The gem flickered again as The Grateful One reached for it, shadowy tendrils stretching outwards from the cracks in its facade. Just as before, it transformed everything in reach - even if that reach was hardly very far. The ore-flesh surrounding it dimmed, the bright light it gave off fading to a near-black.
The Grateful One’s hands went right through it, lodging themselves within the Coreless corpse that lay inside. She jerked back slightly, hurriedly pulling them free. A moment later, that was proven a wise decision; the gem’s effect faded and the ore-flesh came back to reality in full. Damaged as it was, the effect didn't last long.
I wasn’t sure what would have happened to her hands had they still been inside when the gem’s effect ended. Probably nothing good, if I had to guess.
Still, I was beginning to understand how the dead Coreless had moved so far through the mist. Between a full covering of ore-flesh, including over his face, slowing the spread of the spores to his body and the gem-and-ore-flesh combination to allow him to shift into a more ethereal state, he had made it far further than most could have - only to be crushed by a root of the giant Darkwood tree in a moment of weakness. Another reminder of the massive thing's strength. It had probably ended in a single blow.
A little more hesitantly than before, The Grateful One started to pry at the gem. It held on fast, apparently sticking to the ore-flesh around it by unexplainable arcane magics. I knew that she should have been strong enough to pull it off, and yet she couldn’t.
Even placing her fang underneath and pulling didn’t seem to work, the damaged gem holding on with admirable grit. The Grateful One stared at it for a moment longer, grabbed it again, and then twisted.
The enchantment, whatever it had been, broke. The gem came off after spinning around and around, my disciple’s hand pulling it away from its bindings. A strange coiled chunk of ore-flesh was directly underneath, jutting upwards from a hollow in the plate. A few loose shards littered the hollow, lost when the gem was fragmented.
“A fucking twist off, really?” The Grateful One muttered, seeming as [surprised] at the enchantment binding the gem to its ore-flesh as I was. “Whatever.”
She palmed the fragmented gem and brought it towards where I waited, hand held out in supplication. An offering without words.
With as close as it was, I could taste the mana that leaked from its cracks. The Coreless’ ore-flesh creations were my only experience with the mana-enhanced objects that they designed. Those pieces were sealed in a way that the gem wasn’t, sterile and lacking scent.
The gem, however, was not.
It had the scent-taste of a Lesser Core, though not one that I recognized; still, even a pathetic bad-thing could recognize something so obvious. For me, there was no question. I knew it instantly.
It was oily on my tongue, the scent-taste slipping off its surface like uncooperative flesh. It tasted of shadows and darkness, of things hidden and furtive. It tasted of a wall-crack’s dark corners, where I had once tucked myself away in fright.
I took it, ordering my spore-roots to stretch my jaws wide. It was cool to the touch, colder than I had imagined - and then it pulsed, black tendrils stretching from the gem’s surface. They poured down my throat, spilled all the way down my length.
I turned to shadow, starting to slip through The Grateful One’s body before a panicky thought-hiss moved my body to act. I didn’t want to end up stuck inside the disciple if the gem turned me solid again. My body pulled upwards, spore-flesh straining.
It lifted, bringing me back to the surface again.
My body felt light, almost nonexistent; that same lightness made movement easier than it had ever been, all but lifting me into the air when my spore-roots caused flesh to flex upwards. More than that, it caused me to move fast. The ore-flesh that not-Needle had offered me was still causing my speed to double unless I brushed aside its effect intentionally through [Traveler]. The combination of ore-flesh and shadow-gem was almost uncomfortably quick, forcing me to actually continue past the edges of The Grateful One’s flesh, lifting above it in a near-float.
I forced myself back down with another thought-hiss, spore-flesh flexing in undulating waves that kept me just above the now-useless barrier that was The Grateful One’s skin. Then, with no warning at all, the tendrils pulled back. I was pulled back into reality, dropping through the miniscule portion of air that separated The Grateful One and I.
Well, then.
The shadow-gem, as unreliable as I knew it to be, had proven more interesting than I initially expected. If it could have been trusted, it would have been a powerful tool. Unfortunately it was far too flawed, marred by battle and its origins. Something created from a Lesser Core could only be so effective, I was sure.
Despite that, I would keep hold of it for now.
A thought-hiss sent my vision back around, letting me see the battle that still raged behind us. The stolen disciples had failed to escape the Lesser Core’s bonds; even so, their muscles twitched with each new movement, hints of resistance that pointed towards their continued struggle.
While I watched, another set of vibrations traveled up The Grateful One’s body in a quest to rub against my scale-flesh. Their touch was even more powerful than before, forcing the ground to visibly tremble. Below us, mounds of dead spore-flesh shifted about, motes of green sliding across one another in a flurry of falling flecks.
It happened below Will as well, the shifting spores souring his footing. Before I could send a new thought-hiss to right it, The Unrepentant One landed a powerful blow. Will slipped, falling to the ground.
The stolen disciples leaped forward, ore-flesh fangs bared, falling upon him in a display of savagery more than skill. I met their savagery with a bit of my own, briefly forcing my vision to flicker despite the weariness invading my skull.
