Doom, already had the child, his shadow falling over the boy's fragile form, his clawed hand poised to seize him. But he paused. His head tilted slightly, a predator noting an unexpected sound. His obsidian gaze lifted and locked onto her, the original prey momentarily forgotten. In his eyes, no anger, no irritation. Only a cold, patient curiosity. The Behemoth also stilled, its obsidian gaze burning into the scene, a silent witness to her breakdown. Tears streamed down Silk's face, cutting through the grime and blood. She fell to her knees in the churned mud, her hands clasped together in a pathetic gesture of supplication. "Please…" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "I'm begging you… no more. Just… stop. They're nobody. Their lives are nothing to you! Please, just let them go!" Doom took a single, slow step toward her, the ground seeming to harden under his foot. "What do you want?" Silk cried, her voice rising into a hysterical shriek. "Is it me? Is it this?" She gestured wildly at her own body, at the curves of her hips and breasts beneath the torn leather. "You can have it! Take it! Right here, right now!, don't kill the child, don't kill anyone else Or… or my life! Take my life instead! End it! Just stop this slaughter!PLEASE!"
Her offer hung in the air, pathetic and profound. The ultimate surrender. Not just of her body, but of her very value, trading it for the lives of strangers. She was betting everything on the faint, insane hope that he saw some unique value in her, that his possessiveness could be bribed. 'A touching, if idiotic, sentiment,' Ainar crooned, her voice a blade of ice in his mind. 'She offers a feast to spare a crumb. Do not be swayed by her theatrics. She is yours, and thus her offer is meaningless. The child, however, is not. It is a resource, however meagre. Replay her. Remind her of her place. Then harvest the boy. Let her watch. Let this be the final lesson that breaks her to your will.' Doom looked at Silk, kneeling on the ground, offering herself as a sacrifice. He took a step toward her, the Ossuary Blade held loosely at his side. "Your body," he rasped, his voice flat, "is already mine. Your life is already mine. You offer me what I already possess to spare what I have not yet claimed. Your logic is flawed, dancer. There is no bargain to be made."
He turned away from her, his dismissal absolute. His gaze locked back onto the child. He took a step. "NO!" Silk screamed, the last of her hope evaporating. Her begging, her ultimate offer of degradation and self-sacrifice, had been met with the cold, logical truth of her existence. She was a thing. A asset. A owned object. And objects do not bargain. The Behemoth, which had been a statue of rage, witnessed it all. It had seen Silk's desperate, degrading offer. It had heard Doom's cold, possessive rebuttal. It had seen the last flicker of light in this nightmare extinguished. Garret's soul, what was left of it, wasn't just burning with rage anymore. It was freezing over. The chaotic, volcanic fury condensed, compressed under the weight of an absolute, glacial hatred. The desire for raw, overwhelming power met the need for precision. To protect what little was left, he needed to be able to hit his target. The Behemoth's form shuddered. A deep, grinding groan emanated from its core, the sound of a mountain rearranging itself. The massive, blocky granite leg that had replaced his own began to crack and shrink. Stone sloughed off like shedding skin, not disappearing, but flowing back into its body, redistributing. Its overall height diminished from nine feet to a more concentrated seven and a half.
The jagged obsidian spikes retracted, melting back into its shoulders and spine, their mass reformed. The bulky, fortress-like gauntlet on its left arm streamlined, the adamantite and rock melting and reshaping into a sharper, more articulated vambrace and fist, still formidable but less clumsy. The hammer-fist on its right similarly refined, the stone becoming denser, more focused. It was trading sheer mass and overwhelming power for speed, agility, and lethal precision. The transformation was faster than the first, a conscious, hate-fuelled act of will. Where once stood a cataclysm, now stood a predator. Its obsidian eyes, swirling with frozen hatred, locked onto Doom with a new, terrifying focus. The Behemoth moved. It was no longer the slow, grinding advance of a continent. It was the lethal, fluid stalk of a predator. The earth accepted its weight without complaint, its connection now one of perfect symbiosis rather than brute dominance. It ignored the sobbing Silk, the cowering child, they were irrelevant. The only thing that existed in its world was the Void Herald. The Verdict System updated its analysis in a cold flicker behind his eyes.
```
VERDICT SYSTEM UPDATE
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ENTITY ANALYSIS: [GARRET - STATUS: REFINED]
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DESIGNATION: OBSIDIAN PREDATOR (Driven by Condensed Hatred)
THREAT CLASSIFICATION: TIER 4+ (Ascendant / Evolved / Highly Focused)
ESSENCE SIGNATURE: CONCENTRATED EARTH-AFFINITY / PETRIFIED LIFE-FORCE / ABSOLUTE HATRED (Stable Output)
PHYSICAL ANALYSIS:
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HEIGHT: 2.3 M
WEIGHT: ~800 KG
COMPOSITION: HIGH-DENSITY BASALT, REFINED ADAMANTITE ALLOY, CONDENSED PETRIFIED ORGANICS
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: EXTREMELY HIGH (MORE FOCUSED, IMPROVED SELF-REPAIR EFFICIENCY)
ARMAMENT: ARTICULATED SHIELD-VAMBRACE (LEFT), DENSIFIED WAR-HAMMER FIST (RIGHT), RETRACTABLE OBSIDIAN SPIKES (PROJECTILE/CQC CAPABLE - FASTER DEPLOYMENT)
NOTED VULNERABILITIES (HYPOTHESIZED):
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COGNITIVE FOCUS: EXTREME (SOLE FOCUS ON PRIMARY TARGET MAY BLIND TO PERIPHERAL THREATS)
POSSIBLE ENERGY INTENSITY: HIGHER ENERGY COST FOR GEOMANTIC PROJECTION/REGENERATION DUE TO INCREASED DENSITY.
