12/8/2025, 7:51 PM
Plague Effect: 「 Poison water - Insatiable thirst 」
Just as the Plague had lunged, so too did Duskbreaker’s frantic form, slipping from Dre Klage’s grip as he had moved toward the spotted woman’s side. The Plague stuttered to a critical pause as his teeth clicked audibly, his silver, lifeless gaze narrowing as he rolled his attention back toward the pair.
Even in death, they still craved such pitifiul proximity toward each other. Mortals, the Plague had thought indignantly, even in the very event of their own death, they still chose another over themselves.
Foolish.
The crackling laughter of the Plague’s ruptured voice broke through the empty space between them, the sound akin to a broken record carelessly thrown to the wind. He stalked his prey with predatory intent as sludge and grime continued to hiss and sob in his wake.
What sun existed in the wide horizon above blanketed his death-defying silhouette, turning him into nothing more than a monsturous outline as he peered over the male’s hunched and broken form—whispering pleasentries to an already dead woman.
Pitiful.
The Plague wasted no time in words—their game of cat and mouse finally over—as his jaw’s widened and strategically latched onto the nape of the whispering man.
He was the Plague’s now.
And in similar fashion to the way he had killed the mottled woman, the Plague gripped tighter as his head shook from side to side, teeth not straying from their impervious grip until the sound of a fading heartbeat could be felt in the back of his tongue.
Mine.
And when it was all over, Dre Klage slipped effortlessly into the ground once more, a laughter painted on the wind behind a suffocating miasma as he left the bodies to rot and decay behind him.
Just as the Plague had lunged, so too did Duskbreaker’s frantic form, slipping from Dre Klage’s grip as he had moved toward the spotted woman’s side. The Plague stuttered to a critical pause as his teeth clicked audibly, his silver, lifeless gaze narrowing as he rolled his attention back toward the pair.
Even in death, they still craved such pitifiul proximity toward each other. Mortals, the Plague had thought indignantly, even in the very event of their own death, they still chose another over themselves.
Foolish.
The crackling laughter of the Plague’s ruptured voice broke through the empty space between them, the sound akin to a broken record carelessly thrown to the wind. He stalked his prey with predatory intent as sludge and grime continued to hiss and sob in his wake.
What sun existed in the wide horizon above blanketed his death-defying silhouette, turning him into nothing more than a monsturous outline as he peered over the male’s hunched and broken form—whispering pleasentries to an already dead woman.
Pitiful.
The Plague wasted no time in words—their game of cat and mouse finally over—as his jaw’s widened and strategically latched onto the nape of the whispering man.
He was the Plague’s now.
And in similar fashion to the way he had killed the mottled woman, the Plague gripped tighter as his head shook from side to side, teeth not straying from their impervious grip until the sound of a fading heartbeat could be felt in the back of his tongue.
Mine.
And when it was all over, Dre Klage slipped effortlessly into the ground once more, a laughter painted on the wind behind a suffocating miasma as he left the bodies to rot and decay behind him.