"I told you Petre, you will never leave me," gurgled the flesh pillar, its amalgamated face a mix of anger and pleasure. Petre's vision shifted back and forth between reality and his nightmare for a brief moment; In that brief moment, he saw the flesh pillar as the upper body of a giant steel warrior, its emotionless eyes staring at him before turning back into that twisted fleshy face.
Suddenly, from the ground and roof, from where Petre just came in from, bloated corpses and rotten heads floated and rushed in. "Oh look, your friends are here Petre. They want to thank you. And I want to thank you... for what you've done to me!" The pulsating pillar laughed, "And this time, I am going to teach you a lesson the right way. I am going to show you how. much. I. love," Suddenly Petre heard the sound of the crack of thunder, "YOU!"
A beam of red energy shot out of the pillar's mouth; Petre leapt to the side to avoid it. But then as his feet touched the ground, the floating heads fired the same, albeit smaller, beams. He kept trying to avoid them while instinctually shielding himself as some of them grazed his skin, burning flesh right off.
Then, when there was a brief pause between the barrage of shots, the corpses tripped and swayed towards him at staggering speeds. Petre was getting quickly overwhelmed as he leapt backwards and used the chalice as a club, hitting the corpses with enough force to send them to the ground in a pile of mush.
The fleshy mountain laughed again as a piece of its flesh detached off it, turning into a tentacle as it slashed Petre's chest. Petre did not see it coming in time and was not able to dodge fast enough.
He screamed in pain as he fell backwards, his entrails visible from the cut. He quickly rolled on the ground, avoiding slams and projectiles from his foes before getting back up with a sprint. Suddenly a steaming projectile hit his leg, turning it into bone. He collapsed to the ground again.
Petre knew he had to do something to change this. Then it dawned on him. Quickly he spewed out wine from the chalice and concentrated on what was, in Petre's opinion, one of the few good parts of Bacchus's dominion.
When the wine left the chalice, it immediately went upward and coated the chalice before coating Petre's body. He bit his lip as he felt pain, but the wine quickly healed his body. Burned skin, missing flesh—all of it was healed. He then rolled to the side again to avoid more attacks from the heads and corpses. The fleshy pillar was mostly just spectating, its sadistic smile unwavering.
Meanwhile, Petre kept fighting his other opponents. Little by little he got more adept at handling them, using the chalice to heal himself to recover from any injury. However, the corpses and heads were appearing too much and too fast.
Suddenly, the eyes out of the heads shot out like bolts of lightning, exploding as they made contact on a surface; knocking Petre around and giving him no time to recover. He gritted his teeth as allowed wine to trickle out from the chalice. Petre then raised the chalice like a sword as more eyes flew towards him; both hands holding tight to the chalice. Then, when the eyes were about to make contact, Petre grabbed the eyes via the wine and swung the great multitude of projectiles back at his foes.
Both heads and corpses were blown apart in a gory and oily fashion, but they still kept coming. He started forming his own spears of wine to shoot out at all his foes, but it wasn't enough.
It did not take long before he was surrounded and the bodies began to hit him from all directions, sending him to the ground as their hands turned into blades and the heads did not relent their attacks. He felt like a doll getting put full of needles as he laid there. His vision was growing blurry and dim as he heard the pillar laugh more.
But Petre was not done yet. The laughing pillar egged him on, aggravating him as he concentrated on the wine and the chalice again.
"STOP!" Yelled Petre as he caused the wine to spew onto the ground before stretching across the ground and ascending upward; forming into a protective dome that blocked all the attacks. Though the corpses and heads attacked the dome without rest, it gave time for Petre to take a breather.
He looked all around himself, at each of his foes. He recognized each of them. Each of them was someone whose life he ruined in some way. Each one a life he was guilty of destroying. His heart sank, but then, Petre looked behind them and at the twisted face of the mountain. It was enjoying his suffering; it was enjoying feeling superior to him. And that kept him pushing. Petre had to keep going, he had to win this!
