Deicide the God Eater
The Seventh Chapter

It was all the madness God could imagine, set free to grow andtwist under its own accord. Nothing wasits purpose, and yet from this, was how everything came to be. From this world, it would seem that if fatedid exist, it was written at the atomic level. – Message inscribed on the Aeolipile’s mainreactor.

Deicide wokefrom the burning sensation in his nose, the membrane filter in his nostrils hadliquefied and dripped onto his lips, it meant that his umbilical connection hadbeen severed and he would have to breathe normally. He confirmed it with a hard look at hisumbilicals, they acted as pipes directly to his life support system, withoutthe link through folded space, Deicide was cut off from necessities beyondfood, air, and water, but also a murky brown solution, known as halcyoniccider. This liquid calmed the bestialproperties of an eater’s power, without this chemical Deicide and his troopswere less than savage dogs.

Though cannibalisticand inefficient, the Deathless had remained undefeated, but after seeingDeicide devour the heart of a conquered tribe leader, Nott began to develop achemical substitute that would allow them to channel their predatoryfocus. This led to the discovery ofkillboxes soon after, a technique Deicide considered invaluable, but with heand the Abyss running dry of their nutrients, it would not be long before theywere experiencing the dark cravings.

Deicidereached for a small pouch clipped to his belt behind him, he punctured the sealwith a sharp index finger and retrieved the emergency supplies. After he had allowed the last of the purevestige to drain on the ground, he began to apply an epoxy resin to seal hisdamaged umbilicals. He sat holding them,waiting for the substance to harden. Withlittle vestige in them, the umbilicals were dead weight, and lay impotently onthe deck. Then he checked to make surehis locator beacon was working properly, but found that it was alreadydead. He wanted to be angry at whoeverhad gun-decked this bit of maintenance, but this piece of equipment was new,and nothing faulty was even allowed to leave the factories operating forAeolipile use, each item was tirelessly machine tested, though he could not beso sure of manufacturing for the Districts.

From thefolds in his tattered uniform top the Abyss stared up at him, the size of asoftball even after consuming the drained vestige, she was completely harmless;the impenetrable shell of security provided by the Abyss and the Deathless had beentorn away. Deicide’s new foundvulnerability forced a tremble through his spine and suddenly the surroundingair was much colder than before. Witheach movement he could feel his muscles burning the energy he needed to live,while connected to the Aeolipile he was immortal, but once out of pocket,Deicide and the Abyss were fuel glutton vehicles with considerable-sized holesin their tanks.

He wondered whenthe rebels would arrive to place him in shackles, but none came; no one came,to his surprise. Surely the torturing ofthe cyborgs that threw him down that tunnel had carried on quickly enough. Where was White? Hellmouth? Where were the people that loved him? He shouted ‘hello’ a few times and rocked on his backside a few moments,before speaking words that all of his surrogate mothers and fathers had beatenout him as a child.

“Help!”Deicide said, knowing he would sound twice as pathetic in the enemies’ ears,triple in Hellmouth’s. After shouting afew more times, he was overcome with impatience and shame, hoping no one hadheard at all. He was one of the few thatmade it, the only male no less, they had expected him to die with the others,but she did not. They had made a deal,Deicide thought as he glanced down at the Abyss, her yellow eyes had nowconsumed most of her total mass.

This newsilence was strange to him, not only did he hear nothing around him, but hismind was quiet as well, and there but a single mind, only the brain inside hisskull was accessible to him. The Amanuenses’constant updating, now gone, he had even lost the old message traffic from thismorning. Nott was gone too then, if hewas severed from the Amanuensis, then surely he had lost connection with her. Any previous silence between him and his wifehad been done voluntarily by one of them. How he wished now that he possessed Nott’s wretched telepathy channel,if only to tell her not to worry, that he was alive and would kill whoeverdared to separate the two of them, no matter how brief.

Deicide hadenough and started his legs moving, dragging his dead umbilicals behind him; hetrudged along a winding tunnel littered with exhausted and broken weapons ofall types, from gauss rifles to crude spears. Long extinguished flames had scorched the walls, warping the polishedarches above, like the pregnant underbelly of some street dog. The roads were pocked with gaping craters;around their perimeter were corpses whose insides were completely exposed tothe open air. Nothing about thisdisgusting scene bothered Deicide, except for the fact that it had not beencleaned up yet, unless they were stacked in piles in the processing factory, hedetested seeing bodies strewn about in his Districts.

