Chapter 7 - Things Fall Apart

Describing Varus as flabbergasted upon encountering an undead on a ship teetering on the brink of sinking would be a common thought. However, on a single day when numerous extraordinary events had already unfolded, adding one more to his book hardly registered as significant anymore.

"You sure, you feel comfortable being around me?", he asked with a subtle blink, his gaze focused on the undead, particularly the jewel adorning its forehead. Weren't the undead generally categorized as creatures of darkness? Didn't that so-called 'more than a god' warn him that these creatures might perceive him as their bane?

The skeleton emitted a groan and redirected his attention to the book, hurriedly flipping through its pages. "Comfort, you say? Oh, yes. I am feeling deathly comfortable being left alone smack dab in the centre of a sinking ship," he retorted, shaking his head. He peeled his gaze back at Varus, his abnormally large eye sockets narrowing. "I know your human 'God'—burns me to just say it—didn't gift you with much, but kindly use the little you were given."

Placing his bony fingers on his cheekbones, he continued, "Do you look at me and think, 'Why yes, there is someone with organs enough to drown?' Trifling matters like water and poison do not concern me."

Varus nodded slowly, realizing from the outset that their conversation wasn't exactly on the same wavelength. However, he still quietly mumbled, "— What a quake she turned out to be."

The undead casually turned another page in his book, remarking, "Damp robes are the most I have to fear. Once this glorified skiff hits the sea floor, I will simply walk to shore." He added a hint of pitifulness to his voice, if undead could even convey such emotions, and concluded, "Whereas you, I believe, have lifeboats to pointlessly squabble over."

"You kind of standout", Varus peeked at his boney bones as he recalled, "I wonder why I didn't notice you before?"

"Hmm, I believe you did. Although I was wearing the face of an elf at the time," he remarked, not paying much heed to Varus's presence. "Saw you walk right into your death at the hands of that witch. A miracle really, you're still in one piece."

Varus felt he just heard something very interesting right now. As a sorcerer, two things were inevitable—hoarding loot and lusting for knowledge. "Wait, did I hear you just say that you can change your form? Not just a face, but undergo a wholesale transformation into any race?"

The skeleton nodded with a touch of disdain in his voice. "I had a mask, rather ingeniously designed, I might add, which allowed me to assume that primitive form," his voice turned grim as he glanced in a certain direction. "A mask that was stolen by that damn witch after her little 'scene'." Returning his attention to his book, he continued, "Still, it's good she didn't drown like the rest of these fools. So, I will simply pluck my mask back later on from her cold, dead hands."

"That sounds fascinating. I haven't heard of anyone accomplishing that before. I'm curious about the intricacies of crafting such a thing," Varus probed, quietly opening his pen and the letter ready to jot down whatever came out of his mouth.

"And I am amazed at how your primitive race continues to hit rock bottom of my expectations. It's just a simple innovation really - a perfectly ripped face of your assailant and a purified source orb. Tinker with them, hit the pinnacle of Polymorph maybe, and witness the transformation unfold," the undead spoke dismissively, but Varus was quietly taking down notes. The undead doesn't understand its value, he mused, a side effect of spending too much time in his ivory tower perhaps. Either way, the required materials weren't that easy to find, but Varus, being already a polymorph specialist, sort of — could have the chance to pursue that later. Probably. Maybe. Eventually.

"Well, that seems quite sensible," he nodded, tucking away his pen.

"Indeed—just as sensible as getting off a sinking ship and leaving a fellow to his own devices," the undead, now visibly annoyed at Varus's presence, remarked. "I would say 'have a good day,' but it seems quite likely that you're about to meet a rather terrible fate, so..." The skeleton shrugged casually, pushed Varus back with a magical force, and locked the door from the inside.

Varus chuckled whimsically, "I might just be the first person to annoy an undead enough that he decides to escape from me."

Now that his little encounter with the undead was over, he surmised that he could now return to his ship-delving. Although from the intensifying seismic jolts and the reduced delay between them, he felt his time on the ship was getting infinitely shorter every moment.

Opening the missive, stained with blood, Varus perused its contents, the most important part being:

[

Murtof,

Deathfog barrels have been locked down in storage in the middle deck. Stay out - you and Ricks both. If anyone starts fooling around down there, it'll be lights out...

- Captain Kalwyn

]

"What the actual fuck!" he couldn't believe what he was reading — The ship he was on, carrying numerous passengers, also harboured weapons of mass destruction. These were weapons potent enough to bring a nation down, destructive enough for a species-wide genocide. What in the world was going on here?

