Chapter Ten - Into the Darkness
The waves screamed against the cliffs, jagged black silhouettes glistening as the ocean surged and roared with chaotic fury. Woolah and Nuke plummeted through the air, the wind a howling torrent, ripping at their bodies as if it hungered to claim them. The kobold’s shriek was swallowed by the abyss as Nuke’s distorted form fell beside him, his mechanical joints creaking under the force of the descent. Below, the sea churned in a frothing, inky madness, each wave slamming against the rocks like the drumbeat of an execution.
Far above, silhouetted against the stars, Tengukensei stood on the edge of the cliff, his eyes narrowing as the sharp tug of destiny rippled through him. The wind hissed warnings in his ears, the mountains seemed to groan their discontent, but he paid no mind. He reached behind him, unfastening the ancient fan — his trusted artifact — and with a swift, deliberate motion, hurled it into the black void.
The fan sprang to life, spinning with a furious hum, streaks of magic glowing like a comet blazing against the endless dark. It cut through the wind, chasing the two falling forms with unnatural speed.
Woolah, tumbling through the chaos, gasped as the fan suddenly arced below him, spreading open into a shimmering platform of winds and light. He struck it hard, rolling across its surface, the momentum stealing the breath from his chest. Nuke hit next, but the landing was no salvation for the machine-man. His body crumpled on impact — metal twisting with a sickening screech. The fan shuddered, dipping dangerously as Woolah scrambled to his feet.
“Nuke!” Woolah cried out, grabbing at his friend’s sparking, bent form. Nuke’s robotic eye flickered, dim and erratic. The mechanical limb that had once been his arm dangled loosely, severed cables writhing like exposed veins. His single remaining eye — a pale, flickering beacon — stared blankly into the night.
“Tengukensei!” Woolah screamed up to the cliffs, desperation breaking his voice.
But there was no time. The fan buckled under Nuke’s weight, its enchantment strained as the winds beneath it sputtered. The ocean below was a monstrous cauldron, hungry and unforgiving. Nuke’s distorted body tilted, rolling toward the edge. Woolah lunged for him, clawed hands grasping at his friend’s sparking frame.
“It’s fine... kobold…” Nuke’s mechanical voice rasped, distorted and metallic, the words fractured as his power core sputtered. “I’ll... float... for now.”
With that, Nuke slid from the fan, his battered form dropping silently into the black ocean below. Woolah’s heart stopped as he watched his friend disappear into the churning foam. For one brief moment, Nuke’s pale eye shone, a tiny, flickering light, bobbing amid the chaos. Then the light dimmed... and vanished.
The wind roared. The ocean screamed. And Woolah wept.
Deep below, in the Smuggler’s Cavern…
Sachiko Slicer stood with her back pressed to the rusted portcullis, her blue Oni form monstrous in the dim light of Tengukensei’s lingering magic. Her horns curved wickedly against the darkness, and her muscles strained against the buckling gate as hundreds of malformed eyes blinked and gleamed before her.
From beyond the gate came a cacophony of scraping claws and guttural groans — beasts Azahl had shaped with foul magic, twisted amalgamations of flesh and rage. As they pressed forward, clawed limbs and sickly grey hands thrust through the cracks in the gate, their jagged nails tearing into Sachiko’s back. Blood ran freely, staining the stone floor beneath her as the Oni snarled and pushed back against the horde.
“TENGUKENSEI!” she roared, her voice a beastly bellow that shook the cavern walls.
More claws broke through. A dozen misshapen arms reached for her face, for her throat. One snapped shut around her arm, yanking with impossible strength. Sachiko snarled in pain, pulling free, but the rusted metal of the portcullis screamed in protest. She could feel it giving way.
From the left tunnel, Tengukensei and Woolah appeared, the fan glowing brightly as it carried them down to the cavern floor. Tengukensei’s eyes widened, taking in the horror — the sea of writhing limbs and eyes, the Oni struggling alone against a swarm of nightmares.
“Get her out of there!” Tengukensei commanded, flicking his fan to conjure a swirling wall of wind that briefly pushed back the beasts.
The portcullis buckled again. Sachiko faltered, blood dripping from gashes across her back. “I can’t hold them!”
“Hold on!” Woolah shouted, leaping from the fan’s platform.
The gate gave way. With a terrible groan, the rusted portcullis crumbled, and the swarm flooded forward. Clawed hands and hideous faces piled atop Sachiko, dragging her down beneath their weight.
“NO!” Woolah cried out, his small frame sprinting forward, his eyes locked on the last glimpse of Sachiko’s massive blue arm as it sank beneath the creatures.
Woolah dove.
Tengukensei cursed under his breath, slashing his fan. Winds erupted through the cavern, lifting Woolah up and toward the Oni. With one desperate clawed hand, Woolah seized Sachiko’s bloodied wrist and screamed, “I’ve got you!”
Tengukensei’s fan shot forward, its winds encircling them both. The beasts howled in fury as the pair rose, Sachiko’s massive frame being pulled up and away, her torn body barely clinging to consciousness. Woolah clutched her wrist, his small hands trembling as he pulled with everything he had.
Below, the creatures roared in frustration, their weight and momentum carrying them forward. The cavern floor shook as the swarm surged out of the broken gate and over the cliffside, pouring into the sea like a dark flood. Howls and guttural screams echoed against the cavern walls as they plunged into the churning ocean, swallowed by the waves.
Tengukensei guided the fan upward, soaring through the cavern and out into the night sky.
Woolah collapsed, cradling Sachiko’s limp arm as the fan carried them higher. Her Oni form was battered and bloodied, her breathing ragged but steady.
The night around them was vast and cold, the cliffs below lost in shadow, the ocean a black, writhing beast.
