Things Best Unknown

  The horrid violation of nature in the vague shape of a man standing over me gave no hint to its intentions, moving suddenly without any prior warning. Its left hand moved in a way only a madman could compare to a serpent's strike, jerky and utterly inhuman yet somehow managing to jitter through space at a pace that boggled the mind. Long fingers wrapped around the Crow's throat, lifting him from his feet effortlessly.

  I wasn't truly shocked, this level of power was well within my expectations after all; my home world was ancient before I was born, I had no reason to think this world didn't have a history long enough to include all sorts of powerful monsters. A long life gives one plenty of time for violence, which equals out to plenty of accumulated power in this world; even if someone wasn't just born freakishly strong, I was a sterling example that even the lowliest of creatures can grow into a genuine threat.

  Still, watching this… creature violate space and time so casually, all while my most trustworthy sense failed to perceive them at all caused a feeling of intense dread to settle onto my bones as if an arctic wind was whistling through my ribs.

  Zildan proved himself more formidable than I'd thought, giving an animalistic snarl that transitioned into a sound akin to a roaring fire as his neck seemed to shift into flames. The militant plague doctor leaned back as he fell from the abomination's grasp, fire clinging to inhuman fingers like bits of burning flesh as the plague doctor jumped back the moment his feet hit the ground. He swiped his spear at the abomination, though the vaguely humanoid creature seemed to barely lean back, the burning blade passed its nose by inches despite my eyes clearly telling me it should have been long enough to hit solidly.

  Based on the weird, jittering, stuttering movements of the walking defilement of nature, I could only assume it was either full blown manipulating space or simply interacted with space-time strangely. Either option was unspeakably terrifying, and both were lodged firmly in the “above my paygrade” category. If someone is capable of manipulating space or time to any significant degree, I have no counter for that. I can barely even conceive of counters for something like that; aside from attacks that can damage space-time, curses that don’t travel through space to hit the target, or using higher level space-time manipulation, nothing could really counter fucking with the fabric of reality directly.

  You can't beat a blackhole in a fist fight, after all.

  Although, I suppose magic might alter that equation somewhat. If one could become so strong as to be able to… to smack light and create a shockwave through time? To somehow grasp the fabric of space with their hand by pure unnatural might alone? Was that possible? It didn't sound possible, but I couldn't dismiss the idea out of hand. My own physical strength was already beyond anything a creature my size should be able to exert thanks to the System, what would a billion points look like? A trillion?

  I had to assume this world was old enough to support such absurd existences, because the opposite assumption could easily get me killed. I could count the dust particles in the air, and my perception hadn't even breached one thousand; who's to say there wasn't some swell guy out there with a quadrillion Perception points reading my thoughts before I have them, who could get offended by my rejection of their existence? Old monsters are delicate creatures, their egos need careful massaging to avoid planetary annihilation!

  Well, from the fact that thought didn't see me smote from on high, I can either assume the old gods aren't real, are hard to offend, or have some sort of agreement not to fuck with lower creatures. I don't have enough data to dismiss any of those theories, which does little to assuage the deep set unease radiating out from my soul.

  Extreme Paranoia +1

  You of all things have no right to dismiss my musings on the dangers of ancient beings!

  My shaky thoughts came slamming back into reality as a sound like a burst of gunfire met my ears with the force of a wiffle bat. Before my blown out pupils, the wretched defilement of nature that rescued me twisted unnaturally around three nearly simultaneous explosively propelled spear thrusts. The unholy thing bent and contorted in open defiance of natural law, twisting in on itself in impossible ways that carried it's barely humanoid body out of the way of the lightning fast blows; the infernal flames wreathing the blade didn't even touch the abomination's finely tailored mockery of mortal fashion.

  A strange chattering sound, like polished bones on rough glass, radiated from the abomination as its silhouette upon this world unfolded back into something not quite the same as before. The thing a generous soul might call a creature lashed out like a cat slashing at a mouse just to watch it bleed, the motions languid and malicious despite their startling speed. The thing in the suit didn't move from its place, instead its arm seemed to just… be longer; it didn't stretch or grow, it simply crossed the distance despite clearly not being long enough.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I blinked, as if clearing my eyes could somehow make the impossible violation of physics make sense. Paranoia was of no use here, not even registering the not-being was there at all despite clearly seeing the results of its actions. I could see the shallow gashes open up across Zildan's face as the unthing's nails carved across his face, yet as far as my paranoia was concerned the wounds simply opened by themselves.

  Zildan growled like a rabid animal, faintly orange foam leaking from the corners of his mouth as his eyes twitched back and forth between me and the violation of reason standing before me. The not-being punished his indecisiveness, taking a single step forward and impossibly crossing the distance to stand slightly behind and to the right of the murderous half-demon. The ever grinning unthing curled its talons into a crude spear point, claws interlinked to form a distinct point, before thrusting into the plague doctor's side.

  I expected a gout of blood, but Zildan once more defied my expectations, turning his midriff to flames around the intrusion and allowing the razor sharp mocking imitation of fingers to pass harmlessly through. Even as the increasingly less human hunter of plagues whirled around to bring his spear to bear on the abomination, I couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't used that trick to escape from Roin's wires earlier? There must be some kind of limitation, some unseen cost that made him decide to cut himself free instead of resorting to this strange, partial intangibility.