From hissurroundings Deicide could see that the rebel forces had not folded easily, butthere was no enemy that could match his Deathless array. As he moved on he noticed that the walls wereabnormally decayed, he could not have fallen far from Altura, yet this placelooked more in common with the Fringes, which resided at the very end of thecity platters, the very back of the ship’s entirety. He wondered how any District could be thisfar gone without alerting the automated systems monitoring the cities figures. Time had battered this sector more than anybattle could, enormous gashes split through the walls from rust, verdigriscaked over every copper surface. Hecaught the sight of a calibration tag for a pressure gauge and was puzzled bythe inscription. His wife was verystringent about small details and he was instantly perturbed by the serialnumbers being stamped where the date should have been. This check was done by a machine; it lackedthe ability to make mistakes, even if one were to manipulate the calibrationtag under the machine’s stamp it would wait indefinitely until the right placeappeared.

The tunnelopened to a deranged assembly of structures, with Deicide instantly recognizingthe Aeolipile’s internal architecture crammed into the street before. He climbed over several twisted roadblocksand into his once noble vessel. Theglossy sheen of the walls had been worn away; he rubbed his sharp fingers alonga plaque that had a mirror finish just this morning. Calling out only returned the sound of hisown voice to his ears, which came back increasingly apprehensive and forlorn. It pained him to look at the destructionsurrounding him; he wondered what universal force was so grand that even theAeolipile could not curb its sway. Hewondered if his rival, the Nazareth, had grown so embittered by their impotencein combat that they had sent themselves on a suicide mission. This amount of damage would have to be cosmicin scale. For Deicide to be able tocross into his ship from a District as far down the platter queue as Altura, itwould have to be nearly tied into a knot.

Further hejourneyed through the wreckage of his ship, its halls only lit by emergencylighting and a blue glowing mold he found more of as he came closer to theexecutive offices. As he crossed thelong deactivated moving walkways he looked over the side through the crackedtransparent floors that ran above and beneath him; an immense growth ofvegetation was present, encompassing nearly every surface in varying abundance. Thousands of species of plant life spiraleddown into the shaft of shattered floors; flora he knew should be extinct hadcompletely taken over this portion of the ship. Roots of some great tree had torn their way throughout the immensemulti-level gallery, warping the enormous layered bulkheads, twisting thousandsof miles of hallways and catwalks into some galactic scaled needlework. It amazed him that this place could become soconvoluted and yet maintain an atmosphere, surely there must be a leaksomewhere, but here he was breathing moist, sweet air provided by this strangehabitat.

He pressedonward into the office complex, strangely left somewhat intact by the legion ofcreepers and shrubbery. Desperately hesearched for a functioning terminal; most were shattered, strangled byvegetation, and those that were, able to be powered by the emergency handcranks, were displayed in some garbled machine language. He failed to understand why his wife refusedto use one programming language for all. As he began to move his fingers across the faint holographic keyboardflickering from the terminal, he felt something that had always been a noveltyfor him living inside a ship, a cool breeze; perhaps a District’s windsimulation machine was still active. Asthe gust brushed passed his antennas immediately shot up and snapped in alldirections. He wrangled a few minutesmore with the half remembered code, clumsily forcing what he knew into thecommand line, but just when he had given up his eyes laid upon the date andtime of his access. If it was to bebelieved he was trillions of years in the future. His knees buckled, but he caught himself onthe workstation’s supports. He turnedaround and began to view the greenery as if he had seen it for the first time. He walked over to touch the gnarled roots,and plucked the alien flowers to make sure they were real. The Abyss crawled out to sample juicy fruitshanging from the vines that were braided around the towering columns.

Hours laterDeicide was still seated against a balcony overlooking the flora saturatedplaza. He looked down at the Abyss, whoseemed to be his only companion left in this existence and squeezed her to hischest. Even without her ghastly powersshe would have been useful to him, he remembered the first time he had gazedupon her true face, her actual form, a snarling war princess, her tribe tornapart from a battle within the family. He had taught her about the pleasantries of life and she had shown himthe realities of a true war, nothing concerning numbers, or ethics, for when atrue war ended the figures were too high to calculate and no one left behind tojudge.