“Nuke…” Woolah whispered, staring down into the darkness where his friend had vanished.
Tengukensei said nothing, his face etched with grim resolve. The fan carried them up, away from the chaos, as the wind howled its lonely song.
For now, they had escaped the darkness. But the Runiverse still turned, and somewhere in the deep, Azahl’s creations stirred.
And so they flew into the night, hearts heavy, the darkness trailing behind them like a shroud.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
Chapter Eleven — A New Dawn
The cavern walls shimmered in the torchlight, casting twisted shadows of Azahl's creations across the damp stone. The air reeked of salt, sweat, and something darker—something birthed in foul magic. In the center of the cavern, where jagged rocks gave way to a broken altar, Azahl stood. His pale hand gestured to his horrors, fingers curling like claws of command.
The largest of his creatures stood before him—a towering amalgamation of sinew, bone, and magic-warped flesh. Its misshapen jaw gnashed as its bloodshot eyes glowed faintly in the gloom.
“Bring me back their heads,” Azahl hissed, his voice low and venomous.
The beast grunted—a guttural sound that reverberated through the cavern like a war drum. With a roar that shook the very stone, the creature turned and lumbered toward the exit. Behind it, the others followed—a tide of twisted horrors shambling into the darkness. Their screeches and howls echoed faintly as they scattered into the night, spreading Azahl’s will like a plague.
A satisfied smirk twisted across Azahl’s face. Turning on his heel, he climbed the stone steps, his cloak trailing like a dark current. The flicker of torchlight illuminated his path as he ascended to his tower, where the world lay sprawled before him, waiting to be undone.
Far from the horrors of the cavern, Tengukensei’s fan glided low across the cliffs of Calimore, weighed down by its passengers. The night air was heavy with salt and silence, the stars dimming as the first hints of dawn glimmered on the horizon.
The fan touched softly to the earth behind the old tavern, where betrayal still hung in the air like smoke. The Tengu’s hands moved deftly, pulling the fan from its oversized form back to its smaller state. It hovered briefly, shimmering with faint energy, before floating into Tengukensei’s outstretched palm. With a sigh, he tucked it into the sash at his waist.
Woolah, small but burdened by melancholy, carried Sachiko inside. The blue Oni had reverted to her petite human form, her face pale, her breathing shallow. The wound she bore was deep, its origins both physical and arcane.
The tavern was dim and eerily still. Dust floated in beams of candlelight, and the betrayal of its keep lingered like a shadow unseen. Tengukensei collapsed into a chair with a heavy groan. His face, usually sharp with wisdom, was worn by exhaustion and the weight of their perilous night.
Woolah gently placed Sachiko on a straw bed and adjusted her blanket before sitting across from his sensei. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, broken only by Sachiko’s faint breathing.
Finally, Woolah spoke, his voice low but resolute.
“You rest, sensei, but at the break of dawn, I must find Nuke. I will scour the coastline while scouting for any danger that comes. I feel it, the darkness reaching out.”
Tengukensei, half-asleep, nodded faintly. “Be careful, my trusted kobold. Be on guard... and may the old gods protect you.” His head drooped, and before another word could pass, he was asleep, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.
Woolah sat quietly for a moment. The little kobold reached for an old blanket, draped it over his sensei, and turned toward the tavern’s back door. Sitting on its worn steps, Woolah let one eye drift shut, the other still watching. Kobolds, after all, could rest while remaining vigilant.
The first light of dawn broke over Calimore’s cliffs, washing the ocean in gold and fire. The sea’s waves lapped gently at the sands below, cold and clear. Woolah awoke with purpose. His small frame rose, and his feet carried him down the steep stone steps to the pier.
At the bottom, he stepped off onto the soft, damp sand. The salt clung to his nostrils as his eyes narrowed against the morning glare. His face was set—ridged with determination.
“I will find you, Nuke,” he whispered to no one but the waves.
With steady resolve, Woolah began his search, footprints trailing behind him as he moved toward the unknown.
Miles away, where the cliffs gave way to quieter waters, a young fisherman stood aboard his creaking boat. The vessel was small and weathered, its sails patched and stained by years of use. He had been at sea since the first sliver of dawn, casting his nets and hauling them back with practiced hands.
The morning had been good. Herrings flashed silver in the sunlight, crabs scrabbled at the net’s edge, and even a golden pig-nose fish, rare and shimmering, wriggled among the catch. It would fetch gold enough to fill a man’s purse.
As the sun rose higher, the fisherman heaved his last cast. The net splashed into the depths, disappearing beneath the calm surface. He waited.
A few moments passed. Then the line pulled taut. The boat groaned under the strain as the fisherman’s arms tensed. His teeth gritted as he heaved the net up, saltwater cascading back into the sea.
“What in the old gods—”
His words faltered as something heavy broke the surface. Entangled in the net, a form—blue and metallic—rose from the depths. The fisherman’s eyes widened as he staggered back, the net collapsing onto the boat’s bow.
It lay there for a moment, unmoving. The morning light glinted off its smooth, fractured armor. And then—
A light flickered. Red. Like a single ember buried in ash.
The thing moved. A whirring sound accompanied the faint hiss of hydraulics. Its head lifted. Eyes—twin crimson orbs—stirred to life.
The fisherman stumbled, nearly pitching overboard. His heart pounded, his voice breaking into a hoarse cry.
“What in the old gods have I caught?!”
The figure sat upright, the net sliding off its frame. Water pooled at its feet as its face, blank yet haunting, turned toward the fisherman.
“I—” the fisherman stammered, clutching the side of the boat, “I need to get out of here—”
But it was too late.
The figure rose to its feet with mechanical grace, the sound of its servos cutting through the still morning air. It looked out toward the shore, the red light of its eyes burning brighter now, focused.
Nuke was awake.
Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3
