Wasteland. That was the only word that could describe the state of the town. Exorbitant homes, burgeoning businesses, none were spared from disaster, all lay in desolate ruin amidst the inhospitable landscape. Blankets of fire fluttered and twirled into the sky, their noxious fumes sapping what little breathable air remained. The abundant ocean was irrelevant to the matter. Eventually, the surface would be nothing more than charred rock. The financial loss was high. The death toll was higher.
And yet, not all hope was lost. As Nausicaa drew closer to total dissolution, altruists marched on to salvage the lives they could. The motors of rescue boats spun through the ocean-bound suburb, sounding above the wailing flames and miscellaneous noises of warfare. The transports frantically steered past debris and Unmade aberrations, harried by aerial and aquatic artillery at every corner.
Isn't it wonderful? thought Lilith, watching the madness unfold from atop a half destroyed balcony. The burning pillars made it impossible to see her destination, nor could she distinguish one devastated block of Nausicaa from the next, but that didn't deter the anarchist. If she could rely on one thing, it was her sense of direction. Travel was slow, however. She sensed her surroundings for hostilities, maneuvering around before attracting their attention. After all, the Unmade weren't hers to fight, why waste the effort?
Detour after detour, she made progress, but at this rate it'd take hours to reach the safe haven on foot. Time was wasting away. Lilith couldn't afford to let her prey slip away.
How can I speed things along…
The ground began to shudder. From within a building snapped in two, the sadist stood awestruck at the sight of the collosal tentacle spearing out of the earth. It was coated in deep purple slime and rows of suckers, its size so inordinate it blotted out the sun. Why, that had to be the biggest tentacle she'd ever laid eyes on! And she's encountered plenty of enormous ones in her lifetime. It lurched back, preparing to flatten Lilith. Well, not her specifically, it was just so unfortunate she happened to be in its way.
Or was it?
The massive Unmade limb obliterated several entire blocks as it whipped down, upturning a storm of ash and smoke, like a great dark oak tree being cut down and collapsing on a mountain of finely ground wood chips.
I didn't think this is how I'd be going out today. For a brief moment, Lilith believed she'd been removed from the mortal realm and sent back to the abyss. But that couldn't be. She was in pain, she
had to be alive. As the dust settled, her body rose off the demolished floor, attached to the gooey surface of the creature that'd crushed her only seconds prior. It seems she had the foresight to subconsciously transform before the moment of impact.
Lilith stood up sideways as her heels melted into the tentacle. The solution was now quite literally in front of her. She'd coax the tendril into launching her towards her goal. With a single objective on her mind, she began crawling up the height, performing the world's largest tentacle ride. Despite its incessant undulations, she was never thrown off balance, as gravity was on her side. Every step or grab bored a hole into the hulking mass of purple flesh. Almost to the top. She just had to make it in time before the tentacle thrashed down again.
After avoiding several attempts at a premature flinging, Lilith clambered to the peak and unleashed a furious haymaker into the humongous worm.
"COME ON YOU SLIMY FUCKER, THROW ME!!" she screamed into the stratosphere.
The tentacle climber got what she asked for. She braced herself as she ejected from the tendril at mach speed, catapulting at least a thousand feet in the air and soaring like a meteor across the scorched town.
Meanwhile, somewhere far away, and soon, very near…
"O Darkseid, O glorious Fallen Arbiter, we invoke your powerful name. Cast your dominion over this land. Let all the miserable insects plaguing the Crossroads give praise to you alone. Accept our humble offering—"
A gaggle of robed cultists gathered at a rooftop, circled around an occult rune inscribed over an omega symbol. Their procession was interrupted by the sudden crashing of a nearby house, signaled by the
WHOOSH of an unidentified object.
"What the flying fuck was that?!" cried one of the cultists.
"Pay it no mind! Focus on the ritual!" scolded another. "Again, from the top. No stops this time, do you all understand?"
The tar woman groaned, reluctantly coming to her senses. Her whole body ached and her head felt like it was about to fall out. "Hurgghh…" She tried sitting up, only to fall through another floor of the mansion she landed in.
CRASH
"Oouuwghh…" Now she lay in a mixture of crumbled marble and muddy water. Not the worst spot to let her body recover itself. The damage subsided eventually, but soreness clung to her bones. After regaining movement, she climbed up a hill of broken building materials and headed for the nearest opening in the wall. Her skin returned to its usual colorless complexion, valuing solid ground to rest on.
