turn the Wayback Machine to an hour and a half ago!

“New plan,” Honoka said while she let Quinn hurriedly bandage her leg. “This boss person seems to want me, so we own some leverage. And as the man said, Leverage: don’t make deals without it. Enhance. They might have a lot of people out there and probably kill us all in seconds. However, from their perspective, a hundred of their friends died today from five measly girls. They don’t know we’re hurting and out of tricks, so a bluff is our best weapon. I think we’ll use Pad’s empty shields, make them think we can flood this place in magma. I’m the leverage, and the shields enhance.”

Banda and Quinn looked between themselves, unsure if something so blatant would work, but it wasn’t like they were brimming with options. Quinn was the one who spoke up. “Ok, then what?”

“These people sent an armed squad to capture me, now they want to take me to their boss. They want me. I’m shooting in the dark, but it likely also means they don’t care about the rest of you. While I’m escorted to the belly of the beast, we need to make sure everyone else is safe.”

“I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for us!” Banda said with heat, though she did manage to keep her voice down.

“Not going to sugarcoat it, it is a possibility. I do have a second part to this plan, though.” Honoka winced as Quinn tightened the bandage. Scrambling to her feet, the exhausted woman took a moment to steady herself. “Pad, are you up to killing the man in charge of all this pain and sorrow?”

“Gladly, but I don’t know what use I’d be, I’m not much for combat.”

“Don’t need to be, most of it is you following me very quietly and hoping those people out there can’t count. If this works, we might even be able to get all the prisoners out of here as well.” Walking over to the naked human girl who suffered so much, Honoka gave a slight bow. “Dolly, I hate to ask this of you, but could you play dress up for a few hours?”

The plan only took a few more minutes to explain and execute. Dolly allocated into a naga, but Padmava kept three important Racial Features: her tongue, her ability to cling to walls and her recently acquired camouflage ability. That camouflage was really cool, looking like a cyber ninja ready to fight a nuclear mech, only the faintest of outlines and distortion in the air giving anything away. Honoka also pumped her full of all the Perception available because the Indian woman would take her cues from Honoka while she was led to the final boss.

When the barrier fell and everyone came out of the cell, Dolly was a naga and wore Padmava’s armor, thought it didn’t fit very well on her differently sized naga body. Regardless, no one mentioned anything because the plates covered her golden and orange scales. Quinn had spent most of the fight looking like a killer bug, so the fact she looked like an ottertaur didn’t send up any flags. And they were leaving a cell holding onto a prisoner, so even Aruna in Dolly’s snake arms didn’t look out of place.

After both groups left, Padmava quickly sneaked out and found the central guard station, tracing the scent trails with her tongue. As Honoka suspected, it was currently empty because all their manpower was focused on keeping people out. Master Blasters was known to charter only around two hundred members in its guild. Half of them were dead, and another fifty escorted hostages. The rest of their guild was either on guard duty at weak points, or they might not even be on site. Either way, it only took a few minutes for Padmava to read the labeled controls and get all of the chains unlocked and doors opened. Running back to the cell blocks, Padmava found a clustered group of naked prisoners and told them how to escape out the way the girls came in.

It was all Honoka could offer with their limited resources at the planning session, the prisoners left to free themselves. Hopefully, the prisoners would escape but Padmava already made use of her recently acquired Endurance and caught up to the slowly walking troop, employing her tongue to follow Honoka’s scent. The escort headed deeper inside, passing a group of skeletons and a lady in a gold mask when Padmava picked out Honoka’s voice.

“…how you make the undead? You have someone under a Binding Contract?”

Padmava’s boosted hearing snagged the last bit. Spinning around, the naked and invisible wife went back to the woman who pounded a wall in frustration.

“What are the terms of your Contract?” Padmava whispered, causing the tall robed woman to flinch and whirl around, unable to find Padmava.

“I…I am his slave in most ways and forced to create and control the undead until either he releases me or he dies.” The voice was quiet as the grave, not breathing when it spoke of a long lost hope.

“Is this boss powerful? Does he have a weakness?”

“He calls himself a god. He is far more powerful than I am, though he was once human, like the rest of us. I don’t know how to kill him. That doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“We’re going to try. Can you make it to the entrance by the Bridge?”

“Yes. I hope you succeed.”

Padmava took off again, silently shadowing while the group entered the throne room and began down the long mile. With her enhanced Perception, she saw a massive figure at the end and reasoned this was the place. Following the plan, the naked woman stuck her hands and feet on the wall and quickly climbed up to the ceiling using her Racial ability. The Friendly Neighborhood Padmava hustled, wiggling her body as she crawled to get ahead of the group. It was close, but she was into position above and behind the giant before Honoka reached the being, his seated head only a couple dozen feet below her.

