The monster fully emerged now, its towering form a horrifying blend of mutated insect, slithering serpent, and sentient rot. Bulbous tumors pulsed across its chitinous body, leaking trails of acidic vapor. Dozens of sickly tendrils waved behind it like a fan of rotten feathers.
And at the center of its chest, bound in fleshy tendrils, was a half-melted humanoid face—his original body, grotesquely fused into the core of the beast.
This face was none other than the old man who had accompanied them until now.
"What? Little lord? You didn't expect this, did you?" Kaelthorn let out a malicious laughter. "What are you going to do now? Your little slut here won't be enough to save you now!"
Damon looked completely shocked and stunned. Absolutely horrified. "What? How? But did you not die?" He stammered and choked. But the very next second he couldn't control himself. He buckled over, clutched his stomach, and started to laugh wildly.
