Xellos tipped his head. "Is there another one of me? -- What a marvellous idea!"
This Xellos, for starters, was a full head taller than the one Zelgadis knew; he was nearly the height Rezo had been. He wore the robes of a priest, and of a mage, and of a priest-mage, all carefully arranged for breathtaking opulence, and on his shoulders he wore the nested carapace of a sage. Even his staff was longer and considerably more elaborate.
"But what sort of creature are you?" he wondered aloud, letting himself drift off the stone into the air, and descend in a gradual spiral around Zelgadis. His vestments billowed as if underwater. "Human and golem and demon, oh my!" Xellos giggled, inspecting him. "Yes ... I like you. I think you might be of use to me." He touched down directly in front of Zelgadis.
Zelgadis was at the moment realizing himself in the worst danger he had ever known, and finding himself speechless in the face of it.
There is no Lina, and none of the other humans will aid me, he assessed, controlling his panic. I don't stand a chance against this Xellos -- and he wants to do something other than kill me --
"Oh, you don't want me," he stalled, hoping to creep away as Zolf had hoped to creep. "I don't work well in groups; I'm never really comfy around -- "
"That's not a problem," Xellos cut him off smoothly, in word and deed. "Talented individuals such as yourself are always appreciated."
"W-wait! I don't belong here!" Zelgadis admitted when the mazoku drew too close for comfort. "I'm not from this world; I don't belong -- "
"That feeling will pass," Xellos smiled, and he reached out and put his hand on Zelgadis' forehead.
The shock of an immensely powerful spell sent his head reeling, and Zelgadis stumbled against the wall of stone, frantically seeking his balance. He felt magic wash down his limbs like goosebumps, and suddenly his chest felt very tight.
"What did you -- " he began, and then he found out.
The tight feeling in his hands and feet built to an unbearable degree, until his gloves and shoes burst with massive stone talons. Dizzy from shock as much as the spell, he fell to the ground on all fours, sprouting new deformities from his back as the spell wracked his body.
My body! He could barely feel it, now, but he could hear cloth shredding and his groans deepening as his rib cage changed size and shape.
"Stop!" he begged, but there was no response.
As the changes slowed, his sensitivity returned. He could feel new appendages unfurling, straightening, flexing, new ridges and nodules of stone -- he'd even changed size. When he dared to move, slowly, his legs buckled when he tried to stand upright; they had been reconfigured for a different position. With greater care, Zelgadis braced himself on all fours again, thrashing his tail anxiously.
Tail!?! He whipped his head around to confirm the sensation, but his view was blocked by a great stony wing.
WING?!?
Zelgadis looked at himself. He was a beast. Not a dragon, not a sphinx, not anything like a gryphon, but something unspeakably blasphemous and new, with a stone-studded hide and a fierce mane of silvery wire. He was the dreadnought of all gargoyles.
The stars were out, where the clouds permitted, but Xellos was nowhere to be seen.
Thoughtless and numbed again with horror and despair, Zelgadis collapsed again, shuddering, grinding his face into the dirt. One coherent thought drifted gradually up to his consciousness, like a single tattered handkerchief surfacing from a shipwreck:
I'm a monster...
What hurt worse than this knowledge was the fact that it was an old thought, one he had used before, years ago...
I'm a monster...
He would never again pass for human; how would he survive? How could he bear surviving? How would he die? The realization struck him, and he trembled again -- what other release was there? Through a murky aftermath of disjointed misery, the shining blade of Sir Gourry came to mind...
i wouldn't even have to ask ... i could just walk right up to the gates...
Awkwardly, he gathered his repellent new body and darkest hope, and attempted to stand again.
"Well, there you are," an increasingly familiar voice chimed, and Zelgadis' head snapped up. "I was beginning to think you'd been beheaded or something," the speaker added.
"Xellos!" Zelgadis growled through his new fangs.
"Did you find the information you wanted?" Xellos smiled. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"
"Xellos, take me back!" Zelgadis appealed. He felt his sanity straining at the seams. "Take me back to the proper world!"
"What? Why? It's so much nicer here!" Xellos insisted. "I've been having the time of my life, and you look fantastic! What more could you possibly want?"
"I want my old body!" Zelgadis nearly howled. "I want to go home! I can't bear it, I can't bear this place -- " He couldn't tell if he was crying, or not. Xellos considered these pleas at length, from his perch on a rocky patch near the footpath.
"Hmm... No, I don't think I'll do it," he decided, taking his hand from his chin.
"What?"
"This world is such a staggering improvement over our own -- it's possible that you just don't know what's good for you, Zelgadis. Perhaps it's better that you haven't existed."
And with that, Zelgadis felt the last shreds of sanity and humanity leave him. With a roar, he pounced on Xellos, driving his new fangs deep into the flesh and bone of the priest's rib cage and tearing it free in a frenzy of bestial abandon, yearning above all to kill and be killed. The stars faded and the night dissolved into an abyss of madness and destruction, heavily laced with the scent of viscous, bitter, black mazoku blood.