This is the first part of the Fishing village! I had to split this chapter into multiple parts because if I didn't it would have been a lot harder to triple check for spelling mistakes!
The next Chapter should be out in a week or 2, after that I will be holding another poll on my server to decide the next chapter being written for one of my fic's.
I would also like to invite you all to my Discord server for my fics— /tsCyUV2m6k . I do polls, post announcements for the chapters, and have links to all the important things on that server. It recently got a facelift as well, with the new surge in activity. Being on the server means you get to vote for the different fics and maybe even change a fate or two.
Anyway, back to the fic.
A strange scent lingered, heavy and suffocating, like the faintest trace of a memory that clings, a place you've been but could never truly return to, no matter how much you clawed at the past. That past that crops up in the dirges of memory.
For Izuku, that scent twisted into something grotesquely nostalgic— fried pork and rice, with a hint of some unnamable incense burned to keep a floral freshness. It was the scent of days that had passed before their time, and much like time, there was no returning to the past. Even after all this time, Izuku wished to return. Or at least a part of him did. The acrid sting of the memory of burnt incense and childhood meals, a mockery of a home long lost and rotting in his memory. He whipped a hand coated in his own dried blood across his sweaty forehead, his jaw ached like hell, but honestly what part of him didn't at this point. No matter how many vials of blood he took, the bone-deep ache of phantom agony gnawed at him like a rot.
He stared at his hand, the mixture of blood, sweat, and spit giving it an ugly reddish-brown sheen. It didn't help that the smoke that clogged the clock tower from his and the honorable huntress he fought still floated around as he hadn't been able to bring himself to douse the fires. He let the flames claw hungrily at the air around him, the heat pressing in as he stared at the clock tower's face, its once-elegant features now obscured by thick, oily smoke that stung his eyes and filled his lungs. The dial discarded by the huntress had allowed him to unlock its secret code and open a passage through the lower section, but the runes had continued to capture his eyes. He knew them, many hunters did but only he could utter them. The words of the eldritch, the old and so far beyond humanity that they shatter the minds of those unready to know them.
The flames crept closer, licking at his heels, but Izuku barely registered the heat. He was beyond pain, beyond fear, driven by something darker and deeper. He wasn't fighting for a future—just clawing at the remnants of his own failures. He shook his head slowly pushing out the dark thoughts. He knew he was ready to venture into the source of the nightmare, he had to be, because he needed this orphans head, and it was one of the final pieces he needed to go back to his world, back to fixing his many many mistakes and be the hero he wanted to be. The head of the Orphan of Flora's sister Kos, and then he needed to delve into the dungeons below Yharnam. After that, kill the wet mother.
If he was honest with himself he felt like he had been working on these tasks for years, but it couldn't have possibly been that long. He breathed out a long breath, the heat of the flames warm, but as he breathed in the choking smog, he remembered the things that had brought him here. All the bullying from someone he used to think of as a friend, all the lies and hate from his own mother, from his peers, and even the heroes he had met.
Utter bullshit.
The flames that burned the clocktower around him were hot, frightfully so as they were channeled by the curses of blood and arcane. Yet it didn't burn, because the fire of hate that had only been stoked from his time in a visceral hell only burned hotter, hotter than the flames around him.
His hand gripped his scythe, and he stood, the flames licking at his heels as he stepped out of the Astral Clocktower, and into the drizzle of a coastside village's outskirts. The misting rain, much more like tears than rain cascaded across his body, pooling into the rivets of his garb and falling away from him as he was soaked in its icy cold.
He took a few steps into the muddy pathway, and found himself far far away, in another place a lifetime ago. The sound of distant thunder mirrored the pounding in his ears. Rain-the last time he had been this drenched was the day Divot saved him.
"Get out of the rain boy! You'll catch a cold!" came a deep voice, a kind that had that deep baritone that rumbled the air and caught everyone's attention. Izuku looked up from his cracked phone at the hero who had addressed him, dressed in a tacky hero suit that both did not protect his vitals and did not grant him any large benefit was a small-time hero, Divot. Divot wasn't a small time by choice, Izuku knew that the man's quirk, however, didn't give him the best strength in non-rainy conditions, the man could control rainwater as it fell through the air and so long as he was soaked in it he had an incredible healing factor. The problems came for his career because it was ONLY rainwater that caused this.
