Chapter 447: Hollow Vein XI
The Maw thrashed in rage, dragging its malformed bulk further out of the Overseer’s ruined corpse. Half its body was still tangled in broken ribs and spine, but its hunger made it push forward. The cavern shook as tendrils smashed against the walls, tearing rock loose in jagged avalanches. Chunks of stone tumbled into the dark, swallowed by the stinking black flood spilling from its jaws.
Asher strode straight into it. His cloak flared in the red glow of the seed, every step firm, his scythe ready. The air thickened, pressed down like a storm, each breath burning with rot. But his eyes burned brighter.
The Maw lunged again, jaw wide, tendrils snapping like whips. This time, its attack carried weight enough to crush the cavern’s heart. Teeth slammed down, stone splintered, tendrils surged to bind him in place.
Asher vanished into motion. His body blurred, cloak sweeping across shadow, scythe carving lines of red-black fire. Every swing left afterimages, arcs of bloodlight that severed tendrils before they could close. His feet struck the floor in a perfect rhythm—step, cut, spin, sever. The cavern rang with steel and screams.
The Maw’s jaw came again, snapping, faster now. Asher ducked beneath the crushing bite, his scythe dragging sparks against the ground, then he launched upward in a brutal cleave. The blade tore through gums, carving deep into the palate. The impact split shadow-flesh wide open, and a gush of black filth sprayed over him. It sizzled on his cloak but slid away, unable to eat through the bloodlight protecting him.
The beast reeled back, shrieking, voices overlapping—thousands of mouths speaking hunger, pain, rage.
Asher didn’t give it time to recover. He drew his free hand across his chest, blood flowing in thick streams, shaping into a burning crimson sigil. His will pressed down, and the sigil spun, erupting into spears of bloodlight. With a sharp motion, he hurled them into the open wound in the Maw’s jaw.
They struck like bolts of lightning. Each spear drove deep, detonating inside with bursts of red flame. The beast’s scream shook the cavern so violently that cracks split across the ceiling, stone raining down in chunks.
The Overseer’s dangling corpse twisted violently, bones snapping as though the Maw was trying to rip the doorway wider. The rib-cage split further, vertebrae snapping apart as more of the monster tried to crawl through.
Asher’s eyes narrowed. He saw it—the opening was widening, the seed pulsing brighter, resonating with the half-born god. If the breach wasn’t closed now, the Maw’s true body might force its way through.
"Not tonight," he growled.
He dashed forward, cloak whipping like a crimson storm. Tendrils rushed to intercept, lashing down from every direction. Asher spun the scythe in a relentless storm, every slash a blur of bloodlit steel. Flesh parted, ichor sprayed, shadows fell screaming. He broke through the swarm like a blade through cloth, every step carrying him closer to the Overseer’s ruined frame.
The Maw lunged one final time, jaws opening wide enough to swallow the entire cavern. Teeth scraped against stone, crushing pillars into powder. Its stench filled every breath, its whispers pressed into his mind:
"Devour... devour... you will feed..."
Asher leapt. His body surged upward, cloak streaming like blood-fire, scythe raised high. All his blood answered, veins blazing, muscles locked with killing strength. The weapon glowed with a crimson-black aura, edge burning hotter than molten steel.
He came down in a single, perfect arc.
The scythe split the Overseer’s body from skull to hip, cutting through bone, flesh, and shadow alike. The second mouth shrieked, splitting apart as the blade carved straight through its core. The crack of breaking ribs echoed like thunder.
The doorway tore wide open—then collapsed.
The Maw’s jaw screamed in fury as the cut ripped through its half-born form. Black ichor exploded outward, flooding the cavern. Shadows writhed, hundreds of faces twisting in agony before shattering into ash. The Overseer’s body dissolved into fragments, bone and flesh crumbling away, leaving nothing but dust and tar.
The massive jaw snapped once, twice—then shattered like glass under the force of the strike. Fragments of shadow scattered into the dark, fading into silence.
For a long moment, the cavern was still. Only the seed pulsed, beating faintly, dimmer than before. The stink of rot began to thin.
Asher stood at the center of the ruin, cloak dripping with ichor, scythe buried deep into the stone floor. His breath came slow, controlled, his eyes locked on the seed as if daring it to stir again.
It didn’t.
The Maw had been pushed back.
But the way the seed pulsed—weak, yet steady—told him the war wasn’t over. Not even close.
The silence that followed was thick, unnatural. Dust still fell in faint curtains from the cracked ceiling, settling into the pools of black ichor that hissed as if alive. The Overseer’s body was gone—nothing remained of him but scraps of bone dissolving in the tar—but the seed still pulsed at the heart of the cavern. Dimmer, yes, yet steady, like a dying ember refusing to extinguish.
Asher wiped the blade of his scythe across his cloak, the ichor burning off in flickers of red light. He didn’t look away from the seed. Its rhythm was wrong. Too deliberate. Too alive.
He stepped closer. Every movement was measured, boots splashing in shallow filth. The seed throbbed faintly with each step, as though sensing him. A whisper tickled at the edge of his mind—not the chorus of the Maw this time, but something quieter. Wait... hunger remains... you are... vessel...
He frowned as he stretched out a hand and let his own blood drift toward it. A thin stream flowed from his palm, circling the seed like a crimson coil. At the moment his essence touched it, the whispers spiked. For a second, the cavern wasn’t stone and ruin—it was an endless black throat, and he stood at its edge. Teeth the size of mountains loomed around him, dripping filth into an ocean of shadow.
The Maw’s true self. Still sealed. Still reaching.