Queen's note: I hurt my own feels writing this. I'm sorry, but I really wanted to try something not JUST the gore of the Slayer in a truly un-hinged rage, because it just seems like he would. not. be. okay. inside with all that… hurt.

As an added warning, yes still very much a DOOM story and with all that in world trauma, there are some mentions of kiddo and animal death.

Garnets

Chapter Seventy:

Paradise Lost

Will?

This was nowhere. It was hell it had to be, he was back in hell with the flood of the unwanted… and not hell because it was nowhere. No time flowed past him, yet could slip by once he turn

The air broke, sizzling with each gasping breath. Stone seemed soft and was turning black all around. There was no light as altered bones crunched under his boots, though he could see just fine. He could see the liquid energy flowing in the demons. Could launch at them and rend them to the ground to not but strips of meat and blood and ash under his hands.

Unidentifiable gore coated thick to his body and he had to wade through it before it charred. Crumbled and became a different kind of thickness like flowing sand that tried to cling to his body. The creatures of unlife and undead were fleeing, trying to run from him instead of charging at him. It was not like they could get far, he was just aware enough to feel breaking a blade off of one of the demons. Of throwing it through the hall to skewer another to the wall.

Just aware enough to see the light fading ahead of him, to realize that he could not keep up. The demons were just ahead. Letting Hell devour the light- he was always just this too late. The darkness crawling just that much ahead of him, not letting him stop-

Always, always just too late-

Will.

He was seeing the filth of hell growing rolling forward in the darkness… no… it was coming from the darkness, it was following the path of strung up bodies and braided entrails.

The mummified, desiccated demons could be grabbed and as he started to rip their brittle limbs apart they were already burning under the pressure of his power.

It was not enough.

He felt himself screaming, again, but could not hear anything that was not that constant chant of rage. The pain he felt was not physical but echoing from farther back into the recent. Amplifying as it all flashed into perfect memory every few heart beats.

His Viola.

Feeling her jaws loosen and push him out with that attempt at an affectionate churring of hers. Watching her blood spread in the air as he felt and heard her wings breaking as they still struggled to beat as they were twisted up in harpoon and cored line. Trying to grab her head, he could break the cord- just too late before his winthern had pulled away in her want to protect him. Even calling before sinking below the surface.

His love.

Finding the pale, bloodless body spread out on the kitchen table in the yard, the blond roots showing through her dark hair and still clean. Too late to stop the ritual- no matter how much he pulled off the imps he was too late. He could only scream and tear them apart with mortal strength alone. It did not matter how much he cried and prayed because that shifting glow of her soul was being extracted- he could only lunch to try and save what he could- nononono don't let Hell take her- please let him save her soul-

Will?

His little one.

Small, so small and rendered to meat. Too late again to save the last thing from his family- his family? Nothing left for him to hold- little bits and blood over a stake. Something so soft and innocent and even though he gutted through all the creatures. Could not find who ate her-

His brothers.

Hell had followed him- it had finally kicked him out and now it followed him. Those that finally dragged most of his mind awake. Dragged from the all consuming violence and rage of his unlife. The brothers in arms that fed him and reminded him he was still alive- drowning in the exploding of Hell growth. He could not pull them free, could not do anything to help those few he like as they fell under demon claws- too late to try and tell them how to fight the hordes.

His baby.

To small- to small- to small- so small and little and broken- he could barely move as he tried to see what he could save- he could just scream as there was no soul?! Why could he not try to save his son's soul like- How could he be too late again and again and-

Will?

His dog.

The Sentinel puppy he had been given, she turned into such a beautiful silver furred- it was burning as she followed him into hell again. He could not pull her out of the titan blood- just missing grabbing her as her main melted and even as he jumped in after- too late to do more then haul the body up- the phantom of her kept following him into hell until he had to leave her in the vault before the last of his puppy girl gave up all of her to help him.

His Daisy… Daisy… The soft… not just the soft but his Daisy?

His world was burning all over again. His life and all that he struggled to provide and created was burning in Hell- and again his second life that he struggled and clawed to get out of the madness- to get his mind and second life back only to fell in the jaws of fire- and again and again and all again loosing-

It did not matter how much he tore through bones, ripped their bodies to chunks. He snapped at the air but could not understand why he could not feel the satisfaction of his teeth sinking through demonic flesh. It was fustraining and the chant just… bled. Burning through his mind with each flash of a single minded goal of finding who took his Viola, his flower- his love-

Will!

He was screaming again, roaring in a mix of primordial and primal rage and pain and hunger.

Nothing was stopping or relieving the echoing pains and fear. He could not even feel the souls he hosted- could not tell if they slipped away (left the monster he was) or sank into him. He was alone and back in Hell all over again-

He caught the scent of unaltered souls at the same time seeing a burning glyph that was his through the blackened walls. One of his Sentinels, standing guard of the sacred and abandoned in this hell, and near. He could not stop the tide of hell but maybe he could carve a path to the side.

It was not stopping the hunt for that Murderer, or the demons as he kept finding them trying to run from him… hiding in corners of a room. Aware of their bodies breaking, shattering and charing under his palms or under foot has he tracked the abandoned souls.