Lilith always appeared clean, free of cuts, bruises, blemishes, and stains. She never reformed any differently to how she originally was. She used to change, ever so slightly, back when she aged normally. But it's been ages since she's had any discernible development. She was relegated to this semblance, whether she liked it or not. Some might see it as a blessing, but it made her uncanny in contrast to everyone else. If anything, she stood out more.
The completely spotless woman peered out to the neighborhood. She guessed this used to be an especially affluent suburb, judging by the rows of mansions—if you could even call them that. What stood in their place were monuments of tarnished opulence.
From across the decrepit mansion, Lilith spotted the robed figures. It only took a few seconds of listening for her to know everything she needed to.
Ugh, why is this the first place I find a cult? If only there was a worthy entity to worship.
Something disturbed the streets. It was fast approaching.
"What's that singing?"
The merry round of sea shanties came to a halt.
"Drop the anchor!" commanded Captain Cedric Armstrong.
"What be the meaning of this, Cap'n?"
"Thar be blubbering worshippers of Darkseid, the source of our fortune and our misfortune. I say we pay them back—by turning 'em into food fer the Kraken!"
The crew unquestioningly cheered and rallied behind their captain. It was easy to see why; there was no room in the vast sea for Darkseid cultists.
The pirate ship stalled next to the ritual in progress.
Captain Armstrong aimed his cutlass at the blasphemers, challenging "Cower behind Darkseid all ye want, he can't save yer sorry arses now!"
This looked boring at first, but now…
Maybe I have some time to kill. Lilith kicked back and spectated the fight between the pillaging pirates and the cultists.
"Stand your ground! They're nothing but small time brigands," hissed the cult leader. His hands lit up in a wreath of mystic flames. The other acolytes brandished daggers, throwing knives, and handguns.
"Ready the cannons, men! Bury every last one of 'em along with Nausicaa!" shouted the captain, his velvet mane bristling in the sea breeze.
The ensuing clash consisted of booming combustions and clanging gunfire. The cultists were clearly outnumbered, but that little fact didn't quell their delusions. They'd already forfeited their lives when they decided to devote themselves to the Unmaker (who, by the way, was not impressive to Lilith).
The cult leader charged up a fireball while his comrades provided defense with ward spells. In his palms he held a mass of violet, crackling, coruscating energy, launching it in a high arc to blast the vessel to wooden splinters.
The pirates were not without their own brand of sorcery. An elderly man with flowing silver hair entrenched himself in the line of fire, supported by a crewman on either side. The three made a practiced motion in unison, bending their elbows and knees a particular way, finishing right before they'd be burned to a crisp. A blockade of brackish water jutted forth on the side of the ship, repelling the bolt of fire and ruining the cultists' costumes in the process.
Captain Armstrong bellowed a hearty laugh before calling out, "Barry, fetch me my Cannon Arm!"
The buccaneer responsible for procuring the attachable weapon returned with a case housing the masterfully crafted prosthetic implement. He swapped his boss's metal left hand for the Cannon Arm, and loaded an explosive shot in the barrel.
"Gyahaha! Worship this you cretins!" taunted the trigger happy captain, before lobbing the flaming mortar shell at the band of cultists, smiting them in a destructive detonation. The ritual site was engulfed by the thunderous explosion, and any Darkseid worshippers not immediately blown to bits soon plunged into the burning building.
Lilith almost felt like hootin' and hollerin' along with the pirates, when she was assailed from behind by an Unmade zombie. It shambled forwards, skin coated in countless pulsating purple blisters, eyes completely sunk and jaw unhinged.
She took the walking corpse's head clean off with a single acidified punch, then ripped its arm off, having yet another taste test. It wasn't as bad as she expected, considering that she was corruption incarnate. A bit on the chewy side, with some strange gunk where the blood should be.
"Hmmmm… oh no."
She keeled over as she began retching black bile.
"Unghh…"
Even I'm not immune to an upset stomach.
After that brief distraction, Lilith turned to the pirate ship.
How will I get their attention? She could simply call out…
But where'd be the sense of drama, the tension?
She doesn't play the role of the damsel in distress well, but perhaps she could put herself in artificial danger to make it seem real. Her eyes frantically searched for the nearest object to use, landing on a conveniently exposed rod of rebar.
Perfect way to hurt myself. She slid her leg under the rusted point, then disturbed the rubble it was sticking out from, crushing and impaling her calf region.
