353. Succumbing to Corruption
Helena Warshade stood on a white cloud, staring down at the destroyed city of Catark with a cool gaze. Her eyes flickered. She turned to me— then the remaining Wyverns. There were seven of the monsters left. They glared up at her, their hatred clear even if she couldn’t understand their words.
She tilted her head fractionally.
“They survived.”
The Wyverns responded with a combined blast of their frost breath. I flew back with my clones, reeling from the chill even from afar. The air froze and turned to snowflakes, eddying down to the broken city like cold ash. Such an attack would’ve probably killed me if I didn’t have any protective artifacts, so I fully expected Helena Warshade to fly out of the way.
But the Great Tempest Archmage of Mavos Academy simply raised her staff. The air around her warped as her mouth moved.
“[Eye of the Storm].”
The wind spun around her, faster and faster. It accelerated until it became visible. Like she was being shielded by a typhoon. It repelled the blast of ice, and the frost splashed off like it was nothing but water.
I stared as the barrier held up with ease. The Wyverns stopped their attacks, uncomprehending. The Mistress of Remnants was at a loss for words. She didn’t snarl or shriek as she’d kept doing while I fought her. Instead, she looked on at Helena Warshade.
The leader of the Rising Veterans Company frowned.
“You are stubborn. Very well, then.”
The cloud lowered as she pointed at one of the flying Wyverns.
“I shall break you. [Burst Hurricane].”
And the Wyvern exploded.
No! The Mistress of Remnants watched her kin die. Again and again, the great Wyverns fell from the sky. Ever since the corruption spread to Sharik, they had been incessantly slaughtered. They’d been forced to band together— form great flocks and migrate away from their home. It was the only way they could survive. Even a [Greater Wyvern] had been felled there.
She thought they’d be safe here. The Frost Lord had seen the mountains in the distance as the perfect place to build a nest. After all, the mountain range had been mostly empty— deserted, for whatever reason. However, that meant that they were starved. Hungry. And when they’d hunted those [Oliphants] down to feed the flock, the Frost Lord perished.
Now, here, in these weak lands, they were still being slaughtered.
The Mistress of Remnants wouldn’t accept it. She turned to that Human on a cloud and unleashed a salvo of ice magic. Icicles that were as large as trees launched out, but the Human dismissed it with a flick of her staff.
“[L— h…. m].”
The Human spoke— her words were utterly gibberish to the Mistress of Remnants. But it clued the Wyverns in that an attack was coming. They scattered as lightning streaked out of the Human’s crystal staff. It took on the shape of a grossly misformed Wyvern. One without wings and a long serpentine body.
The Mistress of Remnants hissed, diving away from the attack. The lightning struck another of her kin, but it didn’t explode. Instead, it latched onto the Wyvern’s wings, draggining it through the air until it came into contact with a second Wyvern. The lightning spell exploded, taking them both down with a brilliant flash.
Another two Wyverns down. There had been seven of them, but in such a short amount of time, there were now only four of them left.
With a roar, the Mistress of Remnants rallied the remnants. Three Wyverns accompanied her as she zipped through the air, heading straight for that annoying Human.
The Human narrowed her eyes. The cloud dipped out of the way just in time for the Mistress of Remnants to crash into a frozen tower. The Wyvern roared as the last of her flock swerved, giving chase to the Human throughout the city.
The cloud wove between the alleyways, leading the Wyverns low, then high, then circling around a junction and passing the Wyverns. One of the three Wyverns let out a frost breath, but the Human just countered with a blast of hot wind.
It was bad enough that they couldn’t break through the Human’s defenses, but they couldn’t touch the Human either.
The Mistress of Remnants was pissed. With every second that passed, she grew angrier and angrier. And when one of her three remaining kin fell as well, she had enough. Magic— something beyond even magic— built up within her chest. She rose to the sky, driven by fury and desperation, surpassing any limits she’d had before.
“I shall lay waste to your weak Species—”
She started, but a scythe dug into her chest. She exhaled, letting out the magic prematurely. The cone of ice erupted into the sky, raining down like hail. The Mistress of Remnants looked at the one who’d attacked her.
“Hey, did you forget about me?”
The silver-haired girl grinned, circling around to the Wyvern leader’s back. The Mistress of Remnants roared as she tried to shake off that false Human. But before she could fight back, four golden figures charged her.
“You’re mine!”
The Mistress of Remnants shrieked as she was cut by five different scythes. Attacked from all sides. Her wings was shredded, and she fell like a rock. In the distance, she heard the screeches. The sounds of her kind dying. Lightning and thunder boomed out as the remaining three Wyverns whimpered and died.
Title Lost!
(Mistress of Remntants—
The Mistress of… no. The lone Wyvern looked up, seeing the charred corpses of her kin fall from the sky after her. She crashed as the false Human and the flaming clones continued to tear through her hide.
The Human on the cloud descended, looking callously at the lone Wyvern thrashing on the ground. The former Mistress of Remnants could’ve fought. She could’ve tried to break free. Unleash her magic.
But she was tired. So tired. Her pride was shattered. Her flock was dead. She lost. There really was no point fighting anymore.
How did she even get here in the first place? How did all this come about?
Her eyes closed as exhaustion settled in. A creeping darkness crawled its way over her. And she remembered. She remembered when the apparition came beyond the ocean. The twisted being that distorted space wherever it went. It corrupted everything it had touched— from the clouds to the earth to the sea.
It was powerful. It would’ve shorn through everything, if the [Greater Wyverns] of Sharik hadn’t banded together and sacrificed themselves to chase it back whence it came. But it was too late. The land was overwhelmed by corruption. Their little island, gone.
They flew over the land of the Beastmen. Over the sea of the Centinels. They came all the way here, searching for haven. And this was… where it all ended.
The lone Wyvern would accept it. She let the darkness settle it as the pain subsided, leaving behind only a numbing sense of calm. It was all over. This was where the Wyverns of Sharik would finally die—
And her eyes snapped open.
Die? Here? She couldn’t accept it. Her wings began beating once again, despite the holes on her skin. A breath of frost left her maw as she let out a shriek. One of the golden figures was frozen in an instant, and the silver-haired girl leapt back with a yelp.
“W… g— n?”
The Human on the cloud asked, startled. The silver-haired girl answered in an unintelligible language as the lone Wyvern got to her feet.
There was no ying today. The lone Wyvern felt herself flying, powered by magic. Powered by something more. She couldn’t just die here. She had to become stronger. She remembered something stronger. A [Greater Wyvern]? No. The corruption.
It coursed through her. It breathed life into the lone Wyvern. She was going to use that same power to destroy them all.
“My people are dead, but I will not rest…”
She felt the corrupting growing stronger and stronger. She accepted it as the silver-haired girl’s eyes flickered. The Human on the cloud stared with wide eyes. The lone Wyvern began to laugh as the sounds became distorted.
“Nŏ̷̻͍t until I̴͉̥͂̈́̾ DEŞ̸̡̡̡̟̱̦͇͎͎̣̩͈̠̪͙̖̠͍͇͔͓̙̲̣͍͒TRÖ̸̧̱̬̙̩̩̺̝͗͋̑̽̒́͐͋̈̈͛́̌̈́͆̑̂̓́͘̚Ŷ̸̨̟͔͉̲̬̞͖̮͕̹̙̘̲̣̠̑̀̇̃́̐̚͝ ̵̧̢̡̯̠͕̬̟̹͔̬̯͍̯͗͊̄͛͌̓̾́̊̌̆͋̀͛̍̈́̀͠͠͝YO̴̢̨̮̣̫̯̺̱̞̳̱̬̱̰̞̩͕̻̣̻̍͑͊̉̉̎̆̓͊̿̐̂̔͑̆̋̓̐͑̚ͅU!”
Grå̸̧̘̙̦nd Skill [Come à̵̢͓̫͓͇̟̙̗̳̘͚̙̓̈́̓͛̃̄͌̄́͂̕͝nd See, the Depths of my Ḍ̸̢̮̪̈́̃͘espair] is̴̛̻̖͎͋̀̄ gą̵̱͓̞̝̒̚͝in̷̘̿͌̿͛è̷̢̢̠͚̤̲̠̋̄̍̆̎ḓ̷͚̳̲͚̓̅̊̈́ͅ—
Abù̵̺̺̇̂͗̑̇́͗̇̾̊̽͠ņ̴̛̭̻̈͗̉̒͋̏͛͒͗̽͗̈́̔̊ͅdă̶̡̛̲̱̜͉̳̻̫̈̐̏͆n̵̪͎͙̩̣̲̓͑́͒̊̌̾̈ͅt̷̨͙̯͙͇͕͉̒̋̉͒͐̿̀̈̚̚ expę̸̲͓̻̥̖͇̬̣͉͙̣͛̕͝͝rię̶͍̦̟̪̘̼̓͛̋̈́̿̔̇̎̅̋͐͐̄͑́͑̽͋̕̕͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̖̫̪͕̻͍̈́͝c̵̢̧̝̯͕͚̟̼͉̠̪͎͚̯̊͆̏̑́͛̏͗́̌̋͛͒̊͘̕͜ḙ̸̛̬̪̯̑͊͊̄͂̚͘͠͝ is… not rewarded!
Le̵̩̳̞̾̃͋̉̍͂̐͗̏̃͊̿̕͝͝à̸̢̫̼͖͈̺̜͇̩̳̼̉͑͜ŗ̴̲̟̖̝̝̥̳̞̦͚̯͙͓̝̮̯̓̔̑̊͒̈́̔͋̄͒̊̈͝͠͝n̶̡̧̼̫͖̥͚̜͖̙̦̬̊͗̏̎̈́̂̈́͒́̉͋̈́̎̏̕͜͠ï̴̦͈̰͖̜͇̯͚͛͌̄̍̀̀̌̚̕̕͝ng of G̵̢̨̛̤͇̰̹̲̲̎͗̔̿͌̕͠ŗ̴̛̯̹̞̖̖̺̦͕̣̠̪͂̓͗̈́̑̕̚a̵̧̞̳̫̠̎͌͛͂͌̏̋͝n̶̫̬͈͒d Skill fa̷̧̙̞̹̯̤͗̎͜͜ͅͅi̸̯̲͕̗͚̩̻̟̟̯̩͒͝l̴̢̪̍͌́͆ͅé̵̮̱̐͌͂̀͊͐̋̌͋͝d!