The man raised the chalice high in the air, concentrating as much power as he could physically hold within it. With every passing second, he concentrated on the chalice, the more it shook and glowed with a red light. Then, when his arm was about to snap off from the force of the shaking, he slammed the lid to the ground again.
The wine around him and the wine within the chalice burst out, before beginning to implode and then reverting and exploding, sending forth a shockwave of wine infused with a strange power. Each of the bodies and heads turned to ash as a large protective aura surrounded the walls of the tower; blocking off any more enemies to spew into the area.
Meanwhile, the smile of the corpse twitched a little but kept its uncanny grin.
"What do you think you're doing, Petre?" Growled the pillar through its teeth.
Once again, the fleshy tendrils of the pillar lashed out at Petre, but he was getting good at fighting it. Less and less the tendrils landed on him, the chalice healing any wounds inflicted on him. But suddenly, from above, disembodied, swollen and rotten legs began to stomp from above; crashing into his back with a sickening snap as he was crushed to the ground.
Again, and again the legs struck Petre, bones snapping and cracking with every blow. But then Petre raised the chalice, creating a shield of wine and blocking both legs; cracks forming on the shield from the impact already.
Then, as both legs began to real back to attack again, Petre had the wine clasp around one of them like a bear trap before having the wine twist it off like bread. Then after dodging more tendrils, he blocked and did the same to the other leg.
"Here, have a drink, Petre dear," gurgled the pillar as it vomited a spew of blood at Petre. Petre's eyes widened as he dashed to avoid it, but the pillar kept going and followed Petre's directions. All the while Petre concentrated on the chalice again, charging more power in it before firing his own beam of sizzling wine at the pillar.
Petre could not see anything. All he heard was the impact of his attack, like the defiant cries of a wounded beast, and his own scream as burning wine splotched onto his eyes. He fell to the ground hard and then all was silent.
Then, after a minute, Petre wiped his eyes and used the healing properties of the wine to see again. The fleshy pillar was gone, and the door that was behind where it once was now visible.
He stepped toward the door before immediately tripping and failing to catch himself. He hit the ground hard again. He looked down and saw that his left hand was now gone, and his legs were beginning to deteriorate; any muscle or fat on them became nonexistent as more ash flew off them.
Mustering his strength, Petre pushed himself up and ran forward.
When he went through the doors, he quickly turned and saw a lever in the room. He pulled it, but nothing happened. Petre then looked up and saw other rooms ascending upward. Thinking on his feet, Petre aimed the chalice downward and had it continuously pour wine with enough pressure to send him flying upward like a jet.
(-)
Hepheastus stared at the screen, watching as Petre managed to destroy the prototype of Talos and the machines. This man was a prodigy. Already, he was as proficient as Bacchus with that Relic, no, even better than her. Because unlike her, he was sober enough to have an imagination.
The god had locked the elevator and removed the stairs, but that wasn't stopping Petre. Hepheastus would have sent more machines to intercept, but that damn barrier Petre set up was blocking him from sending in anything. The god pulled out a nail and began to chew on it angrily and as he gave the command, "Activate all the defenses on all floors. Don't let him get here!"
"Forge master," Spoke up a metallic head as it flew into the room.
"WHAT!?" Shouted Hepheastus
"Three of the machines you requested to be built have been finished with more on the way."
A Cheshire grin stretched across the smith's face as he recalled how those things managed to breach the barriers of the Korogane clan, "Send them in, NOW!"
(-)
Petre kept ascending upward, floor by floor he passed. In his vision, each floor was nothing but filled to the brim with wriggling flesh and faces he knew.
Suddenly, he heard the laughter again and looked down to see the twisted face below moving towards him, its form encompassing every corner. "Hello again, Petre! OOoooh, you have made a BIG mistake."
