Desolate Mage: A Legend Reborn! 171 Eyes 2

As he backpedaled, he released a breath of relief as he saw that he was now finally moving away from the cursed altar and the creature. He felt giddy and disoriented, unable to make sense of what was going on.

He had the thought that he could just easily blast away the entire place to smithereens - ceiling, eyes, altar, creature and all - but a niggling sense inside him seemed to scream not to do so. A sinking sense that he could not seem to shake, that said that the moment he did so, he would be doomed...

Lars was relieved as he saw that the monstrosity did not give chase; it merely crouched on all fours and postured aggressively - upside down, yet it's hair unnaturally hung upwards, as if though sucked into the air by anti-gravity or... Something worse.

And suddenly, he realised that it did not have two hands and two feet... It had FOUR arms, two in the place of where it's legs ought to have been.

He had thought that he was already running at full speed, but he realised he was wrong. He found that he could actually still run much, much faster when he saw the creature stare at him with it's gaping black holes where it's eyes were supposed to be, then lower it's body and LICK IT'S LIPS, as if though it were a predator looking at a tasty meal just before it pounced.

Chilled to the core, Lars burst off with the maximum speed he could and crossed the distance from where he was to the exit, covering the 500 metres in mere seconds.

He did not need to turn around to orient himself as he knew exactly where the indentations on the rocks were and had a perfect mental image of the path to the exit - courtesy of his eidetic memory.

Lars lowered his body and in the next instant started to jump - but just before he could, he felt a numbing cold envelop his back, before icy pain lanced through the right side of his back.

Hairs standing on end and screaming out in shock, fear and pain, Lars spun his head around as fast as he could in frenzied terror, las.h.i.+ng out wildly with an elbow strike. He felt a sickening *thud* of bone against flesh and heard another sickening *crunch* sound like that of hollow, dried twigs snapping as he felt his elbow smash against some *thing*.

Some *thing* covered in hair, flesh and bones underneath...

Momentarily blinded by unnerving fear, Lars could not make out through the darkness just what it was that had struck him. He gulped as he felt like it was most like a bite, and spun around to look at what had just attacked him, but his spinning motion caused him to tumble to the ground before he shot to his feet.

Reeling in pain and like the glacial northern waters had chilled his back, he gasped in horror and could not believe his eyes when he saw the creature spinning away from his elbow strike - the same one that he had just seen on top of the black altar...

The same black altar that he was now lying beside.

At that moment, he felt the world spin around him. He could not understand what had just happened. He could not comprehend how he could be here after trying twice to desperately flee the cursed black altar.

Strangely, in that moment of crisis, the features of the altar hypnotically caught his attention. It looked to be made of a slightly s.h.i.+ny black material, perhaps bone painted black. The structure was roughly 2 metres high and was 2 metres wide and 3 metres long, a size that he could imagine was just right for a human sacrifice to lie down on top of it as a knife was plunged into his heart...

And before he knew it, Lars blinked his eyes once, then twice and wondered why all he could see right now was a ceiling full of white glowing orbs; orbs which stared at him and every now and then blinked while observing him.

'What... Where...?!?' He tried to turn his head but found that he couldn't - he was bound and unable to move, unable to even let out a squeak of sound. He tried to move any part of his body at all, any part whatsoever - alas, to no avail.

'Where--! Where is that *THING!!!??*' Lars struggled to move as his eyes rolled first left then right, then up and down trying to catch sight of the wretched eyeless creature that had taken a bite out of his side. He could feel the blood oozing out of his wound and the painful throbbing of the open, mangled flesh... But also a dread cold that felt like the area bitten was no longer part of his body.

But before he could even think about why and what was happening, he saw a figure peek over at him from the edge of his vision, still crawling upside down and *oozing* across the surface of the rocky ground, headed right for him.

It's eyes - it's eye *holes* were locked right on him, and in it's mouth, it was *chewing* with big bites, mouth open wide enough to see that it was chewing something b.l.o.o.d.y... That looked like flesh. *HIS* flesh...!

Fear rose up in his heart, was.h.i.+ng upon him in wave after crippling wave as he saw it languidly crawl over, unhurried, as if it were fully a.s.sured of it's coming meal.

Inside his mind, Lars tried to thrash about frenetically - but on the outside, he could not move an inch. Instead, he was motionless, appearing almost serene in calm except for the fact that his eyes were nearly rabid, darting here and there in panic and desperation.

Frozen, helpless, a bound human sacrifice on the h.e.l.lish altar offered up to a supernatural predator.

Lars could not stand it anymore. His mind snapped, screaming out every type of spell that he could remember, every ability and attack he could bear to mind - to no avail.

He could not even sense the slightest wisp of mana, could not trigger the least bit of blood energy, much less cast a spell!

His mind, broken from fear, began to be swallowed up by the dark, dark sensations of cold, as if though deep, dark black waters were rising, rising and covering his p.r.o.ne body, ready to entomb him forever...

But not before the abomination had it's way with him.

He tried to shy away from the icy-cold, clammy hand that landed on his arm; tried to do anything, anything at all to flee in terror.

He called out to Kizorik, to Velzash, to the Demon-Hunting Arts, to ANYTHING.

