Unmade Chapter 11: Chapter 11: Centipede

Read chapter 11 of Unmade by churro on NovelPedia.

Vale gazed out before him, toward the obsidian mountains that encircled the crimson sea. From this great distance, the mountains looked small, miniature even, silhouettes of glass and stone, but he knew their size was vast. It was only the distance that humbled them. The wind was absent here. The air was still and heavy, leaving Vale’s black hair hanging before his pale eyes, motionless. The only light came from above, a pale white sky that twisted and convulsed with red and black clouds. At its heart hung the black suns, silent and unmoving, bleeding faint shadows across the dead landscape. Vale’s eyes were fixed on a single point far away, at the base of the mountains. There, in that endless stretch of black stone, something broke the uniform darkness: a red stain. It was faint at first, like a wound opening on the mountain’s surface, but as he looked closer, he realized what it was. A hand. A colossal, blood-red hand was pressing through the other side of the mountains, its fingers clawing into the obsidian as it began to climb. Behind Vale sat the chained man. His posture was still, his face hidden behind an obsidian mask that mirrored the mountains themselves. His gaze, though unseen, was fixed on the same point. Yet there was no tension in his body, no hint of fear. He watched the crawling hand as one might watch the tide return, inevitable and unremarkable. Vale tore his eyes from the mountains and looked back at the chained figure. The man didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe, or if he did, the sound was lost in the stillness. “What the hell is that?” Vale muttered aloud, the sound of his voice strange in the silence. The stain continued to spread. Another hand emerged, grasping the mountain’s peak. The creature began to pull itself up, its movements heavy and deliberate, like a marionette guided by unseen strings. Vale exhaled slowly. If the chained man wasn’t afraid, perhaps there was no need to be. The man had been here longer, far longer. If he didn’t see danger, then maybe Vale was overreacting. 'I wonder what it looks like,' Vale thought, his eyes narrowing as he watched the black stone crack beneath those hands. One after another, more arms appeared they were red, sinewed and glistening like raw muscle. They clawed and tore, dragging something enormous up from behind the mountain range. The air began to hum with a low, distant vibration, a sound like the earth itself straining to bear the creature’s weight. Finally, as the thing lifted its body higher, Vale caught a glimpse of its head. It was the face of a human, or rather, what was left of one. The skin had been stripped away, leaving a grotesque mask of muscle and veins stretched over bone. And yet it moved, twisting with purpose, its eyeless sockets turning toward him. Vale’s breath caught. The monster had ten arms, each one thick and slick with blood, and it was climbing, climbing toward them. And still, the chained man did not move. The monster climbed higher and higher up the obsidian mountains. Its massive torso was now fully visible, blood-red and glistening, just like its face. Its flesh was raw, its muscle fibers and organs exposed, yet they did not spill or tear. Everything about it seemed to defy the laws of the living. By now, Vale could see that the creature stood nearly half as tall as the mountains themselves, perhaps even taller. As its legs came into view, he realized that they were wrong in shape and number. Too many limbs jutted from the same places, each moving with jerky, unnatural precision. The result was an awkward, twitching giant that was almost painful to watch. To any normal person, the sight would have been enough to paralyze them with terror. But Vale was not normal. Fear was something that seemed distant to him, something he could observe but not feel. Why that was, even he didn’t know. All he understood was that, no matter how monstrous or horrifying the creature before him appeared, he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid, not tr