  A closer look at his neck showed me the answer, he was visibly bruised and missing a layer of skin as if it had sloughed off to reveal roughly cauterized flesh below keeping his blood inside. His side was far worse, what would have been a deep puncture wound was instead a blackened crater in his side slowly weeping ash-tainted blood; a less immediately fatal wound than he would have gotten, perhaps, but far from a perfect defense. Something tells me such limitations would fall off with greater mastery, but Zildan was essentially inflicting horrid burn wounds every time he turned semi-intangible.

  Better than being ripped open, I suppose, but not by much.

  His phyric defense didn’t seem to slow Zildan down one iota, though the downright mad roar of anger and pain that tore its way up his throat wasn’t exactly a sterling endorsement of his continued mental or physical well being. The lunatic whirled on the unthing, launching another burst of explosive-propelled spear thrusts that the not-creature effortlessly twisted about as if it were made of smoke to avoid. Watching the violation of nature move hurt my eyes, trying to follow its movements made me feel as if my pupils were getting tangled up in… some strange goo.

  I blinked furiously, and pulled myself out of my horrified awe with an effort of will. My everything ached like I'd been worked over with a tenderizer for an hour or three, but I could move nonetheless. I sat up as best I could, holding in a groan of pain with grit teeth. A glance showed I wasn't the only one to get caught up in the fight, but neither was I the first to get their wits about them; Roin was quietly shaking some sense into his fellow robed thugs, clasping a hand over their mouth to prevent any exclamations of surprise and directing them to make their way out of the door with full stealth.

  As if sensing my gaze, he met my eyes from across the room. He very deliberately looked from me to the conflict of monsters between us and back, then slowly shook his head with a grim expression. I frowned, but knew there was nothing I could do to change his mind here; I didn’t even really blame him, I'd have probably done the same thing in his place. Not that I wouldn’t absolutely murder him over this betrayal later, but I understand why he did it

  I needed to follow their example and bail as fast as possible, preferably before the butler-thing finishes playing with Zildan. I don't know why it protected me -or even if my survival was anything but a side effect of whatever its real agenda was- but I got the distinct feeling I didn't want to find out. I wanted to be anywhere but here before that hideous caricature of a living being turned its dreadful attention on me.

  The only problem with that sublimely simple plan was that the door leading to the exit was on the other side of the room, its frame obscured by what might generously be called a duel between the two very different flavours of abomination. I licked my teeth, silently thanking the flies within for quickly flooding me with topical anesthetics at my joints; it made it easier to move through the pain without removing my ability to feel the ground altogether. The fact they seemingly came up with this idea on their own mildly disturbed me, though I didn’t have time to freak out over that when I had far more pressing issues to contend with; I just had to hope they were either learning from past interactions or reading my intent, because the alternatives are a terrifying mix of things I can’t really do anything about.

  Watching the horrendous mockery of the concept of being swipe its claws lazily through the air to carve shallow gouges down the disease destroyer’s chest, earning a well of blood and an increasingly inhuman roar of pain and rage that seemed to amuse the not-man, my gaze turned to the closed door leading further into the dungeon. I knew there likely wasn’t another exit, this place was a predator not some divine test and it had no incentive to provide any sort of easy escape for those foolish enough to challenge its depths and make themselves prey; however, seeing the wave of crimson flames the half-demon sent engulf half the room yet still fail utterly to so much as scuff the abomination’s mimicry of clothing, I decided that any other option was better than staying here.

  At least the dungeon’s monsters are on a level I can reasonably attempt to fight against, I can’t see any way I could even touch that twisted deformation of space time and Zildan was only marginally more manageable (if only because his evidently impaired mental state made me at least twelve percent confident I could bait him into getting Blighted). A small chance at survival is infinitely superior to no chance of survival, no matter how otherwise unpleasant the option may be. When faced with a choice between death and danger, I will grudgingly pick danger every time (no matter how much I’d wish for a safe option instead).

  Grimace firmly in place, I stood up as quietly as I could and crept my way towards the increasingly ominous door to the deeper dungeon depths. A chill went down my spine just before I jumped up to grab the handle (I was decidedly not willing to risk trying to teleport through the door with my every cell still violently protesting my previous similar attempt), drawing my gaze over my shoulder to meet the sulphurous eyes of the butler shaped violation of natural law. Its ever present iron-toothed grin seemed ever so slightly wider as it met my eyes, though I was too busy trying not to drown in the boiling yellow sea of swirling impossibilities dancing in what I was increasingly sure were not really this creature’s eyes.

  The moment was broken when the caricature of a man tilted its head to the side, allowing an explosive thrust to pass its cheek by millimeters. The burst of flame from the spear’s tip blasting fire and force in all directions broke my line of site and freed me from whatever trance the thing’s unholy gaze inflicted upon me. I shook my head violently, clenching my eyes shut and leaping up to grab the door handle without giving myself a moment to overthink things. I had to push off against the doorframe with my legs to get the door to open while using both hands to twist the handle, dropping down before the wooden portcullis slammed me into the wall.

  I didn’t dare glance back, not willing to risk falling into whatever mental trap that wretched thing hid within its imitation eyes even as I charged blindly into danger.