He could save those at least from Hell. Take in the frightened souls and bury them deep under his power to keep them safe- he could smell them, see the souls now as he pushed a wide door open. See the Sentinel with his mark on back and chest on the ground, falling? No, not Falling but different?

He stepped forward to the group, starting to reach a gore covered hand. It was something in all the pain he could do. Take the scared souls from Hell's grip and keep them safe-

Will!

The primordial word slipped out was his voice, but it was not him at the same time. Coming from somewhere almost completely forgotten deep within his core as a part of him woke up. That part that was intertwined and meshed with what was left of his own, original tattered soul, that he had been desperately trying to keep safe for ages since finding her in the lawn.

He was yanked out of Hell, away from the frightened souls that needed him. Pulling into the eternal between two heartbeats and something hot grabbed him.

Reflexively turning in the blinding flow of mixed energies, he closed his hands onto the slim neck. His grip ripping tight before realizing in horror this was not a demon or monster.

Small and slim and feminine and pure and he was killing-

His hands jerked off the form before he recognized them. Only for one of his wrists and the thumb of his other hand to be grabbed by smaller hands that he could not pull away from.

The smaller form of his flower, his original flower and love. What was left of her soul was integrated into his from ages ago that normally could not react- but something must be left.

Will? The echo pulled his hands and he could only follow through the chaos until something stilled. The ever present chant was pushed back to a dull throb in the back of his mind here at least, and then his legs gave out.

The Slayer dropped to his knees, a broken part of himself fitting back together to realize how much he had changed in compassion to his lost love.

He keened in a mix of longing and pain as this echo stepped closer, guiding his hands around her. Letting him latch on as tight as he needed, because he could not hurt this flower. Reaching out, despite the caked gorey-ashy filth on him to hug him back. It's alright Will. They're safe.

This echo from deep within his broken soul, his Daisy, his original flower took the nightmare and made it snap back into the shape of… reality.

Warm hands were grasping his cheeks, making him look up at the indistinct form but for the soft blue eyes staring back at inhuman green. You need to wake up Will. You can't fight like this. Wake. Up. And see what's around you.

The echo of his Daisy pressed her head against his as the next heartbeat took the eternal away. Her form gave out to return back into his core. And it was as if she took away a part of the all consuming darkness doing so, shimmering around and drawing his attention to the currently hot bonds attached to him.

The Slayer was standing just inside the door to one of the old training rooms. He blinked and lowered his reaching arm as he saw for the first time it was not trapped, lost souls but living souls in front of him. Huddled forms behind the altered but not fallen Sentinel. The other big, armored form was on his knees bowing with fists to the ground to… him?

All at once the Slayer realizes he almost culled living, innocent Argenta lives. It jarred him back into reality a little bit more. The constant chant of rip and tear hitching like one of his records skipping. A soft, pained sound came from the Slayer, at least it sounded like it came out of his broken throat as he started to turn.

"Lord Slayer?" A low voice rasped in the heat of the air, and the god of death paused. "My brother… our Fallen brother… he's in the building to the west of us."

The Slayer turned his head to the west, taking a deep breath, before silently turning back into the darkness. Once more seeing what was around him, realizing for the first time that the heat rolling off him was burning the pale stone hall around him with each step.

Seeing and sensing that there were no more demons. They had fled or fell under his feet but he could catch that rotten scent of a degrading soul saturated with Argent and raw Hell energy. The god of death stopped at the now broken western bridge. Staring across to where the Murderer was standing, and there was finally an echo of sound.

The echoing of thunder from the bridge falling to the bottom below. Stone bricks and pavers giving sharper cracks after the main part fell.

The black and gold armored Murderer chuckled with the faint echo of primordial power as he smiled under the modified helm he had on. Unlike those that Fell to their wraith giving out or even giving it up to the demands of the Maykrs. This was a different kind of Fallen Sentinel.

Glossy black, well kept armor and living weapon like blade of an ax gifted from the blood priests. Curving and polished horns reflecting the dying light of day. A real betrayer of not just him and the Sentinels but all of those of Argent D'ner and its colonies. Something mutated and changed, infused with an echo of the Hellwalker's own power that had lingered in the Divinity Machine.

The Unchained Predator launched forward, his stride at full length and it did not matter that there was no bridge. He felt the Praetor suite reacting in time with him smoothly, despite damage that had not fully healed and repaired from the culling. The boosters he had not needed to use since waking up in that weakened state on Mars kicked on.

Clearing the last part of the distance and adding just that much force into the undead, mutated Murderer. Its widening eyes and snarl did not matter or stop the 'smaller' god from tackling and getting his hands on the demon tainted.

Nothing mattered for a time as he had a hold on what took his big baby. The Slayer was going to keep that hold no matter what even as an arm reared back before slamming it down to crack the armor over the hip and pelvis of the demon. Aware of but not caring of the returning hit to his head and left shoulder, it did not matter as the god hit again, and again. The sheer force behind the blows still traveled through the other undead body to break something inside even as the armor did not fully break at first. Just cracking until he broke through the rare refined hell forged metal.

