Deep Sea Embers

The world unveiled its complexities before her in what felt like the mere flutter of an eyelash. A trio of blasphemous believers, cleverly disguised as devout individuals of the Death Church, sprung their unexpected offensive. The local guards, notable in their signature obsidian armor, were quickly roused into action, prepared to counterstrike the sudden threats. Concurrently, the wastewater treatment facility employees, a group roughly numbering in the dozens, found themselves embroiled in a conflict with these guardians. An intricate dance of strife and disorder ignited almost without warning, enveloping the area in chaos.

An alarming truth emerged from the turmoil – the entire team operating the wastewater treatment facility had been gradually replaced. The infiltration was absolute; the facility was entirely under enemy control.

This revelation accounted for the lack of any action against pollution in the sedimentation tanks and the pipes. The missing “elements” from the sewer system hadn’t just inexplicably disappeared. Instead, they had set up a fortified base right under the unsuspecting gaze of city officials and the Death Church itself.

Still, a multitude of questions buzzed around. How was it possible for these sacrilegious followers of the Nether Lord to daringly invoke the name of the God of Death? How had these pretenders, masquerading as facility workers, slipped past her sharp vigilance? What had become of the genuine employees?

In light of all these questions, the situation’s urgency gave Agatha little room to delve into these puzzling mysteries or piece together any coherent answers.

The potent, corrosive presence of a dark hound swelled and came rushing towards her, while a dark energy sphere barely missed grazing her hair, shooting past to puncture a pillar standing near the sedimentation tank. The mental assault continuously unleashed by the demon jellyfish severely hampered her thought processes and movements. Simultaneously, a haunted woman who shared a unique bond with a feline-shaped demon raised her hand from afar for a spell. Agatha’s immediate surroundings were beset by intersecting bloodstains – even the slightest contact of her robe with these bloody insignia resulted in immediate disintegration to dust.

It was a skillfully designed and well-coordinated ambush. Now, the puzzle pieces had started to fall into place, explaining why these deviants had boldly gathered under the guise of a routine “inspection”. Could it be that they were audacious enough to challenge the gatekeeper of the Death Church directly?

“How naïve,” Agatha murmured, lightly tapping her staff on the floor.

The sound was unassuming, but it resonated like a thunderclap, setting off spectral waves that emanated from the base of her staff in all directions. Almost immediately, an eerie silence engulfed everything in its vicinity as the area around the sedimentation tank was shrouded in shadow. Everything in sight was painted in stark shades of grey and black, freezing allies and foes alike within the room while a faint luminescence seeped through distant doors, windows, and fresh cracks in the ceiling.

In the spectral, otherworldly domain, Agatha calmly surveyed her environment through the unique eye embedded in the palm of her left hand. With an unnerving, laser-like focus, she examined the true forms of the deviant heretics and the parasitic demons obediently following their directives.

Once satisfied that no concealed enemies lurked in the shadows, Agatha raised her staff and subtly directed the guardians back to the concrete realm of reality with a gentle swing through the air.

“Feast,” Agatha softly commanded in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

In response to her command, the inhabitants of the spirit realm sprung to life. The shadows, dwelling in this world’s hidden corners and recesses, responded obediently to the call of the Death Church’s gatekeeper. In a mere fraction of a second, an immeasurable swarm of shadows, both light and dense, burst forth from all around the sedimentation pond, the adjoining walls, the complex network of pipes, and even from the dauntingly high ceiling. They congregated as if they were a stirred-up crowd or a herd of stampeding beasts, sliding along all surfaces and swiftly converging upon the enemies within Agatha’s direct line of sight.

Every visible surface was teeming with writhing, undulating shadows. The sight was eerie enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. However, Agatha merely observed this unsettling spectacle with a calm, unperturbed demeanor. Her right eye was wide open, entirely void of any emotional disturbance; meanwhile, her left eye remained tightly shut as the ocular orb in her left hand spun continuously, keeping a vigilant watch on every slight movement around her.

The first to be swallowed by the writhing shadows were the “counterfeit” creatures. The shadows swiftly engulfed them, silent yet rapid, eradicating and dissolving them until no trace remained.

The very next instant, these menacing shadows surged towards the three Annihilators and their respective parasitic familiars.

As the demons became aware of the impending threat, a strange crackling noise began to resonate from their forms and the chains that bound them. Their demonic flames flickered wildly, and the bodies of the Annihilators started to show an uncanny, rhythmic tremor. In this ethereal realm where everything else was frozen in stillness, they somehow managed to revive their mobility!

The young man, who shared a symbiotic bond with the demonic jellyfish, was the first to regain his ability to move. He struggled free from the restrictions of the spirit realm and instinctively cast his gaze in Agatha’s direction.