The Indian woman found the creature vile, forcing her to turn her eyes away and listen for her cues. The tensest moment came when Honoka took back the Perception allocated to her wife. Without warning, Padmava found herself blind and deaf. She yelped, but no one noticed when Honoka screamed at the same time. Over the next few minutes, she felt Honoka give her the right cues on what she should do, bits and pieces of the other wives allocating into her body. Her teeth gained a metallic taste and sharpened into fangs from Eve. Over twenty strength and even the Bullish multiplier of Banda exploded her body into muscle and power - the stretching of her skin hidden by the booming laughter of the giant below. A few other Attributes came her way, but it was when Honoka was picked up that Padmava felt the stirrings of herself being changed back into a naga and she prepared herself.

“…aren’t you scared…uh…I’d just stick my sword in the base of your skull, directly into your brainstem?”

There was her target, Padmava lowering herself down to the perfect height, unfolding her jaws and aiming at the top of the neck, her hanging position allowing her to plunge fangs upward and behind the skull, injecting every last bit of her increased capacity for venom she possessed. One of her fangs snapped as the giant twisted his head, crushed between the skull and vertebrae, but Padmava let go of the ceiling and used her dexterous arms and allocated stats to slide past the falling body and reach the floor.

“Aah!” Honoka cried, holding one of her legs on the ground where Padmava joined her. Honoka was lucky. When the giant died, she was able to slip out of his grasp before he fell back in his throne and spasmed to death, but she was still over thirty feet (9.1 m) in the air. All her beautiful points were in play, she didn’t possess the little extras she had grown accustomed to and landed severely, feeling a snap in her shin. Padmava picked her up in one set of arms and held her close, her tongue raining sloppy kisses onto her wife.

“I was so scared for you!” Padmava said with joy as she hugged her wife and never wanted to let go.

“Not over yet, less than 10% MP before we turn back into pumpkins.” Honoka ran dry of adrenaline long ago, the only thing keeping her awake at this point was a blinding headache and her broken leg.

“Boss!” The near-absolute darkness played against Cortez and his guards. They knew something happened but they couldn’t see and didn’t have any lights. “Find the girl and kill her!”

A few shots rang out, but Padmava was already booking it down the long hall, leaving the slow humans far behind. Once they emerged and took a moment to orient themselves, the castle violently shook as if the structure were the world’s most enormous etch-a-sketch being reset by a toddler.

********************

Banda didn’t think of herself as brave or clever. Her friend and wife Eve was always the clever one; no matter what Attributes said, points weren’t everything. Growing up, Banda considered herself slow because she didn’t understand what happened around her. When the Change happened and her Wisdom of three showed itself, she thought she would just level up and use points to make herself smart. She now sported a much higher Wisdom, but she still spent her whole life living with the personal expectation that she was inadequate. Being cursed as a holstaur unable to give milk was just the cherry on top.

“Good. Not sure what’s about to happen, but I love you all.”

“Love ya back.” Quinn was the one talking into the radio and stopped when it was forcefully taken out of her hand. Banda’s spirit ached, not knowing if those would be the last words she would hear from Honoka. Yes, there was a plan, but the holstaur didn’t believe it would work. Too many things might go amiss, too many parts where it all ended wrong.

“…Banda, I couldn’t hear…is Honoka alright…?”

Cradled in her arms, Miaka looked like a doll rescued from a fire. She healed at a rapid pace, her wounds at least now sealed over with scaly scar tissue, but recovery was a distant future at this point. Her face pleaded while she weakly croaked out the words.

“I don’t know, but I hope so.” Banda really did hope. She also gave a silent prayer, asking the God Honoka believed in so strongly to watch over and protect her family.

“Now get out of here before we decide the world needs fewer creatures in it,” the leader of the guards said, pointing his weapon and motioning for them to move.

The girls had reached the flat rock of the Floor, the heat once again blasting into them. They came out on the other side of the Bridge, only a dozen yards away from the stalwart undead standing there. This particular tunnel was more substantial and much more heavily guarded, probably the main entry and exit for the guild. Banda and the girls walked as fast as they could, not knowing when the rest of the plan would happen and hoping to put some distance away from the tunnel before the guards figured out it was a trap.