He nodded his head, the message forgotten for the moment as he sprinted from the soaking rain into the subway staircase, its soft pitter patter reminding him he needed a good shower, and to get a few more medical supplies from the store on his way home. He coughed a little as the rainwater cooled in the covered station, pulling his ratty jacket close as he entered the train and sat in the nearly empty car. Did it really need to be this cold? Was the only thought to cross his mind as he reopened his phone's messenger app. The message he had sent has not been read yet. The date was tomorrow! And he didn't know what the fuck to do.
One more day of school, then he needed to head home. Head home and then get changed, look good for once and then head to the date spot at six thirty, which gives him three-ish hours to find something nice.
He let out a sigh, staring blankly at his phone screen. The message bubbles blurred, words twisting into nonsense. Bakugo's mocking laugh echoed faintly, but it was distant, warped—almost like he was underwater, suffocating in memories that didn't feel like his anymore.
His eyes glanced at the others in the train car, faceless, motionless facsimiles of people. He looked down at the phone to see Mina typing, the three dots bobbing up and down.
Up and down.
Before her response came, in her usual cute fashion. But the words were foggy to him now, why?
When the subway came to a slow stop, and he stepped off the station and headed to the shop, and then home, why was that foggy too? Had it been that long already that he was forgetting details?
Izuku didn't know if that should scare him.
Izuku shook his head as the rain continued to pelt his face, the smell of seawater, fish and mold stinging his nose. That's the other reason he needed to get home. He didn't realize it, even after he had choked to death on the slime, but that day was the day of the date. And he needed to tell her he was sorry, for not responding to her texts the whole day, ignoring his phone as the heated pain of what All Might had said clouded his mind. He needed to make it up to one of the only kind people he had met.
He wiped his hand across his face again, he was in the nightmare, the endless misting rain washing the muck from the fires off him as he stared up at the cloudy sky. As he continued his path, his own steps came in time with the steps of a shambling figure, their body obscured by a thin veil of cloth over their form, "Byrgenwerth... Byrgenwerth... Blasphemous murderers... Blood-crazed fiends... Atonement for the wretches...By the wrath of Mother Kos... Mercy for the poor, wizened child... Mercy, oh please..."
Izuku's eyes stayed trained on the man as it slowly walked closer to him, listening as best he could to the thing, "Lay the curse of blood upon them, and their children, and their children's children, forevermore. Each wretched birth will plunge each child into a lifetime of misery. Mercy, for the poor, wizened child...Let the pungence of Kos cling, like a mother's devotion..."
He pivoted on his heel and walked in front of the tall archbacked man, looking up under the hood of what was definitely not a normal man. Their skin was rubbery and scaley, eyes pitch black with a constant stream of thick mucus-filled tears streaming down the endless wrinkles that reminded Izuku of a crumpled plastic bag. "Hey?" he spoke as softly as he could, the man before him was infested with eldritch parasites, Izuku could feel them writhe beneath the man's skin.
The man's blank black eyes focused on him, and the man's lips quivered as it spoke, "Curse here, curse there. A curse for he, and she, why care. A bottomless curse, a bottomless sea, source of all greatness, all things that be. Listen for the baneful chants. Weep with them, as one in trance. And weep with us, oh, weep with us..." the man's hands rose up to trace one of Izuku's curls, before bringing it to its own face, "Listen for the baneful chants. A call to the bloodless, wherever they be. A call to the bloodless, wherever they be. Fix your ears, to hear our call."
Izuku stared at the figure—a wretched, sagging form, eyes black pits weeping mucus that dripped down the folds of wrinkled skin. The man stank of the sea, rot, and something unnamable. Izuku's skin crawled as he felt the writhing beneath the man's flesh, parasitic tendrils pulsing under paper-thin skin. The man made an attempt to brush past Izuku, "You're infested," Izuku muttered, voice hollow as he pressed his hand against the man's gut. The parasites wriggled feverishly at his touch as if mocking his efforts. But the man's vacant eyes stared through him as if already resigned to his fate. "I could try to get them-"
The man's gaze flickered with a strange intensity. "Think you're any different. A Hunter. Cursed, locked in the same cursed cycle. Just as trapped. Bound by older, bloodier binds."
