LIGHTNOVELSTORY Chapter 20: Forward!
Creed's heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum, and his trembling fingers barely managed to keep their grip on the hilt of his sword.
The whispers still clawed at his mind, the oppressive red glow flooding through his closed eyelids like a warning to keep them shut.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. Panic wouldn't save him now.
Dagga's voice rang out again from somewhere ahead, barking commands and curses as he hacked and slashed at the unseen horrors. "KEEP MOVING! DON'T YOU DARE OPEN YOUR EYES!"
Creed swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to obey, he really did, but every part of him screamed that this wasn't going to work.
He wasn't Dagga. He didn't have the sharp, animalistic instincts of a demon.
Dagga moved with the ease of someone who could feel danger before it struck, his blade meeting threats before they even reached him.
But Creed? He was human, and the human body wasn't built for this.
His mind raced, weighing his options with cold, brutal logic. If he kept his eyes closed, he was going to die.
It was only a matter of time before one of these things got through his clumsy swings. He wasn't fast enough, wasn't precise enough.
Dagga might survive this. But he wouldn't.
Creed took a deep breath, forcing the rising tide of fear back down. If he had to die here, he'd at least go down fighting.
But maybe, just maybe, if he could see what he was dealing with, he'd stand a chance.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. His hands steadied on the sword as his decision solidified in his mind.
If the whispers wanted to drive him mad, then he'd face them head-on. If the red light wanted to overwhelm him, then he'd burn it into his memory and keep fighting.
He opened his eyes.
Creed's chest tightened as he stared at the horror before him. He blinked against the crimson light flooding the cave, his breath catching as his gaze landed on it.
A writhing mass of flesh stretched across the tunnel, its monstrous form pulsating like a grotesque heart.
Dozens of eyes, all different sizes, bulged and rolled within the shifting flesh, glowing faintly with a sickly green light.
The thing's surface wasn't solid but rippled like liquid, with strange appendages—half-tendril, half-limb—emerging and retracting into its vile bulk.
From its gaping mouths, sharp, crooked teeth clacked rhythmically, as if hungry to sink into prey. It smelled like rot and sulphur, its stench clawing at Creed's throat and making his stomach churn.
Another one, just as massive and terrifying, slithered farther down the tunnel, blocking their escape.
It lunged at Dagga, who roared curses, darting and twisting to avoid the flailing tendrils and snapping mouths.
The second creature loomed closer to Creed, the aura it emanated pressing against him like an invisible weight.
His head pounded violently, and his vision blurred, but it wasn't just physical pain. It felt like something deeper, something sacred, was being wrenched apart.
It struck him like a cold slap of water—this wasn't just fear or the grotesque nature of the creatures. It was pain in his soul. He clenched his jaw as the truth hit him.
'Staring at these creatures hurt the soul!'
This was why Dagga had warned him not to open his eyes. It wasn't the abomination's appearance that drove demons mad—it was the damage it inflicted on the soul!
The longer he looked, the sharper the pain grew, like tiny needles digging into his memories, pulling and rearranging them.
A small part of him, somewhere in the corner of his mind, already felt off, like he'd forgotten something important.
The creature inched closer, and the agony spiked, threatening to swallow him whole.
Creed's knees buckled, and he gasped, gripping his sword for support. Just as he thought he couldn't take it any longer, something within him stirred.
A faint warmth began at the back of his mind, spreading outward like a ripple across a pond. His vision, still soaked in crimson, began to shift.
Slowly, the piercing pain in his soul eased. He blinked in confusion, the throbbing fading to a dull ache.
Then, his reflection caught on the blade of his sword—his eyes were glowing faintly purple.
The glow was soft but steady, like the embers of a fire refusing to die. Creed didn't know what it meant or how it had happened, but whatever it was, it shielded him.
The soul-crushing aura of the creatures no longer tore at him.
"Creed!" Dagga's voice cut through the haze, snapping him back to the moment. "You still there?!"
"I'm fine," Creed called back, the words steady despite the chaos. He forced himself to focus, shaking off the lingering fog in his head.
'There's no time to think about it now.' The cold determination returned to his veins like a shot of ice. If they were going to make it out of this hell, they had to fight.
Bam!
The creature before him lunged, its tendrils shooting forward like whips. Creed ducked, his sword slicing upward and severing one of the writhing limbs with a wet shlock.
The thing screeched, a high-pitched wail that made his ears ring, but he ignored it. His grip tightened on his sword.
The red glow of the cavern made everything more surreal. The creature moved like liquid, its form blurring into the crimson background, but Creed's focus sharpened.
He could see its movements—predict them. The faint purple glow in his eyes burned a little brighter as he sidestepped another attack, his sword cutting through its fleshy appendage.
"Forward! Keep moving!" Dagga bellowed from farther ahead, his own fight as brutal as Creed's.
Dagga's curses and grunts echoed as his claws clashed against the other abomination, ichor splattering the walls with each swing.
Creed took a deep breath and lunged forward, his blade arcing toward the creature's bulk.
The abomination shifted, dodging unnaturally fast, and countered with a flurry of tendrils. Creed ducked, rolled, and slashed at its side, landing a shallow cut.
He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—he couldn't. This wasn't about skill or glory. This was survival.
Even as exhaustion crept in and the tunnel felt endless, Creed's resolve burned brighter. His glowing eyes locked on the writhing mass before him.
It was time to push through or die trying.
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