They didn’t go more than a hundred feet (30.5 m) when Banda suddenly lost her strength and quickly set Miaka on the ground, trying not to lose her balance as her breasts suddenly felt like lead weights the size of large dogs, landing heavily on her butt. Dolly then cried out in surprise - a normal reaction, really, for a newbie to allocation - when her body transformed into her human self under a clanking pile of armor, though she retained enough fast thinking to set Aruna down before she lost the ability to hold him.

The guards shouted and ran towards the women, but this was part of the plan as well. Propping her shield over Miaka to keep her safe, Banda swung the heavy M60 off her back and flipped the tripod up, fitting the chain belt into place and chambering a round. Quinn was quicker on the draw, pulling her rifle around and smoothly bringing the scope to her eye as she sighted the ground in front of the guards. The southern farm girl fired a shot that boomed with so much smoke and thunder, Banda was sure they heard that gun in Boston.

The bullet exploding the stone in front of the leader like a landmine stopped them in their tracks. They lost no time returning fire, launching spells and artillery towards the girls. Banda was ready for it and decided full auto suppression fire was in order. Firing into the group, the holstaur felled a few before they determined the tunnel entrance was a safer enclosure and made a tactical retreat.

“Guess the party started!” Quinn yelled, levering another bullet and hitting an ice mage in the shoulder, likely killing her. She seemed like she was going to make some more comments when Dolly quickly ran up to the ottertaur and began talking, but Banda couldn’t hear over the sound of warfare.

Quinn’s face turned into a demon’s conniption, quickly pulling up her rifle again and taking her time to aim. With another loud bang, the leader’s head - Sanders, Banda now remembered - exploded like a ripe melon. Nodding her larger ottertaur head in satisfaction, Quinn levered another shot but hesitated when the ground shook underneath her feet.

Shake might not be the right expression, it didn’t fully explain the experience. This was a dungeon Floor, physics were only suggestions in places like this. It wasn’t like an earthquake, it felt like the world’s most enormous paint shaker was hooked up to the earth and got turned on. Banda was already on the ground, propped up by her boobs, only receiving a violent tremble. Miaka was knocked unconscious from the pain and Aruna was already out of it. Dolly tried to hang onto Quinn but the beastkin woman was not used to her legs entirely and both of them fell over.

The guards had a harder time, the tremors emanating from Bone Castle. The tunnel was no longer safe so they ran out again in a stumbling panic. Banda kept them in line with another long burst. Many of the guards at this point threw down their weapons and ran off in another direction, which Banda was okay with while her gaze drew towards the Castle.

Already she saw bits of bone tumbling off. Then one of the towering spirals collapsed in on itself, then some more of the roof. This happened unnaturally fast and the holstaur woman witnessed the entire structure sink into the lake.

“Honoka!” Quinn cried, finally propping herself into a kneeling position.

Banda mourned with her, but the holstaur needed to keep the living alive. She meant to do just that, no matter her own inner sorrow. At one point, a group of Master Blaster guildies tried to run through the front gate, but the undead army on the Bridge turned around and attacked them with no quarter before the entire structure collapsed. Hundreds of undead tumbled into the magma with the rest of the Blasters, the end to both. With such a vivid display, the last of the guards from the tunnel threw down their weapons and fled, bringing a sigh of relief because Banda only had six bullets left.

Forty minutes later, the castle was gone, the shaking stopped, the entire Floor silent as the dead. Quinn and Banda, safe for the moment, moved over to each other and cried for their lost wives. The agitation of the shaking released a lot of gasses from the magma and the whole Floor was thick with a white haze.

“Hey, Quinn, people are coming,” Dolly told Quinn with an understanding and subdued tone, shaking the ottertaur’s shoulder lightly.

Banda turned around, sniffling and positioning the gun in the direction Dolly pointed. Quinn brought her sight up and checked, blinked, and checked again before shouting, “Its Pad and Honoka! They’re alive!”

Out of the steam appeared the naked naga form of Padmava, Honoka gently held in her arms. Behind them, stumbling in the mist, followed nearly a hundred former captives, ninety percent of them women and almost all of them a menagerie of different Races. Naked, starved, abused past reason or sanity, these former captives were free. Assisting those too weak to move, they proceeded slowly to keep themselves from falling onto the sharp rocks. Unable to give up when the nightmare was so close to ending, they were more determined than beaten at this point. Hope, the sweetest of balms, kept them pressing forward, following their saviors silently as they marched.

When Honoka caught sight of her wives she slumped with relief. Suddenly, all the allocations reverted back to their original owners when Honoka couldn’t stay awake any more and drifted off to sleep.