"Crowley is nearby," Wu Heng said.
Kyle froze for a moment. "The King of Hell?"
"Yeah."
"Wasn't he in Apocalypse World?"
Wu Heng did not answer. He walked around a massive fungal pillar, and an open clearing appeared before him.
There were no fungi in the clearing. The ground was charred black, as though something had burned it.
A man lay in the center of the scorched ground. It was Crowley. His clothes were in tatters, his face covered in festering wounds. His left arm was gone, and black mycelium had grown from the stump.
But he was still breathing. It was weak, but he was alive.
Kyle crouched down and checked him. "He's alive, but Pestilence has almost eaten him away."
Wu Heng looked down at him.
Crowley's eyelids twitched before slowly opening. His dark-red eyes were cloudy, his pupils unfocused, but he recognized Wu Heng.
His lips moved, producing a vague sound:
"You... you did it on purpose..."
Wu Heng said nothing.
The corner of Crowley's mouth twitched, as though he were smiling. "You let me go... just so... I'd lead the way..."
Wu Heng crouched and looked at him. "Where is the Dark Clone?"
Crowley closed his eyes. "North... deepest part of the fungal nest... It's already found me... soon..."
His voice grew quieter and quieter.
Wu Heng rose to his feet and looked toward the endless darkness to the north. "Kyle, bring him."
Kyle frowned. "Bring someone who's about to die?"
"He isn't dead yet. He's still useful."
Kyle hoisted Crowley onto his shoulder. Crowley's body was light, like a bundle of dry firewood. Black fluid still seeped from his severed arm, dripping onto Kyle's clothes and corroding small holes into them.
Kyle did not say a word.
Wu Heng turned and headed north. A protective