Elongated limbs began to burst out and reach at Petre while eyes formed and opened on the walls of flesh that fired streams of blood at him. Petre tried to control where he went to dodge, but a limb managed to slash at him, almost severing his remaining good leg off.
"It's all your fault," cried the walls of flesh, "You're to blame."
(-)
Hephaestus began to grit his teeth as he gnawed the nail. The machines were still on their way to intercept Petre, but at this rate, Petre would get here before the doors closed.
He was contemplating activating the anti-magic fields in the tunnel. But he knew it wouldn't work, it would make things worse. The anti-magic fields were a challenging defense mechanism he made, with the only flaw being that it only disabled things that used mana or demonic energy or even conventional divine energy, but that chalice... it didn't run on any of those. However, many of his machines did.
With the press of a button, he activated the cameras to be able to see spiritual energy. He was right, there was no conventional mana of any kind... wait. Hephaestus leaned in closer as he could faintly make out something around Petre's back. It was a small shadowy figure, malnourished in appearance; its arms wrapped around Petre's neck as its head laid near his ear, as if whispering in them. Its aura was similar to the soul of the Red Hood.
If only he hadn't programmed the metallic doors to close from the bottom floor and upward instead of the other way. But then he remembered, he could do that, and with it he had an idea, "Make new defenses in the Red Hood's chamber, pronto!"
"What sort of defenses did you have in mind, forge master?" Asked each of the metallic heads in the room.
Hephaestus regained his grin, "I am glad you asked! But first... speed up the rate that the doors close. Oh, and close the doors in front of him!"
"But lord, any faster could possibly damage the structure-"
"Do it."
(-)
"You'll never be whole! Not unless you let me in!" Shouted the face at Petre, his legs and part of his lower torso now completely gone, leaving a black hole. Whatever you love, whatever you cherish, I will make it undone! SO THAT WE WILL BE TOGETHER FOREVER!" Roared the head louder, causing Petre to look down and see it was getting close—too close! It could almost swallow him whole!
"YOU CAN'T STOP ME, PETRE! I AM IN YOUR BLOOD!" Shouted the face, its voice coming from the opposite direction. Petre looked back up to see that it was also right in front of him.
Petre had to stop going upward to start flying in circles, avoiding the bites of the faces. Meanwhile walls and limbs formed on every inch of the walls and began lashing out at Petre. He kept bobbing and weaving, as he moved in a circular fashion; somehow able to perceive the things around him despite the speed he was moving.
He was starting to get dizzy and sick as he tried to survive, more cuts and burn marks forming on him from the environment. He kept trying to have the wine partially trickle on him to heal him, but it wasn't fast enough, and it was slowing him down.
Quickly, Petre stopped the chalice from flying him around and had it all surround him like a barrier. He descended downward into the mouth of the lower face as it gripped at the sphere; trapping him in its yellow teeth. As cracks formed on it, Petre kept concentrating on the barrier. More and more coats of wine he surrounded himself with, until he couldn't even see through the barrier anymore.
Then he stopped with the barrier and charged up another beam downward. He held it and held it before firing; sending him like a shooting star he flew upward. He ripped out of the mouth of the face, tearing its teeth out and busted through the upward face's forehead. The barrier slowly began to shatter completely as he tore through layer and layer of flesh, skin, and faces.
Suddenly, at the barrier that surrounded the tower, three creatures of twisted flesh with arms sharp as steel and surrounded by barriers of screaming faces tore through it and the lower faces: Flying upward and catching up to him right as the barrier directly around him shattered.
There was still another laughing face directly in his way as he quickly forced himself downward to avoid the three abominations from thrusting their sharp hands into him.
As he descended, he had the wine heal him. Then, quickly, he formed a shield of wine to block the attacks of the three. They were unrelenting; every time one swung and reeled back, another one swung in. Petre tried to strike back, but the faces floating around the creatures kept deflecting the blows like armor.