And then it happened: another colossal jolt rattled the entire ship. This time, it didn't conclude with the shake alone; the walls cracked, and the unfamiliar alien sound echoed again, causing his ears to bleed with pain. Torrents of water breached the vessel, compounding the chaos. But that wasn't all — the ship convulsed again another time. Suddenly, colossal tentacles, larger than anything Varus had ever seen or conjured, thrust inward, penetrating the hull and seizing the mast, tearing it asunder.

Varus's teeth chattered in fright, his senses ablaze with warning signals, and his hair stood on end in goosebumps. Finally grasping the nature of the creature, he uttered in realization, "A blasted Kraken."

"Today, survival itself will be a monumental achievement," he muttered as the chaos unfolded around him and even more for that was to come.

The surging water on the deck gradually intensified, catching his attention. However, he soon discerned an alarming change – the water was taking on a bluish hue and emitting wisps of smoke. He couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that it might be contaminated with Source. His hope wavered as he considered the ominous barrels of deathfog nearby.

It was fine even if it was source, that touch of regular source didn't pose a threat to likes of him, even benefited in many circumstances. But deathfog was an entirely different story — it was a literal game over for everyone, well except for that undead maybe.

"Lord, a mere touch or exposure to its smoke could lead to total disintegration within five seconds. I must escape from this hellhole," he thought as he urgently needed to check for the lifeboats immediately.

Hurriedly rushing through and seizing the nearby ladder, he attempted to climb up, only to find the hatch above locked. "Come on, not now." Retrieving his lockpick, he deftly inserted it into the lock. A twist here and a turn there, the mechanism gradually surrendered, releasing itself after a few moments.

Swinging open the hatch, Varus emerged onto the main deck, drenched by the onslaught of the stormy rain. It truly felt like jumping out of the frying pan and into a hell pit.

[Location: Outer Deck, Merryweather.]

Once outside, there was a scene of pure mayhem. The deck was completely engulfed in flames, fueled by broken oil barrels and scattered crates. The floor became slippery, a treacherous mix of blood and oil, with lifeless bodies strewn about. A bolt of lightning struck one of the sails, illuminating the chaos as two colossal appendages of the leviathan ensnared the ship in their grip. Helpless surviving magisters desperately attempted to extinguish the flames when, out of nowhere, another tentacle suddenly emerged from the depths, blasting several more of them into the sea.

With its hull integrity failing, the ship slowly started to sink, one end submerging while the other end began to tilt upwards. Suddenly, as if things weren't bad enough, spectral portals materialized in front of Varus. Creatures of an unseen nature emerged from the void — large insectoids resembling worms with sharp appendages all around. One of them burst forth at a magister, devouring him whole.

"Voidwoken. The damned ones," he muttered. It seemed survival today wasn't going to come easy, especially if he didn't step up. Varus retrieved his notebook, a makeshift grimoire of sorts from his rucksack, its pages yellowed and torn in the corners. Opening it, he quickly began to peruse through the most complex formulas he had mastered till now. Meanwhile, as the voidlings took their time dealing with the magisters, he started refuelling his reserves swiftly — he was going to need every ounce of power soon.

The one-sided killing went on and on until the deck was a pool of red. As the air was suctioned off towards Varus, the Voidwoken turned towards him gradually approaching.

He took a deep breath, stowing away his notebook. Spell formations and incantations filled his mind, with a fever in his heart. The air around him began to hum with magic; even in the wet cold, smoke started to rise from his body. His giant tentacle, which had aided him for so long, began to retract and separate into many once again.

"Time to make a stand." His replenishment paused, and Varus turned toward the violent sea. Extending his palm, magic began to rapidly compress, transforming into sparks. Inside his mind, he initiated his final invocation and called—

"I stand as the mightiest among the weak, my hunger unmatched.

No one can approach you without unease.

You perceive every shadow and detect the slightest folly.

The emblem I bear is the symbol of insatiable hunger.

Answer my call through water and war! Lay waste to the world and heed my invocation."

[Summoning School: Summon Familiar]

A torrent of magic burst forth from his palm, directed toward the sea he was pointing at. On impact, the sea began to glow purple and formed into a swirling whirlpool.

"Hear my voice and come forth, Octaving. I summon you in my hour of need," he summoned, as a large white tentacle arm erupted from the seas, followed by four more and then another three. Another alien sound now resonated, intertwining with the leviathan's roar. This one, however, counteracted the numbing pain caused by the Kraken's bellow.

"Acknowledged, Octaving heeds the call of his friend," the giant Octopus transmitted the message as it rapidly began to grow underwater, its arms spreading out.

Varus was never deeply into the summoning school, but every sourcerer tended to have a familiar at one point or another. Following his father's advice, baby Varus had made contact with a few. This one especially for the times, when he played with pirates.