"No, Curse for me, curse for he...no end, no cure...only the sea" the man coughed out, pushing past Izuku, "The poor orphan, curse for me, curse for she." the man coughed, "End the curse, the eldest one, the curse for me, curse for he and for she. Curse from here to there. Bring an end, and an end will come for all the cursed."
Izuku watched the elderly infested man hobble, foot by foot away, he wiped the hand he had touched the man with off on his pants, even through the glove the man's squishy slimy flesh left his fingers itching. He hadn't seen anything like those kinds of parasites before, ones so large you could vividly see the thick rope-like body of the things writing in the man's flesh. They came from the dead corps. They had too, kos had been left to fester and rot so long it was parasitizing even this section of the nightmare. He let out a long breath before he turned towards the entry roadway of the ramshackle fishing village in front of him. The smell of saltwater stung his nose, it was almost pungent in how it felt like he was breathing in steam.
His eyes scanned the buildings as he closed in, from the left he saw the wood, rotted and dilapidated in places, most places, he noted, but not all. Other large portions of each building had a build-up of barnacles, moss-like material, and growths Izuku had never seen before. He ran his hand along the patches of growth, they were not cold, or even a neutral temperature. As his gloved hand ran across the ocean's corruption it was hot to the touch, like the sticky innards of a beast. He breathed out again, the humidity now made sense, but why? He couldn't fathom why it would need to be marginally hotter than the rest of the nightmare.
He continued his slow pace through the tight corridor of the main path, the thick plops of the mud under his boots as it clung like clotted blood, the only sound beyond the distant waves, and flies. The buildings seemingly tightened around him before slowly receding as his eyes spotted the familiar glow of a lamp not far away, the whispers of the little ones guiding him close to the point of return. As he stepped close his eyes scanned the area around him, one pathway excluding the one behind him, the buildings, the same ruddy exterior as the other buildings he had seen. The lamp glowed the soothing not color he was used to, no one could see them beyond him, so it wasn't a visible color, a color not of the plane he was used to anyway. Hanging above the point of return was a familiar symbol, crafted from the hanging remains of something that was once a man, the hunter's mark swung softly in the feted breeze that brushed through the foul desiccated buildings. He raised his hand to the lamp and lit the fire of home deep within the fake glass and metal. He knew now how much of a facade the creation was, but welcomed the familiar item as the flame cooled the area around him, the smell of the Coldblood flowers bringing a smile to his face.
He lifted his bags one by one. 24 quicksilver bullets, 5 pre-prepared blood bullets, 23 blood vials, some bone powder, and a few bags of capricious powder crafted long before he fought the female hunter of the clocktower. A safety measure, and a potent new weapon.
He cracked his neck and rolled his wrists to hear the soft pop of his joints betting warmed up, He went to grab his threaded cane, the familiar weight, while more than the generic variant, felt like an old friend, the longer whip form dragged in the mud beneath his feet. He eyed the tightness of the buildings together, it would be difficult to use, and the new addition in the handle might only work once. He compressed the whip and put it back in its place, he'll save it for a bit longer. He crouched down to the little ones, the small shallow pockets that comprised the eyes of the messengers all slowly turned to him, the soft noises they made sounding like a younger sibling happy to see your arrival.
"I need you to get me 5 bolt paper, the ones on the left. Listen," he snapped his finger to regain their attention. "L e f t, side of the desk, second drawer, those are the successful improvements." He waited for the first one to sink into the nonfloor before continuing his requests.
"I also need two beast blood pellets, and the blue elixir they are tied to, as well as one pouch of the green powder stored with them, the first drawer on the left." The one with a single larger eye socket and a small deformed one nodded. Izuku smiled, that one always listened the best.
He turned to the final one, "I need you to get something from the weapons wall," he began, the small gaggle of the little ones who sat closer to the lamp surged over, all interested and eager, he let them be happy, and revel as babes for a few moments, their soft cooing and gurgling and excited movement making his smile stretch wide. He ran his hand across their bald heads, calming them down slowly. "Yes yes, I know you love the weapon wall, now I need the silver sword wrapped in fabric." They stared at him for a few moments, "The Horse-man's sword." And in a flurry of small movements they were gone. He loved those little guys. In this place of nightmares and many other harrowing places, they were his only constant. Their touch was cold and dry, but somehow it was the only thing that reminded him he wasn't truly alone. He had some companions to watch and cheer him on.