Petre then came up with a desperate idea. He allowed the shield to shatter and all three spears to pierce deep into his flesh: wine splashing everywhere, even on the faces. Then he quickly willed the wine to seep deep into the faces and past them, then when he sensed they were deep enough, he willed the wine to crush the monsters.
He watched as the monsters froze before crumbling like paper and falling past him as nothing but motionless flesh. The man looked down to see he was about to fall back onto the ground. Quickly he healed himself again and fired downward, barely avoiding a terrible fall. As he shot back upward, he began forming more and more barriers around him and increased the force of the wine he fired.
(-)
Hephaestus's eyes darted on the screen, trying to think of something, anything to buy time. Petre, despite slowly dissipating, was tearing through his defenses. Wait, that's right! The barrier was undone!
Suddenly a head spoke, "Forge master, your new defenses have been implemented.
The god nodded his head, "Good, by the way, send in all available machines. Open the doors of each floor if needed for them to reach our target."
(-)
Petre growled as he felt his teeth begin to fade away one by one along with one of his fingers; his grip around the chalice loosening a little. He was almost there! He could feel it! Just a few more faces to go!
Suddenly, pouring out of the fleshy walls came the swollen bodies from before trying to pull him down with them as they fell and severed heads began to try and surround him. All the while the limbs and eyes were still maintaining their assault on him. He couldn't even breathe as they swarmed him, chopping and burning him up as he could not avoid it all.
He could feel his conscious fade as he felt like a beetle being piled on and bitten by ants. He couldn't fail... not here! He had to concentrate, to think! But his grip around the chalice was almost nonexistent.
But then, he suddenly felt his grip strength as if there was someone with him to hold it. He began to concentrate on the pain being inflicted upon him and unleashed it all back. Every bit of wine, down to the tiniest of droplets, that Petre had formed in the realm exploded, turning everything turning white with a thunderous scream.
...
...
Petre heard his father's voice, "Petre, you are lost Petre. I was never gone. I was always here."
...
...
Petre regained his consciousness as he coughed his lungs out. He looked around and saw himself hanging motionless in the tunnel, held up by a rope composed of nothing but wine. With a deep breath, he willed the wine to pull him upward past a multitude of torn faces. He could not see the walls anymore, there being nothing but darkness.
His lower torso was beginning to fade completely, his stomach and other organs down there gone.
Little by little he ascended, nothing else to oppose him as he finally reached the top.
Once again, he heard his father's voice in his ear, "I will always be here. For you, my son. We are there waiting."
(-)
All his defenses were destroyed. There was nothing left to stop Petre from getting to the Red Hood. It was impressive, but now Petre would fail. His newly implemented defenses were just outside the blast radius. Soon, this would be all over.
(-)
The doors to Gael's chamber burst open with a blast of wine as Petre crawled in, his labored breathing echoing through the room. His vision returned to the real world, and he could see the skinless Gael at the other end of the room. He saw runes etched everywhere, and in front of Gael a large metallic syringe that had pierced Gael's chest.
"Petre, stop now! Just because you're going to die for giving Hephaestus her just rewards, doesn't mean you have to damn us all! Your soul is still your own, I could give you a new body! You could still live!" Echoed Hephaestus's voice everywhere. But Petre ignored it and kept going; reality changed back to the nightmare once again.
The walls, ground, and ceiling were now nothing but blood, screaming faces beneath each surface and staring at him with their mouths agape. Their hands striking the surface as if banging on a glass window.
Suddenly fleshy runes formed on some of the faces; then hair shaped like chains shot out, rushing towards Petre with clasps aimed at the chalice. Petre grunted as he shot himself away to get out of their reach. Meanwhile the ground between him and Gael seemingly stretched for miles before another wall of the twisting face formed between them.
"Why are you doing this? Why?!" questioned the face as the world around them rumbled, a red dust blowing everywhere as thunder crackled and boomed, "Dammit Petre. When did you become so stubborn?!"
