Chương 109: Scarabeus

Jairo was ready to face anything, but this monster was shaking him to his core. It kept letting out these roars and grunts that rattled through him, clearly egging him on to fight and threatening any civilians around him. As the hero stood there, fists raised, police officers began to surround and accompany him, leveling their weapons at the monster. The horned menace raised his silvery spear, before letting out another roar.

The spear then coiled out of his grip like a serpent, flying towards the police officers and beginning to tear through them, blood flying from each one. No- Jairo wasn't supposed to let this happen. He's a hero. He crossed the gap instantly by letting his arms and legs shift over, throwing a right-handed cross. His fist landed keenly against the monster's left cheek, producing a sound equivalent to a gunshot from the force that sent the monster rolling along the ground. Only rolling? That was odd, Jairo thought.

He put his all into that punch. He was clearly facing something far stronger than anything he'd fought before. He'd need to give in and take on his monstrous form and to let his full strength out. The world took to darkness, as all that he could see in front of him was the light of this monster's heart. It surprised him to learn it even had one. None came from the police officers, dead already because of this wretched beast's evil.

The villain's heartbeat was heavy and fast, practically built purely for the violence it was inflicting. It let out another growling roar, which Jairo responded to with his own. Wordless and meaningless, simply an animal behavior he permitted to prove himself as the superior creature in this battle. Jairo lunged again, refusing to give the beast a chance to strike first, slamming his fist square into the monster's face. Trying to exert that kind of force into the monster felt almost impossible.

It was as though he were trying to cross an entire mountain in a single bound. And then the mountain swung back. The monster didn't even lean into it, just slapping Jairo across the face with enough force to send him rolling and sprawling across the ground. Another police officer had rushed up to the monster with a baton as Jairo pushed himself back to his feet. It took only a split second for the horrid beast to thrust out a fist and strike the poor man with enough force to make his body explode in gore.

The hero could not help but let out another roar, the air buzzing with his rage made manifest. The world slowed to a crawl as he began to sprint. Every little bit of dust and dirt and wood splinters and blood practically floated harmlessly in the air as he crossed the gap. The monster's coal black eyes couldn't even move in the hair-thin shred of an instant Jairo took to hurl himself back towards his enemy. And then he delivered unto the beast his rage.

A madness of fists, a fulminating and savage percussive descant made far more frightful because it came from a man and not from the brotherhood of thunder and lightning and rain. There was only Jairo and his fists, an endless wake of strikes that crashed into the monster with enough force that he felt his own hands strain from the impacts, rocketing up his forearms and into his shoulders and into his chest. Enough force that even the parasite that gave him his strength shuddered in primal fear for its life.

And yet each one struck like a breeze through the grass, being met with the same reaction of a man's chest twitching in response to a light prod of a finger. That brought unto Jairo a grave frustration. He wished he was Chris. Then he would not need to hit hard, he could have had his own kit of weapons that did not care for tough hides and strong bodies as they parted skin and struck the insides.

And even without weapons, he could utilize the monster's own force against him, and bring about strategies that savages such as this beast could in no way coordinate against. But Chris would look down on him anyway. Act as though the hero's force of will and strength was merely a blunt tool with no refinement, wielded by an immature child. But not with a malicious gaze. It would be pity and that would grind on his heart like coarse sands. The thunders of his fist echoed faster and faster. He wished he was May.

Then he would not need to rely on his physicality at all. Not only could he look and act like a normal person, he could keep as far away as possible and protect people without having to hurt and strain his body. He wouldn't have to worry about people seeing how he actually looked, how he probably didn't look any different than this monster to the civilians he was trying to save. But May wouldn't really want to help him regardless.

She'd just make him feel hopeful about things that weren't true, try to convince him that his problems weren't there. Just to lower his guard and make him trust her. He knew no one could trust a monster like him. The monster flinched and recoiled from the blows as they came with more and more force. It seemed to be roaring something out, but each strike interrupted it. Though really, he wished he was Leo. Leo looked normal, Leo was smart, and Leo was so strong everyone couldn't ignore it.

Jairo was the strong one before Leo showed up, but now when anyone spoke about strong, it was Leo. It felt like him and everyone else just sat on the fringes. Himself especially. Being like Leo, no one would be able to ignore how much of a hero he really was. But Leo wouldn't even care about that. All Leo ever cared about was himself. It didn't matter who he tried to save or who he protected, Leo only ever made choices that benefit him. Just doing everything by himself, for himself.

He didn't want others to work with him so that he could take all the glory for himself. The roaring groans from the monster began to intensify. But he refused to listen, refused to give in to its insults or threats that didn't even sound like words. But he felt like he just couldn't keep it up by himself anymore. Because he wasn't Chris. He wasn't May. He wasn't Leo. He was just-" JAIRO!" This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The beast's roar coalesced into words so thick and heavy the ground shook and wavered. The shock it sent through Jairo did not feel like sound, it felt as though the ground beneath him broke up and was falling from under him. Falling. Falling. That sense of falling put a righting reaction in him, making his body flinch and tense up." WAKE!" The next roar shook the air further, parting invisible storm clouds that made things clearer. The city did not exist like he thought.

It was dark and humid and overgrown with vines that hung in the air that stunk of bitter aromas and unripened tomatoes." UP!" Then came the appearances of the living things around him. There was no monster. There was just a bloodied Hercules, suit half-torn. His gloves clung to Jairo's wrists to stop his punches from continuing. In his peripheral, the gored and dismembered policemen weren't people at all.