No experience is aẅ̵͙́̊̔͋͛̏̏́́͐̏̓̌̀á̷̖̓̽̈́̆͆̽̋̌r̸̡̧̨͉̼̖̯͚̜̝̫̬̃̂͆̓͋̈́͌̈́͊͘ͅd̵̼͕̘̤͖͙̟͎̃̊̉̀͌͋̄̓̀̚ͅͅè̴̛͙͉̠̣̳͖͖̻͛̿̓͆̒̌̈́̓͊̈́͝d for the faiļ̷̢̘̠̝͙̟̳̱̞̹̼͎͎̰͙͉̃̽͐̓̊̌͂̃̿͜u̵̙̥͙̎̀̂̽͒͆̈́̿̕ṟ̸̨̤̘̱̙̼̞̼͙̗͓͔͔̱̙͔̜͇̇̑̀́ͅē̴̞̝̻̗͖̮͕̱̭͈̳̜͚̦̱͕͎̞̜ ̸̢̯̖̠̭̣͈̩̟͑͛͋̓̃̑́̏͛̌̾̌̉͐ó̷͍̏͑͌̄͌̓̏̎̑̕f̸̡̧̯̩̖̩̻̟̦͔̬̜̭͇̱̽̒̒́̈̍͛̓͂͆̍͂̏̓͂̈́͛̒̓͝ ̸̛̝͇̔̀͌̾̎̈̆̾͗͊̈́͛͜͝l̷̰͖͝ĕ̸̛̲̹̟̳̯̣̙̓̃͋͌͑̄́̀̿̄̄͒̾̊̉̕͜͠ȧ̴̰̮̗̪̠͖̻͍̾̀̔̀̂́̋̈́̎̌̌̏̂̽̃͘̚r̴̩̪̫̼̈́̿̄̎̚n̵̡̘̂̄̓̀̕i̶̢̛̪̳̥̬͛̒̊̉̊̽̏͑͋̽̀̓̂̈͝͝ng a Ǧ̷̡̡̧̤̺̻̞͎̬̳̙̫̥̞̗̓͑̆̀̔̏͐̂͂͛̎͂͒͂̎͌̽̋̒̽̕̚r̶̡̧̢̭͓̺̗̮̠̦̍̋͑́̿̋͗̽̂̚͘ȃ̶̠̥̼͈̇̈́͗̒͒̇̑͆̈́͒̂̅̑̚͜n̶͎͍̦̙̝̏̔̚͝d̷̢̧̟̲̘̩̫̹̣̦͈͓̱̟͕͉̻̳̞̞̹̫͙̩̮͎̋͒̅͊͝͠͝ͅ ̵̤͔͍͇͙̮͓̰̥̩͌̈́̉̉͂̈́͊̃̉̕̕͠ͅŞ̶̢̜̬̣̮̩̈́̂̓̂̌́̏͊̾̒͒̀̏̄́̃̃͘̚̚k̴̢̘͈̫̳̬̳̘̻̺͇̬̣̗͔͍̘͕͓̹͛̑͌̔̔̓̃̃̎͗̎̇̅̾͑͂̓̕̚̕͘̕ī̷̺̻̯̹̼̀̌͗̆͒̽͌̄́̃̚͝͝͝ͅl̶̡̧̨̛̛̩̯̞̞̼͈̖͔̦̭͍͖̲̫͓̰̼̏͌͆͛́͐̈̈́̄̒̅̊͂̋̀̄̚͘͜͠͠͠͝l̷̢̹̩̗͙̬̥͚̺̺̲͎̺̤̲̬͉͕͙͖̳̼̟̦̯͚̿ͅ!
T̶͓̮͓̦̲̹̟͙͖̞̝̦̹͕̞̟̝͆̂̓̈͛͊͊̐͑͝͝h̶̡̠͍̳͙̞̫̠̮̥̜̖͖̘̼̬̟͚̞̓̀̓̅͛͐̔̈́̌̒̀̃̾̋͜͝͝͝ȇ̵̡̧̡̧͈͕͙͚̤̪͕̗͇͕̲̲̤͚̞̞̜̳̳͙̞̱̹̥̼̹̻̺̼̞̙̱͆̾̒̀̊̕͘͜͜͝ ̸̧̧͖͚͎̘̬̣̭͕̦̻͕͙̤̝̈́̉̐͒͋͝c̷̢̧̹̻̯̹̯̠͕̥̙̭̝͔̰͓̜̠̭̟͓̰̈̈́͑̐͐͌̈̄̋̈́͆̈́͑̄͌̃̕̕͘͝ͅȯ̸͎̼̲̮̦̩͇̥̮͉̻̦̟̖̓̏̅͆̓̂͂͆̾̐̐̈́̎̀̆̄͛͊̐̾̓̔̄̃͒͒̀̾͘͝͝r̷̛͓̜̘̞̳̹̤̻̗͖̣͔͈͇̠̪̼̬̗͉̦̹̗̫̥̻̰̆̔̆͊̅̀̆̋̌͂͂ͅŗ̵̨̛̱͚̫̠̼̭̥̝͈͕͕͎̫͔͚̠̗͙̬̦̱̪̟̻̺͓̣̘͔͔̆̌͐̋̑͛̓̀̈́̽̈́͑̆̿̄̈́̀͒̓̉̉̐͛̓̾̾̀͊̚̚̚͠ͅͅự̶̻̘̲̹̄̈́̿͒͆͆͗̆̃̈̚͝ͅp̷̡̢̢̧̛͇̗͖̼͎̙̭̥̝͈̖̣̳͖̟̝̳̦̣̘̜̹̮̥̲̓̊̿̆͑́̈͗͗̇̂̽͒̚̕͜͜͠t̵̢̛̛̛̤̪̹͕̼̫͎̝̲̯̩̭̘̰̱͕̪̖͉̹̼̮̬̗̪̼̘̞̋̈̉̿͂̏̉́̌́̃̓̏̓̈́̈́̋̀́̔̕̕̚ị̸̢̨̻̫͎̝̞̥̼̮̺͚͖̭̮͍͛͆̐̄͌̽́̿̅̏̈́̀̿̆̐̐̈̆̈́͗̓̇̿̎̂͋̿̒͆̑̏̍͗̀͘̚͠o̴̢̡̨̢̰̫̯̰̙̼̫͖͈̠̤͕͙̰̳̘̤̯͍͕̣͖͍̠͔͉̫̜̠̒̑̈́͑̈́͘̚͜͜ṅ̶̨̙͖̖̤̳̫͇̞̣̤͓̰̗̗͇̣̣̚ ̷̧̧͙̱͙̦̟̾̇̋́̏̎̌́̈́͗̀͂͋̄͒̓̽͂̂̚̕̚͠͝͝d̵̡̡̛̛̤̗͇̭̬̳̲̣͎̙͈̱̮͈̺͓̱̞̻̪̞͉̣̟̜͈̩̯̹̹̰̖̥̦̈́̈́̀̂͋̓͆̀̈̚͜͠ͅȇ̴̡̧̧̛̛̺̤̭͙͇͎̱͚̲̳̖̘̼̪̤͕̝̜̔̾̃͆̄́̀̇̿̓͑́͊̀͗̑̄͋̊̈́̈̀̎̈̆̕͜͠͝͝s̸̞͈̩͍̠̹̞̞͔͓͔͕͉̼̻͈̱̠̔͗̍̎͂͌̑̽͛͛̓̍̐͑̉̂͂͝ͅṱ̵͈̘̮͓̈͆̍͂̿͋̅̇̅̍̒̆̾͂̾̄̇̉̈̾͛̆̽͌̽̄̐́̚͠͝͝r̶̡̢̨̨̡̛͚̦͎̳̤̭͇͎̥̻͎̲͈̪̭͍̭̳͙͕͕͐̾͛̊͌̄̓͐̀̀̐̇̾͊̂̐̒͛͗̍̕͘̕͜͜͠ͅọ̷̢̹̇̐̑͑̓̂̾̒̄̑̔̽̽̓̃̑̾͋̐̀̄͌̊̏͘͠͝y̴̧̲̜̟̯̘̰̬͓̙̮͈̬͚̮͉̣̯̹̰̙̱̰͒̋̈̊̽̉̕ͅs̵̛̗̽̀̐̐̑̂͊̆͑̉̕͘ ̸̢̭̬͔̟̳͈͎̃̑ȳ̴̰̘̠̮̙̯͉͇̯̝̣͈̝̼̜̰̜͎͈̩̙̗͉̻̤̲͇̞̟̭͍̮̖̍͒̽̐͆́͒̌̓̑͌͒͐́͋̎̀̀̓̊̾͋̔̔̈́̑̿̾̈́̚̕͠o̷̧̗̟̰͇̙͕̻̰̦͖͕̠͎̮͓̮̳̱̪̹̮͈͚̲̰̝̝̬̠̞̺͂͊̎̂͂̋̌͌́͆̂̽̅̍̽̉̃̔͘͠͠͝ͅu̴̧̧̡̩͎̬̞̭͈̲̻̲̯͎͙̭̩̩͖̯̪͙̬̹̙͍̰̟̖̠̅͗͆̒͋͋̏͗͂̈́̈́̇̒̐̿̂̽͋͆͘͜r̴̛̝̺̙͔̤̠̻̟͚͔͑͂̂͂́̈́̆͊̓͊̔̑̇͗̔̈́̐́̊̌̆̐̋̄̄̒̈́͆͋́̿͘͘͝ ̴̡̢̛̜̖̺̤͈̲̟̥̲͉͖̩͔̤̗̪̖̖̦͕̘̯͍͚̞͍͇͔̭̮̔̈́̍̍̉̏̇̂͌͑̐͋͋̄̓̐͆̈́̂̂̌̓̈́̌̚͘͘̕͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅb̶̢̢̨̢̨̢̛̖͓̮̟̞̻̰͇̪̙̻͙͕͇̠̲̻͈̜̈́́̿̉͛͐̄̇̄̏̑̐̀̊͛̍̿̈̐͛͌́̈̀͐̈́̿͊̎͑̑̉͘͜͜͝͝ơ̶̡̧̧̢̠̖͚̗͙̩̪̳͇̝̞̠̲̺̬̹̖̱̩̞̝̭̹̘̗̘̤͇̗̠̲̝̮̟̆̾͊̒͊͌̽̏̾͆͂̂̎͋̍̑̍͒̂͌͒̌̂̑̕d̶̢̧̫̪̺̹̹̘̞̹̥̙̤͔̤̗̥̼͖̪͎̮͉̬̳̬̻̘͒͌ͅͅy̵̧̰͚̥͖̺͇̙̦̮̳̖̺͙̝͈̺͉͖̟͍͓̹͊̚!̷̞̩͎̗̳͓̩̬͖̇ ̷̡̧̢̡̠̲̼̠̦͔͎͈͕̟̥̠̤̲̥̰͚̞͗̑͒̔͛͑͂̓͘͜͜͝
Ṡ̷̫̑͗́̌͆̅̐̂́͌͋͒̾̽̽̒̂̏͘̕p̴̘̯̟̺̺̤͙̣͚̺͕̤̄̆̒́̂͌̈́̅̀͒͗̆̆̿͛̽̂̓̑̂̕͘ȩ̶̛̲͇̫̙̥̝̭̩̤͖̘̟̳̬̭͔̜̼́́̆̉̐͗̀̊̉̓̎͋̍͂́̌̽͗̉̈́̍̚͝͝c̵̼̘̤̠͕͙̮̦͓̺̘̜͙̯̹̓̔́͛̓̔̂͗̾̍́̋͗͆̒́̄̈͘͠ǐ̴̧̛̹͔͙̜͍͚̍͒͛͆͒ͅe̵̡̞͚̙̫͎̘̙̦̲̝̰̙̦̠̯͚̪̱̬͊̈́̒͘͝ͅs̵̡̡̛̼̝̬͈̝̙̦̯̹̥͙̦͓̃̌͌͒̐͆̿̐͗̓̑͋̎̋̑͛̅͑͒̌̐͘͜ ̵̮̳͇̠͔͙͔͙͉̬̺̗̪̘̱͆͋̑́̂͝D̵̢̗͈̠͉̬̣͎̦̘̤̓̐̎͐̅e̴̢̨̝̮̮̰̪̤͕͚̞̖͇̣̬̙͍̫̰̙̿̒̋̾̽͌g̸̨̧̛̛̠̪͔̖̦͖̫̱̜̠͈̯̝̤͙̝̙͙͉̰̼͉̝̪̠̏̀̓̽̑̽͆̎̅̏̊͊̈̍̈́̕͝ȩ̸̨̨͖͕̞͙̹̞̱͙̖̬̗̥̣̜̫̤͎̘͓̱͓̥̓̅̃̈́̂̏̊͒̽̚͘̕ǹ̴͈̹̘͎̺̹̜͓̰͈̾̉͜ȩ̷̜̬̔͛́̈̓̂̃̈́̅͋̂͌͘̕͠r̶̬̖̥̝͓̻͈̯̩͇̰̦̬̰̺͚̥̻̙̈́̏͊͋̊͂̾̌̆̆̈̀͘ͅa̴̧̧̝̠̣̩̳̗̗̘͙͕̠̤̙͍͈̽̋̍͐̀̄̚̕͜͠͠ͅț̶̼̘͚͓̲̞̎̏̑̑̆̌i̶̤̗̤͍̗̒͑́̐͑͜ö̶͍̟͙̪̲̹́͆̌̿͌̏̽͝ņ̵̧̛͎̙͓͓̫͖͍͉̯̖̙̟̟̼̦̬͕̄̈͐̂̌͌̆̑̂̒͆̎:̵̧͚̞̫̲̾̽̕
