I don't have time to think, one lunged at me. I pull Phobos and Deimos out of the pendants and they instantly enlarge, I catch them mid air and prepare myself for the attack.
"About time kid," Deimos barked, obviously annoyed I shrunk him. "Focus, enough talk." Phobos ordered.
The thing? Attack with its long claw and I swung Phobos to parry it, before my attack could land, the thing pulled back its claw.
".....cursed….blades….." That thing cursed. The others two slithered closer to the thing on the front, then they merged into one, they began pulling their bodies, that black tar tentacles into one humanoid form.
The merged abomination straightened up, its tar-black body dripped black gooey substance, solidifying into limbs that ended in jagged, black spikes. Where a face should have been, a maw split open, jagged teeth glinting like shattered glass, dripping with viscous sludge that hissed against the ground. It towered over me now, easily twice my height, the air around it thickening with a black smoke that stench dumpster and try day old socks.
Phobos hummed in my grip . "It's big, but don't worry. A bigger body means a bigger target."
"Easy for you to say," I muttered, dodging a strike from the creature's claw as it tested my defenses again. Deimos, on the other hand, felt heavier, thirstier, like he was itching to strike down this creature. "She's right kid, aim for the head." Deimos commanded.
I lunged forward, feinting with Phobos to draw the creature claw away from it, then I twisted Deimos in a brutal arc toward the merged giant's midsection. Fight smart, fight dirty, to kill, to survive.
The blade hit deep, slicing through tar-flesh that parted like wet paper. A guttural screech echoed from the maw, shaking the fences and the wall of the warehouse. A loose section of the wall tumbled from the ceiling, forcing me to roll aside. Black ichor sprayed, sizzling where it hit the floor, but the wound began closing itself almost as fast as I'd made it, tendrils weaving the wound shut.
"Persistent little shit," Deimos growled, his voice a gravelly rasp that matched the edge of his blade. "Twist me deeper next time."
The creature, angrier now, I wonder why, circled to my back, its single eye glowing with killing intent. It lashed out again, faster this time, the claw whistling through the air. I parried with Deimos, the impact jarring my bones, but Phobos was already moving in my other hand, my blur aimed at the thing's throat.
It anticipated my attack, crafty enormous shit
ducking low and countering with a tail-sweep that caught my legs. I went down hard, the wind knocked out of me as I hit the damp floor. The creatures, raising a massive arm that stretched into a whip of tentacles, coiling for the kill.
"Get up, kid!" Deimos snarled. "We got shit to kill."
Deimos is right, I can't die on the first day on the job. I grit my teeth, I channeled all my emotions towards Phobos and Deimos, my frustration and my intention not to die.
"Finally something to eat." Deimos surged with more energy than before."I forgive you for shrinking me before kid."
"Roll and slash upwards." Order Phobos, her voice clearer now after eating my frustration.
I rolled, slashing upward with both blades in a scissoring motion that sheared through the tentacles mid-strike. Ichor rained down, burning like acid, but I was already jumping to my feet, eyes locked on the abomination's flickering core, a pulsing, crimson orb buried in its chest, like a heart wrapped in thorns.
My mind is clear now, with my frustration gone and I'm ready for another round. Channeling my emotions to the swords make them feel lighter, but somehow make it feel stronger. I don't know how but seeing it glow makes me think it is sharper and unbreakable.
The creature throws a black bulge of tar, it grows teeth and eyes. It throws one of its own, in crossing motion I slashed it leaving behind a pit of tar behind me.
The abomination howled, a sound that clawed at my mind, promising madness, and its body convulsed, tar erupting in geysers that painted the walls black. Its form destabilizes, dissolving into sluggish puddles that slithered toward the dying giant trying to merge again, its stop and only tar pit that smells awful.
I yanked Phobos free, cleaning it from what's ever left behind the creature, my breath ragged, silence fell, broken only by the drip of ichor and my pounding heart.
"What the hell is that?" I asked my swords, a sentence that would be weird in any other condition, but my last few days have been nothing but weird."That thing definitely is not a rider."
"Doesn't matter kid, we killed it, it's dead." Said Deimos lightly, I guess he doesn't care as long as it can be killed. Phobos on the other hand hasn't said a thing, unlike Deimos, she probably thinks about what's just happened.
A chilling screech, like a knife scraping against bone, pierced the oppressive silence.
"What…"
"Get ready Rei, is not over yet."Phobos cut me off. "Great, I was hoping this didn't end yet." Deimos doesn't even bother to contain his excitement.
I flinched, my eyes straining to penetrate the gloom as the sound grew louder, closer, accompanied by the low rumble of something heavy being dragged. A shower of sparks suddenly erupted, a brief, violent flash that almost burned my eyes. I gripped my swords tighter, whatever it was definitely not here to talk.
In that momentary flare of light, I saw it, a massive, impossibly long blade, curved with a sinister edge,its edge catching the light before being swallowed by the darkness once more.