He stayed crouched, waiting patiently for their returns. The first to come back was a large eye, holding the bundles of items and green powder gently. Offering it to Izuku with a gurgle of delight. The next to return was the group with the sword, they handed it to him in one big heave, lifting it through the holes into the dream they created to move. He grasped the sword gently and lifted it, testing the balance of the blade as he waited.
When the final messenger returned, in its hand it held four bolt paper, Izuku patted its head as it let out a distressed sound, "It's okay, buddy, I know you struggle to remember numbers. Four is fine!" He said softly, "Be ready with some more vials if I run out okay?"
The little creature nodded its bulbous head, before shifting back to the lamp.
Izuku lifted the sword and pointed it down the path he needed to go, the Holy Moonlight Sword shimmered even in the moonless nightmare, the glistening metal cascading light out in many directions. Izuku closed his eyes and felt the weapon with his mind. Opening up his synapsis as connections were made where mortal flesh ended and the arcane bridge in his soul began. The eldritch fire, once less than an ember, more kindling than heat, roared like an inferno. His insight grew as the air left his lungs. His tongue was already raw before the words left his mouth. "Sunless-blade. Endless-ocean. Deep-sea. Guidance. Eye." Five words, their translations meaning less, as the meanings of which he knew. The pronunciation was visceral. His lips shredded like paper as he forced the words out, blood spilling down his chin. The sharp pain lanced through him, each syllable tearing deeper into his flesh, as if the words themselves sought to escape his mangled tongue. His lips and tongue were nothing but meaty fibers, like the frayed end of a cut rope.
He didn't open his eyes, his off-hand grabbing a vial from his bandolier and injecting its contents into the base of his gums, feeling the wash of heat knit his ruined mouth back into being. His eyes stayed staring into the black behind his eyelids.
Moments passed, and his tongue became six, three, then one single organ once more, his lips fused from the ragged split meat, the rip going from the corner of his mouth to his back jaw, slowly rebuilding his cheeks, his soft palate and throat. The grotesque sensation of his muscles knitting back together sent jolts of numbness and fire across his face. His jaw clenched involuntarily, bone grinding against bone as the torn skin fused with unnatural precision. It was slow, but his mind did not acknowledge the mind-shattering pain of shredded nerve endings reforming, split nerves stretching through familiar paths, and reconnecting. Only the sight behind his eyes stole his mind's eye.
Shimmering moonlight. Pure, even purer than the energy in the mark on his dominant arm, the blade cooed and throbbed with energy so old it made the flames of his soul's eldritch knowledge seem like but a fractal of possibility.
His smile grew impossibly large. His mind felt lighter, unburdened by the weight of his humanity. The more he tuned with the blade, the more distant he became from the person he once was. The smile reopened the still-soft flesh of his cheeks as it stretched further. That distant pain kept him from the endless edge the blade had taken him, his breath slowed as he chuckled softly.
He need not bleed to use the common eldritch rites, so long as he channeled it through the blade.
His eyes opened, and the green shimmered with excitement. Izuku began his walk down the path, softly whistling the tune of the music box. The blade in his hand grew warm as the eldritch energy enveloped the cold blade. Serrated edges bloomed from the energy that faked existence. The blade glowed, and the reality of the nightmare seemed to warp around it like wet paint. Shadows danced unnaturally, bending toward the moonlit blade like moths to a flame before the energy calmed, the blade grew solid.
Izuku increased his pace, the stench of rot and fish guts grew stronger as he kept going forward, he ducked into an opening and his eyes landed on one of the denizens, their body was disproportional to a normal man, and their skin had rivets of long parasitic worms, their head was encrusted with barnacles as its hands caressed the wooden wall in front of it. Their body were lean, not muscular, bony, and their bones seemed to have the same parasites burrowed in them as he rushed forward, the creature, no longer man's head turned almost fully around to spot him, onto to have the guard of the holy blade press into where their forehead should have been, the glowing blade bisected the skull and spilled thick gravy like Ichor in a spray.