NOTED ABILITIES (OBSERVED/PROJECTED):
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PRECISION GEOMANTIC RECONSTRUCTION (TARGETED SELF-REPAIR/TERRAFORMING)
ENHANCED TREMOR SENSE (GREATER RANGE/ACCURACY)
PREDATOR'S AGILITY (SPEED +35%, REACTION +50% COMPARED TO PREVIOUS FORM)
PINPOINT SPIKE PROJECTION (REDUCED TELEGRAPHING, INCREASED VELOCITY)
POSSESSES MEMORY-PATTERN OF DECEASED COMRADES (TACTICAL AWARENESS RETAINED)
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DIRECTIVE: THREAT LEVEL ELEVATED. PRIORITY TARGET.
ENGAGEMENT PROTOCOL UPDATED: MAINTAIN MAXIMUM DISTANCE. EXPECT PRECISION ATTACKS TARGETING VULNERABILITIES (VOID SIGIL, EYES, JOINTS). EXPLOIT SINGLE-MINDED FOCUS. LURE INTO AMBUSH OR ENVIRONMENTAL HAZARD IF POSSIBLE.
HARVEST POTENTIAL: EXTREME (POTENTIALLY HIGHER YIELD DUE TO ESSENCE CONCENTRATION).
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```
Doom sensed the shift instantly. The raw, broadcasted rage had condensed into a razor's edge of intent. He abandoned the child, turning fully to face the new threat. The Obsidian Predator took another step. The earth did not tremble, it was a whisper of shifting stone, a hunter's silent footfall. Its streamlined form was a sculpture of lethal intent, every ounce of mass dedicated to a single purpose, ending the Void Herald. Its obsidian gaze, no longer swirling chaotic infernos but focused, frozen pools of absolute malice, tracked Doom with unnerving precision. It did not charge. It began to circle, a slow, deliberate stalk, its movements fluid and economical. The air grew cold, not with the void's chill, but with the absolute certainty of impending, precise violence. Silk remained on her knees, her sobs dying in her throat as she witnessed the change. The mountain of rage was gone, replaced by something far more terrifying, a razor's edge of hatred, honed to a monomolecular point and aimed directly at Doom's heart.
Doom checked his Void Energy and Bio-Titherium contemplating.
```
VERDICT SYSTEM: FULL STATUS SYNTHESIS
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VOIDHERALD: DOOM
HP: 85% (REGENERATION ACTIVE)
VOID ENERGY: -36.6% (SIGIL STABLE | REGENERATION: +0.5%/MINUTE)
BIO-TITHERIUM RESERVES: 40.5%
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```
Doom met the Predator's gaze, the Ossuary Blade humming softly in his grip. The trivial harvest was forgotten. The boy, a mere morsel, was irrelevant. Here was a worthy focus. Ainar's voice was a whisper of dark excitement. 'Look at him, my blade. He learned. He adapted. For you. He has made himself a better weapon, just for you. Such dedication deserves a proper response. Show him the difference between a sharpened stone and forged void-steel.' The silence was no longer broken by sobs or screams, but by the whisper of stone on stone as the Obsidian Predator circled. Each step was precise, economical, the earth itself seeming to cradle its weight rather than protest it. Doom matched its pace, a mirror of dark intent. The Ossuary Blade was held low, its point tracing a faint line in the mud. The hum of the blade was a counterpoint to the Predator's silent menace. He could feel the difference. This was not a force to be tanked or outlasted. This was a duel. 'He is faster now,' Ainar's voice was a clinical whisper, analysing the new threat. 'His connection to the earth is more refined. He will not waste energy on large, area attacks. Expect targeted strikes. Spikes from unexpected angles. Attempts to cripple your mobility. His hatred is his fuel, but it is also his compass. It points only at you. Use that. Make him overcommit.'
The Predator struck first. Not with a telegraphed swing, but with a flick of its wrist. A shard of obsidian, no larger than a dagger, shot from its vambrace with the velocity of a crossbow bolt, aimed not at Doom's centre mass, but at the ankle of his leading foot.
