Griffon's Watch

Dr Haylock's Sanctum

Klax's roar tore through the chamber. The echo bounced off the vats of swirling liquid and grotesque, half-formed monstrosities, sending startled ripples through every vile concoction. Ethan barely had time to yell "Wait!" before the Lycae's claws scraped the stone floor, leaving deep grooves behind him as he sprinted headlong toward Doctor Haylock.

"BASTARD!" Klax bellowed, voice thick with grief and fury.

Ethan's Drytchling body reacted on instinct, an electric surge zinging through his limbs as he rushed forward, trying to keep pace. He could feel the monstrous power coiling in his Host, every muscle fiber tightened and ready to erupt. The weight of his spirit felt heavier than ever—his Spirit Core reading was a comfortable 1500, but the raw potential inside him felt greater still.

Klax's mad dash took him dangerously close to one of the tables heaped high with twisted organs and fused remains. The stench alone was enough to stagger the senses. Splattered blood—some old and dried, some fresh and still dripping—coated the floor. To the left, a vat of swirling fluid churned as one of the nightmarish creations inside twitched at the sound of the Lycae's rage.

Ethan spread his wings—fleshy, scale-like appendages that had manifested once he'd fully possessed this particular Drytchling body. They weren't for flight so much as they were an extra set of lethal limbs, but they still carried a terrifying gust when flapped with intention. He gave a powerful [Wing Buffet]. The sudden blast of air caught Klax mid-charge, slowing him slightly so that Ethan could bolt around him to intercept the Doctor first.

"Klax, don't lose your head!" Ethan shouted, voice reverberating with his borrowed vocal cords.

Haylock sat casually in his chair, an amused glint in his eye that made Ethan's skin crawl. Then, with almost lazy ease, the Doctor raised his wrinkled, skeletal hand. He moved his fingers in an elegant series of gestures. Blood—thick and dark from the troughs lining the edge of the chamber—lurched upward in whips of crimson.

Klax tried to dodge, but the arcs of living liquid were too quick, lashing around his torso and pulling taut with a sticky, sickening wrench. The Lycae was yanked off balance, forced to skid to a stop, snapping his fangs at nothing but air.

"Are we starting the festivities so soon?" Haylock asked, his tone mocking. "We've hardly had a chance to catch up!"

Tara and Fauna were already fanning out to the left and right, their eyes darting over the tables and enormous vats, trying to find any vantage point. Fauna's staff flickered with greenish light as she prepared a healing ward. Tara's daggers glinted like shards of obsidian. Meanwhile, Lamphrey remained near the entrance, her eyes closed, focusing her Oneiromancy on her target.

"I will disrupt his control over his thralls," she said. "And…try to contact the Prophet. She is alive. Barely."

Ethan nodded once to her in thanks.

Then we don't have time to waste on this asshole…

"Stay focused!" he yelled. Even in the midst of raging adrenaline, he couldn't shut out the monstrous reality of what Haylock had done to Jun'Ei.

Haylock snapped his fingers again. Several half-decayed limbs that had been scattered across one of the side tables twitched violently, then launched themselves across the room like disjointed projectiles. Tara cursed and lunged aside just in time to avoid a latching hand. Fauna spun her staff around in an arc, knocking two severed arms aside before they could latch onto her furred ankles. One of the arms hit the floor and skittered away, propelled by sinewy tendons that jerked and twisted grotesquely.

Ethan exhaled, inhaled, forced his mind into clarity. It was time to fight with everything he had. He summoned the energy from deep in his Host's chest cavity, letting the swirl of frost-laced magic coil up his throat. With a low snarl, he loosed an [Ice Barrage]. Four shimmering missiles of shimmering blue spiraled out, converging on Doctor Haylock's position. Each missile was a perfect sphere of enchanted ice, cold that could seep into bones and sap vitality.

Haylock only smiled. In the next instant, he thrust his hand into a nearby trough, letting the swirling blood crawl up his arm like living armor. A jagged, crimson barrier formed in the air. Ethan's Ice Barrage shattered on impact, sending glittering shards skittering across the floor.

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"Impressive," Haylock cooed, rubbing the red film off his fingers. "But you'll have to do better, dear Archon."

Klax roared again from behind the blood whips, thrashing violently, fur bristling. Tara darted in with her daggers, attempting to sever the magical bonds holding him, but new tendrils of animated blood surged from the troughs. They coiled up from under the stone floor's cracks like grotesque serpents. Tara tried to slash them, but each time she cut one, another sprouted. Their wet slurping sounds made Fauna grimace.

"Hold on!" Fauna shouted. She pointed her staff at Klax. A shimmering wave of pinkish light blossomed out, wrapping his body in a short-lived barrier. The blood whips hissed, recoiling as if seared, giving him enough slack to wrench an arm free.