[̴̨̨̧̛̜̖͖̖̠̲̗̩̮͚͓̘͚̫̼̫͍͖̠̖̓͛͊̈́̈́̿̂̕͜͝W̴̛̰̬̙͎̻͎̰̙̳͉̭̘͓͓̯̣̓͂̉̂͊̑̊͌̌͒̍̈́̄̆͗̔͌͆̄́̊̄͑į̶̧̡̡̛̟͔͈̮̘̩̗̣͓̒̉͛̃͑͐̋̆̈́͊̉͗̂͑̾̓͗͑͘͘͘͝n̶͎̪͉͖̫͑̓͌̓̈́͑̇̂͐̃̒̍̆̕͠ǵ̶̝̰͔͍̜͔́̏̀̌͒e̴̠͉̭͖͖̯͔̥̘̘̾̕ď̵̛̼̻͍̝̹͇̗̘͖͇͓̤̳̦͎͙̣̺̀̿̉̽̈̽̊͘͜͠ ̶̢͎̥̯͕̳̞̼͕͖̯̥̠̣͈̳̝͇̮̼͊̌̒̓͂͆̐̓̑́̉͑͒̈̐̕ͅͅẆ̶̡̨̧̡͕͈͎͔̝̫̙̥̝͚͚̘̤̳̮͒̃̊̿̎̂ͅy̶̡̡̧͖͕̭̙̞͍̥͚̫͇͖̤͈̤̺̳̺̩̮̼͎̲̅̎͆͐̂̈́̆́̏͛̈́͑̀͑̓͌̂̚̕͜ͅv̸̢͕͚̜̮̞͎̜̘͎̬̘̰̠͕̫̤͕͗̎̃̔͆͐̈̊̑͘͜͠e̴̢̯̜͉͚̘̩̙̱͆̅̓͆̓̾̊̈̓̉̌̓̋̔̿̓̆͑̊̎̈́͘̕͝r̵̛͍̞̦̭̩̥̭̫͎̫̠̩̰̠̹̝̤̥͒̇̽̆̉̊̈̄͐̈̔͑̽̽̿͘̕̚͝ṇ̸̡̨̨͖̞̹̪̤̃̔̆̋͜]̶̫̙̖̞͎͇̭̦̾̿͊ ̷̧̖̭̗̝̟͈̩̳̬̻̬̤̲̜̆̑̑̾́̓͒̂͊̀̐̏͌̕̚͜͠ͅ-̴̡̖̖̫̫̩̩̮͍͇̹̮̖̤͉̝̙̮̬̪̥̳͇̏̾̄͠>̶̛̛̰̱͎̫̫͇͉̒͊̋̊̒̎̓̓̐͛̌̎̓̓͘͠͝ͅͅ ̵̧̛͉̝͇̝̻̞͎̫̪̥̂̂̈́̏̈̔̃͒́̽̏͒͊̕͝[̶̻͕̹͇̱̝̞̤̏̓̏͗̕̚̚̚Č̴̡̨̢̛̛̛̤͍͓̔͂̄͝ơ̴̢̡̦̤͈͓̙̯̲͎͕̣̫͙͔̥͖̟̼͖̫͙̯̊̂͆̒̀̈̑̀̀̅̊͑̓̎͂͑́́͘͜͝͝͝ͅͅr̸̡͎̘͍̲̩̩̯̮̞̥͕̰̐͐̄̇͂̇́̎͗͊͐̕͘͝ŕ̶̞͕̟͙͙̔̑̆̾͂̃́͗̒͂͑̊̽͊̃̿̚̚̚͝ų̴͉͈̝͉͈̳̲̦̖̅̏ͅp̷͖̼̒͆̓̓̇̒̈́̊̆͘͝͝ţ̵͍̯͕̜̥̘͕͔̭̩̱̟͙͙̯̝̦̗̮̟̩̥̦̺̖̎̃̌̋̔͗̓͑̓̇͑̈́͊͒͊͘̚ě̶͕̪̖̹̣̂̀͑̽͌̈́̉̐̈͆͋̆͂͌̃́̊͌̀̏̚̕͝͝͝d̸̡̧̢̰̺̘̞̥̪͓͉̖͍̰̳̩̄̌͐̉̐̃̀̇͌̓͑͊̈́̈́̀́̀̑̓̔͐̕͝ ̵̡̨̧̼̖̫̪͉̪͉͈̱̦̮̮͇̰͖̖̖͓̣̤̎͑͌̓͐͝͠Ẉ̷̨̢̧̲̪͉͔̰̦̲̗̗͓͈̲̻͓́̂͂̒͐̿̏̎͗́̿͋̓̀͊̊͘͝ý̷̨̡̢͎̠̤͖͙͎̦͖̰͙̣̬̗̘̞̳̮̤̩̀́͑̎̓̒̅́̎͌̔͜v̶̥̺͔̠̌̅̉̓͗̋̇̈́̀̾̓̎͜͝ȅ̵̢̢̱̖̭̖͔̭̖͔͎͙͚͎̠̍͂͒͂̊͂̀̃͛̋̊̐͆̿̾̚̕̚r̸̤͙̞̺̼̥̼̊͊̽̎̈́̐̏̐͛͂͘͘n̸͓̺͙͚̑́̇̅́̏̈̐͛͜͝]̶̝̺̪̉́̈̒̈́̍̌́͛͂͐͝͝͠
̸͔͌͗͂̋̐̌̓͘
S̸̡̞͍͓̻͓̣̱͕͔̬̟̙̹̰̿͋͌̀̄́̒͗̀̍̎̇͛̒̀̊̚͠ű̵̧̖͇͔̻̦̪̯̳̥̪̺͌͋͒̃̇̒̑̋̎̽̆́̒͗͛̕͠b̵̢̲͈̗͕́̽͒̃̃͂̄̈́̈́̇͑̓̏̌̒̆̂̊̚̕s̸̲͙̻̪̣͓͈̺̯͙͕͔̹̹̞͓̗͔̽͑͜͜͜p̴̧̨̬̖̗̦̰͊̐̋͐̒̂͌̄̓̀̆̓͛͛̀̑̈ę̶̞͖̬̖̞̮̗͓͎̹̻̰̩̦̹̪͕̬͉͓̙̦͊̑͐̓c̶̨̡͚̖̣̤͍͉̺͙̰͖͖̘̱̱͎̗͖͉͔͈͓̱͐͊̾͌́̍͂̈́̑̚͝ͅî̶̢̡̡̧̧̩̟̯̺̠̭̝̲̭̻̻̱̈̆̄̂̽̈́̕͘̕͜ę̶̨̫͎͓̫̲̱̺̤̣̰̖̲̘̿͒̆͌̈́̏̈́̍̏̈́͠͠ş̷̢̛̛̞̰̼̪̱̜̘̮̫̟̖̜̩̻̬̩͈̣̰͒̒̋̔̉̿̊̌̐̑̐̇͌͆̐͝ͅ ̶̡̡̲͇̼̙̭̦̪̺̺̜̪̹͗̅̾̔̓͐͗̓͆͐̉̀̐͛̊̐̒̕̚͜͜D̸̢͙̹̘̹̗̖̟͇̦͈̼̲̲͎̏͊̄͂̄̀̄̾̏̆͘͘ę̸̨̢̖͍͚̖͎̥̤͔̤͈̝̪͚̓̒̃̆ͅg̵̟͙̮̬͆̀̿̀̄͂̈́̌͒̐̾̌̚͝e̵̛͈̽͆̏͆̋́̐͒̈͑͐̈́̓̏̄̽̅͝͝͝ņ̵̨͉̤̻͚̲͍͔̹͉̾́͆̾͛̋͊̽̄̀̇̊̃̐͘é̸̢͚͚̘̦͍̠̝͕͈͌͂̓̊͝ŗ̶̛̠̹̪̪̙̘̙̭̲̱͕̪͇̗̂̔̂̎̉̃̂̅̓̇͂́͆͌̚͝͝ă̶͙͇̋̊̇̓̄͂͌̇̄͑͋̆̍̈́͛͒̍͑̚t̶̨̗̩͍̙̗̫͚͕̣̹̗̳̣̤̗͎̱̘̩̬͓̦̳̞͕̊̐́̀̾̑̽̂̓̏̎̈́͗̓͊̕͘͘ͅì̴̛̠̳̯̈́͂͑͌͑̑̌̃̊̌̐̀̉̋͗̽̿̈́̈̕͝ǫ̸̢̛͓̫͚̘̺̳̞̩̘̯̪͓̼͌͗ṇ̸̢͓͉̦̠̠͚͕͈͚̞͍̉͋̏̈́́̉̈͂̇̂͒̔̓͆̒̀̃̓́̕͘͜͠:̵̨̛̥͓̫̺̗̖͎͔̜̺͉̙̤̪̘̜͔̈͂̃̓̀̾̈̆̚͠ͅ
[̶̧̪̖̪͇̘͓̫͆̑́̆̃̈́̈́̊͊́̇̅̓̕͠͝Ĺ̶̹͍̺̝͍̞̗̣̦̭̥̼̃̇͛̒̐̍̚ȩ̴̨̢̧̤̼͎̻͕͉͓͔̞̞̖͇̉̆͆͐̾̒̋̈́̋̀̾̐̔̚͜ş̶̧̢̺̪͓̟̣͍̥̱̺̦̦̝̟͐̏͆̈́̇̈́̑͑͆̂͘͜ͅͅs̷̢͈̍̀͝͝ȩ̷̡̡̪̼̻͚̫̙̥͕̳̞̼̱̱̟̮͈̀̈́͛́̊̅͑̃̒̋͊͑͗̓́͒̿̃͒̽̓̓̆͗͘͝ȓ̴̢̡͚͎̠̦̼̗̰̳̙̘̙̖͍̯̰̠͚̬̯͓̭̦͐́̀̏̆̀̽̈́̒͋̈́͐́͘̚͘̚̕͝͝ ̴̡̡̛̭͔̥̤̖̙͎̼̼̲̣̩̮͎̳̫̞̠̞͕͎̙͖̣̫͒͒̆͐͂̈́̋́͛̓̋͛͑̃̃̿̋̃̔̓̊͊͘̚͠F̸̢͍̥͖̗̖̮̺͕̪̻̐̿͒r̴̨̧͓̥̦̺͎̳̯͈͎̠̙͙̱̟͑͑͐͛͂͌͆̕͘͜o̶̡̨̜̪̜͉̻͈̹͈͔̳̩̯̦̻̻̳̦͕̖̣̺̙͕͂̏̔̐̒̆͒̽̽̂̽͜͝͠͝ś̴̢̧̖̲̝̥̰̳̩͉̝̯͙͔̗͎͇̜̱͍̝̊ͅẗ̷̢̢̛̛͈̘̻̳̥́͂͑̊̒̌̌̕͠ ̶̳͖̞̪͚̟͉̟͇̠͊̇̎͆̄͛̐̋̈́͑͆̃͋̈́̅́͂̄̓̀͌͑̽͝͠Ẅ̴̫͔̠̫͓̲̟͎́̈́̄͋̓͑̓̇̐͠ẙ̷̛̛͈̳̹̝̤͈̬̩͈̫̥͙͔͙̤̊̾̏͂̍̈́̀̊́̊̌̂̎̓̾̈́̐̋̂̽̏̎͜͝͝v̶̢̧̹̹͍͇̯̬͇̖̆̓̋͑̑̊̉͑̎̈͐̂͊̃̚͜e̸͓̦͉͉̯̦̞̱̐̋͛͆͐̂̄̇͂̅̐̇̅̃̌̈͜͠ŗ̷̡͎͎̮̲̠͔̼̲̙̪͚̊͛̃͐̋ͅͅn̷̢̫̼̫̜̜̭͈̭̞͕͓̹̖̳̳͔̮͚͖̥̯͍͇̿̅̈́̈̽͒́̒̾̓̆̂͊̎̍̀̇̑̋̅̚͜͠͠]̴̛̛̛̝̝̱̖̝̖̤͔̗̤̟̻͔̟͇͙̭̜̇̋̅̇͋̓͛̅̒̈́͗̌̑̿̃̉͂̄̔̕̚̚͝͠ͅ ̴̨͔̤̤̟͇̠̼̓͗͐̃̐͜-̵̟̜̫͉͚͔̱͎̤̱͉̙̻̯̻̊̓͜>̴̹̠͎̝̐̏́̎̍͋̀͋̐̉͒̒̔́͑̀̈́͊͌̀͘̕͝͝͝͝ ̸̡̛̛͖̤͇̫̺͚͙̝̠̻͚͙͔̲̒́̇̅͂̐̽̽́̓̿̀͑̂͌̒͊̒́̾́̾̌͝[̴̢̢͙͔͇̥̮͓͉͈̮̥̫̫̠͙͗ͅͅ-̷̞̱̞̝̭̫̞͍̋̂͌̅̈́̂͘̚-̶̡̩̬̣̖̬̱̥̾̽̊͋́̕͘-̵̡̧̟̩̳̺̪͇̮̺͇̓͛͛̐̔̈͜ͅ-̶̛̛̥͎̗̻͔̹̮̘͓̦͑̋̓̔̽̇́̈̀̿̈́͆̐͒̒̎̍̿̎̈́̃̈́̕͠ͅ ̴̧̮̖͕͉͇̣͚͈̫̎̊̊Ẅ̵̥͋̓͊̽͋͋̃͌̿͒̊̇̓͛͑͗͘͘͝y̵̨͖̟̤̗̥̜͚̳͓̽̌̇̂̀̅͌͑͝v̴̧̨̛̠̝̟̭͕̫̹̺̩̯̯͙͇͕͉̜̹̠̟̮̽̉̅̕͜͝ē̴̱̻̥̠̗̻̇̇͑ͅṛ̸̢̛̻̩̰͕̮̠̍͆͗̌̇̍͆̐̈̂̂̂͑̊̾ń̴̛̦̘̼͔͈̲̝̺̰̿̐̀͂̽̏̾͗̋̅̈͘̕̚]̶̟̟͙͖̣̩͈̳̭̍͒͛̍