Izuku pulled the blade out and let the body hit the floor with a slimy thump, the thick liquid pooled beneath the corrupted man as he looked it over. It was grotesque. Its skin was slimy and warm in places and cold and clammy in others, Izuku gulped as he bent before the man-thing. It was a grotesque thing that was beyond most of the hellish things he had seen, but still wasn't the worst. He popped his neck in a quick motion and spread the thing on the muddy ground. It was time he began a dissection of the man. He had felt it when he saw it hunched over. There was something terribly wrong here...
He grabbed a small dagger from under his arm bracer and sat the man's bisected head in his lap. He looked down into the open cranium and began to slowly carve around the brain. He started by separating the thick spongy material from the skull. The brain wasn't much of a brain anymore. His first theory was that one of the parasites had burrowed through the skull and fused with the gray matter. The stench was reminiscent of curdled milk, and fish left in the sun for a week. He pulled the brain from its resting place, cutting the brain stem, and sat the undulating mass on the ground. The parasites writhed just beneath the lining of the brain's meat, pulsing in time with a sickening rhythm. It wasn't brain anymore—just a festering, pulpy infestation that let out high-pitched keening whines and whistles as it writhed.
He turned his attention back to the skull. The skull. He had to remember that he was a hunter for a moment as he looked into the empty cavern of a skull cavity. It was lined with eyes, It took him a moment to realize the eyes were actually eggs, thousands of them. There was a time when this would have revolted him far more. Now, however, it was simply a necessary task. The Hunter's instincts had taken over. His hands moved as if they had done this a thousand times before. False eyes stared at him from the depths of the cranial cavity as he looked it over. He popped a few, letting them leak thick puss-like liquid out and some even held embryonic parasites within. As he kept searching, one thing kept bothering him.
There wasn't a burrow hole for the parasite.
He turned the head slowly, carving off the growths and extra masses from what was once human skin and muscle. The base of the skull, where the axial and atlas vertebrae sat was an old sewn-up scar, the ancient thread left there even after the healing had finished. He cut the area above the scare and heard the soft pop of eggs against the dagger.
Manually infected then.
Izuku shuddered for a moment.
He continued his examination of the body, a second set of growths began around the intestinal area, the stomach and digestive organs had atrophied due to the lack of use, only the toothy maw of a parasite in the place they should have been. His eyes scanned around and he saw off in the next area baskets of fully matured fish-like worm parasites.
Two inflection points., Even he wasn't dumb enough to think them savable. If he was honest he didn't think they had a chance when he had first seen them, but he had held hope that there was a chance.
He shook his head and stood up, the energy of the blade blazed brilliantly.
He sprinted forward, ducking behind a second creature, he twisted his body in a quick circle, using the momentum to shear through the creature's torso. A sharp pain prickled his shoulder as the tip of a long wooden spear grazed him. His eyes scanned quickly, three of the creatures, all with bundles of fishing spears strapped to their backs. They all threw a spear in unison as Izuku molted his flesh into the blood-red mist of his quickening art.
He appeared behind the farthest creature, releasing an arc of moonlight in a flash, the energy melting through the three creatures in a blink.
His eyes danced across what appeared to be a large open area before him, a well, a creature sitting beside it, and two more creatures with spears guarding it. The smell of rot was overpowering and hot, clinging to his skin like a second layer of grime. The air was damp and thick with decay, and each breath felt like inhaling mud.
To his left there was another, he could smell it even if he couldn't see it, it was more pungent than the others. There was some in a house past the well, and on the balcony, one of the creatures held many bottles. His nose caught the scent of oil and smoke from that one.
He stabbed the sword into the mud, the shimmering blade flaring. His fingers bent in ways that should have snapped them, calling upon the eldritch energy in the blade and channeling it through his hunter's mark. His catalyst burned as the stars themselves revealed in the murky air around him. The air crackled as the stars obeyed his command, their crimson glow casting long shadows that twisted unnaturally in the dim light. Each crimson star seemed to hum with the weight of ancient knowledge, they knew the age of the universe and still etched their likeness into the sky, their massless forms fizzling the moisture in the air. The stars flew in all directions. The three at the well became like Swiss cheese, the one in the balcony watched as the energy shattered the Molotov in its hand and set its own body on fire, and the one behind the corner to his left got hit, but the scent of death didn't come from that direction.
Izuku's body was steaming as he set his hands back down, one gently grabbing the sword's hilt as his head turned.