Almost simultaneously, the aged, gaunt man, who was bound in a symbiotic pact with the dark hound, also recaptured his ability to move. Seeing his comrade’s actions, he immediately cried out in warning: “Don’t lock eyes with the gatekeeper!”

However, his warning was in vain—the young cultist’s gaze was already steadfastly fixated on the “triangular area” where Agatha was positioned.

Agatha raised her left hand, elevating her ocular orb as if deliberately showcasing it to the young cultist.

The heretic found himself transfixed, his gaze irresistibly pulled towards the eyeball nestled in Agatha’s hand. His stare was spellbound, almost entranced, as if his very being was magnetically drawn towards the unusual spectacle. Gradually, a serene smile began to adorn his countenance.

It was as if, in that singular, momentous instant, he had unlocked the deep-seated truths of life and death, uncovering the meaning and answers he had long sought in his existence within this singular revelation.

“Ah, what a magnificent sight…” he softly murmured to himself. Adorned with a calm smile, he slowly surrendered to the encroaching sea of shadows.

He and his demonic companion were swiftly torn apart by the relentless tidal wave of shadows.

However, as this heretic was taken by the shadows, a chilling, unnatural scream echoed nearby. A surge of wind pressure rapidly approached from the right. Displaying impressive agility, Agatha sidestepped just as an invisible blade whizzed past her forehead. She swiftly turned her head to locate the origin of the assault.

The pallid woman, who shared a symbiotic relationship with the feline-shaped demon, unleashed a guttural shriek towards Agatha. Her mouth distorted into a grotesque, alien-like orifice, compacting her blasphemous curse into a concentrated, sonic assault. Her next blade was already swiftly taking shape.

Disregarding the looming presence of the dark hound and the frail, elderly man behind her, Agatha redirected her staff towards the pallid woman, whose form had begun to reveal demonic mutations. Simultaneously, she lifted her left hand, brandishing her ocular orb once again.

The pallid woman instinctively evaded the gaze of the eye in Agatha’s hand, but her evasion was met with the resounding crack of a gunshot.

A brilliant flame erupted from the end of Agatha’s staff, and a large-caliber silver bullet splattered the woman’s head, which had grotesquely mutated beyond recognition.

In the next moment, as the decapitated body of the heretic toppled and was consumed by the shadows, a wave of corrosive breath targeted Agatha’s back.

Black flames and smoke billowed from the point of impact, only to be rapidly dispersed in the ensuing moment. Nevertheless, Agatha’s black coat remained impeccably intact, showing no signs of damage.

She gradually turned her gaze, focusing on the final cultist still standing—the emaciated old man wide with a potent cocktail of shock and terror.

“I was under the impression that you had thoroughly researched and planned before daring to set this trap,” Agatha stated in a composed manner, her eyes studying her final opponent. “But judging from your reaction, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Could it be that you three were merely sacrificial lambs, recklessly thrown into the chaos as bait?”

The eyes of the remaining cultist widened even further, his terror now intermingled with confusion.

Agatha astutely observed this shift in his expression.

“Is this what you were looking for?” The young gatekeeper inquired with unnerving tranquility.

She abruptly opened her mouth the next instant, and a cloud of dense, corrosively potent shadow breath formed instantaneously before her. Then, emulating the same trajectory and velocity it had struck her, the shadow breath was launched back towards the dark hound beside the skeletal old man!

Realizing the imminent threat, the dark hound tried to evade with lightning-like speed. However, as if guided by its own sentient will, the returning corrosive breath adjusted its course mid-flight. It homed in unerringly on the skull of the dark hound, and after a brief moment of stillness, the demon, now a mere pile of disjointed bones, shattered into fragments on the spot.

The skeletal cultist, bound symbiotically with the demon, let out a terrifying scream. Though he hadn’t been directly hit, he immediately collapsed onto the ground in unbearable pain, rendered entirely incapacitated.

Like a surging tidal wave, the shadows readied themselves to swallow him in a matter of seconds, keen to continue their voracious feast.

“Spare this one for me,” Agatha’s voice echoed at that moment, accentuated by the resonant thud of her staff striking the ground, “Stand down.”

The shadows around them started to quiver uneasily. Waves of hostility and eerie, indistinct whispers resounded like a storm, echoing throughout the entire area. Some shadows even began to inch towards Agatha.

However, Agatha’s demeanor remained resolute. She simply lifted her staff and slammed it forcefully onto the ground, igniting a thunderous roar that reverberated throughout the entire vicinity.

“Begone.”

After a brief moment of stillness and silence, all the shadows receded as swiftly as an ebbing tide.