The Mantis Corruption - Book Three - 7. Chapter 7 - Ronging, Part One

Chapter 7 – Ronging

Leaving the realm of monsters, Ronging set out to sate his unworldly desire. The expansive grasslands were easy enough to cross, but the distance took time. Over the recent decades, the inhabitants of Gunge learned that because of the witch, the nearest human village of Kestapoli was a poor hunting ground. She always knew when one of them was on the hunt, and she would be gone before they arrived.

She was the prey that the monsters craved, she and those like her, few though they were.

Ronging’s eldritch senses honed in on the witch, and despite the potential failure, his desire urged him to head toward the nearest village. His journey to the fertile hunting grounds that surrounded Ruburge would have taken so much longer than his trip to Kestapoli, and Ronging was impatient to satisfy his craving. However, if the witch escaped and he could not find prey in the village, his journey south along the snaking Ru River would end up being much longer. The next nearest town of Galopis was several days further journey to the south, and like Kestapoli, it was also a small community. There was a chance that Ronging would find no prey to hunt.

Like all the monstrous inhabitants of Gunge, Ronging wore no clothes on his bizarre and twisted form. He lumbered with a strange canter that was unique to him. Each of the creatures moved differently. Many slithered, some crawled, but Ronging possessed a form that allowed him a semblance of walking. His body was humanoid in its original construction, but over his years of addiction, since first becoming a Messiah, he was very changed.

Ronging was born a human child to human parents. At the age of 19, he consumed the photonova gland that enhanced him to a Messiah. While on his first hunting mission, Ronging achieved the goal set before him, and he found himself in possession of a photonova gland from the Shift he was sent to murder. Instead of returning to the Messiah Tower with it, he swallowed the crystal.

To his dismay, Ronging did not get another boost to his strength as he expected. Instead, pain struck his entire being, as a third arm manifested from his stomach. It reached forward fully formed, but that was only the beginning. A secondary mouth opened in his neck and a massive fleshy protuberance bulged out from his upper back. One of his feet sprouted multiple extra toes, and three new testicles bulged in their very own oversized scrotum that hung down behind the one he possessed at birth.

Ronging hobbled with bowlegged steps through the Teshon City streets back to the temple. He was full of fear, yet uncertain what else he could do.

His eldest sister dwelled at the Tower. She was not only a role model for Ronging, but she was also a high-ranking and decorated Messiah officer. Her mutated younger brother rushed into her private chambers.

As he slammed the door behind him, understanding immediately sank in for his sister, and she snapped at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t know!” Ronging said in a strange dual voice. His new mouth spoke with a whiny timber that grated in an off-key pitch against the voice that came out of his natural mouth.

“How the fuck,” his sister barked, “did you not know?! No Messiahs consume a second photonova gland! This is your own fault, and before you ask, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing that can be done about it.” She stood behind her desk and declared, “Ronging, my brother, you are hereby exiled from Teshon City and all its surrounding regions.”

“But…” he began to protest.

“Far to the south,” she yelled, “you will find refuge among others of your…” she paused and sneered at her younger brother with revulsion, “your own kind. Follow the coastline beyond Hazel Cove. The banishment you face is permanent. Do not return. Do not seek an audience with the Messiahs of this city.” She glared at him. “And as far as family is concerned, you are disowned. You disgust me, little brother. I will never again speak your name. Now go. Get out. Make your way south alone and abandoned.” She scowled and pointed at the door behind him.

Tears were streaming down Ronging’s cheeks.

“Sister,” he began, but she shouted over him.

“You are no kin of mine! Be gone, or face worst punishments!” As a final gesture, which might have been construed as kindness, his sister threw her own cloak at him to hide his hideous form.

Ronging fled Teshon City with nothing more than the clothes on his back, none of which fit his now-twisted body, and the garment from his sister. At the time, he did not know what lay beyond the vast mountain range to the south of the fishing villages that dotted the coast.

Ronging traveled in the rough land off the Great Southtrack to keep his weird new form hidden from view, and on his fourth day, he reached the high cliffs that rose above the ocean beyond the last little seaside hamlet of Hazel Cove.

Into that mountainous wilderness, alone and in misery, Ronging made his way south. He journeyed for many days before he realized that he had not eaten during the entire time. With his human form forever gone, hunger no longer plagued him. His travel was slow, and a full three months after beginning his journey, Ronging arrived at a rise that provided him his first view of the plains of Xin. That night, he found the monsterdom of Gunge.