Behind Petre more severed heads appeared flying towards him. He took another breath and began flying towards the face. Chain after chain attempted to grab Petre, but even with his condition he had grown familiar with how he flew and dashed through everything that came at him. He wouldn't give up! He wouldn't stop! He would overcome this!
After minutes on end, he managed to get close to the face.
He blasted a beam of disintegrating wine at the face, but it withstood it, forcing Petre to move backwards to avoid the attacks of the hairs and heads. Again and again, he used hit-and-run tactics on the face, each time having to fly through the mile-long gauntlet. The face growled, "This isn't you! Why fight me!"
An orb formed around the mouth, the face concentrating a blast at Petre. Petre stopped flying as he crashed and slid on the ground, forming his own beam as he rolled around to avoid attacks.
Then, with everything he had, he shot back at the face right as it shot at him. The two beams collided like two comets. Slowly the opposing beam got closer and closer to Petre, his strength fading from him as his other fingers were fading and shriveling up along with one of his eyes. His muscles were getting weak and old. Time was catching up.
Once again, Petre felt an invisible hand wrap around his and his beam grew stronger, pushing it back and enveloping the face. The beam finally struck the face right as another thunder strike cracked through the air, everything turning a bright white smoke.
...
...
...
The smoke cleared, the wall of the face destroyed along with the heads, and the faces beneath the wine. All that remained was a pillar of flesh upside down and staring at him from the other side of the blasted face; one of its tendrils in Gael's chest. Its smile was finally gone.
Petre slowly forced himself up as the face spoke, "I know you're tired of all this Petre. All this resentment, this anger, these memories. So many pains, so many mistakes. It all hurts, so just let them go. You don't deserve it. This guilt is going to kill you! So… just let go."
Petre looked down at the chalice as the pillar continued, "When the pain comes out, you don't bear it. You gulp it down. Drinking every drop of it. Then you puke it out, then drink it again. It's easy Petre. It just takes one time. You know better than most. It's SO EASY. And if you never stop, it feels SOOO good. But if you stop, if you do this. It's over. You'll be dead. You know what happens deep down."
The son of the priest looked back up at the pillar with cold eyes as he slowly raised the chalice. The pillar continued pleading, "We can't talk to him. He… He'll kill us. He'll hurt us for what we did! I can't…. We…. can't handle that, Petre. It's too much. Too painful. I'm not ready. We'll never be ready! Don't do this! Please. PLEASE!"
Petre aimed the chalice at the pillar, concentrating on its power to a single finishing blow.
The pillar began to quiver as it formed new tendrils and wrapped itself with them. A desperate attempt of survival as it cried, "I'M SCARED! I CAN'T!"
The pillar began to shiver, "I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T!"
The pillar began to shake uncontrollably. "SOMEONE! ANYONE! HELP ME! SAVE ME!"
Petre fired one the last blast of disintegrating wine at the pillar, striking it. The moment the wine made contact, an explosion as bright as the sun flashed and Petre lost consciousness.
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
"I remember a little boy, who for some reason, loved to play eye spy with his father. He was so innocent and so ambitious. He didn't care if he failed at something, he kept going."
"I'm not a child anymore."
"No, you're right. You're not. You're a man now. And you can make your own decisions... By the way, is there anyone you find... well-."
"What?"
"Not to pry, but that girl, the bard. She seems nice."
"She's just a friend."
"Is she? I've seen the way she looks at you, and how you look at her. I've even heard she's working on a song about you."
"I..."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It won't go anywhere, probably best it stays that way too. Please, don't ask why."
"Very well. But if you ever change your mind-"
"I know I know."
"Good. One more question before you go and do..."
"Yeah?"
"Are you alright? I know you're struggling. If you need help I-"
"I don't need it. I am fine."
"Alright. Just wanted to make sure. After all, when I was your age-"
"I am not you! -... sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
"No no no, talk to me. I rarely see you anymore, what is it?"