"KYAAAAAAAAUGH!!" she howled in a perverse amalgamation of pain and pleasure, tendons splitting and snapping, blood gushing and pooling.
"Aye Cap, I think someone's in trouble o'er there."
"The sound rings true." Cedric contemplated the best course of action. "We may be thieves but we arn't above givin' back. Alright men, dock to the right!"
Through a combination of magic and engineering, the ship moved sideways. Lilith saw a wooden plank sliding through a missing section of wall, where a squad of crew members moved to remedy the manufactured situation.
"3, 2, 1, lift!" directed one of them.
"Fffrgh…! Can't move…" groaned the faux victim. A thick coating of blood caked the rebar as the seafarers hoisted it out.
"Get her out of there! Patch up that leg!" One of the sailors applied bandages and a splint to the mangled area.
Lilith was guided onto the ship, where she leant against the mast.
Amazing they were able to get this thing sailing here. A stout, maroon-bearded man climbed down from his station at the helm, honorably introducing himself.
"The name's Cedric Armstrong, Captain o' the Tidal Champion. And you are, little- er, big lady?"
"Ah… Lilith." She pretended to be out of breath.
"Well met. What brings ye out 'ere?" joked the captain.
"You guys are taking advantage of the tragedy, right? I'm something of an opportunist myself."
"Well, we certainly arn't with the rescue team!" The surrounding crew mates chuckled in unison. "Judging by that accident o' yers, it's not going so well."
"Yeah… I was on my way to the evacuation zone when I got caught up in that predicament."
"Oh, arn't ya an ambitious one. I'd be happy to let ye join the crew, one thief to ano'er. Why don't ye slap down some clothes an' hop on deck?"
"Actually I—" She stopped herself. "...do need that, yes."
Lilith hobbled as she trekked to the lower cabins, but was otherwise fine to walk on her own. She received an assortment of skeevy looks from the swashbucklers, probably because of the whole naked thing, but also because they weren't so inclined to trust her.
After finding a trunk of spare garments, the new member of the high seas dressed herself appropriately for the occasion. She laced her body in the usual black straps, and overlaid them with a bikini top and waistcloth, in matching colors, that were all too small for her larger frame.
There was no mirror to admire herself in, but nonetheless she pirouetted. "Wow, I totally rock the slutty pirate look!" she exclaimed out loud for some reason, with oddly genuine enthusiasm. Donning the outfit, she recalled her first days after stumbling into this fantastical land. It hadn't been that long ago, had it?
Captain Armstrong hailed Lilith over after she returned in slightly less revealing attire. "Aye, let's continue our conversatin'!"
"Sure, I don't have anything else going on. What's there to talk about?" She sat precariously on a rail.
"What's got ye so in'erested in the evacuation zone?"
"Oh, you know, stealing." She flipped her hand nonchalantly.
"Really? Yer infiltratin' all on yer own? With a broken leg?" Armstrong turned to face her as he steered the ship.
"Yeup. It's no big deal, I'll walk it off."
"Hope ye've got a hell ov'a plan then." He wasn't going to question this strange woman's ways, but he was mighty wary of her.
"Arright lass, yer stop's comin' up right 'ere," informed Captain Armstrong.
Lilith salivated in anticipation, scarlet eyes glinting with aspirations of unregulated, rampant violence.
I can't wait! I can't wait! The sadist went positively hyperactive, springing up and down so much she might've toppled the boat. She was now in the midst of the prey's nest, and although the air cleared up, the danger remained ever present. The supposed safe haven consisted of an alcove of ships adjacent to the City of Hope, acting as the last bastion of security and shelter, interspersed with tents on makeshift rafts.
Between sending out search teams, harboring survivors, and unearthing the source of the Unmade, the City of Hope's defense force was spread thin. All it'd take is a little push for the fragile balance to splinter apart. From who else, but a being of unbridled, unrestrained chaos and disruption. It was then that Lilith's twisting, writhing neurons fired one after another, devising a plan of pure diabolism. She'd capitalize on the desperation of the rescuers, boarding a ship as an innocuous survivor. Then, with everyone corralled in one place, she'd snuff out the last of their hope.
"Ironic, it be. The sky dwellers have become like the shanty towns they so despised," the captain solemnly remarked. "Right then, where'll ye be departin'?"
"Take me to the freighter," the manic woman requested.