More than three decades had passed since those early days of his mutation, and his form grew more twisted each time his addiction required that he hunt. The third photonova gland caused him to grow an extra leg from his right hip. It slowed his already bowlegged walk, but he was still able to move in an upright manner. He also developed an extra set of eyes, but both grew on his right cheek and neither of them could see very well. Ronging’s next photonova gland produced yet a third leg on his right side. It made his walk even stranger, with his lone left leg swinging out to the side with each lurching step. He also developed another penis that sprouted from his low back, but neither of his penises functioned.

All human urges diminished and eventually disappeared, replaced by only the addiction. Hunger and thirst, even breathing were no longer part of Ronging’s existence, and bodily exhaustion did not affect those who were mutated. The next photonova gland would be his fifth.

On the hunt again to satisfy the only craving that reared its head, Ronging made his way along the edge of the forested mountains of northern Xin. He moved with his awkward shamble, slow but with the determination that came with his single-mindedness.

Six tedious days Ronging lumbered, his craving ever-increasing, until he eventually reached the village. His unearthly senses led him first to the witch’s muddy home and the little shack that stood beside it, but there was no one there with a photonova gland. He drew close to Kestapoli, but he stayed hidden in the wooded area to the north for the remainder of the daylight hours.

The sun slowly set and night fell.

Ronging slinked out of the trees and into the quiet village. He allowed his craving to lead him toward the prey that he sought; he could sense them.

The anguished cries of a woman broke the stillness and drew Ronging’s attention, but then he was aware of other things that were much more delicious to him. Outside of a large building, Ronging paused and listened to her wailing voice while savoring the photonova glands that he could detect.

“Our children have been out there for days!”

Another voice spoke quieter, but Ronging was still able to make out the words.

“There’s nothing more we can do tonight.”

“Don’t tell me it’s hopeless!” the first voice cried. “Don’t tell us it’s hopeless!”

Ronging peered through a window. Two women were embracing, and both were in tears. A third who was much older was with them, and a pair of ineffectual men stood off to one side, whispering to each other.

The motherly woman tried to comfort the distraught woman. “The sun has set, child, we will go ba…”

“Why is that an excuse to stop looking for my baby?” the woman snapped. She broke down in sobs that shook her body, and the other young woman held her.

“Both of us have missing children,” she said. “We are doing everything we can. I know that we have no comfort now, but we will get them back. Our children are…”

Ronging could wait no longer, and he smashed through the wall of the building, shocking those who were inside. He grabbed the two men with his multiple arms, and his enhanced strength made them putty in his hands. Both of them screamed in terror, as the monster pulled their heads toward his mouths and breathed in their aromas. Although both men possessed a lingering scent of what he craved, neither was his prey.

He roared, pushed them away, and grabbed all three women at once. Ronging sniffed each, but again, he was denied his desire. There were no photonova glands within anyone present.

Both of the men pounced on Ronging from behind, and a rage to boil up in him equaled only by his addiction. To the horror of them all, Ronging grabbed one of the men and ripped off his arm. He lashed out at the four others, pummeling them with the limb until no one was moving, and he again exited through the hole he made in the wall.

Ronging’s senses told him that the ones whom he could detect were now far from Kestapoli, and in fury he departed. However, just outside of town, he came upon a pair of villagers. His withdrawal crazed him, and he grabbed them with his multiple hands and raised them above his head. He slammed the two people down to the path, raising them and smashing them against the hard-packed earth over and over. He left their bodies as little more than bloody pulp and shards of bone.

Ronging could be heard shrieking and bellowing long after he was out of sight. He stomped through the next five days and nights, as his craving evolved into a searing pain, a hot poker jabbing into his soul. The gnawing desire within him continued to ache as the sun rose over his twisted form on the sixth morning; there was still a full day’s journey ahead. At sundown, he finally arrived at the next riverside town.

However, the inhabitants of Kestapoli sent word downriver, warning of the approaching monster, and the people of Galopis were prepared in advance to protect themselves. Their lookouts saw Ronging when he was still at a distance, and their defensive measures were in place when he drew close. Galopis was larger than Kestapoli, and a small battalion of the king’s guards from Ruburge garrisoned it. They were well-trained.

Being a former Messiah made Ronging invulnerable to most assaults, but the villagers protected their land with a perpetual barrage of targeted catapult fire that pummeled him through the night. Eventually, the infuriated monster was driven around the edge of town and forced out into the sprawling grasslands.

Ronging stormed away from Galopis. He knew that what his addiction required would be found in the grand metropolis and surrounding region of greater Ruburge farther to the south, but his entire being was burning with need. It would be a further four days of travel before he reached the outskirts of the city, and the need brought on by his addiction would only continue to scorch his soul until he found what he hunted.

Someone in Ruburge was going to die★