Š̴̡̻̟͎͈̖͎̺̃̈́̆̀̂̈́̀̈́͒̀͠k̸̖̘̜͎̘̻̘̺͇͕̒͂i̸̡̢̡̡͖͕̲̠̱͕̻̳̞͔̩̤͍̳̖̼̓͊̇̂̆̅̾̔̈̒̇͑̀̈̀͐͗́͘͜͜͠ļ̶̢̣̜̼̖̬̫͈̝̝͕̗̙̥͔̰̲̮̻͙̜̻̠̬̌͋͊͛̾̐̔͋̋̌̋͑͌̈́̅̈̈̏͋̓̎͂̎̐̽̕͠ͅl̵̛̯͙̺̖̐́̿̄͛̅̀͗̓̍͘ ̵̨̢̧̡͉̫̮̮͎̗̟̥̠̻̳̹̬̱͙̲͈͉̈́͛͗̈́͋́̄̏̇̈́̓̔͜͝͝͝ͅ[̶̢̛̫̦̟̪͕͈̪̬̩̪̩̳̮̺̩̉͋͑̇͆̈́́̋̂̔́͂̒̋͛̅̐̉̐͂̎͘͠͝͝F̵̢͚̥͇̩̦̥̹̊̃̈́̔̋́̑̀̋͑̿̓̔̓ͅr̴̡̧̖͖̘̦̰̦̙͚͎̖͚̩͉͕̩̹͔̳̐͑̏͘ó̵̢̡̨͓̩͔̘̬̗̗̞̯͚̹̭̺̟̪̙̺̈̒̈́͛̉͘͜ͅs̵̢̢̨̭̤͕̟̟̙̱͎̼̘̱̯͍̝͖̼̼͕͇͓̳͕͐̀̒͋̆̈́̈́̚ͅͅt̴̡̨̡̢̩͚̬͍͉̳͉̰̪̳͇͎̹̙̱̪͓̻̥̭̪͎̊̾̍͗̇͌̈́ ̵̢͈͉̦̳͇͉̘̤̹̘̫̮̻̲̩͖̊̔̊̈́̃͆͂̿̄͋̀̌͝B̶̢̨̰̦̙̟̤̯͔̲̟̌̔̓̌̽r̶̨̧̤͈͚͉̺͎̭̃̀̀͆͑̚͜ę̶̡̧̛̹̰͍͉̯̖͔̝̖̼̪̳̪̯͉̫̯̼͕͎͑̓̓̿̏̀̽̐̓̕͠ä̸̡̡̰̘̟̻̩̠̹̟̰̬̫̠͎͔͇͉̳̩̠͙̤̦̟͍́̾̑̈́͛̄̔̏͐̀̇̈̍̄͛͑̓̀͘͝͝͠͝ͅţ̶̧̠̻̫̤̜͆̂̎͑͋́̔͗͜͝͝h̴̢̬̹̗̦͙̲͖̜͖̩̦̤̭͎̞̳̱̘͎̭͉̀̿̋̿̏̏̔͐͂͜͜͜ͅ ̸̢̨̢̡̨̢͖̠͉̥̭̩̻̼̬͍͈̭̺̪̯̳̺̼͆̓̉̍̽͊̃̓͋̂͜-̴̢̨̢̪̻̺̞̪͇̯͔̤̖̤̜͓̬̳̳̝͙̰̐́͗͐͜ ̶̧̢̧͇̼̱͕̳͈̗̦̗̳̬͕̱̻̠̜̜͈̪̻̙͍̫̊̈́͌̾͐͑̑̃͑̅̏̌̈͆̀̑͜L̷̢̨̡̛͔̺̱̘̻͖̪͕̹̤̫̲̤̹͈͖̠͍̖̓̄̅̽̉̋̒͋̚͘͝v̷̢̧͉̪͚̼̙̱̜͈͇̈̃̔́̎͑̉̑́͐̋̿̊͑͗͆̍͘͝͝ĺ̶͎̮͈̞̦̥͔̗̦̂̿̀͑̈̏̐̽͆̅ ̵̖̱̫͈̺̥͚̘͕͊3̸̡̢̢̧͈̻̱͓͇̣̳̭̗͍̫̠͉̫̰̞͓̉̔̅̄̂̀̊̈́̓̎̓̐̎͒͗́̈́̽̌͘͝͠͝͠0̷̝̤̩̼͎͕͚͝ͅ]̵̢̢̡̻̲̱͎͍̱͙̘̪͚̤̤͖͓̠͎̼̗͐̊͊͊̾̈́̉́̇̋́̇͑̕̚͘ ̴̢̢͎̤͖̭͕̠̫͕͌͂̔́͋̆̽̃̎̈́Ĺ̷̨̺̞̓̉́̔̍̌͑͗͋͂͋̿̈́͐̓͆̒̊̊̓͒̕͠͝ờ̵̖̙̖̝̪̹̬͖̼̝̀̀̑̍̽̾͛̌̋̇̈́̒͒̍̑̕͠s̴̜͎͓̉̎̽̅̑̽̌̒̓̀̽̔̀̓̇̐͑́̓̅̏̍͘̚t̶̨̜͎̠͉̩̦͙͓̠̝͈̞̙̻͖̠͉͓̬̥̗͖̟͓͗̈́̽—̴̻̳͈̆́
S̷͓̪̹̩̍͂̅͒̀̅̅̐̒̑̋̀͛͒͊̊̓͑̔̎͘̚̕͝ḱ̴̯͖̱͙̫̤̻͇͓̤̮̜̘͉̮̮̙̝͕͉͔͓͙͇͜͝i̸̧̭̩͖͙̺͂̎͂͑̽̊̈́̈͘͘͘͠l̵̨̧̧̧̛͍̣̹̰͇̙̫̹̰͓͔̺͇̠̜̭̆̀́̓̎͘͠͠͠l̷̨̢̢͕̖̗̥̳̲̲̩̝̠̻͕̭̠̺̖͔̼̭̟̘̠̅͐͊̆ ̵̙̱͇̳̘͈̣̌̀̈́̋͑̈́̆[̴̘̫͓̲͇̪̦̻̣̘̆̀̏̍̏Į̴̯͍̻̭̉̿̐̉͋͋̇c̵̛̣̫̙̮̈́̒͒̎̃͌̐̆͛̽̋̈́̌̆́̾̇̄̒́̃̽̕̕͝ë̴̬͉̩͐̒̈́̊̔̀̈́͗͊̑͆̀͐̃ ̴̨̲͓̠͚͂̎͜͠ͅM̶̡̩̤͇̭̪͎͙͈͖̗͖̞͔̳̀̏̉͐̀͛́̑̓̍͐̏̔̓̚͠ͅͅͅ—̶̛̯̈́͒̐́̆̕
The lone Wyvern’s consciousness began to fade as she let the corruption take over her. All she could dream of was vengeance. Or… no. Not vengeance. She dreamt of protecting her kin. Her people. As that final thought plagued her mind, regret sank in.
And she wished she didn’t succumb to that which destroyed her home.
[-̶̧̛̻͕̹̩̖͕̑̈́̂͗̾͊̓͌̀͗́͝ͅ-̵̖͎͖̤̌̇̿̓̿̌́̆͛͆͘͝-̵̧̣̩͚̗͕̤͙͉̱͕͎͔̟͐̑͊͌ͅ-̶̻͕̲͓͈̼̥̰̘͔͛̍̊̒̉̈́̐̂̋̕͝ Wyvern - Lvl. 142]
“What is that?”
Helena Warshade stared in shock as the former Mistress of Remnants’ body twisted into itself. The world around the Wyvern tore apart, rippling with the familiar distortion I’d seen twice before. I leap back, and my clones readied themselves.
“That’s the corruption! Get back! It’s dangerous!”
“The corruption?”
Repeating after me, the Archmage stupidly stayed where she was instead of actually listening. I scowled as the world itself began to warp and tear, permeating the corruption to everything that was around it. A fissure seemed to whip out at Helena Warshade, and that was when she finally moved out of the way.
The Great Tempest Archmage of Mavos Academy unleashed a crackling lightning bolt into the center of the corruption, but it swerved into the distorted mass and joined it. The corruption grew larger. Helena Warshade stared.
“What… is going on? That is not any space magic I’ve seen.”
She struggled to even articulate herself as her cloud circled around the corruption. I scowled, looking into the blurry figure of the Wyvern with [Planar Navigation].
“That’s because it’s not! It’s the corruption. You know, the thing that comes from the Endlands?”
“The End… what—”
She started, only for a flying rock to shoot her way. The Archmage barely conjured a barrier in time as I narrowed my eyes.
“Focus! You can’t attack it, but we can still stop this!”
It wasn’t like the [Ancient Centinel] which seemed to have control over the corruption. I remembered the transformation when I battled it— the Corrupted Centinel. It transformed all at once, and it retained its sanity.
But the Wyvern? The former Mistress of Remnants? She made garbled noises as she shrieked, breaking apart and dying. It was completely different. The corruption was taking control over her.