And he was still crying out, reduced in abject terror to sobbing maniacally on the inside while his body still lay there as still as a corpse - watching as the creature's face slowly inched it's way to stare him in the face.

The creature glowered at him with it's hollow eyes, mouth slowly parting, rotten tongue lolling about. Then it slowly drew back with it's inhumanly long elastic neck, dislocating it's demonic maw, ready to swallow his head whole...

And it's head shot forward, the blackness of the depths of it's mouth enveloping his vision.

"FILTHY THING! IN THE NAME OF THE LORD, BE THOU GONE!!!"

In sharp contrast to the darkness of the terror of the abyss before his eyes, a sudden flash of light lanced across his vision, blinding him just as much as the inky black darkness just before.

Lars felt the nearly weightless cold arms knocked off his body. And this time, unlike the times when he had struck it before and it remained silent, this time it let out a keen screech, like a cacophony formed of thousands of dissonant, discordant h.e.l.lish howls, like a creature that had been subjected to incredible pain and suffering.

The instant that the light flashed, and upon feeling the weight leave his body; it was as if the invisible bonds on his body were instantly loosed and the oppressive haze upon his mind were swept away all in one fell swoop.

"TAINTED SOUL!!! HYPOCRISY OF DESOLATION!!! BE THOU PLUCKED UP AND CAST INTO THE DARKNESS!!!"

Lars heard the same grand voice roaring with authority and felt heat and warmth all around him, dispelling the dreaded cold.

Despite still being blinded by the light, Lars did the only thing his frail mind could at that moment - he fled. He knew not in which direction, except that it was in whatever direction that was away from the bone-chilling screech he had heard.

He did not wait to hear what he voice finished speaking nor stop to find out the fate of the creature and the blighted altar, but just ran and ran and ran and ran.

after his sight began to return from the blinding blast of light, he saw that his surroundings were no longer dark - he could see a distant light before him in the direction he was sprinting haphazardly towards. He did not stop to think about where he was headed, but ran towards the light.

By the time he neared the light, he knew not for how long he ran, but he knew that he ran for long enough that even his far stronger body began to seize up, cramped and sore from the break-neck speeds he maintained.

But he didn't care. All he wanted to do was to get out of here. Fast.

'15 seconds more... 10!!! 5... 4... 3... 2...' Lars pushed himself hard, harder and harder and harder, until his lungs were no longer burning within him, until he could not even feel his legs any longer. He ran and ran as fast as he could, counting down the seconds until he would be freed from this accursed, wretched darkness and be let loose back into the light.

And he burst out of the darkness, his body shooting out of the mouth of the cave of darkness like an arrow loosed from a bow, soaring out and then tumbling head over heels on the rocky, gra.s.sy floor.

And though he was reeling in pain all over, bleeding, breathless, dizzy and bruised from the fall, he rejoiced with the sensations of the life-giving warm rays of the sun blazing down on him and the tufts of dried gra.s.s that were more like weeds that he felt beneath his body.

For he had survived. He was free!

"I'M OUT!!!!! *COUGH COUGH Cough cough* Ack!!!!!!" He burst forth into a dry croak of elation as he lay there on the ground, vision blurred by tears, nose dripping with snot, overcome by relief at having survived the harrowing encounter with death and the occult.

As he lay there, he reveled in the sense of strength returning to him - finally he could feel the laws of the universe, the mana and essence of the world once more. He was no longer cut off from the universe's strength, and could feel his strength once more. Only, it was so faint, so weak, weaker than he could ever remember even when he had yet to step onto the path of practice and cultivation.

Regardless, defying the limits of his sore and protesting body, Lars forced himself to his feet, wiping his eyes of the tears and tried to start running to put more distance between himself and the cave he had just come out from.

He immediately regretted his decision to wipe his eyes with his sleeve covered in dust and small stones as he subjected his poor eyes to intense pain. But he steeled himself through that pain and shot back a look at the mountain-side where the cave of horrors was.

And when he felt as if though some *thing* were still watching him, looking at him... But looking at him without any eyes to reflect the light of the sun... Lars bolted off into the distance, unwilling to remain there a moment longer.

And as he ran off into the horizon, back towards the west where the late afternoon sun hung over the sky, he swore to himself that he would never, ever return.

Never, never in his lifetime.

As he ran, his mind flashed over the information he had, racing as he fought to figure out where he was in this unfamiliar territory, nearly cut off from the mana of the world that empowered him as a near-Mythical existence.

Without mana... Without blood energy... Without being able to commune and tap on the flows of the laws and concepts of the universe... He was just a slightly stronger than average regular person with some meagre skill in weapons...

He sighed and could not understand what was happening in this Mystery Realm.

All he knew was that he needed to find someplace safe, someplace where that that *thing* could not pursue him - someplace away from whatever accursed place it was he had just escaped from.

* * * * *

As the sun set far far away from where the lone youth was still running, searching desperately for civilisation and refuge, ragged, beaten and bleeding from the serious wound on his back, an eyeless gaze watched.

Though it was pierced through it's head by an argent-white arrow and was scarred badly, as if though burnt by a searing fire, it crouched, motionless, as it watched it's snack leave.

Even after the sun set and the shadows of night covered the lands, it remained where it crouched, unmoving. Unable to move. Unable to leave it's lair.

Watching... Waiting.

Hungering.