Their onlyhope was to make it to the Bridge somehow, there would be a way to access hislife support, but wherever this massive tree was, it had turned his belovedAeolipile into a winding and obscene disfigurement that was soon to be histomb. The Abyss chirped and brokeDeicide out of his morose trance, her considerable loss of size had also turnedher usual chorus of feminine voices to a single mouse-like squeak. Deicide nodded and headed back into theoffice complex, his hands began to tremble and the beating of his heartquickened. It was the beginnings of theeater’s curse; a hunger which would eat away at his mind until Deicide and theAbyss were desperately struggling not to consume each other. Once the sickness had reached the end of thismaddening plummet; normal food would be impossible to keep down and any abilityto hold a rational thought in his head would drift away.

As Deicidewalked through the dimly lit Amanuensis Alley he could smell the ancient death,the Aeolipile was already a grave to the majority, and naturally, he wasworried about the circumstances of those that had survived this disaster, ifany. He peeked through the spattered andcracked cubicles which housed each of his secretaries. The well preserved half- skeletons of thewomen still sat at their stations, seeming as if they were ready at any momentto return to work. Deicide saw that theumbilical plugs running from their skulls and into their stations still lookedas new as ever. He fought the urge tolook closer, the legless women had always been a mystery to him, and helamented the fact that he never was able to meet them. He wondered what they thought of him and thegoals he had set out for himself, they being privy to his thoughts; he couldnot imagine them being any worse than Nott, who had always remained a ‘sympatheticskeptic’, whatever that meant.

He turnedthe corner passing his wife’s office, fighting the urge to burst in. He knew she was more than likely not present,but he had no desire to see her in such a way if she was. He stopped when he saw the large roots splitup through the atrium between their offices, they led into the study, and intothe physical archival library that Nott had been so emphatic on preserving. Paper; all of it, a waste of space,especially the machines used to manufacture it, printing new revisions everyfew years, but he did love lounging in the library on an idle HolidayRoutine. As he passed the great shelveshe saw that some of the books were still intact, though he knew that they wouldprobably disintegrate if he tried to pull one away, or even breathed toforcefully near them.

He passedthrough the library and into his private war memorial dedicated to his greatestof enemies, the Hall of Heroes he called it; cathedral-like, it housed works ofart depicting those who were worthy enough to be called a nemesis. The overgrowth had savagely conquered thisspace as well, the roots had ravaged the hall, splitting and fracturing theseemingly endless frescos that adorned the ceilings. Pairs of statutes were widowed, as theircompanion pieces were pulverized after eons of encroachment by the roots ofthis damnable tree yet to be seen. As hemade his way to the center of the massive space he saw that his center piecehad been filled. A great statue of anArbaronian woman towered over him; though damaged, she still retained a cynicalsmirk. Deicide looked down to theengraving beneath her feet.

“FawnaDearborne,” a voice said. Deicide turnedtoward the voice, just as a figure emerged from the shoulder of a massivestatute. A man with chalky white hair;skin the color of a pearl. Deicide couldsee vaguely familiar symbols had been carved into his skin, and then they cameto him, names. All were scratched out,except for one word, Deicide. Deicidenarrowed his eyes as the man began to slam his fists together. The Abyss withdrew inside of Deicide’s shirtas the man leaped from the statue, cracking the stone floor beneath him, uponhis landing.

“Whathappened here?” Deicide said.

“You gotyour way,” the man said, and lunged toward Deicide. Unable to avoid the swipes, the man’s fingersdug deep into Deicide’s chest. Deicidespun away from his attacker as skin was torn from his body. The two remained still after the shortexchange; Deicide was unsure exactly how much energy he could afford to use,but soon the man gave him no choice. Thetwo locked grips and the man pulled Deicide towards him with edged teeth bared.

“Who areyou?” Deicide said, snatching his arms away.

“Lastancestor of your center piece, Occidere,” he said.

“I’ve nevermet that woman,” Deicide said.

“Youwill. And once you do, the war will breakout into what you see here,” Occidere said, quickly grabbing Deicide’s neck, herammed his head into Deicide’s. The twobecame intertwined, desperately scratching and biting for position. Deicide could feel his muscles begin to lockup as they scuffled in the dust. Occidere wrenched himself away and kicked the downed Deicide viciously. He produced a knife from some sleight of handand stood over Deicide heaving, grinning through a scowl as he stepped on theside of Deicide’s face. For a momentDeicide wanted to let it happen, in a single day, his wife, family, friends andhis empire had all withered away. Thisend would be far less painful than the wicked contortion this eater’s sicknesswould put him through, as his digestive fluids reached unheard of aciditylevels, the enzymes in his stomach would slip through the ulcers caused by thechurning bile and consume him from within.