"FUCK!" That was all he could get out before a large shark-like abomination charged into him, its body hitting the mud hard and sliding at Izuku much faster than he would have thought something of its size could do. Its jaws bit Izuku, a fraction of a moment before he could quicken, the holes in his body canceling his concentration for a moment. The jaws squeezed, a crack was heard and in a puff of red vapor, Izuku was behind the creature.
He barely registered the blur of movement before the creature's massive body collided with him again, the sheer force ripping the breath from his lungs. His mind scrambled, instincts clawing to regain control. His body hit the ground, and one of its feet slammed into the ground next to his head as it stepped over him, its reactions far too slow to stop Izuku.
The blade flashed as he carved it into the Achilles tendon, or what should be, of the creature, the energy flared and the smell of fried fish and man poured out of the wound. A second strike to the creature's spine and it was on the ground. Not dead, but unable to move. It was face down, its face pressed into the mud, its breathing was shallow as it could barely take in air. Izuku climbed onto its back and shoved the blade down to the hilt, piercing one of the creature's mighty lungs, flooding it with the same gravy-like ichor that was already beginning to cling to Izuku's clothes.
He held in his disgust as he angled the blade and cross-sectioned the creature in its death throes, his eyes scanned its physiology. The flesh of its back peeled away like wet parchment, revealing slick, malformed organs that throbbed with a sickly pulse. The ichor that poured out smelled of saltwater and rot, thick as syrup. He felt nothing as his blade sliced through the creature's body. No revulsion, no pity. Just the satisfaction of knowing it couldn't hurt him anymore. He took note of each vital organ, and what protected it, the creature had two hearts and three lungs, but they were parasitical organs, nothing more.
He walked over to the well and gazed down into it, an old rickety ladder was embedded into the side of the well. Izuku grabbed a blue elixir and the green powder, he sprinkled half of it into the liquid and chugged it, the acrid taste of medicine burned his tongue worse than the spells he cast. He could see his form get obscured slowly, the green powder he concocted kicked in next, and the veiled form of his body grew even harder to see. The blue elixir was a type of anesthetic that numbs the brain, he had read about the experiments it was used in, and it made his stomach churn. However, hunters, able to retain consciousness by force of will, could make use of a secondary effect of the medicine. It dilutes the presence of those who drink it while standing still. The green powder was made of a similar set of chemicals, however it was stronger, making it harder to stay awake for even a seasoned hunter.
Izuku shook his head and began down the ladder, it was sticky and warm, and the cavern itself reeked of dead fish rot, even more than the rest of the village he had seen. The bonus of the green being mixed in, was it made movement harder to detect, and stayed still nearly invisible.
His feet touched the ground, or well, the parasite-laden rock of the floor of the well.
Izuku's heart stopped as he looked up and saw one of the shark-like giants clinging to the roof, and from the second set of mucus-filled lungs, there was another somewhere done there. He walked slowly, making a small distance between him and the first. He reached in and grabbed one of the bags of the capricious powder. He had to keep the eldritch energy off of his skin as he grabbed the bag, one wrong move and the entire bag would detonate. His fingers trembled as he handled the delicate bag. One wrong move, one slip of concentration, and most of the well would become a smoldering crater. He did not feel like resetting this area already or dying anymore.
He brought the bag up to his mouth and untied the string with his teeth, the bag opened a fraction, showing off the shimmering multicolored powder in the bag. He had the sword on his back, one hand held the bag, and the other grabbed a small pinch. He slowly sprinkled the powder on the ground, making a path from his spot to under the creature, leaving the half-empty sack right where it would fall once it noticed him. Izuku got back to his starting point, and drew his gun, pointing it up to a secondary tunnel where the second shark beast stood, gazing into the well's larger area with thoughtless eyes.
He fired.
The bullet tore into the face of the second shark man, and the one on the ceiling fell fast, Izuku slammed his hand into the floor, igniting the capricious powder with only a fraction of eldritch energy. He closed his eyes as the sack exploded. Time seemed to slow as the powder ignited. A deafening roar filled the cavern, and for an instant, the world was nothing but light and sound. Then came the flood of searing liquid, thick and burning as it coated his skin. It was chunky, covering him in a split second and making him gag, but he fought back the sick and wiped the majority of the gray liquid from his eyes, the second was rushing him. He grabbed the sword and pulled it from his back, cutting downward in a large arc, his mind absentmindedly mimicking a hero he had watched closely, the words Luna Fall, playing in his head as the moonlight energy sheared into the creature.