"Goin' fer the big catch, aye?" Armstrong spun the wheel as the ship pulled up to the larger and longer vessel. Up above, a lift was lowered between them. To the guy in charge of bringing in survivors, the pirates looked like any other rescue boat.
Lilith vaulted over the railing at the first possible chance, turning back to wink, waving her salutations to the red-bearded sailor. "Thanks for the ride, my Captain!~"
"Got room for one more?" the new passenger aboard the cargo ship asked rhetorically.
One of the posted guards responded, "Yeah, but you won't find any on the lower decks."
"Oh that's quite alright. I'll make myself at home right next to the open sea!" And Lilith was off to do her own thing.
"Well that lady's taking this mess well."
Lilith stared back as the Tidal Champion returned to haul more loot from the ruins of Nausicaa. Off in the distance, she saw the crew fight off a tangle of tentacles. Captain Armstrong seemed to be loading a missile into his prosthetic cannon. The resultant explosion bathed the ship in purple rain.
"They seem nice."
She began taking inventory of the people that managed to live through the disaster; the same people that'd soon meet their demise. Of course there were the volunteer soldiers. A few families here and there. Lots of widows and orphans. It was such an overwhelmingly miserable sight. Honestly, she was doing everyone a favor putting their grief to an end.
She overheard a conversation between the guards.
"Some of these islanders haven't been on a boat in their lives."
"Yeah, crazy. Probably forgot what one looks like too."
Elsewhere, an impatient aristocrat complained aloud. "This is absurd. What's taking the city so long to lift me- I mean- us out of this hellhole?!"
Admittedly, Lilith wasn't too well-versed in naval engineering.
It's not like I can just go asking around for how to sink a ship. She thought for a moment. What keeps a ship from tipping over? They were clearly designed to be balanced as they sailed across the ocean. So if she just shifted the balance to one side, the whole brig would come crashing down. Perhaps by causing an internal flood?
The aspiring boat wrecker closed her eyes, shutting out all the background noise. Bullets flying, turgid waters smacking against the hull, weeping parents and children—silenced. An array of flares flashed in the lightless space, each representing a life. From the fleeting view, Lilith estimated there were several hundred people crammed into the freighter.
She peered over the railing, examining the lower shell plating. After looking over her shoulder, she dove off the edge, cannonballing into the salty abyss. She was growing fond of jumping from great heights. Just beside her, separated by a few layers, was the engine room.
It's time to make my debut.
Morphing her body black as oil, Lilith walked below the ocean surface, choosing a satisfactory spot to rupture the ship. Then, she let loose a cascade of frenzied stomps, denting and corroding the metal bulwark. The saboteur made short work of penetrating the ship's defense, a torrent of water rushing into the hole. But that was only the beginning of her warpath. As sirens and warnings blared, she left a trail of burning holes, turning the plating into dissolving swiss cheese. By now the evacuation order had been given, but she'd not give them the chance.
The lower deck went into a riot, drowning out the mourning with a chorus of discordant screams. As passengers pushed and shoved and tripped over each other, they noticed too late that a hand formed from sludge burst through a window, busting someone's head into a shower of pink and red. The monster responsible for the instantaneous decapitation revealed themselves, burning into the walls and welcoming the crowd of horrified victims.
The ramp to the upper deck was now impeded by a bloodthirsty creature composed entirely of acid and a mounting blockade of bodies. With every swing, kick, or jab, a life was ended, mercilessly, indiscriminately. No option existed for the people to find salvation. Turn back, and drown to death. Try to go above, and become liquefied. Fighting back was an equally useless endeavor. Knives burned into nothingness, bullets only slowed it down. Jump out to the ocean, and toss your fate to the pelagic predators. Sit still, and pray that the slaughter is swift.
Once more she was reminded of that time, when stepping out of the shadows was forbidden, when every trace of her work was erased, when no one knew her name. But now? She was unafraid and unashamed, sharing her despair across all the worlds. Lilith made her mark; no longer was there room for idle bystanders.
The terrorizer continued the massacre, inundating the interior with a sea of innocent bloodshed.
Standing within the sinking ship, which now served as a watery grave, she laughed hysterically.
"Truly, I am an artist."
Lilith is now an enemy of the City of Hope.
Communications are reporting an unidentified creature attacking rescue ships and are requesting backup. One ship has already fallen. Another is on the verge. Hostages and soldiers are in a state of disarray and panic at an attack occurring from within the perimeter. Unmade are quick to take advantage of the break in the fortifications.