Read Online Mad Gods - Predatory Ethics: Book I by Athanasios - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Athanasios
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seemed horrible, but somehow, the true
terror was forgotten. The mind cannot remain focused on constant pain; humans
simply are not equipped to handle pain without some respite.
Balzeer went to a cage in the center of the chamber
and knelt down. Using a pair of long tongs, which belonged in a foundry, he
brought out a squirming and snapping land piranha. Fully equipped with the
trademark teeth and scales of a fish, this contrived beast breathed air, at
least for a short period of time.
He walked over to a strong, still-flailing brute of a
man. At one time, he had been a professional athlete. Balzeer had made sure
that no one would miss this him; as far as the rest of the world was concerned,
he had died in a car accident. As he got closer, the man tried to kick out with
his legs, unable to use his arms, as they were impaled against the far wall.
Balzeer stopped short and looked about him. On the
floor, he saw another stake, a yard in length, and hefted it with his left
hand, still holding onto the snapping land fish. He launched the stake and
caught the man’s left leg, just about at his ankle, pinning it to the wall.
Balzeer was quite impressed with his accuracy, but did not linger on it. He had
more important things to do.
He stepped closer to the man and, mumbling a quick incantation,
he pushed the fish forward, into his body, without need for an incision. It was
a small fish, barely two inches long. It would not do too much damage, but the
pain of being eaten inside out, was that for which Balzeer was aiming. It would
burst inside the man from over-eating, like a mosquito hitting an artery.
However, that wouldn’t happen for another hour.
He repeated this with five of the eighteen other
people surrounding him. Some were easier to handle than the football player,
but the results would all be the same. After he had finished with the last one,
he turned to the center of the chamber and saw that the pentagram he had
fashioned was beginning to pulse with life. It was quite large, intended to
shackle something monstrous.
The pulse was a raspy breath, drawn in and out with
the effort of traveling a great distance in a very short period of time. The
glow further illuminated the rest of the dark chapel. Screams echoed as his
charges saw their surroundings in full light. Some gagged, and vomit began to
permeate the air.
The pain, inflicted by the munching little land fish,
was only part of the fuel being used to usher in the shape, whose outline was
beginning to form in the center of the pentagram. The true nourishment that the
brute needed was the fear, pain and torment that the rest of the captive
assembly released. They were reminded that this agony would continue for the
rest of their lives and, if Balzeer so desired, eternity.
The shape was a behemoth, its sloping shoulders
blocking out the candlelight in the room. Tufts of hair spiked out from
shoulders, as wide as the athlete, who had earlier faced Balzeer, was tall. The
expected horns grew out and up from just above glowing, red eyes. The eyes
shone as though they had already materialized, waiting for the rest of the body
to catch up.
Tree trunk arms held up an overwhelmingly large upper
body, which bulged and writhed with shackled power. More tufts of hair covered
the hands, from the knuckles of the fingers, traveling up the forearms, all
along the shoulders, and disappearing behind the head. Slobber shone in the
candlelight, dripping off frog jowls that hung forward over serrated teeth. The
mouth was ajar and spanned the entire width of the head, disappearing well
behind the ears. The creature’s legs were bowed, supporting the massive upper
weight. It appeared as though they did not quite belong, an after-thought to
the rest of the hulking shape.
“You are the Keeper of Shrouds? You’re barely an
infant. Look at you. You’re not even mature enough to form a suitably
impressive form,” Balzeer spit out in contempt. “Do you know to whose summons
you were
terror was forgotten. The mind cannot remain focused on constant pain; humans
simply are not equipped to handle pain without some respite.
Balzeer went to a cage in the center of the chamber
and knelt down. Using a pair of long tongs, which belonged in a foundry, he
brought out a squirming and snapping land piranha. Fully equipped with the
trademark teeth and scales of a fish, this contrived beast breathed air, at
least for a short period of time.
He walked over to a strong, still-flailing brute of a
man. At one time, he had been a professional athlete. Balzeer had made sure
that no one would miss this him; as far as the rest of the world was concerned,
he had died in a car accident. As he got closer, the man tried to kick out with
his legs, unable to use his arms, as they were impaled against the far wall.
Balzeer stopped short and looked about him. On the
floor, he saw another stake, a yard in length, and hefted it with his left
hand, still holding onto the snapping land fish. He launched the stake and
caught the man’s left leg, just about at his ankle, pinning it to the wall.
Balzeer was quite impressed with his accuracy, but did not linger on it. He had
more important things to do.
He stepped closer to the man and, mumbling a quick incantation,
he pushed the fish forward, into his body, without need for an incision. It was
a small fish, barely two inches long. It would not do too much damage, but the
pain of being eaten inside out, was that for which Balzeer was aiming. It would
burst inside the man from over-eating, like a mosquito hitting an artery.
However, that wouldn’t happen for another hour.
He repeated this with five of the eighteen other
people surrounding him. Some were easier to handle than the football player,
but the results would all be the same. After he had finished with the last one,
he turned to the center of the chamber and saw that the pentagram he had
fashioned was beginning to pulse with life. It was quite large, intended to
shackle something monstrous.
The pulse was a raspy breath, drawn in and out with
the effort of traveling a great distance in a very short period of time. The
glow further illuminated the rest of the dark chapel. Screams echoed as his
charges saw their surroundings in full light. Some gagged, and vomit began to
permeate the air.
The pain, inflicted by the munching little land fish,
was only part of the fuel being used to usher in the shape, whose outline was
beginning to form in the center of the pentagram. The true nourishment that the
brute needed was the fear, pain and torment that the rest of the captive
assembly released. They were reminded that this agony would continue for the
rest of their lives and, if Balzeer so desired, eternity.
The shape was a behemoth, its sloping shoulders
blocking out the candlelight in the room. Tufts of hair spiked out from
shoulders, as wide as the athlete, who had earlier faced Balzeer, was tall. The
expected horns grew out and up from just above glowing, red eyes. The eyes
shone as though they had already materialized, waiting for the rest of the body
to catch up.
Tree trunk arms held up an overwhelmingly large upper
body, which bulged and writhed with shackled power. More tufts of hair covered
the hands, from the knuckles of the fingers, traveling up the forearms, all
along the shoulders, and disappearing behind the head. Slobber shone in the
candlelight, dripping off frog jowls that hung forward over serrated teeth. The
mouth was ajar and spanned the entire width of the head, disappearing well
behind the ears. The creature’s legs were bowed, supporting the massive upper
weight. It appeared as though they did not quite belong, an after-thought to
the rest of the hulking shape.
“You are the Keeper of Shrouds? You’re barely an
infant. Look at you. You’re not even mature enough to form a suitably
impressive form,” Balzeer spit out in contempt. “Do you know to whose summons
you were
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