He had to blink as the gunk on his body stung his eyes, and as he peeked out the creature, missing a large portion of its face, chest, and stomach skin and muscle continued its charge. His mind raced, calculating the best angle of attack as the abomination barreled toward him, its remaining flesh dangling like torn fabric. He had to end this quickly. He jumped back into the smoldering smoke of the explosion, his body misting away as he became one with the smog. The creature barreled through, expecting to hit Izuku but instead of slamming into the stone wall, the young hunter reformed and slammed the blade into where he saw the primary heart of the first creature. It was comparable to a water balloon being filled beyond its limit. The jet of viscous liquid slammed out of its back, the abomination's bloated heart had burst with a sickening pop, spraying thick gray ichor in a wide arc. The air was filled with the scent of burnt fish and rotten meat. The blood-slick stones beneath its thrashing body caused it to slam into the nearest wall, flinging Izuku off of it. Its movements grew slower as Izuku stood back, its eyes barely held within skinless sockets looking at him blankly, before it finally fell over.
Izuku let out a sigh and sat down, he needed a second. His muscles trembled with every breath, the strain of holding his consciousness from fading until the drugs wore off took its toll, and the coppery taste in his mouth grew more pronounced with each moment. The cocktail and the additive were still being tweaked, and the soreness in his shoulders, the pressure behind his eyes, and the copper taste were all side effects of the heightened obscuring factors of the drug.
The first attempt at using the cocktail had ended with a hole in his stomach and a reset of central Yyharnam, he had a few minutes minimum before the worst of the side effects passed. Holding himself together for a few minutes always led to a stretch of mental numbness and itchy teeth. His eyes took a moment to refocus as he stared at the small crater where he had ignited the arcane capricious powder. That's most likely why he felt so bad.
The air hung thick with the stench of decay, every breath a struggle against the overpowering odor of stagnant water and rotting fish. The sound of dripping water echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the damp, suffocating space. He made a mental note to not use arcane powers while under the influence of cognitive drugs. It was not the best feeling of the insight in his mind flicking in and out of relevance as it strove to fight off the numbing agents.
His eyes continued to scan the wreckage of the battlefield that was once the infested sewer. One of the creatures was more closely resembling bloody mashed potatoes than a shark thing, and the second was still leaking its thick ichor onto the ground, its corpse obscuring a metallic object that it seemed to have uncovered in its slipping fall when it died. Izuku did not feel like standing yet, the lead-like weight on his spine made it really hard to want to move, so he began to whistle the music box's tune. Softly, imbibing the melancholic sound with a fraction of arcane energy.
Slowly, small hands grasped onto his leg, then his hand and wrist, all around him the small little messengers came into being. He pointed to the creature, "Metal. Bring here."
He knew the command was short, and the ability to follow orders was not exactly the thing the little ones were best at, but they seemed to get the gist. He watched them sink into the floor and reform around the shark thing, their tiny bodies slowly scooting the thing off of the long metal weapon, before collecting it and bringing it to their hunter. Izuku gave them a smile as they brought it to him, their little gurgles of joy as they presented the weapon to him were so full of life that he couldn't help but laugh.
Izuku leaned heavier against the wall behind him and enjoyed the soft sounds of the messengers. It would still be a bit before he would be able to move more and get back up the ladder. So until then, he let himself rest. Their tiny fingers tugged at his coat, and their gurgling sounds a comforting, familiar lull. Each one glowed faintly in the dim light, their presence a reminder that, despite everything, he was not truly alone in this place. However even as his eyes closed, and his breathing steadied his heart rate never slowed beyond the battle thump in his chest. He might be in a hole in the ground, with the empty sockets of the messengers to watch out for him as he lay in the thick stinking liquid of the well. It did not mean he was safe. There was no true way to be safe in a nightmare beyond leaving.
6435 words in this chapter! This is actually part 1 of what will either be 2 or 3 parts. I have a lot of stuff to touch on, and we still have the final areas of the base game, and the dungeons to finish before act 1 is done and we can begin on act 2!
Have a glorious day - Writer.