The fight was everything but fair, not that he would give any chance to anything from or allied with hell. The Slayer kept one hand on the Murderer at all times and just never let go.

It did not matter the size differences. It did not matter that sometimes the Murderer's were faster. It did not matter that they tried to steal echoes of his power.

It did not matter because his hold was stronger, because hell those from it always broke before he did.

"Kar'en'tuk," The broken voice snarled out of a bleeding throat as the Slayer grabbed hold of the Marauder's arm, then chestplate to pull himself up higher before tearing into the suddenly exposed chest. Not so blinded anymore, but letting the hunger for blood and violence and vengeance sang in his veins again.

It was not an even fight, though the two would be mostly evenly matched if they had met in any other situation.

It was and was not the kind of all consuming, blackout rage like just before. But it was also not that song of violence and hunger like on earth so far. This had turned into a primal, screaming, up close and tight fight for survival that the other was losing with each new hold the Slayer had. Each broken and torn free bone and rib, there was no escaping the horror of the Hellwalker.

Something was screaming to the side, an unwilling was trying to fling itself between them but only succeeded in having its head caved into the marauder's charring body. He watched as something disk-like fell out of the chest cavity.

He caught it as there was another scream, echoing and more clear as one of the crucified demons in the area that had not burned in winthern fire started to wraith. The emaciated body cracking and changing as what was taking over control was ripping itself off the stakes. Changing as it started to absorb some of the viscera around it, bone growth forming over the head like a blind mask.

What was left of the Marauder twitched in response to the screaming coming from the other demon as it changed into something feminine. The gore covered Slayer finally standing up with the odd, thick coin-like disk.

"What- have.. You- done?!" The Litch screamed through the demon as it tried to crawl faster over. As the glow faded out of the Marauder's eyes the desperation grew in the echoing voice, watching him trying to saw something as it gargled with missing jaw, "An'pu! An'pu- no!"

The stolen echo of power released as the Marauder's broken, argent soaked soul gave out. Both were absorbed into the Praetor suite, one part to return to the rightful owner, the rest to fuel the armor itself. The death ash stirred as the controlled demon crawled into the mess while trying to grab at the larger chunks of the tractor's body not fully charred.

The Litch, Corpse Lord (Lady?) was just screaming in a primal sort of way through its stolen body as the Slayer shifted. He was aware of movement closing in even as his right hand closed over the hilt of the Last Gift for the first time in what felt like ages.

What was closing in slowed and then stopped as the blue, opalescent crucible blade came to life. Flipping it around there was no hesitation to slam the humming blade through the unshielded hosting body of the Litch. Grinning at the screeching echoes of pain from elsewhere in the upper city, triggering the Crucible to drain as much of its power before the demon body started to be encrusted in seaglass blue crystal and then it fell to ash and shimmering sand.

Something like a growl came from the living blade, not the eerily still, quiet god as the forms climbed onto the platform… gazebo? Open half ruin to the Argenta sky above them.

The forms were moving like wolves, circling a good distance away from him, just on the edge of the worst heat rolling off. The new god rolled his neck and felt some tension cracking before easing in his shoulders. He turned his head and focused on a wolf, taking in how it sat watching him. Then another wolf beside it… was not a wolf? It was… was…

That was his glyph on her leg?

The Argenta woman had armor very much like a wolf's fur and head, a weapon laid down in front before… bowing. "Kar en tuk, du te exunt."

The Slayer opened his mouth, could only taste his own blood, jerking as a dozen voices echoed the words around him. Turning to see the bigger 'wolves' dropping to the burnt stone floor.

"Kar en tuk, du te exunt!"

"Te Slaven' vetar," The strange Sentinel woman from the start spoke again, sounding relieved, "Slaven' recan!"

"Slaven' recan!"

"We are your wolves, Lord Slayer." the woman spoke, something about her voice and soul both sounded and smelled familiar. She looked up with glowing blue eyes, "We are the Shadows of the Sentinels you once had, we had faith you would return."

…his?

The Slayer looked around, down at the death char and ash. He walked slowly to the edge of the once bridge, looking down at the water before dropping to his knees and then rocking back to sit. The crucible deactivated to sit beside him, feeling the heat roll off with a last deep breath before it started to properly ease as a familiar numbness was closing in.

Before he completely shut down, the Slayer glanced at the thick coin-like disk as he remembered to subspace it into the suite storage. He just recognized Deag Nilox' glyph on it.

The new god… demigod… he did not want to be a god. He jerked at pressure but felt the living fur of a big wolf crawling into his lap. That… that was fine. This was okay as the wolf pushed into his chest despite the white fur staining.

The Slayer started to sag forwards, but hands caught his shoulders. The bigger Sentinels were there, pulling him from the edge of the artificial cliff. Pulling his arms around their own supporting shoulders as the numbing cold settled over him.

Reviews!

RavenShichiyou:
[trust me she will get her new ittybitties to nest on!] I'm so happy you're liking the story still! you might need another full icepack after this chapter

XFireStoneX:
...that miiiight be an understatement. 3 also I know the feeling for fallout stories! hopefully you liked the plant lady! She's going to cameo in BFDG