I turned to Helena Warshade as the corruption began to spread out.
“Can you use space magic?”
“I can only cast space magic spells equal to a level 70—”
“That’s good enough! I need you to contain it!”
My clones and I charged forward as I reached out with [Mystical Projection]. The pair of invisible arms tore into the corruption, pushing it apart as Helena Warshade supported me from behind. The corruption was almost palpable— I could feel it pushing me back and digging into my skin.
I grimaced, and my clones leapt in front of me to lead the charge. Their flaming skins flaked off with each step we took. Behind me, I heard Helena Warshade mutter and point at the area around us.
“Cube of Isolation.”
The ground beneath me shifted, like it was overlaid with a box. And the box began spinning, shrinking as it trapped myselves and the Corrupted Wyvern. The corruption grew thicker the instant it was cordoned off, and I couldn’t hear anything outside of this faux pocket dimension.
I got closer and closer as the corruption grew wilder. The pocket dimension began to crack, the corruption threatening to leak out once more. One clone vanished as I used [Mystical Projection] to finally pull apart the distorted Wyvern hide. Finally, I caught sight of the source of the corruption.
Blood. It was blood. The former Mistress of Remnants was nothing now but a mosaic mess of scales and hide and wings, but her blood continued to flow. Even without a body. Even without anything to course through. It moved faster and faster, glinting with ever-changing colors as it hovered at the center of the mass.
A voice cried out as another of my clones dissipated, bubbling away into distorted wisps.
“̴͎̟͎̲͉̅̇͝M̴̺̣̬̭̹͎̿̔͊̎̏̃͛́͂͜y̵̨̗͎͎̪͓̼͖̠̻̮̑̓ͅ k̸̢̗͎̓̎̾́͐̑̊͂͆͝i̶̯̪̳̐́͜n̷̜̱͈̰̭̦͇̺̻͓̮̔̃̂̆̉͋͛͋̓̑͑ͅ…̴̨̝̰͙̭̳̰̾́”̵̢̜̟̗̟̙̹̀̍̽͂̇̈́̌͂̊̃̕͝
“What? How are you even talking?”
It echoed around me like a whisper. I stared at the former Mistress of Remnants’ head as it wheeled around me. Its eyes faced my direction, crystal clear despite the blur that was everything else.
“̵̭̤͎̻͈͔͍̩̍́͑̓͒̚P̴͈̲̜̩̲͇͛̇̍̅͂̃́̃͗̀̕ͅl̵̦͒́̅͛̒ȩ̷̻̩̣̰͓̗͉͎̻͋̍̏̑̍̔͜͠å̵͓̣̥̙̮͉̻̻̲͆͒̈́̇̌ṣ̸̩̰͈̩̭͔̘͎̳̹̱̉̂̈́e̴̢̗͈̘̯͔̺̪̼̥͓̟͆͊̃̔́̀̆̇̀͠…̵̢̩̦͎͕̠͚̞͈̈́̑͌͌͋͛̓̓̿̀́͘”̸̢̡̣̞͙̬͖̝̯͗̂͗͌̇̂͆͑̂̃͝
I felt my grip over my [Mystical Projection] growing numb. Like when I’d been fighting the Cursed— or Corrupted— Boulder. A third clone died, and I was left with just one another clone as the Cube of Isolation failed. I gritted my teeth as I felt my body twisting, trying to tear itself apart.
“I’m a bit busy right now—”
And I recoiled. The Wyvern head stopped right before my face. I stared directly into its hollow, dead eyes. The mouth moved.
“Save them.”
It spoke in a clear voice. I blinked. It was the voice of the Mistress of Remnants. I looked at it, uncomprehending. But it didn’t matter. As the Cube of Isolation shattered, the Wyvern parts suddenly… receded.
All at once, the corruption was forcefully withdrawn to the broken body of the Wyvern. No— it looked like the Wyvern’s distorted corpse was containing it. Whatever it was, I saw a way out.
