Chapter 1739 – She Who Reaps The Harvest

Crinis was unhappy. To tell the truth, that was a vast understatement. She boiled with rage. Frothed with it. Every drop of her inky immaterial flesh yearned to take hold of the disgusting… unspeakable creatures and rend them.

Then rend them again.

Perhaps a third time could be managed, if time allowed. It probably couldn’t, considering how many of these rend-able creatures there were, which only added to her anger.

They would dare to attack her master. Even once was a slight, an insult that couldn’t be tolerated, but they hadn’t stopped there! No, they had attacked him four-hundred and eighty-six thousand, three hundred and thirty-two times!

Even thinking about attacking her master was more than she would have permitted. If it weren’t for her direct orders preventing her from unleashing a horrifying banquet of destruction, Crinis would leave these mannerless by-products with a memory so dreadful they wouldn’t dare to fall asleep for a decade!

No, Master was forcing her to be nice to those who were utterly undeserving. It rankled her to a tentacle-twisting degree.

Robbed of her rightful vengeance, Crinis was left with very few options to vent her pent-up emotions. She was explicitly banned from most of the things she would normally do, Master had given her a list, which meant she was reduced to seeking her vengeance in only the most petty ways.

Like a conductor, hidden within the realm of shadows, Crinis began her dark work.

It started on the outskirts of the battle. Raising her tentacles, Crinis began to pick on the exhausted, the wounded, the isolated. Her Soul-Seeker Cilia were capable of phasing straight through armour, flesh and bone, letting her manipulate the thoughts and minds of her victims directly.

Giggling evilly to herself, Crinis picked out her first target.

With the forest of limbs descending on the army, it was impossible for anyone but Crinis to keep track of them all. Try though they might to fend them off, a difficult task amidst the chaos of the fighting, some were bound to get through.

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The cilia slipped through the defences of Crinis’ unfortunate victim, phasing through his armour, his hair, his skull, and seeping directly into his brain.

Vulnerable to her suggestions, there were any number of fully justified and deserved horrors that Crinis could visit upon this filthy individual. Nightmare visions of a twisted reality, allies turned to hideous, dastardly creatures, her master transformed into the golden, glowing idol that he truly was.

Sadly, she was barred from inflicting the kind of mental torment she so longed to dispense, so she had to improvise.