The Lord of Rot

A city stood on legs. Those words were the only ones Konrad could comprehend. A massive crowd of flesh which would move together at the same time. Was it as large as a city? It was not something he could see, but it looked as terrible as it could be. A hyperbole of the word terrible monstrosity.

Konrad did not worry too much of the behemoth, for a monstrous colossal like this was beyond comprehension for a mere mortal. Therefore he stood in fascination rather than fear.

In the off chance he encountered the behemoth, there was no amount of running or fighting that would be able to stop it. Therefore he didn't need to worry. But he didn't think of it at all.

'I sure hope I don't encounter it sometime…'

What was more alarming for Konrad must have been the lack of a city. There should have been a large city of lawless people, those not following the Doctrine, but that would only be if the city was inhabited. At the very least could a city be a shelter for him.

But now… it was gone! The whole city had vanished, how come? The unnecessarily large city had vanished like a magic trick. How come?

He took his anger out on a few straggling hare-like creatures. Konrad had become the very definition of a hunter, slowly stalking his pray, then leaping through the air with a sharp blade like a primal soldier from many eons ago.

The bone of his hand contorting on top of his fingers whistling through the air, slicing the creatures apart with crazed force before they could even notice anything.

[ You have cleansed a rotting soul… ]

[ You have cleansed a rotting soul… ]

[ You have gained intelligence on the Rotting Creation… ]

[ Your volume directory has reached over 10 tons… ]

"Hmm? Intelligence?"

"Aphaim? Show the the, the thingy again!"

[

Name: Konrad

Contracts: Aphaim

V.D : 10,100

37 / 100

]

In the flow of the moment, the intense focus of the battles, these must have made him enter a tunnel mode. He could not remembering slaying over twenty creatures in the last few days. Not that his memory mistook him, only that his mind didn't "react" to their deaths. 

Still, Konrad was impressed at the number he heard. Thirty and seven monstrosities killed by his own hand - if that isn't impressive, then nothing is! 

These battles had been difficult, but slowly they became more of an equation, a relay of focus to different sides of the same person. But slowly, like a skill forming, he could shift parts of his body into a rotting mass of strength and power. He drew from that power and was able to accomplish more than any other normal project ever could accomplish. 

But his heart didn't beat the same way anymore. He didn't feel the same thrill from the battles... And his boredom made him think, and his thinking made him realise his own solitude. He was all alone. 

Not entirely though, a matter of fact, he was surrounded by friendly prospects. That might have been a lie, though speaking plainly, these were the hopes of Konrad after not seeing another person for that many days. 

One of the Rotting Bisons would charge at him with force. He would hear the horrible noises produced from their muscles twisting and contorting, snapping apart then reattaching themselves. It was a terrible noise he did not like to hear. But he gritted his teeth like biting into ice. 

It was a horde of the monstrosities he had encountered once more - by now it felt like a monotony, like a wave of endlessly coming, aimlessly wandering beasts who's sole objective was to die. But he wouldn't let that fact disturb him, the beastly creatures sustained his lifestyle, his hunger and his thirst, it sustained his strength and made the only voice he heard speak to him.

Because of these facts, Konrad would continue slaying beasts - whistling through the air after focusing most of his attention to the lower portion of his hand, thus producing a blade of sorts. It was a bony protrusion, only made by the rotting living flesh within his hands being twisted and pulled apart. But now, it looked far longer...

He had been through so many battles that they grew meaningless, but he also forgot to notice the changes made to his body and mind. For sticking out of his hand, was a blade twice as long as the one before. It looked like a cutlass made of bone and steel. It was bent in the kind of way a tusk may be. But it looked rugged, rotted and twisted. Like the stringy texture of hollow bone had been pushed together with tremendous force then pulled apart again. This was a weapon...

Without even having a moments doubt, like his mind had been dulled from battle. He would swing this blade through the forsaken wasteland, slicing the Rotting Bison into grotesque pieces. The horde would be diminished after the most brave of beasts had been killed, but these rotting abominations had no coordination. Moments prior they must have been willing to eat each other, but as soon as Konrad entered their equation, they turned towards him. 

'Is it because I haven't been completely overtaken by the rot?' 

But that couldn't have been the case. For some reason, his presence was different, although his body was exactly the same as theirs. There was something unique going on, or perhaps Konrad was overthinking the case. 

The battle was now over - he had sliced apart the monstrosities without a second look, his mind attuned to battle as though someone was controlling him. As a result, he could barely remember the battles he faced except a number slowly rising in his ear... 

( 45... / 100 ) 

( 46... / 100 )

( 47... / 100 )

So he could only comfort himself by continuing his battle towards the general direction of the city. Between the vast landscapes of the wasteland and the moving behemoth to the left. Somewhere hidden there, a city must be...