They were crude statues made of moving twigs and vines that lay broken apart, half-consumed by the metallic liquid that accompanied Hercules. It had slinked off somewhere during the fray of battle, but Jairo couldn't tell where. The reality came crashing down upon him with a dizzying weight. It didn't help that a sharp pain went up his neck, stemming from movements in his chest. His parasite was doing something, but he couldn't figure out what. But he knew it was mad. Furious.

Echoing thoughts of horrible violence, putting images of Mother Belladonna being torn to ribbons in his head. He couldn't blame it. Months of heroism that did not exist, allies that did not betray him, a family that was never mended, a mentor that didn't exist. Wait. No. She had to exist. But where was she? Where was Belladonna?

"H- Herc-" Jairo croaked out, tears forming in his eyes as his monstrous visage faded to a more human one.

"Wh- Where-" The other hero let go of Jairo's wrists, bringing an arm around him in an awkward embrace.

"Still in Charlottesville," Leo assured.

"You were here for a few hours. I'm here to get you out. Do you know who did this to you?"

"N-no I mea-" the boy hiccuped out, trying to put the words together as he attempted to reassemble the actual reality as it all came flooding back to him like a dam had broken. The actual question was finally able to be vomited out.

"Where's Mother Belladonna?" He wheezed out.

"That's who did this?"

"Y-yeah-" A scream. A woman's. Jairo knew the voice.

"T-that's her-""Guess I know where we're going, then." Hercules adjusted his embrace to instead hook an arm under Jairo. With a leap, they surged through the air towards the screams. That led them to the tree that formed this church, where there was a sight to behold. Shivvy had followed some measure of lead towards the source. A woman, clad in a thick leafy dress, her skin a purple shade and gouged with numerous wrinkles in it like an aged fruit, was the first to be seen.

Her eyes, black as pitch, were wide in terror. There she cowered as multiple vines kept coiling and forming in the air, trying to make different structures and shapes that simply kept getting eaten by the liquid metal. The vines seemed to have been coming from another man, older and balding, his pudgy body splitting open and forming new gouges to dig more vines into the ground as they rippled through concrete. He was drenched in sweat as he kept up the assault. He was the first to speak, to a third man behind them.

"Father Viscum, why the Hell isn't your boost working against this thing!?" The voice he spoke to was of an aged bald man, sitting next to the tree's trunk, fully concealed by his leafy cloak from the neck down. Jairo and Hercules both recognized the man's face as the one that would push out from the tree trunk and spew vile warnings to them all. In person, his skin was a deep olive, wrinkled and cracked like bark. The one called Viscum spoke.

"All I do is work as fertilizer for Wyrdwood users, Father Mangal. Everything else comes from you. My question is: Why isn't my boon working on the creature, Mother Belladonna?" The woman shrieked again, backing further up and closer to Viscum.

"I don't know! I'm feeling every mind in here, and I had the one hero, but when the church was breached a new mind entered and when I tried prying into it, something lashed out! Everything started falling apart from there! I can't even get back into-" She stopped as her panicked gaze led to her sighting of Hercules and Jairo.

"Oh God they're here," she squealed out.

"Father Viscum, you need to do something!" Father Mangal called out.

"What you all need to do is surrender," Hercules called out.

"The faster you quit, the less likely any of you get hurt. And I know my friend here would be more than happy to teach you all a lesson." Father Viscum spoke, standing up.

"My orders are not to engage with any of the heroes directly. I must leave."

"You're kidding!" Father Mangal shouted.

"You're just gonna leave us to them when we can't fight back!? Don't you know what they can do!?"

"I never said you wouldn't be on your own." Father Viscum pressed a hand to the tree, causing it to… ripple as he spoke.

"Seven Knights, please." The ground cracked from below as numerous tree men burst out from it, several letting out valiant yells. Hercules and Jairo's breaths both hitched, hearts thundering in their chest. Viscum then opened his cloak, revealing an array of… hearts. Human hearts, turned brown and green and wooden, still beating. They were all connected to him by little roots and vines, to his midsection and his underarms and his hips.

"And to guarantee some results," he stated, ripping one heart free and tossing it to Father Mangal.

"Here's your heart back. Consume it. See the fruits of an organ I've blessed with my vitality for so long." Father Mangal didn't even hesitate, wolfing down the wooden organ with vigor and excitement, before shouting out. More vines shot from his body, beginning to construct and coil around the entire area, enclosing the group entirely. And even more grew from the seven tree men, coalescing into blades, spikes, and even armor. Their bodies swelled into broader, harsher forms.

The knots that formed their faces contorted into sadistic smiles.

"This should be enough," Viscum noted before simply… stepping into the tree's trunk, vanishing. They all stood, watching each other. ADU, Arboreal Senate, New Sentinels. Hercules spoke, voice low to conserve his breathing.

"Jairo. Shivvy and I can get you out so you can escape. Do you need to? It's okay if you do." Jairo looked at the tree men. Their augmented bodies. He could feel the strength of them just in the air alone. The one goddamn thing he trained for his whole life, was to fight the strongest. Be the strongest. He knew if he backed out now, he'd never be able to look himself in the eye." No," Jairo croaked out, the croaking noise converting into a buzz as he let his body fully convert. More than fully.

He gave in further, letting his proportions change. His legs lengthened, bent differently. His arms tightened with added muscle. His neck thickened. His face looked more alien and bestial than it typically did when fully transformed. Usually he took the appearance of something almost reptilian. Now, it looked far more insectoid. Something that would be primitive to even his ancient reptilian ganglia. Hercules let go of him as he transformed, nodding.

"Okay," he conceded. The two heroes raised their fists, ready for the storm.

"Jairo," Hercules started." Stand and bang."