I threw myself back as my clone hurled herself into the twisted mass. The corruption seemed to reject her. It wanted to repel my fiery clone and send her flying. But she went through even the corruption. Thanks to Partial Phasing, she slipped through the cracks of space and reached the center of the mass.
I braced myself as I spun around, and I saw a flash of red. Just as I looked away, my clone detonated. She erupted into a wild blast— perhaps it was because of the corruption, but I couldn’t control the size of the explosion.
Everything nearby was swept up by the golden flames. Even me. I readied myself to be burned by my own fire. But I heard a voice. I looked up just in time to see Edithe running down a few streets away with Willy and Daniel. She pointed at me.
“Salvos— [Aura of Greater Protection]!”
A flicker ran through my body. The familiar protective aura wrapped around me, and I beamed.
“Huh. Thanks Edithe—”
And I was engulfed in my own golden flames.
Defeated [-̶̧̛̻͕̹̩̖͕̑̈́̂͗̾͊̓͌̀͗́͝ͅ-̵̖͎͖̤̌̇̿̓̿̌́̆͛͆͘͝-̵̧̣̩͚̗͕̤͙͉̱͕͎͔̟͐̑͊͌ͅ-̶̻͕̲͓͈̼̥̰̘͔͛̍̊̒̉̈́̐̂̋̕͝ Wyvern - Lvl. 142]!
More experience is awarded for defeating an enemy at least 10 levels above you!
Subspecies [Daeva Cambion] Level Up!
[Daeva Cambion – Lvl. 132] -> [Daeva Cambion – Lvl. 133]
Gained 5 Stat Points and 3 Skill Points!
Class [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus] Level Up!
[Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 98] -> [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 99]
Gained 2 Secondary Skill Points!
Class [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus] Level Up!
[Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 99] -> [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 100]!
Gained 2 Secondary Skill Points!
[Advancement Available]
MelasD
Read up to 20 Salvos chapters ahead on my patreon.
Join my discord or subreddit.
Follow me on twitter or instagram.
353. Succumbing to Corruption
Helena Warshade stood on a white cloud, staring down at the destroyed city of Catark with a cool gaze. Her eyes flickered. She turned to me— then the remaining Wyverns. There were seven of the monsters left. They glared up at her, their hatred clear even if she couldn’t understand their words.
She tilted her head fractionally.
“They survived.”
The Wyverns responded with a combined blast of their frost breath. I flew back with my clones, reeling from the chill even from afar. The air froze and turned to snowflakes, eddying down to the broken city like cold ash. Such an attack would’ve probably killed me if I didn’t have any protective artifacts, so I fully expected Helena Warshade to fly out of the way.
But the Great Tempest Archmage of Mavos Academy simply raised her staff. The air around her warped as her mouth moved.
“[Eye of the Storm].”
The wind spun around her, faster and faster. It accelerated until it became visible. Like she was being shielded by a typhoon. It repelled the blast of ice, and the frost splashed off like it was nothing but water.
I stared as the barrier held up with ease. The Wyverns stopped their attacks, uncomprehending. The Mistress of Remnants was at a loss for words. She didn’t snarl or shriek as she’d kept doing while I fought her. Instead, she looked on at Helena Warshade.
The leader of the Rising Veterans Company frowned.
“You are stubborn. Very well, then.”
The cloud lowered as she pointed at one of the flying Wyverns.
“I shall break you. [Burst Hurricane].”
And the Wyvern exploded.
No! The Mistress of Remnants watched her kin die. Again and again, the great Wyverns fell from the sky. Ever since the corruption spread to Sharik, they had been incessantly slaughtered. They’d been forced to band together— form great flocks and migrate away from their home. It was the only way they could survive. Even a [Greater Wyvern] had been felled there.
She thought they’d be safe here. The Frost Lord had seen the mountains in the distance as the perfect place to build a nest. After all, the mountain range had been mostly empty— deserted, for whatever reason. However, that meant that they were starved. Hungry. And when they’d hunted those [Oliphants] down to feed the flock, the Frost Lord perished.
Now, here, in these weak lands, they were still being slaughtered.
The Mistress of Remnants wouldn’t accept it. She turned to that Human on a cloud and unleashed a salvo of ice magic. Icicles that were as large as trees launched out, but the Human dismissed it with a flick of her staff.
“[L— h…. m].”
The Human spoke— her words were utterly gibberish to the Mistress of Remnants. But it clued the Wyverns in that an attack was coming. They scattered as lightning streaked out of the Human’s crystal staff. It took on the shape of a grossly misformed Wyvern. One without wings and a long serpentine body.
The Mistress of Remnants hissed, diving away from the attack. The lightning struck another of her kin, but it didn’t explode. Instead, it latched onto the Wyvern’s wings, draggining it through the air until it came into contact with a second Wyvern. The lightning spell exploded, taking them both down with a brilliant flash.
Another two Wyverns down. There had been seven of them, but in such a short amount of time, there were now only four of them left.
With a roar, the Mistress of Remnants rallied the remnants. Three Wyverns accompanied her as she zipped through the air, heading straight for that annoying Human.
The Human narrowed her eyes. The cloud dipped out of the way just in time for the Mistress of Remnants to crash into a frozen tower. The Wyvern roared as the last of her flock swerved, giving chase to the Human throughout the city.
The cloud wove between the alleyways, leading the Wyverns low, then high, then circling around a junction and passing the Wyverns. One of the three Wyverns let out a frost breath, but the Human just countered with a blast of hot wind.
It was bad enough that they couldn’t break through the Human’s defenses, but they couldn’t touch the Human either.
The Mistress of Remnants was pissed. With every second that passed, she grew angrier and angrier. And when one of her three remaining kin fell as well, she had enough. Magic— something beyond even magic— built up within her chest. She rose to the sky, driven by fury and desperation, surpassing any limits she’d had before.
“I shall lay waste to your weak Species—”
She started, but a scythe dug into her chest. She exhaled, letting out the magic prematurely. The cone of ice erupted into the sky, raining down like hail. The Mistress of Remnants looked at the one who’d attacked her.
“Hey, did you forget about me?”
The silver-haired girl grinned, circling around to the Wyvern leader’s back. The Mistress of Remnants roared as she tried to shake off that false Human. But before she could fight back, four golden figures charged her.
“You’re mine!”
The Mistress of Remnants shrieked as she was cut by five different scythes. Attacked from all sides. Her wings was shredded, and she fell like a rock. In the distance, she heard the screeches. The sounds of her kind dying. Lightning and thunder boomed out as the remaining three Wyverns whimpered and died.
Title Lost!
(Mistress of Remntants—
The Mistress of… no. The lone Wyvern looked up, seeing the charred corpses of her kin fall from the sky after her. She crashed as the false Human and the flaming clones continued to tear through her hide.
The Human on the cloud descended, looking callously at the lone Wyvern thrashing on the ground. The former Mistress of Remnants could’ve fought. She could’ve tried to break free. Unleash her magic.
But she was tired. So tired. Her pride was shattered. Her flock was dead. She lost. There really was no point fighting anymore.
How did she even get here in the first place? How did all this come about?
Her eyes closed as exhaustion settled in. A creeping darkness crawled its way over her. And she remembered. She remembered when the apparition came beyond the ocean. The twisted being that distorted space wherever it went. It corrupted everything it had touched— from the clouds to the earth to the sea.
It was powerful. It would’ve shorn through everything, if the [Greater Wyverns] of Sharik hadn’t banded together and sacrificed themselves to chase it back whence it came. But it was too late. The land was overwhelmed by corruption. Their little island, gone.
They flew over the land of the Beastmen. Over the sea of the Centinels. They came all the way here, searching for haven. And this was… where it all ended.
The lone Wyvern would accept it. She let the darkness settle it as the pain subsided, leaving behind only a numbing sense of calm. It was all over. This was where the Wyverns of Sharik would finally die—
And her eyes snapped open.
Die? Here? She couldn’t accept it. Her wings began beating once again, despite the holes on her skin. A breath of frost left her maw as she let out a shriek. One of the golden figures was frozen in an instant, and the silver-haired girl leapt back with a yelp.
“W… g— n?”
The Human on the cloud asked, startled. The silver-haired girl answered in an unintelligible language as the lone Wyvern got to her feet.
There was no ying today. The lone Wyvern felt herself flying, powered by magic. Powered by something more. She couldn’t just die here. She had to become stronger. She remembered something stronger. A [Greater Wyvern]? No. The corruption.
It coursed through her. It breathed life into the lone Wyvern. She was going to use that same power to destroy them all.
“My people are dead, but I will not rest…”
She felt the corrupting growing stronger and stronger. She accepted it as the silver-haired girl’s eyes flickered. The Human on the cloud stared with wide eyes. The lone Wyvern began to laugh as the sounds became distorted.
“Nŏ̷̻͍t until I̴͉̥͂̈́̾ DEŞ̸̡̡̡̟̱̦͇͎͎̣̩͈̠̪͙̖̠͍͇͔͓̙̲̣͍͒TRÖ̸̧̱̬̙̩̩̺̝͗͋̑̽̒́͐͋̈̈͛́̌̈́͆̑̂̓́͘̚Ŷ̸̨̟͔͉̲̬̞͖̮͕̹̙̘̲̣̠̑̀̇̃́̐̚͝ ̵̧̢̡̯̠͕̬̟̹͔̬̯͍̯͗͊̄͛͌̓̾́̊̌̆͋̀͛̍̈́̀͠͠͝YO̴̢̨̮̣̫̯̺̱̞̳̱̬̱̰̞̩͕̻̣̻̍͑͊̉̉̎̆̓͊̿̐̂̔͑̆̋̓̐͑̚ͅU!”