"Careful, he's not alone," Lamphrey warned in a shaky whisper. Her Tialax eyes scanned the edges of the lab. It took Ethan just a moment to see what she saw. The lumps inside the vats—some of them were stirring, twitching, responding to the Doctor's presence like loyal minions.

Haylock caught Ethan's eye and smirked. "Shall we awaken them?"

Ethan didn't wait for an answer. He bent his knees, angled his wings, and launched forward in a [Dive]. His powerful legs propelled him so quickly that the stone floor cracked beneath his takeoff. He rocketed toward Haylock's chest, hoping to nail the man square in the ribs with unstoppable force.

But the second before impact, the Doctor's lips curled into a grin. Blood shot from the ground in a thick column, slamming into Ethan's side. The collision felt like being hit by an iron bar. He was thrown off trajectory, careening into one of the large tables with a crash. Instruments and half-dissected horrors scattered across the floor. The coppery scent of spilled blood was so sharp it stung his eyes.

"Ethan!" Fauna called.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the throbbing ache that shot through his shoulder. A quick mental check told him that his Host was still in good condition—his HP wasn't too far down. A reactionary activation of [Barkskin] had given him enough armor to tank the attack. Gritting his teeth, Ethan pivoted on a taloned foot. With a guttural exhale, he unleashed [Wintherbreath]. A frosty gale erupted from his mouth, roaring across the space toward Haylock in a billowing, subzero torrent.

In the swirl of hazy, freezing mist, Ethan could see the old man recoil. Frost clung to the edges of Haylock's robe as ice crystals spread up his forearms. This time, the Doctor's defenses weren't fast enough to prevent partial freeze. But even as the frost spread, Haylock's black lips twisted in a sour grin. He flexed his fingers, and the thick blood that coated the floor surged like it had a life of its own. It rushed to his body, forming a pulsing, warm shell around him.

The extreme heat from the blood's own dark enchantment caused steam to rise the moment it touched the frost. A sickening sizzle echoed off the walls. The frost receded, leaving Haylock panting but still standing.

"That's one way to keep warm," Tara muttered, dashing past Ethan. She flung a handful of throwing knives at Haylock's head. Each dagger flickered with a faint magical aura—Tara's stealth skill had placed illusions behind them, so it looked to the naked eye like a flurry of a dozen blades.

Haylock's eyes danced with amusement. He snapped his wrist: a swirling vortex of blood and black mist formed in front of him, devouring the knives mid-air. Ethan sensed the powerful magic behind that barrier. This man was not just some insane doctor—he was a formidable sorcerer, a monstrous blend of intellect and foul arcana.

"We need a direct hit!" Ethan hissed.

Without waiting, he raised a single claw and activated [Spectral Snipe]. A glow formed at the tip of his Drytchling talons, building into a concentrated beam of white-blue energy. If he aimed correctly, it would tear straight through flesh and bone as though intangible, homing in on the target's vital spots with its [Headhunter] property.

"Lock him down for me!" Ethan yelled to the others.

Fauna was already on it, brandishing her staff in swirling arcs to conjure winding vines of life essence. They erupted from the cracks in the floor, tangling around Haylock's ankles. Meanwhile, Tara circled to the side, searching for an opening to strike. Lamphrey, trembling in place, forced herself to focus and extended her hands. Through half-lidded eyes, she uttered words of ancient Tialax power, summoning illusions that darted in flickers of silver light around Haylock's peripheral vision.

Klax was free from the blood whips now, standing hunched over with ragged breaths, eyes fixed on Jun'Ei's remains. "I'll kill him," he growled. "I'll kill him—"

Ethan steadied his breathing and let the Snipe charge. The glimmer at the tip of his claw intensified, swirling with arcs of golden lightning. His heart hammered.

This is for Jun'Ei, for everything this psycho has taken from us.

He let the shot fly.

A superheated bolt of spectral energy tore through the air with a whine. It streaked straight at Haylock's head, which was half frozen with remnants of Wintherbreath and pinned by Fauna's vines. For a moment, Ethan felt a surge of triumph—finally, a clean, finishing blow—

But then the Doctor flicked his free hand. A swirl of congealed blood and black magic formed a spinning, living shield. The spectral bolt smashed into it. A shockwave of sparks and reddened mist exploded outward. Ethan's snipe crashed through two layers of swirling blood, managing to break a good chunk of the defensive ward, but it fell just short of the Doctor's face. Haylock's cheek was grazed, leaving a shallow burn mark. A trickle of crimson welled up, but the bullet of magic dissipated just before delivering a killing blow.

Still, Ethan could see the line of fear in the old man's eyes. He'd nearly died. That realization lit a savage grin across Ethan's wooden mouth.

"Beautiful," Haylock hissed, the flesh on his cheek sizzling. He licked the dripping blood from his cheeks "That – show me. Show me more."

His entire body seemed to quiver with excitement. And Ethan had to hold back the desire to wretch just from looking at the way he licked his wounds.

"Archon Ethan…Let's show this world what real pain is…"

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