Doom didn't block, he simply shifted his foot a mere inch. The shard buried itself in the earth where his heel had been, quivering. The counter was instantaneous. As the shard struck, Doom lunged forward, the Ossuary Blade a black streak aimed at the Predator's knee joint. The earth beneath the Predator's foot rippled, a localized tremor throwing Doom's lunge off by a critical fraction. The blade screeched off the dense basalt, scoring a deep groove but failing to sever. The Predator used the momentum of the deflected blow, spinning with shocking agility, its hammer-fist coming around in a short, brutal hook aimed at Doom's temple. Doom dropped under the blow, the air pressure from the passing fist ruffling his blood-matted hair. He swept his leg out, aiming for the Predator's supporting ankle. The Predator didn't dodge, it simply willed the earth around its ankle to solidify into a stone sheath, accepting the kick with a grinding thud. Doom's shin protested the impact on the unyielding stone. Before he could recover, the Predator's shield-arm shot forward, the sharpened edge of the vambrace aiming to spear his throat.
Doom twisted, the attack grazing his shoulder and drawing a thin line of blood. [HP: 85% -> 84%]. Before he could fully recover, the ground directly beneath his left foot liquefied into grasping mud. It was a fraction of the area of the previous times this ability was used, but far more precise. Doom's foot sank to the ankle. Simultaneously, a second obsidian shard shot from the Predator's other fist, aimed at his exposed side. Rooted, Doom didn't flinch. Instead of wasting precious energy on a Void Dash, he pivoted on his trapped leg, the motion a study in controlled torque. His sword came up not in a wild swing, but in a short, brutally efficient arc. The flat of the blade met the shard not head-on, but at a perfect, glancing angle. There was a sharp crack, not the sound of a block, but of a deflection. The shard screeched as it was carved from its path, spinning harmlessly away into the ground. The impact travelled up his arm, a clean, sharp vibration that spoke of transferred force perfectly managed. He settled back into his stance, anchored by the mud, a challenge in his glacial eyes.
The Predator acknowledged the move with a slight, grinding tilt of its head. It didn't press the advantage immediately. Instead, it stomped its foot. The tremor wasn't wide, but a focused pulse that travelled through the earth directly into Doom's trapped leg. The vibration was agonizing, a deep, bone-jarring resonance that threatened to shatter his knee and ankle. Doom gritted his teeth, his void-dense bones absorbing the worst of it, but the discomfort was acute. Then the Predator charged. It was a blur of black motion, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Its hammer-fist came down in a devastating overhead slam, aimed to crush Doom where he stood. Doom, still anchored, braced the Ossuary Blade in a two-handed block above his head.
BOOM-CRACK!
The impact was titanic. The Predator's hammer-fist met the Ossuary Blade. A concussive shockwave exploded outwards, and the ground, already compromised by the localized liquefaction, could not withstand the force. The earth directly beneath Doom did not just compress, it shattered. The mud trapping his leg vaporized into a spray of slurry, and the solid rock beneath it fractured into a web of fissures. Doom was not driven deeper, he was blasted free, the very foundation of his prison annihilated by the attack meant to crush him. The Ossuary Blade held, but the shockwave rattled his teeth and sent fresh agony flaring through his arms but the cost was now a strategic gain. The Predator, overextended from the colossal blow, was left exposed for a fraction of a second.
'There! The armpit! The overgrown bastard finally overcommitted!' Ainar's shriek was a blend of manic urgency and vindication. Ignoring the screaming protest from his newly freed legs, Doom moved. Instead of pushing back, he flowed with the residual force of the block. As the Predator's massive hammer-arm reared back from the impact, Doom surged forward. He didn't try to stop its motion, he accelerated it, slamming his own shoulder against the Predator's wrist and heaving it to the side. The move left the Predator's entire flank momentarily exposed, its balance compromised. Anchoring himself, Doom used the shove as the starter for a devastating spin. He became a vortex of focused malice, the Ossuary Blade a black crescent in a whirlwind of gathering force. He completed the full rotation, and every ounce of that momentum was channelled into a savage, slash aimed not at the core, but at the vulnerable joint where the Predator's attack arm met its shoulder.
SHINK-CRUNCH!
The obsidian edge of the Ossuary Blade bit deep with a sound like a mountain cracking in two. It sheared through magically-reinforced basalt and the transformed flesh beneath, but its brutal progress was finally arrested not by stone, but by something even denser, a thick, humerus bone that had been transformed into a unbreakable pillar of ossified hatred. The impact sent a jarring shock up Doom's arms, the blade shuddering as it was held fast by the Predator's monstrous skeleton. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, the deep crimson veins within the matte black bone ignited. They blazed with the light of a fevered star, a hellish, hungry luminescence that pulsed in time with a sudden, deafening THRUM that vibrated through the air and deep into the earth. The wound did not well with blood. Instead, a thick, viscous fluid the colour of cooled slag and hot tar began to ooze from around the embedded blade. It pulsed out in a sluggish rhythm, shimmering with faint, dying embers of amber light. It was not blood, but liquid stone and concentrated life-force, the very essence of the earth-shaker's corrupted being, forced out under the ravenous pull of the Ossuary Blade. The air filled with the scent of ozone, hot iron, and the profound, smell of deep, broken rock. The Predator's grinding roar became a choked, guttural scream of violation as it felt its power being violently siphoned away. It wrenched itself backward, the horrific sound of the blade scraping against its own unyielding bone echoing over the battlefield as it tore itself free from the devouring metal.