Noah stared at the Devourer.

It stared back at him.

“What?” Noah asked. His thoughts were still coming slowly, but at least they were moving.

He wouldn’t have said that the cracks in his mind had sealed yet. They were still there — but the fragments of his mind had continued to settle down. The longer he spent out of the white void, the clearer everything became. Perhaps his soul was just getting more used to being broken.

“Prayer.” the guide centipede chittered nervously. “Prayer.”

The massive monster’s mandibles clicked. Then it let out a grating, raspy cough that Noah realized must have been its attempt at clearing its throat.

“I am the Heart of the Citadel,” the Devourer repeated. It paused for effect. “And I have come to bargain.”

“No. I heard you the first time,” Noah said. “But what the fuck are you talking—”

“Prayer,” the smaller centipede chittered.

Noah sighed. He glanced over at the smaller of the two monsters. “Stop that.”

“Prayer.” The centipede shrank back in on itself. It seemed that the more scared it got, the worse its vocabulary became. That was probably justifiable given the fact that it had seemingly only just started talking a few short hours ago.

Noah looked back up at the Devourer. His brow furrowed, power from his runes still coursing through his body in freezing rivers. The Devourer had not struck him as the kind of monster that surrendered. Especially not after one measly fight. But it didn’t seem like the conniving sort either. That didn’t mean he could afford to let his guard down.

“Why?” Noah asked, not letting his magic fade. He kept himself at the ready, prepared to explode into motion at the slightest sign of movement from the huge creature. There was a chance this whole thing was just to stop him from having time to create a Formation — but he had more than one way to react to a surprise attack. “Why would you want to bargain? You didn’t strike me as the sort to be interested in that kind of thing.”

“You injured me,” the Devourer said, flinching slightly at its own words. “It hurt.”

Noah blinked.

For all the explanations he possibly could have gotten, that was the one he’d least expected. The Devourer was, even if nothing compared to the Night’s Shadow, still an enormous monster. It was so big that Noah still hadn’t seen its full size. The majority of it vanished off into the darkness in the hall at its back, winding deep into the Lost Citadel.

The one cut he’d given it with Sunder couldn’t possibly have been more than the prick of a needle. The Devourer was functionally surrendering because of the equivalent of a paper cut.

“You’re kidding me,” Noah said, unable to contain himself. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” the Devourer said. Its mouth worked, dozens of jagged teeth undulating in an uneasily hypnotic pattern. “My purpose is to persist. To consume. I cannot die. You possess the power to kill me. Thus, I do not wish to fight you.”

All these years trapped in the Citadel… and it’s a coward. You can’t be real. If you’re going to live like this, what’s the point of living at all?

“I was under the impression you were eager to escape the Citadel,” Noah observed. “Did you think everything outside would be unable to harm you?”

“I did not consider the possibility of being injured,” the Devourer said. “Such a thing has never occurred. I have adapted my strategy upon the delivery of new knowledge. Such is my purpose. I have evolved.”

“I think devolving would be more — wait. Never? You’ve never been hurt?” Noah asked, blinking in surprise. “How is that even possible? You’re going around calling yourself the Devourer. Surely at least one of the things you ate must have had some degree of objection to becoming a meal.”

The huge centipede simply stared at Noah. It didn’t seem to comprehend his question, as if he were speaking to it in some language that it had never heard.

This is odd.

“Forget that, then,” Noah said. He took a moment to gather his thoughts as he stared up at the Devourer. “You said you were the Heart of the Citadel. Were you being literal?”

“This is not bargaining,” the Devourer said. “You are asking questions. You must give in return. I demand—”

“You get your life,” Noah said. “And only for the time being. I haven’t agreed to shit. If you want to avoid a fight, then you’re not in any place to refuse to give any answers.”

The Devourer’s many faces shifted as its eyes all narrowed in anger. The maws of teeth in their mouths twitched as if they were trying to chew on the air, and the monster’s main set of molten red eyes bore down on Noah like two setting suns.

“I do not like this bargaining.”

“Then you chose the wrong person to bargain with,” Noah replied. “Answers. Or we fight… and I get the answers anyway. I’m not letting them slip away now that I know you have them.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The Devourer’s mandibles clicked in displeasure. It remained silent for several terse moments. Then it let out a slow hiss.

“I am the Heart. In true.”

“You’re telling me that the people that made the Citadel built the whole damn thing off you?” Noah asked in disbelief.

How stupid can you possibly be? That’s like creating a Doomsday Bomb, strapping it to your front door, and being surprised when you get killed opening the damn thing.

“No,” the Devourer replied. A twitch ran down the entire length of its chitinous body in a wave of black scales. “The Heart was consumed. I absorbed it, but it did not cease to be. We became one. I am the Devourer, and I am the Heart, but the Devourer is not the Heart.”

Ah. Well, that makes a little more sense. The Doomsday Bomb wasn’t strapped to the door. They just put it on the dining table. Slightly less stupid.

Still stupid.

“The researchers in this place, then — they made you?”

“Yes,” the Devourer said. “I am the penultimate creation. The perfection of the Citadel’s Research. I am perfect.”

Rivulets of black liquid rolled down from the faces covering the monster’s body to hiss and splatter against the ground. Noah tried not to look too closely at it.