I looked through The Unrepentant One’s eyes, looking for an opportunity. It wasn’t long before I found it. In between strikes, one of his hands came too close to Will’s face. I forced him to bite down, the spore-roots inside his mouth aggressively shifting in response.
Maybe too aggressively; the spore-roots that I had caused to take root there were different from the normal ones I created. More virulent, eager to spread their infection. They wanted to move, to writhe, and only the commands laid by [Spore Puppeteer] kept them from doing so. When given free rein to act, they did so mercilessly.
The Unrepentant One’s vision shook, his hand tossing itself back and forth - Will firmly attached. His lips were red and bloody, small flecks of gold and blue caught within the dripping fluid. I could see the wriggling spore-roots underneath his flesh as they twisted and pulsed, poking out in places where they had twitched too hard and broken through.
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More than anything, I was surprised by how deeply he had managed to bite. Like with most parts of their forms, the design of Coreless’ fangs baffled me. They were so blunt and useless, horrible for piercing flesh. It was like they weren’t fangs at all, just useless things to grind and chew already-defeated bad-things.
Their poor design even forced them to carry around replacement fangs of ore-flesh. As useful as those were, the need for them was a clear mark of Coreless inefficiency.
The Unrepentant One’s hand tore free from Will’s mouth, a stream of red following behind like a slithering thread. It formed a fist and came back down, smashing into the disciple’s face with a force strong enough that I would have been worried for anyone else. His nose snapped to the side, crushed by the blow.
The hand rose up and came down again. It never landed, the bundle of spore-roots transferred through my disciple’s bite successfully throwing the attack off target. The Unrepentant One’s other hand, of course, was still uninjured. Uninfested by my spores, and - most importantly - still holding on to The Unrepentant One’s dangerously sharp ore-flesh fang.
The fang lifted. It came down again.
I panicked, forcing Will’s hand up to catch it.
To try, at least.
Then, just before it touched down and split through ore-flesh and skin-flesh alike, the fang paused. It trembled in place, almost vibrating from the conflict brewing within The Unrepentant One’s body.
The Lesser Core’s corruption was failing, beginning to break under the Great Core’s might. The Unrepentant One was starting to resist, even if that resistance failed more often than not. Maybe the imminent death of his fellow disciple spurred him to fight harder, giving him enough incentive to halt the fang’s fall.
Either way, it was enough that I could force Will’s spore-roots to save him. His body threw itself to the side, causing the fang to grind itself against the ore-flesh covering his hand in a bright shower of sparks. A shard of ore-flesh fell free, bloody bits of skin falling with it.
Another urgent thought-hiss forced his uninjured hand to the side, wrapping its fingers around the giant piece of ore-flesh that was his main source of protection. He pulled it free from where it was buried, spore-flesh sliding off its surface to reveal the mana-light underneath.
Not-Needle’s fangs, almost forgotten in the chaos of battle, came down directly atop it. They skittered off uselessly, even with the mana that enhanced their sharpness. Without The Unrepentant One’s sheer weight and strength behind the blow, there was hardly even a mark.
Even so, it was a reminder of Will’s mortality.
Something needed to change if he was going to survive this life. I knew that Will was surely willing to be a sacrifice for the Great Core’s glory, but I wouldn’t make him one if it wasn’t necessary. The Great Core’s disciples were not to be wasted.
I focused, my mind working fast.
One thought-hiss went out towards The Unrepentant One. His spore-infested hand thrashed, catching not-Needle’s face and knocking her to the ground. Another went to Will, trying to pull him back to his feet. Lastly - and maybe most importantly - another set went to myself as I tried to blindly form a message through [Illusion Spark].
With no way to see, I wasn’t even sure if it was doing anything. I tried regardless.
Not-Needle’s body pulled itself back up, raising her fangs into the air once more; a thought-hiss turned away the blow, ore-flesh meeting ore-flesh in another clash of sparks.
Then, just as I was wondering if [Illusion Spark] had failed in this state, a foot slammed into The Unrepentant One’s face, forcing it to the side. When he turned back, The Grateful One was there; I, however, was not. My illusions had still worked, even if I couldn’t sense my own body.
That was good to know.
I let my perspective push back into my own body, finding myself covered in shadows again. The nearby spore-flesh seeped through me, and I commanded my spore-roots to lift upwards in a fit of disgust.
Turning towards the Coreless disciples, I noted that The Grateful One joining the fight had swung things in the Great Core’s favor. The stolen disciples had been weakened by the constant battle and their corruption was decreasing with every moment. Without my conscious direction, Will’s spore-roots weren’t as effective; even so, evening out the numbers had done wonders for his chances.
I looked at the Lesser Core’s lair again, shadow-gem still held firmly within my jaws, and then had my spore-roots slither me forward carefully. Will’s near-death had slowed me down greatly. I couldn’t afford to hesitate much longer.
The Lesser Core needed to die, and I needed to secure this life’s accomplishments at last; both of those could be done at once.
With a hint of trepidation, I let myself slither towards the nearest wall-crack on the outside of the Lesser Core’s lair, careful to follow the paths that only I could - and where any of the Lesser Core’s efforts would have a harder time reaching me.