Eldritch

 

God, do I hate cellars.
Whoever got the idea to create dark moist places that bury you below the earth and are home to a multitude of creepy critters is going to be the first to get an earful from me if I ever figure out time traveling.
Which I don't plan on, as time traveling is a sure bet to properly mess up any plot with paradoxes.
And said plot would be my life in this case!

This is kinda ironic if I put into relation that walking down into the creepy demon cellar is for me supposed to be less dangerous.
However, even more ironic might be the fact that, currently, the waves of living flesh growth that accompany me on my descent down there have a soothing effect on me.
But the others are kinda much worse off, as they don't have my powers to rely on while confronting dangerous demon-ghost thingies.

Actually, I'm not even sure what exactly the wonders are.
According to Zika, it's all kinda the same thing.
Ideas that gained enough faith to prop up.
And, well, the idea of the murderous ghost of a guy who got slowly burned alive within the campus' boiler room is certainly not a pleasant one.
That's at least what I gathered from the research material in the club room.
Thanks to a newly developed speed reading ability, it didn't even take very long to skim through it.

With very careful steps I move down the stairway.
The darkness is no impediment to my sight, but I'm quite uncomfortable, which leads to rather intricate reactions to my environment.
The fact that the many eyes staring from the darkness are mine puts me into a difficult spot between being assured and very disturbed.
Not to speak of the living shadows and grasping tendrils I probably summoned.
Just to be safe, I issue the mental command not to rip the campus out of this dimension.
I hope I'll be able to follow up on this.
Especially with how nervous I am about what awaits me in there.
I have quite a bad relationship with the charred man and the fact that he thinks that I'm invading his territory, which is true to some degree, isn't making things better.

At the last step of the stairway, I open the door and see whirling fires on the inside, accompanied by hot ashes and thick smoke.

 

"I knew you would come! Your lackey already tried to bring me down, but I'm still here! And I promise you, I won't go down without a fight!" (charred man)

 

Oh damm!
This is quite a bit more hostile than I thought it would be.
I really hoped I could kinda talk this out.
But as it seems, he's literally hell-bent on fighting me, which is the farthest from my actual intentions.

But how will I now go about this?
Could I just turn around and come another time?
Yet he might start to rampage if I leave him unattended.
I really don't want to fight, but maybe, if I go in there, I could get him calm enough to listen.

I take a moment to mentally prepare myself and take a deep breath before stepping through the door.

 

"Whooooooo-"

 

Unfortunately, I can't really fill my lungs to a satisfying degree.
Instead, the air rushes further and further inside my body, where it supposedly gets swallowed by whatever black hole I have there.
I also suck in the ashes and smoke, but fortunately don't get a coughing fit.
It's just good that I'm not affected by something like this.
This is still no reason to start smoking, as it's expensive, the passive smoke still being unhealthy for everyone else, and I never really found the appeal to it.
Not to speak of that I'm a minor and won't get anyone to sell to me.
So it was properly a bit too deep of a breath, as I think I swallowed every bit of oxygen in the vicinity.

 

"Thud"

 

Uh, what?

A number of plopping-up eyes reveal that what I just heard is the charred man, who’s now lying on the ground in the center of the room.
Now that I think about it, a fire ghost might get problems if someone steals the necessary oxygen around him.
Yet the way he threatened me before doesn't speak for his intentions, so while I obviously am responsible for his current state and feel bad for him, I'm not all that guilty.

 

"Ehm, hey. Are you alive?" (I)

 

According to Zika, he can't die, yet that's kinda second-hand information from a rather dubious source.
Especially if I consider that she might hold a grudge for getting killed.
Now that I look at him, he appears quite battered.
There are claw marks and deep gashes all over the burnt flesh.
Though, the latter is probably part of the concept.
Yet what I want to say is that what I'm seeing here are probably the aftereffects of Zika's fight with him.

After asking my question, I wait for a response and, to my relief, he starts to stir.
I'm just glad I didn't kill him.
I mean, yes, he's an evil demon, but killing is wrong.
Uh, at least if you don't absolutely have to do so.
And even then it's nothing one should just put aside and continue as usual.

 

"Y-you! You dirty trickster! I, I will..." (charred man)

 

He's barely holding on at this point.
With a flick of a thought, I make the door above the stairway snap open, so some air can return in here.
Though, it should still take a while till it's back at halfway normal levels.

 

"Would you please just listen to me? I really don't intend to harm you. Albeit, I can't say I approve of what you did to Zika. She's quite grumpy since she resurrected." (I)

 

At this, the burnt-out eye sockets of his widen.
He probably didn't expect that this was possible.
To his defense, neither did I until she clawed herself out of me.

 

"No, not like this!" (charred man)

 

The flames around him flicker back into existence.

 

"I won't give in!" (charred man)

 

He'll probably again become aggressive once he recovers.
So I should really come up with something new.
What about a bluff?
I imagine what I want and just a bit release the mental barrier I put on it to prevent stuff like my tentacles running rogue.
Which was desperately necessary, as this place in itself gives me the creeps.
Cellars are bad!

 

But because I'm usually so controlled and at the same time was under tension just now, it seems like I underestimated the reaction.