Looks like they might have shot a few thousand meters to the side of perfect. I don’t think perfect things tend to leak.

“Right,” Noah said, trying to sound a little more convinced than he was. “You do realize that penultimate means there was another one? Doesn’t that mean, by definition, that you aren’t—”

“The ultimate never came to be. I was already perfect,” the Devourer hissed as a sudden blade of anger pierced into its words. “There is none greater than I.”

Jealous, are we? I think I’m starting to piece together how these people got themselves devoured. They made some kind of super rune-monster, then went and told it that it was just a step in their plan to… well, whatever they were working toward.

Then it ate them.

Fair enough, honestly.

“And not one of the researchers managed to fight back against you when you decided that they were, what, no longer necessary?” Noah asked.

“With no more research, there could be none other than I. I was the ultimate. All that they worked for. Who could strike out against the final culmination of all their efforts?” the Devourer asked. Its many eyes blinked, as if trying to stop the deluge of fluid pouring from them. “They accepted their fate. Their fate as a part of the Devourer.”

Disgust gripped at Noah. “They’re not… still in there, are they?”

“There is only the Devourer and the Heart.”

That, at least, was a relief. There were limits to what Noah was willing to bargain with. Killers were one thing. If the Devourer had kept souls trapped within it, it would have been another.

Noah shook his head.

The entirety of the Citadel… it hadn’t just been a research facility. It had been some kind of cult. And, as those tended to do, it had imploded.

What a huge waste. Whoever these researchers were, they were clearly brilliant. Also a bit lacking in basic intelligence, but they knew their shit when it came to runes. I’ve never seen anything like that training room. And there were 750 of those scattered around this place. It could have been a hub of knowledge like no other — and they went and made some fucking psychopath monster instead of actually doing something useful.

Classic.

“What about the grid?” Noah asked. “Are the other Access Points—”

“Without the Heart, the Grid cannot exist,” the Devourer said. “This place holds no function without me.”

Of course.

“There’s no way to repair it? The Heart can’t be replaced? I’d be willing to come to—”

“The Heart is irreplicable. All the imbuements filling the Citadel are based upon it,” the Devourer said with what could have only been pride in its voice. “They cannot exist without the other.”

Shit.

“Access Point 4 seemed to work just fine,” Noah observed. “And it wasn’t connected to the Heart or the Grid.”

“Fragments of what once was,” the Devourer said through a hissing scoff. “The purposes of this facility are complete. They made me. Nothing more is required.”

“I beg to differ,” Noah said. “But you’re not making a very good point as to why I should work with you. You ate the Heart and made the Citadel, in your own words, into fragments of what it used to be. I happen to be rather interested in this place. So why do I need you anymore? If the fragments are stuck forever as fragments, who needs the Heart anymore?”

The Devourer paused. It looked like the huge monster hadn’t quite considered that.

Noah’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t been bluffing. Even though he doubted a fight against the seemingly endless centipede would be difficult, he couldn’t leave a threat like this at his back without a good reason. There was nothing redeemable about the Devourer. If it served him no purpose… then it had to die.

“You cannot,” the Devourer said. “You cannot fight me.”

“Why?” Noah asked. His veins turned black as he drew on Sunder. “You’ve yet to give me a single good reason. The Heart is gone, isn’t it? You’ve got nothing to bargain with. You already ate it all. With no Heart, there’s no grid. And with no grid… I have no use for this place.”

“No,” the Devourer said. “I am the Heart. It persists. The grid can be—”

And then the Devourer cut itself off. It must have realized what it was doing, but it was already a moment too late. Words could not be unspoken. A small smile crawled across Noah’s lips.

“The grid can be repaired?” Noah guessed. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? All I have to do is put you back where you belong.”

The Devourer let out a warning hiss. “Are you so eager to seek your own death? I am the Devourer of the Citadel. I am not so easily—”

“You came to me to bargain, didn’t you?” Noah asked. “So let’s bargain. Or, better yet, let’s bet. One simple task. The thing you’re the best at versus the thing I’m best at. Victor takes all. How does that sound?”

The Devourer’s mandibles clicked. Its ruddy red eyes bore into Noah for a long second as a ripple ran down its body, vanishing into the darkness. Then it lowered slightly.

“Elaborate.”

“Not much to say,” Noah replied. “You’re the Devourer. I want you to devour. Give me access to your mindspace. I will meet you there, armed with no weapon but my own soul. Should you be able to consume it… you win. That’s it. You get my power. I’m out of your way, and the Citadel is yours to do with as you wish.”

“I devoured the Heart of the Citadel. You believe a mere man can stand against the immensity of my existence? Why would you ever give up the only advantage you have over me?” the Devourer asked. “You are a fool.”

“Then it should be an easy deal,” Noah said. “And, of course, should you be unable to consume everything that I am… the opposite will be true. You will be the Heart of the Citadel once again.”

The Devourer’s eyes narrowed. It watched him in silence for a moment. Then its fang-filled maw warped in what could have only been a smile.

“I accept,” the Devourer said in a hissing laugh. “My mindspace is laid bare to you. Come. This will not take long.”

“That,” Noah said, his lips curling into a smile as his eyes ignited like two miniature pools of melted sunlight, “is an unfortunate choice of words.”