Internet Mage Professor
Chapter 136: Death

Chapter 136: Death

Nolan stared at the swirling projection before him, hands tightening into fists as he felt his heart begin to pound faster. Even across this impossible distance — outside his villa in Silver Blade City — he could sense the deadly tension coiled inside that tower. Every muscle in his body was taut with a mixture of fear and worry. Calien, Erik, and their chief, Varros, were there, face to face with something that could crush them like insects.

They’re going to die, Nolan thought, pulse thudding in his ears. They’re strong, but whatever’s up there...

And then the image shifted as something emerged slowly from behind the beggar.

It was monstrous — easily twice the height of any human, its grotesque form blending a humanoid outline with something utterly alien. Its slick skin glistened dully in the torchlight, and a stench of saltwater and rot seemed to radiate even through the magical projection. The upper body was bulky and powerful, cords of muscle bulging under a hide so pale and clammy it looked almost translucent. Its shoulders sprouted two enormous tentacles, as long as full-grown trees, each one covered in jagged, serrated suckers that flexed and pulsed as they moved. Beneath them, more tentacles curled and shifted like a nest of writhing vipers, yet its broad chest and arms were eerily human in shape.

Its face was the most hideous part of all — a bloated, lumpy parody of a human face, with a gaping mouth set full of jagged, spiraling teeth that glistened with slime. A pair of eyes, yellow and lidless, stared blankly forward like those of a deep-sea predator. Where its ears should have been were gill slits that flared with each slow, rattling breath. The entire creature quivered with monstrous vitality as if held together by pure hatred, its every movement accompanied by a low, guttural growl that was almost too deep for human ears to fully perceive.

The beggar grinned up at his towering creation as if immensely proud. "Feast your eyes," he crowed, arms spreading in theatrical pride. "This is my greatest spawn — my perfect soldier, born of my will and my craft. Nothing you’ve ever fought could compare. My lovely monstrosity will crush you all without breaking a sweat."

He turned back toward Varros, Calien, and Erik, his voice slick with spiteful delight. "And when it’s finished with you," he added, almost gleeful, "not even your bones will remain."

Calien and Erik exchanged a tense glance; for the first time, genuine fear tinged their faces. Even Varros narrowed his gaze, hands tightening around his blade as his thoughts whirled. These two were talented, but they had never faced something like this before — this was a threat beyond their skill. If they rushed in without a plan, they would be torn apart before they even had a chance to strike.

"Stand back," Varros growled at last, stepping smoothly past them as his boots scraped against the cracked floor. "I’ll take care of this."

He felt their hesitation like a weight pressing on his back, sensed their fear as clearly as if they’d spoken aloud, but they obeyed him, retreating just enough to leave him space.

Varros drew a deep breath, forcing his heartbeat into an even rhythm. In his head, a thousand thoughts spun — each one measured and sharp. No matter what they thought of him, no matter how good they were with a blade, Calien and Erik had never stood alone against something like this. Let them live long enough to grow stronger.

The beggar was still preening like a proud parent over his abomination when Varros took one careful step forward.

"Attack," the beggar barked at his monstrous spawn, his voice trembling with anticipation.

The towering creature shifted — muscles bunching, tentacles twitching — but it did not move.

The beggar frowned. "Attack," he snapped again, sharper this time.

Still nothing.

A strange, tense silence fell over the room as everyone stared at the enormous thing lurking in the torchlight. Its lidless eyes gleamed blankly back at its master, its body taut with some kind of strange anticipation, as if listening for an order different from the one it had been given.

"Attack," the beggar hissed a third time, stepping toward it with an angry scowl. "I am your master, do you hear me? Kill them. Kill them now!"

Nothing happened.

Chief Varros sneered. "Looks like your pet doesn’t listen," he said, voice dry and derisive.

And far away, even Nolan could feel a sharp chill race up his spine. Something was wrong — horribly wrong — and this was going to go badly for someone.

Suddenly, with a wet, sickening sound, two of the monster’s thickest tentacles shot forward faster than anyone could react. They wrapped around the beggar with terrible strength, winding around his body like monstrous pythons.

A chorus of horrified gasps broke the stunned silence.

For one terrible heartbeat, nobody moved.

And then the beggar began to scream.

"No! No, you worthless spawn!" he shrieked, voice going shrill with terror as the tentacles yanked him off his feet. His hands scrabbled frantically at the slick flesh that coiled around him, fingernails tearing and slipping uselessly across its surface. "You dare betray me? Let me go — let me go!"

But the monster gave no sign of hearing him.

The next few moments unfolded like some grotesque nightmare — a scene so violent and savage that even seasoned warriors like Varros couldn’t help but stare. The beggar thrashed and kicked wildly as the monstrous spawn began to swing him through the air like a toy, his screams rising to a ragged pitch as the tentacles tightened inexorably around him.

"You can’t do this to me!" he howled, voice cracking with panic and fury, eyes rolling wildly as he looked for some impossible means of escape. "Yxthul told me — he told me you’d never harm me, you stupid creature! He told me you were mine to control! No, no, wait — wait, wait, I command you, you miserable—"

With a sickening crack, the monster abruptly slammed the beggar into the floor.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Each impact left a splatter of blood across the cracked stones, the beggar’s screams breaking into choked, gurgling sobs.

And then the tentacles began to tighten further — compressing him until his bones crunched audibly, until the breath was forced from his body in a sick rush of air.

"Stop — I’ll do anything — please — no, Yxthul, you liar — you liar—"

He never had a chance to finish.

With one final, brutal jerk, the tentacles crushed the last breath from him entirely. Blood fountained across the floor as the beggar’s body sagged grotesquely in the monster’s grip. And then, before anyone could do more than gape in mute horror, those terrible suckers began to pulse with hideous purpose.

The monster wasn’t merely killing him — it was feeding.

Varros felt his stomach twist. Calien’s hands twitched uselessly at his sides. Erik stared, frozen in place, and even the two attendants had gone utterly still with fear as they witnessed the gruesome spectacle.

The beggar’s flesh began to shrivel as if dried by invisible fire, his face hollowing into a sickly, skin-wrapped skull as all his bodily fluids were pulled into the monster’s body. Within seconds, what was left of him was nothing more than a brittle husk — and then a hollow skeleton, fragile and lifeless, as the last drop of vitality was devoured.

And then, as if announcing its gruesome feast to the world, the monstrous octopus creature reared back and roared — a thunderous, bone-rattling sound that made dust rain from the ceiling and left the very stones trembling underfoot.

The tower shuddered with the force of it.

And far away, outside his villa in Silver Blade City, Nolan felt a cold knot of dread settle into his gut as he watched the scene unfold.

The fight was only just beginning.