The air grew heavy with intensity and something else, something metallic and rotten. The screeching gave way to a wet, scraping sound as the man emerged from the shadows. He was a disheveled wreck, his long hair a tangled mess, but the pristine white of his lab coat was a jarring contrast to the grim task he performed. His hand, pale and thin, gripped the handle of the monstrous scythe, its wicked blade dragging behind him, leaving a trail of glistening fluid on the grimy ground. He looked up, his eyes a pair of black, vacant holes, and with a horrifying certainty, I knew he wasn't dragging the scythe; he was its keeper.
"You," That man snarled at me, pointing at me with his massive scythe. "You disturbed my experiment."
Experiment, what experiment? I look at the tar pits on the floor and realize what he means. Those monsters I just destroyed are his experiment. I don't know what kind of experiment but definitely not something right.
"He is dangerous." Announced Phobos. Obviously, he carries a massive scythe for crying out loud, and looks at those messy hair and intense eyes. My dead grandma knows this guy is dangerous.
Deimos hasn't barked anything yet, no trash talking, not a peep. Is he scared? "Anything to say?" I asked Deimos. And he keeps his silence.
"Look, I don't know, those monsters are your experiment. " I confessed to him, trying to not escalate this situation.
That guy didn't look at me and probably didn't listen to what I said, he kept looking at the tar pits with sadness in his eyes. Are they important to him, like a pet or something?
He then snapped back, looking straight at me. Those sadness are gone and replaced by something different, a hatred. Intense venomous killing intent that is full of hate.
"You dare...do you have any idea how much I sacrificed?" His voice was a low hum, like a hum of lullaby that came with sharp edges. The scythe, God, it wasn't just a weapon; it pulsed faintly, veins of black ichor threading through the metal like corrupted from the inside. He lifted it with one hand, the weight of it defying physics, and leveled it at me. Whatever twisted lab he'd crawled out of, this guy was several screws loose in the head.
"Look, this is my first day on the job," I said, keeping my voice steady even as my grip tightened on Phobos and Deimos, "I didn't want any trouble, I just—"
He didn't let me finish. With a smile, creepy ass smile, he swung the scythe in a wide, horizontal arc, the air whistling like the wail of an eagle.
"Shit." I dove low, the blade slicing through where my head had been, carving a gouge into the warehouse wall that sprayed concrete shards like shrapnel. One nicked my cheek, drawing a hot line of blood, but I was already scrambling back, boots slipping on the tar-slick floor.
"Rei, left flank, now!" Phobos's command sliced through my ear, forcing me to obey. I pivoted just in time. I swung Deimos as the man followed up with a downward chop that cratered the ground where I'd stood. The impact sent tremors up my legs, and for a split second, I saw the scythe's edge embed itself in the concrete, bubbling as if the metal were digesting the stone.
Deimos finally stirred in my other hand, his weight shifting like a predator uncoiling. "About damn time you woke up, you oversized butter knife," I barked at him, fueled by my frustration. He rumbled, his tone laced with that familiar glee. "I'm observing, kid," He replied,"Doesn't matter, I can feel your frustration, feed us. Let's get this party started."
Frustation? I got that a lot right now. I know I'll have to deal with mysterious visitors when I take this job, I thought I just have to observe not fighting for my life twice in the same day.
I channeled it all into them, Phobos and glowed with a soft, ethereal blue, their edge sharpening to an impossible keenness, once again I feel they're unbreakable.
He lunged again, faster than something that size had any right to be, the scythe whipping up in a vertical slash that aimed to cut me in half. I crossed Phobos and Deimos trying to parry the blow head-on. The clash rang out like a thunderclap, sparks of corrupted energy exploding between us. The force drove me back, my boots skidding across the floor, but the swords held, Phobos absorbing the shock with calculated precision, Deimos though I'm sure he's enjoying all of this.
The guy stood there, trusting his scythe to the floor. He pulled his phone out and on the screen I saw the transform button. That guy is a rider.
"Time for another experiment." he announced, "Henshin." As he tapped the transform button on his phone.
The air crackles, a low hum filling the space as he stands before me in a pristine white coat, but the change is already beginning. A sharp, metallic click echoes, and his hands, no longer just human, begin to morph. They're sheathed in what looks like polished bronze chitin, each finger elongating into a segmented claw.
A deep thrumming resonates from his core, and the coat flutters violently, revealing a torso of pure, unyielding black. It's not fabric, but an interlocking shell, a living armor forming around him. Golden lines, like molten circuitry, race across the surface, illuminating a design that's both terrifying and beautiful. I can make out the faint, stylized shape of a scorpion's stinger on his chest plate, the sharp point aimed at the sky.
The transformation reaches his head, and I instinctively step back. His eyes, just a moment ago filled with anger, are now replaced by glowing, crimson lenses. A helmet molds itself from the same black material, with two wicked, upward-curving horns that complete the silhouette of a scorpion's pincers. The final piece clicks into place, a segmented tail, thick with power, whips into existence behind him. It's a dark metallic green, its stinger poised and ready.
The transformation is complete. The wind no longer simply blows; it swirls around him in a vortex of raw power.
"Fuck me."