"It's just... I know you wanted me to be part of the ministry, and I just wanted to make you proud. But I can't... I try every day and every hour trying to minister to those people, but they don't listen! They won't give me the time of day, or they beat me and rob me or worse! Are they even worth being forgiven by God? They're already so far down, so what good is it? And what good am I? I keep... FAILING... at everything."
"Petre, it is true. I wanted you to be a priest like me. But... if you feel that God has called you elsewhere, I won't stop you. As for those people. It is true, none deserve forgiveness. They have done terrible things and have spat in the face of God's gifts. But what is Mercy? If not something, we don't deserve? All that is required is that we accept it, and willingly act upon it to follow through with it. Only then, if they choose to change can they be forgiven. And one can only be forgiven if they forgive themself and change."
"..."
"Also, Petre."
"Yes?"
"I am still proud of you. You've grown to be a remarkable man despite my terrible parenting. God has blessed me to have such a son."
"I... thanks. Cya Dad."
"Goodbye, my son."
At the time he didn't understand or accept his father's words. And afterwards he would soon have left and met Bacchus for the first time. But now, this was a bitter-sweet memory and the last happy memory he ever had of his father. And those last sweet memories... are always the most painful.
How he wished he could've gone back and done things differently.
...
...
...
...
Petre opened his eyes and saw that the syringe was still standing, however, there was the remains of a small metal wall in front of it. He looked down and saw that most of his upper body was gone and only two of his fingers remained tightly holding onto the chalice. His face was that of an old man, and his hair was gray. His mind, meanwhile, was so foggy that he could barely concentrate on his power.
He began to groan as he forced him to slowly move towards the motionless Gael. He could see the chains, and he saw them glow with power. He just had to get close enough to remove them. But even a turtle was faster than him.
"My offer still stands Petre," Spoke the smithing god as he appeared behind Petre. His voice filled with nothing but pity, "Stop this now. Don't you understand? He will destroy us all. Hel has foreseen it. Zipangu is ash because of his actions. He has ended millions of lives, and he will end billions of more if he gets out/ He is a monster that cannot change. Don't do this."
Petre stopped as he coughed profusely, before vomiting out a puddle of the last bit of wine in his system.
The man cleared his throat and spoke to the god, "Yes, he is... or better yet, was a monster. He's done terrible things, things that no one alive has any right to forgive him of, that cannot be changed. But he himself has changed; he isn't that same monster. I know my crimes are not as terrible as his, but if my father could forgive me for the evils I had done, then I pray that Gael forgives himself and is forgiven, if not by me then someone else. And if what I do will cause a great many deaths and end this world... then let my soul suffer for eternity in his place. Let their blood be on me, not him."
"I see. A pity then," spoke Hephaestus. From the view remains runes that had not faded, chains coated with divine ruins formed out of the walls and pinned Petre to the ground and wrapped around him.
The chalice lost its power, Petre was bound completely. But Petre could still peer through the chains. Hephaestus did not notice that Petre had one last trick up his sleeve.
The wine Petre had spat out began to slide towards Gael and around the chains that were hooked into his flesh and wrapped around him. Then, the thin trickle of wine slowly encased each of the chains and then, in an instant melted the chains off as they slid to the floor; Gael now only held up by the extractor that was deep in his chest.
Hephaestus eyes widened as he saw what happened. The only chains left now were all wrapped around Petre. He was forced to make a decision. Unbind Petre and risk him freeing Gael again or flee with the chalice and all remaining artifacts in his domain.
The god looked to the metallic heads and shouted, "GET HIM AND THE ARTIFACTS TO THE PORTAL AND GET TALOS ONLINE NOW!"
Instantly many of the heads grabbed the chains around Petre and began dragging him out while others flew elsewhere or with Hephaestus as he began to flee the scene. Meanwhile, Gael's eyelids began to move, and his fingers began to clench. Petre had Free'd Gael, even if it was the last thing he would ever do.