 

At once, billions of black-purple tentacles break out from my backside.
They multiply further until only my face and the front of my torso remain as they were.
The rest rushes through the whole cellar.
Around the machines, up the ceiling, along the walls, through every gap they find.
I seriously didn't intend to become so familiar with the exact shape of this place.
I encounter a rat nest, whose inhabitants shrieked trying to escape in a panic.

Urgh, that was apparently justified, because I think I just absorbed them.
Maybe I should later send them to somewhere in my world.
It's not like they deserved what just happened to them.
Not to speak of any insects that got in my way.
Or rather that of the chaos I just unleashed.

Also, I'd like to mention something at this point.
I'M SERIOUSLY FREAKING OUT HERE!!!

Now the least I can do is to channel this feeling into something productive.
This living mass I generated closes in on the demon in the center.
More and more gathers, while what remains of my original body is approaching him.
He tries to generate flames, but it's obvious how utterly useless that is.
Just before it reaches him I stop the advance.

 

"Would you mind fucking stopping now?!" (I)

 

Uh, that might've been too much, but I'm agitated and it's already difficult enough to get a hang of myself.
I mean, controlling this giant flesh mask, while totally panic-inducingly creepy, also comes instinctually to me.
Nonetheless, it's just so much at once.
One should only have to care about so many limbs if you ask me.
At least, my opponent, if that declination is applicable in this context, stopped trying to retaliate.
To me, this means that I can take a step down and do something that I really need now.
Which is forming my original body back to its original form.
Most of the tentacle nightmare around stays as it is, but at least I can look down now without having to suppress a puking reflex.

 

"Just end it already! I don't need your pity!" (charred man)

"Would you finally listen to me? I don't want to end you. I'm not even really invading. This is all a big misunderstanding!" (I)

 

He doesn't seem the slightest bit convinced.
And that's something I can already gather from what crisp remains of his face.

 

"Look, I only want to avoid that people have to die. All people! This means, we somehow need to change your rumor so you won't blaze anymore everyone who comes down here out of business time." (I)

"She was right. You want to take our identities from us." (charred man)

"I'm very sorry, but I don't see any other way. Look, we can figure out what you would be comfortable with. It only shouldn't involve killing people. There has to be a way to align our interests. Right?" (I)

 

For an uncomfortably long time, during which I have to suppress the urge to step from one leg to the other to shake off the tension, we stare at each other.
Which gets more difficult, due to the fact that he doesn't have eyes and I don't enjoy staring at burn victims.

But I'm sure he has to think about many things.
If there is a way for him to redeem himself, what kind of rumor would be fine, how far would it be okay to go so that his old self is still preserved?
At least, those are all the things that I thought about while trying to find a solution.
Finally, he seems to have come to a conclusion.

 

"No." (charred man)

 

Which seems to be just to screw with me.

 

"What!? Why?!" (I)

 

Slowly standing up again he faces me without breaking contact.
The flames again start to flicker around him.

 

"You have truly no idea, huh? No knowledge about what you're demanding. No idea what you're causing. About the implications of your actions." (charred man)

 

I absolutely never claimed anything different.

 

"Yeah, okay, I'm just a normal girl after all. Or was. There is nothing special about me. I can only offer what I can." (I)

"I'm aware. I know that you're neither an invader nor a tyrant. Only a calamity pressed into a child. Nothing else." (charred man)

 

He straightens up again.
His stance becoming more steady.

 

"You, you know? But then you should see that I mean you no harm. Why can't we compromise?" (I)

"Because I won't give myself into the whims of an adolescent deity! I have my pride as the first of the great seven! I am the charred man!! Rather than giving myself up in transition, I will go in a BLAZE!!!!!" (charred man)

 

And with this, he explodes.
From every point of his body, flames rush out and sear my body as well as all the mass I grew around him.
My sense of pain from getting my whole front scorched ceases at mildly uncomfortable, but won't make me feel what this total immolation should feel like.
Instead, I instinctually pull back, or rather, get pulled back, while more flesh growth impedes the assault to shield me.
As soon as the devastation of my body doesn't impede the regeneration anymore, I heal all the damage done to my face and chest, while the rest of my body already merged with the growth.
This would be pretty terrifying for me usually, but right now the sensation of the still-bursting inferno outweighs it.

In an attempt to contain it, I grow further around and soon realize that if not for me and my regenerative barrier, such forceful energy might destroy the school.
And it just won't stop.
Remembering my trick from before, I suck the air out through dimensional portals I open in the growth.

An instant later, I'm sure that I got the last of it, and even if not, those flames should consume in microseconds what remain.
However, contradicting all laws of physics, the firestorm just won't end.
No, if anything it rages even wilder.
Just where does that come from?!
This feels as if I would hold a sun, a little star within my grasp.
The burning sensation permeates further through the barrier and all I can do is to regenerate, calling more mass forth from my dream.

I'm not at my limit, but without spreading beyond the confines of this room, I'm in a pickle.
So I increase the pressure to the center in an attempt to simply put something into the way of the heat before it might affect anything out there.
My grasp is tight, but the pressure from within firmly holds against my exertions.
And then just snuffs out.

The heat is gone.
I remove what tentacles I put in my way to gain sight, but where once was the charred man not even ashes remain.
I know, because I can tell which of it is mine.
He's just... gone.