With a booton his jowl, Deicide craned his head desperately to look into the eyes of hisexecutioner; he had expected the eyes of a monster, only to replace those of asurvivor, a lucky scavenger who had managed to outlive the wolves, yes, as longas Deicide breathed the wolf god would live. Deicide remembered being lectured by Ichor as child, to him, free willwas exercised only when one took control of their life. So much of Deicide’s own life had been directedby the guidelines of another, his twisted mission to slaughter the pretendergod was not his revenge, and in an instant he was disgusted with himself. It was the weak who should offer theirthroats to him; it was they who had to purchase their time in this world withtithes of blood. At the very least,Deicide would make sure he was the only soul remaining when the lights of thisof the world were extinguished.

Occidere plungedthe blade into the man’s stomach, but was surprised when Deicide rolled fromunderneath his boot. His sharp fingerstore into the man’s calves and peeled the meat away from his shins. When he had fallen, Deicide rose and snatchedthe blade from his stomach; as the Abyss chirped and plugged the wound. When Deicide engaged with the man once more,this time he allowed his blood pressure to rise. Unable to form a killbox he took an offensivestance, with the Abyss unable to be an extension of his limbs, he was prepared tobe absolutely ruthless.

Deicidepulled his lips back, baring his sharpened teeth, a frigid breath escaped fromhis jaws as he tightened his fists. Thesmall well of vestige material still inside his reserve bladder began to spillinto his system and his veins bulged as they ran black. The man rushed him, but the fusion of Deicideand the Abyss could sense that Occidere had long since run out of vestigematerial in his own veins. He tried toblock Deicide’s attacks, but the punches crashed through his defenses. Occidere back pedaled into the dais causing himto stumble, just as Deicide grabbed him by his throat and tore the man’s lowerjaw away from his face. He stood thereholding the flailing man bleeding profusely from the toothed hole in hisface. Though famished, Deicide hesitatedtaking a bite. Just then the Abyssemerged from the gash in his stomach and devoured the jawbone that Deicide wasstill holding, before she gorged herself on the rest of the dying Occidere,regaining a portion of her size with every bite.

Deicidedropped the corpse and allowed the Abyss to feed; noisily she spread hertendrils and began to consume the skin of the man, greedily peeling it from hismuscle in long bloody strips, the sound of it, like some thick fabric beingtorn from a giant spool. Deicidetightened his lips as she began to violently yank at the limbs of the body,joints popped free; muscle was ripped from bone and tendon. Her single giggle turned to several as she chewedand gulped down mounds of flesh, stuffing it in her black maw. There was a series of wet snaps as shewrenched open the rib cage, she carefully incised the arteries surrounding theheart and then gleefully handed it to Deicide, and her large yellow eyes beganto smile.

Deicidetried to refuse, but the Abyss only thrust it further toward his face. This was how their friendship had begun, justafter the naming ceremony she had crushed the larynx of a goat, or somecreature that looked it, and tore out its heart to celebrate. The boy Deicide had been was surely moreapprehensive then, not out of any notions of civility, but because of thegirl’s unwillingness to repress any urge she had, no matter how violent orsexual, and with her the two always arrived in pairs. At first Deicide thought she had turned outthis way from her noble birth, but in her world, nobility was granted throughsubmission of all others, not through hoarding of resources and wealth, butthrough violence. It was the right ofthe powerful to do as they pleased to the lessers; they had no need to insultthe intelligence of the common by building falsities called justice.

Deicide tookhold of the fresh heart, still leaking life fluids, and plunged his teeth intoit. His saliva quickly began tobreakdown the flesh as he chewed, the first satisfying swallow would not beenough to replenish the nutrients he had lost fighting and the Abyss goaded himinto finishing the rest. It had beenages since he had fed on the flesh of a sentient being, Nott developing thehalcyonic cider had done away with the eater’s need to perform cannibalisticacts for survival, it remained as a mostly ceremonial practice or was done onlyto highlight an impressive kill. Still,even here with just the Abyss, in this kingdom that had become his prison,Deicide felt a bit of shame for consuming the man, even if he only did so forsurvival.