"You… spit on me." Cthulhu's voice was eerily calm.
But the Champion stood firm, not a flicker of hesitation in their expression.
"No. I spat on the dirt." Their voice was laced with utter contempt. "And in my opinion… you're even less than dirt."
Cthulhu lifted a hand to her cheek, fingers barely grazing the warm saliva. Her pupils dilated in something close to shock—an emotion she had not felt in a long while.
The Champion didn't let her recover.
"A being of pure evil and mindless destruction, wrecking chaos just for the sick thrill of it—breaking minds, shattering lives. And for what?" Their lip twisted. "Amusement? You wicked creature."
Their disgust burned hotter, words like filed blades.
"I do not fear you. I could never fear you, you pathetic, sorry excuse for an Old One."
The weight of the words crushed the stunned silence in the hall.
Cthulhu's face twitched—whether in rage or confusion, no one could tell.
The Champion's eyes burned like smoldering embers.
"And your Grass Analogy?" They scoffed. "Obsolete. Humans are more than you could ever comprehend—imperfect, fragile, yet beautiful in ways your rotting, lonely soul will never grasp."
Cthulhu's fingers twitched against her own cheek.
The Champion tilted their head, mockery shining through their glare.
"And tell me… what's with this beautiful form?" Their voice turned sharp, cutting deep. "Why parade around in the body of a woman so elegant, so alluring? What happened to the hideous, bloated, octopus-bearded monstrosity you actually are?"
She spat at Cthulhu yet again.
"I pity you, Cthulhu." Their voice dropped to a low, guttural growl. "Truly."
Cthulhu just stood there. Staring.
For the first time in eons, she was utterly silent as someone called her out.
Not far from there, Sarvest was entirely unbothered, merely waiting for this dramatic display to conclude so they could move on with the meeting.
Ahriman had long since fallen asleep at the table.
But the rest of the gathered horrors were on edge, eyes flickering between Cthulhu and the Champion, waiting.
Because it had been centuries—maybe even millennia—since someone had left Cthulhu this… stunned.
And still, the Champion refused to back down.
"When the other Old Ones chose to slumber in the abyss, you alone decided to mingle with us—the so-called lowborn—because you found it fun to make us suffer."
Their gaze hardened.
"But perhaps, Cthulhu, you've never truly realized the truth of it."
A pause.
"You're obsessed with us."
The words rang in the air like a bell tolling at the gallows.
The Champion's expression darkened with knowing amusement.
"You could leave us alone. You could ignore us entirely. But you won't."
They took a crawl back, exuding the aura of a warrior who had just won a great battle, despite her maimed state.
"Go find someone your own size to play with."
They spread their arms, utterly unafraid.
"Kill me now if you want. I've said my piece."
The room waited.
Cthulhu tore her gaze from the fuming Champion and lowered her eyes to the polished floor, as if momentarily lost in thought. Her stretched-out pupils twitched in confusion before she spoke again.
"Oh, you little girl born yesterday... You'll regret what you just did, mark my words."
Her unnaturally long tongue lashed out, wiping away the spit from her face. Her expression remained unreadable—not anger, not amusement. Just... something.
"You lot," she called to the gathered eldritch horrors, "I might take my time here. Don't interfere."
Then she moved forward, closing the short distance between them until their noses nearly touched.
Natasha held her ground, her glare unwavering. Their eyes locked in a silent battle, neither looking away.
Then, Cthulhu smirked.
With an eerie motion, she reached forward as if pulling back an invisible veil from Natasha's face. And suddenly—
A small girl in a nightdress dangled in her grasp, Cthulhu's long fingers wrapped around her head.
Natasha's defiant scowl cracked, horror flooding her features as her breath hitched.
"Eh...?" The child blinked in confusion, her wide eyes darting around the monstrous gathering.
It dawned on her that she had fallen into some kind of trouble.
She scanned the hall—grotesque figures of lions with human torsos, insectoid giants, men whose faces were writhing masses of eyes—until her gaze landed on Natasha.
The moment recognition hit, her small body trembled.
"Big Sis…? Natasha?!" she whimpered. "Where are we?! I don't want to be here! I wanna go home!"
"Rita!" Natasha's voice wavered with rage and fear.
She snapped her head toward Cthulhu, fury blazing once more.
"You coward! Let her go! She has nothing to do with this! If you hurt her, I swear—I'll kill you!"
Cthulhu merely hanged a hand on her waist, her smirk widening. "Hmmm? I'm not too sure you're in a position to make threats."
A slick, coiling tentacle slithered around Rita's tiny throat, lifting her into the air.
"Wait! Please stop!" Natasha's voice cracked in panic.
Cthulhu let out a delighted cackle. "Ohhh? So, you finally understand your situation?"
Natasha's whole body shook as she stared up at her struggling sister.
Her fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms. Then, slowly, she exhaled—a shuddering, broken breath.
"P… Please." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Let Rita go."
She swallowed hard, her rage dissolving into helpless desperation.
"I swear to you, I'll give up everything. I won't be a Champion anymore. I'll never call myself a hero of justice again…" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Just… have some sympathy."
The hall fell silent.
Cthulhu's pupils gleamed, narrowing to slits. And then—her entire mood shifted.
Cthulhu's grip on Rita's throat tightened. The little girl let out a choked whimper, her tiny body trembling as pain shot through her.
"Could it be, human, that you're mocking me?"
The air around them vibrated with a crushing force, her voice carrying more weight than any of Natasha's earlier insults had.
Natasha's heart pounded. A cold dread coiled around her spine.
"No!!" she cried. "I-I swear, I wasn't—"
But she faltered.
What could she even say?
Regret.
Regret.
More Regrets clawed at her chest. She had been reckless.
She had failed.
Desperate, she scrambled forward, her voice breaking.
"I'm sorry! Please! I—I made a mistake! I admit it!" She crawled toward Cthulhu, inch by inch. "I should never have challenged you! I was a fool! Just—please! Stop hurting Rita!"
Tears blurred her vision, streaking her face. But before she could reach Cthulhu's feet—
SMASH!
"Big sis!!" Rita screamed.
Cthulhu's heel crashed into Natasha's face with a brutal force, a shockwave bursting outward from the impact.
Blood sprayed as Natasha's head snapped back.
She would have been sent flying across the hall if not for the leash coiled around her throat, yanking her back like a broken puppet.
Her vision swam. A sharp, ringing pain flooded her skull.
When her eyes focused again, Cthulhu's face was right in front of her—grinning, wide and gleeful, her mood lifted as if Natasha's suffering had been a delightful treat.
"Alright. I've heard all your begging," Cthulhu cooed, her voice laced with amusement. "But it's… not enough."
Natasha's breath hitched. "Anything! Ask me anything!!" Blood dripped from her nose, pooling onto the marble floor.
Cthulhu sighed dramatically, pressing a palm against her cheek in mock concern. "Hmm… I don't know… It's a bit much. Would you even be able to do it?"
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If you can… then I promise, I'll let little Rita go."
Natasha's heart seized.
A flicker of hope broke through her pain.
Unintentionally, a trembling smile crept onto her lips.
'I don't care what happens to me. If Rita can escape, that's all that matters.'
"I will!" Natasha exclaimed, her voice raw with desperation. "I'll do anything you ask—!"
"BOW."
Cthulhu's voice cut through the air like a divine decree.