ORIGIN

Creosote's chances in this battle were not looking good at the moment to anyone with a clue and closer to ground level. Much like any other meat, it'd been through the metaphorical grinder, hurt and tossed about to the crowd's amusement. The spikes had done a fine job as a tenderizer, the punctures ideal for softening flesh, and now the partial flattening might prep an unappetizing meal even further. If the struggle for freedom did not persist, if fatigue overcame the will to survive, there might soon be a giant flame broiled patty instead of a monster. Of course, distanced in physical presence and thought, this didn't occur at all to the sibling buzzing above the action.

Antennae trembled as limited intelligence tried to interpret the scene below. "Oooooh."

The sound was not uncommon to Karambit; many a time it'd been directed at filth and gore. This time, though, it was in response to the unorthodox approach to hanging on—not the stabbing, of course, that being a classic move it heartily approved of, but allowing some limbs to be crushed beneath the almost-masterpiece's weight. Karambit had many a time participated in such a bonding exercise with its friends' warm scattered entrails. It'd flail all over the place, squealing as the precious scent of loved ones coated its body, until finally every inch of it was red and refreshed. To offer to be an ingredient in such a bloodbath was a bold choice. A rather considerate one too.

However, the impressive innovation did not dismiss critiques of this fascinating courtship technique. Submission was nice at times, but aggression could always improve a budding relationship.

"Rrreach harrrder!" the insect monster advised. "Bite and scrrratch morrre! Maybe scrrream?"

The last item was very important. Friends almost always seemed to do that whenever playing with them, so it must be good.

"Crrreeooo! Yeessss! Fiiight!" Even in those last moments, support had continued to flow out of the stands from a Karambit too invested to temper its excitement, rained upon the battleground in the form of shouts and irritating shrieks. Though it had noticed the flagging strength of its sibling, not a thought was spared to the possibility of loss and what form it'd take. What'd mattered then was encouraging the more timid of its relatives to hold on and foster a relationship with the proper amount of screams. "Nooo! Louderrrr, Crrreoo! Moorrre!"

It was amid cheers that the final tear occurred, and the dark mass of what'd been Creosote's head arced up and hurtled down towards those seated. On instinct, propelled by fluttering leathery wings, sickle claws thrust out into space to intercept its descent. Though not nearly as hefty as the rest of it, the catch was not an easy one nor was it clean. Already rotting flesh squelched where it was dug into, and multiple eyes were jabbed into obliteration as the insect monster secured its hold.

This was how a meat creature's life ended—not in the gentle embrace of peace, but in the bloody spray of conflict. For any other opponent, the decapitation might've come as a greater shock, but for one of Effluvium's brood the outcome was all too expected by anyone familiar with their nature. Carnage resided at the very base of existence for them, regardless of whether they rebelled or embraced it. With stomachs bottomless, they hungered and devoured, continuously assimilating flesh into their grotesque bodies, and when set up against those bigger and brighter than them, they fell to their singular purpose: to be a nutritious stockpile, a reward and a feast to whomever delivered their defeat.

Creosote had just fulfilled this exact thing, a fact verifiable by the mess that'd been made of the arena floor and the steaming reek of death that rose up from rapidly cooling remains scattered throughout the sand. Once conflicted in a family of monsters, it'd no longer be pulled in separate directions by its desires, an unrelated monster solving the issue in the most practical of manners. In having succumbed in such a way, though, surrounded by an audience of many, it'd in its last moments achieved another purpose besides the original. It had entertained, performing one side of an absolute spectacle that'd surely not be forgotten so soon by those in attendance.

Karambit certainly wouldn't, but not for any reason that made the least bit of sense. It instead lamented the sharp turn of events that'd marked its sibling's failure, buzzing diminished to a low hum while shaking its own head at the disembodied one before it.

"Crrreeooo," it whined. "You lossstt ittt. Why let goooo?"

How could Creo lose its head at a time like this? It'd been doing so well, even if it sometimes seemed clueless on how to make friends the right way.

No matter the length that it stared or how much its antennae twitched while trying grasp the situation, no answer came to mind. All it had was confusion.

"Crreeooo?"

The beloved sibling said nothing. Words could not be expressed without a functioning brain despite how often Karambit endeavored to prove that statement wrong.