"Satheran, I think you know defeating a Kraken is beyond our abilities. This one wonders what plans you have," the Octopus called. Young Octaving, compared to the colossal Kraken, paled in size, merely resembling a large truck beside the massive iceberg-like creature.

Varus let out a breath as he felt himself grow weaker. Summoning a large creature took an immense toll on him. His nearly refuelled reserves were already halfway depleted again.

"Octo, distract the Kraken as best you can. Harass the fuck out of him but don't engage in a fight to the death, even if it attempts to. You won't survive, and I'm too lazy to unshackle you. Father is no longer here, and I'm short on funds. Just delay the inevitable. I need time," Varus ordered.

"Understood." With this, Octaving's shadow began to disappear, its arms sinking into the water. "On my way. See you on the other side, Satheran."

With that done, he turned towards the voidlings near him and closed his eyes. Further invocations continued from his mouth as he took out the sword he picked up from the first magister back in the cargo deck. His next objective: clear the deck of any hostiles and he had just the right trick up his sleeve—, "May his spine be crushed; may his bones be broken, his tendons torn, his hair ripped from his skull!"

Suddenly, his body began to swell, growing in height; his spine lengthened, bones cracked as they thickened, and muscles curved upward, his hair grew ever longer. The ship echoed with bellows resembling a thousand bulls. But he further roared —, "May his blood, spilled over the earth, be churned into a bloody froth. I shall become the one who buries fangs into the sinner's flesh, that the will of the Lord be followed:"

Just as though, his teeth grew pointier and needled its way out of his mouth. His fingers stiffened up and his nails grew longer, sharper akin to claws. Two magnificent horns jutted out from Varus' forehead as the spirit of a minotaur materialized above him for a moment. It looked at him, nodded, and then merged within his body. Opening his eyes, now bleeding red, he focused on the Voidlings. His vision clouded with rage, he roared as he swung his sword heating with magic, "— Thou shalt be purged!"

[Polymorph - Beast Arts - Bull Horns], [Transformation: Complete, Status: Stable]

Like a blazing tempest, Varus rushed head-on into the Voidwoken, trampling them with each powerful step. The ground itself trembled at his every move. The voidlings regrouped and charged toward him, attempting to maul him down. With a single giant slash, he carved a swathe of fire between them.

"Almighty Pull!" Thousands of chains locked the voidlings in place, pulling them towards him. Varus threw another kitchen knife into a distant group. The red light of the knife resembled a distant star in a grey sky. Despite their size, he wanted to test if they still smell like insects. With a swift impact, the knife caused another explosion on the main deck.

The answer was a resounding yes, as Varus got the confirmation he sought.

A spew of poison hit his head. "Bug, you dare try this on me!" he roared, cleaving into the giant voidling and splitting it in two. Suddenly, blood spewed out from his neck, a tentacle bursting forth from his back, impaling the insect on his horns.

As one tried to use its wings to circle around him, Varus swiftly pressed his tentacle to swat it down. With the pommel of his blade, he smashed the creature into a paste.

Merging his tentacles into one, Varus swept the main deck in a giant roll, hitting the largest among them. The blow cracked its skull as Varus continued stomping it with his legs in a fit of rage.

After finishing his thorough sweep of the deck, now adorned with both human and voidling blood, he was suddenly distracted by the shriek of a woman. Looking up, the sound emanated from the steering station where two magisters were desperately trying to manoeuvre the wheel. The presumed captain of the ship, Kalwyn, was hysterically crying, "It's all over. won't budge anymore; this monster has ruined it all." Suddenly, another tentacle of the Leviathan grabbed the entire station, tearing it apart. Varus could see it clearly the moment Kalwyn's body was torn apart completely, her mangled organs falling over the area.

Enraged, Varus's emotions surged, his beastly form contorting as he roared at his familiar, "Octaving, you had one job!"

"I am trying too. Don't tell me you are surprised that someone other than you can also multi-task," the familiar disdainfully retorted.

The ship was beyond saving. Varus now found himself in a dilemma—whether to just save himself or try to rescue others too, taking on additional risks in the process. To listen to his heart or his brain.

"Go, make me proud, son," suddenly, a distant voice echoed in his ears from a time away. He paused momentarily as a light shadow grazed his shoulders. Looking sideways, he found the silhouette of a man looking at him, a light smile. He had an uncanny resemblance to Varus.

Now I am seeing hallucinations too, he took note – a clear sign of overexertion. He was using magic a bit too much today. He needed rest but it eluded him at the moment.

"Don't worry - I am not coming today, Dad. You be happy up there." Smiling at the spectre, with undeterred resolve, he continued his flow.

Far away, the sun was nearing the horizon, casting long shadows.