Grå̸̧̘̙̦nd Skill [Come à̵̢͓̫͓͇̟̙̗̳̘͚̙̓̈́̓͛̃̄͌̄́͂̕͝nd See, the Depths of my Ḍ̸̢̮̪̈́̃͘espair] is̴̛̻̖͎͋̀̄ gą̵̱͓̞̝̒̚͝in̷̘̿͌̿͛è̷̢̢̠͚̤̲̠̋̄̍̆̎ḓ̷͚̳̲͚̓̅̊̈́ͅ—
Abù̵̺̺̇̂͗̑̇́͗̇̾̊̽͠ņ̴̛̭̻̈͗̉̒͋̏͛͒͗̽͗̈́̔̊ͅdă̶̡̛̲̱̜͉̳̻̫̈̐̏͆n̵̪͎͙̩̣̲̓͑́͒̊̌̾̈ͅt̷̨͙̯͙͇͕͉̒̋̉͒͐̿̀̈̚̚ expę̸̲͓̻̥̖͇̬̣͉͙̣͛̕͝͝rię̶͍̦̟̪̘̼̓͛̋̈́̿̔̇̎̅̋͐͐̄͑́͑̽͋̕̕͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̖̫̪͕̻͍̈́͝c̵̢̧̝̯͕͚̟̼͉̠̪͎͚̯̊͆̏̑́͛̏͗́̌̋͛͒̊͘̕͜ḙ̸̛̬̪̯̑͊͊̄͂̚͘͠͝ is… not rewarded!
Le̵̩̳̞̾̃͋̉̍͂̐͗̏̃͊̿̕͝͝à̸̢̫̼͖͈̺̜͇̩̳̼̉͑͜ŗ̴̲̟̖̝̝̥̳̞̦͚̯͙͓̝̮̯̓̔̑̊͒̈́̔͋̄͒̊̈͝͠͝n̶̡̧̼̫͖̥͚̜͖̙̦̬̊͗̏̎̈́̂̈́͒́̉͋̈́̎̏̕͜͠ï̴̦͈̰͖̜͇̯͚͛͌̄̍̀̀̌̚̕̕͝ng of G̵̢̨̛̤͇̰̹̲̲̎͗̔̿͌̕͠ŗ̴̛̯̹̞̖̖̺̦͕̣̠̪͂̓͗̈́̑̕̚a̵̧̞̳̫̠̎͌͛͂͌̏̋͝n̶̫̬͈͒d Skill fa̷̧̙̞̹̯̤͗̎͜͜ͅͅi̸̯̲͕̗͚̩̻̟̟̯̩͒͝l̴̢̪̍͌́͆ͅé̵̮̱̐͌͂̀͊͐̋̌͋͝d!
No experience is aẅ̵͙́̊̔͋͛̏̏́́͐̏̓̌̀á̷̖̓̽̈́̆͆̽̋̌r̸̡̧̨͉̼̖̯͚̜̝̫̬̃̂͆̓͋̈́͌̈́͊͘ͅd̵̼͕̘̤͖͙̟͎̃̊̉̀͌͋̄̓̀̚ͅͅè̴̛͙͉̠̣̳͖͖̻͛̿̓͆̒̌̈́̓͊̈́͝d for the faiļ̷̢̘̠̝͙̟̳̱̞̹̼͎͎̰͙͉̃̽͐̓̊̌͂̃̿͜u̵̙̥͙̎̀̂̽͒͆̈́̿̕ṟ̸̨̤̘̱̙̼̞̼͙̗͓͔͔̱̙͔̜͇̇̑̀́ͅē̴̞̝̻̗͖̮͕̱̭͈̳̜͚̦̱͕͎̞̜ ̸̢̯̖̠̭̣͈̩̟͑͛͋̓̃̑́̏͛̌̾̌̉͐ó̷͍̏͑͌̄͌̓̏̎̑̕f̸̡̧̯̩̖̩̻̟̦͔̬̜̭͇̱̽̒̒́̈̍͛̓͂͆̍͂̏̓͂̈́͛̒̓͝ ̸̛̝͇̔̀͌̾̎̈̆̾͗͊̈́͛͜͝l̷̰͖͝ĕ̸̛̲̹̟̳̯̣̙̓̃͋͌͑̄́̀̿̄̄͒̾̊̉̕͜͠ȧ̴̰̮̗̪̠͖̻͍̾̀̔̀̂́̋̈́̎̌̌̏̂̽̃͘̚r̴̩̪̫̼̈́̿̄̎̚n̵̡̘̂̄̓̀̕i̶̢̛̪̳̥̬͛̒̊̉̊̽̏͑͋̽̀̓̂̈͝͝ng a Ǧ̷̡̡̧̤̺̻̞͎̬̳̙̫̥̞̗̓͑̆̀̔̏͐̂͂͛̎͂͒͂̎͌̽̋̒̽̕̚r̶̡̧̢̭͓̺̗̮̠̦̍̋͑́̿̋͗̽̂̚͘ȃ̶̠̥̼͈̇̈́͗̒͒̇̑͆̈́͒̂̅̑̚͜n̶͎͍̦̙̝̏̔̚͝d̷̢̧̟̲̘̩̫̹̣̦͈͓̱̟͕͉̻̳̞̞̹̫͙̩̮͎̋͒̅͊͝͠͝ͅ ̵̤͔͍͇͙̮͓̰̥̩͌̈́̉̉͂̈́͊̃̉̕̕͠ͅŞ̶̢̜̬̣̮̩̈́̂̓̂̌́̏͊̾̒͒̀̏̄́̃̃͘̚̚k̴̢̘͈̫̳̬̳̘̻̺͇̬̣̗͔͍̘͕͓̹͛̑͌̔̔̓̃̃̎͗̎̇̅̾͑͂̓̕̚̕͘̕ī̷̺̻̯̹̼̀̌͗̆͒̽͌̄́̃̚͝͝͝ͅl̶̡̧̨̛̛̩̯̞̞̼͈̖͔̦̭͍͖̲̫͓̰̼̏͌͆͛́͐̈̈́̄̒̅̊͂̋̀̄̚͘͜͠͠͠͝l̷̢̹̩̗͙̬̥͚̺̺̲͎̺̤̲̬͉͕͙͖̳̼̟̦̯͚̿ͅ!
T̶͓̮͓̦̲̹̟͙͖̞̝̦̹͕̞̟̝͆̂̓̈͛͊͊̐͑͝͝h̶̡̠͍̳͙̞̫̠̮̥̜̖͖̘̼̬̟͚̞̓̀̓̅͛͐̔̈́̌̒̀̃̾̋͜͝͝͝ȇ̵̡̧̡̧͈͕͙͚̤̪͕̗͇͕̲̲̤͚̞̞̜̳̳͙̞̱̹̥̼̹̻̺̼̞̙̱͆̾̒̀̊̕͘͜͜͝ ̸̧̧͖͚͎̘̬̣̭͕̦̻͕͙̤̝̈́̉̐͒͋͝c̷̢̧̹̻̯̹̯̠͕̥̙̭̝͔̰͓̜̠̭̟͓̰̈̈́͑̐͐͌̈̄̋̈́͆̈́͑̄͌̃̕̕͘͝ͅȯ̸͎̼̲̮̦̩͇̥̮͉̻̦̟̖̓̏̅͆̓̂͂͆̾̐̐̈́̎̀̆̄͛͊̐̾̓̔̄̃͒͒̀̾͘͝͝r̷̛͓̜̘̞̳̹̤̻̗͖̣͔͈͇̠̪̼̬̗͉̦̹̗̫̥̻̰̆̔̆͊̅̀̆̋̌͂͂ͅŗ̵̨̛̱͚̫̠̼̭̥̝͈͕͕͎̫͔͚̠̗͙̬̦̱̪̟̻̺͓̣̘͔͔̆̌͐̋̑͛̓̀̈́̽̈́͑̆̿̄̈́̀͒̓̉̉̐͛̓̾̾̀͊̚̚̚͠ͅͅự̶̻̘̲̹̄̈́̿͒͆͆͗̆̃̈̚͝ͅp̷̡̢̢̧̛͇̗͖̼͎̙̭̥̝͈̖̣̳͖̟̝̳̦̣̘̜̹̮̥̲̓̊̿̆͑́̈͗͗̇̂̽͒̚̕͜͜͠t̵̢̛̛̛̤̪̹͕̼̫͎̝̲̯̩̭̘̰̱͕̪̖͉̹̼̮̬̗̪̼̘̞̋̈̉̿͂̏̉́̌́̃̓̏̓̈́̈́̋̀́̔̕̕̚ị̸̢̨̻̫͎̝̞̥̼̮̺͚͖̭̮͍͛͆̐̄͌̽́̿̅̏̈́̀̿̆̐̐̈̆̈́͗̓̇̿̎̂͋̿̒͆̑̏̍͗̀͘̚͠o̴̢̡̨̢̰̫̯̰̙̼̫͖͈̠̤͕͙̰̳̘̤̯͍͕̣͖͍̠͔͉̫̜̠̒̑̈́͑̈́͘̚͜͜ṅ̶̨̙͖̖̤̳̫͇̞̣̤͓̰̗̗͇̣̣̚ ̷̧̧͙̱͙̦̟̾̇̋́̏̎̌́̈́͗̀͂͋̄͒̓̽͂̂̚̕̚͠͝͝d̵̡̡̛̛̤̗͇̭̬̳̲̣͎̙͈̱̮͈̺͓̱̞̻̪̞͉̣̟̜͈̩̯̹̹̰̖̥̦̈́̈́̀̂͋̓͆̀̈̚͜͠ͅȇ̴̡̧̧̛̛̺̤̭͙͇͎̱͚̲̳̖̘̼̪̤͕̝̜̔̾̃͆̄́̀̇̿̓͑́͊̀͗̑̄͋̊̈́̈̀̎̈̆̕͜͠͝͝s̸̞͈̩͍̠̹̞̞͔͓͔͕͉̼̻͈̱̠̔͗̍̎͂͌̑̽͛͛̓̍̐͑̉̂͂͝ͅṱ̵͈̘̮͓̈͆̍͂̿͋̅̇̅̍̒̆̾͂̾̄̇̉̈̾͛̆̽͌̽̄̐́̚͠͝͝r̶̡̢̨̨̡̛͚̦͎̳̤̭͇͎̥̻͎̲͈̪̭͍̭̳͙͕͕͐̾͛̊͌̄̓͐̀̀̐̇̾͊̂̐̒͛͗̍̕͘̕͜͜͠ͅọ̷̢̹̇̐̑͑̓̂̾̒̄̑̔̽̽̓̃̑̾͋̐̀̄͌̊̏͘͠͝y̴̧̲̜̟̯̘̰̬͓̙̮͈̬͚̮͉̣̯̹̰̙̱̰͒̋̈̊̽̉̕ͅs̵̛̗̽̀̐̐̑̂͊̆͑̉̕͘ ̸̢̭̬͔̟̳͈͎̃̑ȳ̴̰̘̠̮̙̯͉͇̯̝̣͈̝̼̜̰̜͎͈̩̙̗͉̻̤̲͇̞̟̭͍̮̖̍͒̽̐͆́͒̌̓̑͌͒͐́͋̎̀̀̓̊̾͋̔̔̈́̑̿̾̈́̚̕͠o̷̧̗̟̰͇̙͕̻̰̦͖͕̠͎̮͓̮̳̱̪̹̮͈͚̲̰̝̝̬̠̞̺͂͊̎̂͂̋̌͌́͆̂̽̅̍̽̉̃̔͘͠͠͝ͅu̴̧̧̡̩͎̬̞̭͈̲̻̲̯͎͙̭̩̩͖̯̪͙̬̹̙͍̰̟̖̠̅͗͆̒͋͋̏͗͂̈́̈́̇̒̐̿̂̽͋͆͘͜r̴̛̝̺̙͔̤̠̻̟͚͔͑͂̂͂́̈́̆͊̓͊̔̑̇͗̔̈́̐́̊̌̆̐̋̄̄̒̈́͆͋́̿͘͘͝ ̴̡̢̛̜̖̺̤͈̲̟̥̲͉͖̩͔̤̗̪̖̖̦͕̘̯͍͚̞͍͇͔̭̮̔̈́̍̍̉̏̇̂͌͑̐͋͋̄̓̐͆̈́̂̂̌̓̈́̌̚͘͘̕͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅb̶̢̢̨̢̨̢̛̖͓̮̟̞̻̰͇̪̙̻͙͕͇̠̲̻͈̜̈́́̿̉͛͐̄̇̄̏̑̐̀̊͛̍̿̈̐͛͌́̈̀͐̈́̿͊̎͑̑̉͘͜͜͝͝ơ̶̡̧̧̢̠̖͚̗͙̩̪̳͇̝̞̠̲̺̬̹̖̱̩̞̝̭̹̘̗̘̤͇̗̠̲̝̮̟̆̾͊̒͊͌̽̏̾͆͂̂̎͋̍̑̍͒̂͌͒̌̂̑̕d̶̢̧̫̪̺̹̹̘̞̹̥̙̤͔̤̗̥̼͖̪͎̮͉̬̳̬̻̘͒͌ͅͅy̵̧̰͚̥͖̺͇̙̦̮̳̖̺͙̝͈̺͉͖̟͍͓̹͊̚!̷̞̩͎̗̳͓̩̬͖̇ ̷̡̧̢̡̠̲̼̠̦͔͎͈͕̟̥̠̤̲̥̰͚̞͗̑͒̔͛͑͂̓͘͜͜͝
Ṡ̷̫̑͗́̌͆̅̐̂́͌͋͒̾̽̽̒̂̏͘̕p̴̘̯̟̺̺̤͙̣͚̺͕̤̄̆̒́̂͌̈́̅̀͒͗̆̆̿͛̽̂̓̑̂̕͘ȩ̶̛̲͇̫̙̥̝̭̩̤͖̘̟̳̬̭͔̜̼́́̆̉̐͗̀̊̉̓̎͋̍͂́̌̽͗̉̈́̍̚͝͝c̵̼̘̤̠͕͙̮̦͓̺̘̜͙̯̹̓̔́͛̓̔̂͗̾̍́̋͗͆̒́̄̈͘͠ǐ̴̧̛̹͔͙̜͍͚̍͒͛͆͒ͅe̵̡̞͚̙̫͎̘̙̦̲̝̰̙̦̠̯͚̪̱̬͊̈́̒͘͝ͅs̵̡̡̛̼̝̬͈̝̙̦̯̹̥͙̦͓̃̌͌͒̐͆̿̐͗̓̑͋̎̋̑͛̅͑͒̌̐͘͜ ̵̮̳͇̠͔͙͔͙͉̬̺̗̪̘̱͆͋̑́̂͝D̵̢̗͈̠͉̬̣͎̦̘̤̓̐̎͐̅e̴̢̨̝̮̮̰̪̤͕͚̞̖͇̣̬̙͍̫̰̙̿̒̋̾̽͌g̸̨̧̛̛̠̪͔̖̦͖̫̱̜̠͈̯̝̤͙̝̙͙͉̰̼͉̝̪̠̏̀̓̽̑̽͆̎̅̏̊͊̈̍̈́̕͝ȩ̸̨̨͖͕̞͙̹̞̱͙̖̬̗̥̣̜̫̤͎̘͓̱͓̥̓̅̃̈́̂̏̊͒̽̚͘̕ǹ̴͈̹̘͎̺̹̜͓̰͈̾̉͜ȩ̷̜̬̔͛́̈̓̂̃̈́̅͋̂͌͘̕͠r̶̬̖̥̝͓̻͈̯̩͇̰̦̬̰̺͚̥̻̙̈́̏͊͋̊͂̾̌̆̆̈̀͘ͅa̴̧̧̝̠̣̩̳̗̗̘͙͕̠̤̙͍͈̽̋̍͐̀̄̚̕͜͠͠ͅț̶̼̘͚͓̲̞̎̏̑̑̆̌i̶̤̗̤͍̗̒͑́̐͑͜ö̶͍̟͙̪̲̹́͆̌̿͌̏̽͝ņ̵̧̛͎̙͓͓̫͖͍͉̯̖̙̟̟̼̦̬͕̄̈͐̂̌͌̆̑̂̒͆̎:̵̧͚̞̫̲̾̽̕
[̴̨̨̧̛̜̖͖̖̠̲̗̩̮͚͓̘͚̫̼̫͍͖̠̖̓͛͊̈́̈́̿̂̕͜͝W̴̛̰̬̙͎̻͎̰̙̳͉̭̘͓͓̯̣̓͂̉̂͊̑̊͌̌͒̍̈́̄̆͗̔͌͆̄́̊̄͑į̶̧̡̡̛̟͔͈̮̘̩̗̣͓̒̉͛̃͑͐̋̆̈́͊̉͗̂͑̾̓͗͑͘͘͘͝n̶͎̪͉͖̫͑̓͌̓̈́͑̇̂͐̃̒̍̆̕͠ǵ̶̝̰͔͍̜͔́̏̀̌͒e̴̠͉̭͖͖̯͔̥̘̘̾̕ď̵̛̼̻͍̝̹͇̗̘͖͇͓̤̳̦͎͙̣̺̀̿̉̽̈̽̊͘͜͠ ̶̢͎̥̯͕̳̞̼͕͖̯̥̠̣͈̳̝͇̮̼͊̌̒̓͂͆̐̓̑́̉͑͒̈̐̕ͅͅẆ̶̡̨̧̡͕͈͎͔̝̫̙̥̝͚͚̘̤̳̮͒̃̊̿̎̂ͅy̶̡̡̧͖͕̭̙̞͍̥͚̫͇͖̤͈̤̺̳̺̩̮̼͎̲̅̎͆͐̂̈́̆́̏͛̈́͑̀͑̓͌̂̚̕͜ͅv̸̢͕͚̜̮̞͎̜̘͎̬̘̰̠͕̫̤͕͗̎̃̔͆͐̈̊̑͘͜͠e̴̢̯̜͉͚̘̩̙̱͆̅̓͆̓̾̊̈̓̉̌̓̋̔̿̓̆͑̊̎̈́͘̕͝r̵̛͍̞̦̭̩̥̭̫͎̫̠̩̰̠̹̝̤̥͒̇̽̆̉̊̈̄͐̈̔͑̽̽̿͘̕̚͝ṇ̸̡̨̨͖̞̹̪̤̃̔̆̋͜]̶̫̙̖̞͎͇̭̦̾̿͊ ̷̧̖̭̗̝̟͈̩̳̬̻̬̤̲̜̆̑̑̾́̓͒̂͊̀̐̏͌̕̚͜͠ͅ-̴̡̖̖̫̫̩̩̮͍͇̹̮̖̤͉̝̙̮̬̪̥̳͇̏̾̄͠>̶̛̛̰̱͎̫̫͇͉̒͊̋̊̒̎̓̓̐͛̌̎̓̓͘͠͝ͅͅ ̵̧̛͉̝͇̝̻̞͎̫̪̥̂̂̈́̏̈̔̃͒́̽̏͒͊̕͝[̶̻͕̹͇̱̝̞̤̏̓̏͗̕̚̚̚Č̴̡̨̢̛̛̛̤͍͓̔͂̄͝ơ̴̢̡̦̤͈͓̙̯̲͎͕̣̫͙͔̥͖̟̼͖̫͙̯̊̂͆̒̀̈̑̀̀̅̊͑̓̎͂͑́́͘͜͝͝͝ͅͅr̸̡͎̘͍̲̩̩̯̮̞̥͕̰̐͐̄̇͂̇́̎͗͊͐̕͘͝ŕ̶̞͕̟͙͙̔̑̆̾͂̃́͗̒͂͑̊̽͊̃̿̚̚̚͝ų̴͉͈̝͉͈̳̲̦̖̅̏ͅp̷͖̼̒͆̓̓̇̒̈́̊̆͘͝͝ţ̵͍̯͕̜̥̘͕͔̭̩̱̟͙͙̯̝̦̗̮̟̩̥̦̺̖̎̃̌̋̔͗̓͑̓̇͑̈́͊͒͊͘̚ě̶͕̪̖̹̣̂̀͑̽͌̈́̉̐̈͆͋̆͂͌̃́̊͌̀̏̚̕͝͝͝d̸̡̧̢̰̺̘̞̥̪͓͉̖͍̰̳̩̄̌͐̉̐̃̀̇͌̓͑͊̈́̈́̀́̀̑̓̔͐̕͝ ̵̡̨̧̼̖̫̪͉̪͉͈̱̦̮̮͇̰͖̖̖͓̣̤̎͑͌̓͐͝͠Ẉ̷̨̢̧̲̪͉͔̰̦̲̗̗͓͈̲̻͓́̂͂̒͐̿̏̎͗́̿͋̓̀͊̊͘͝ý̷̨̡̢͎̠̤͖͙͎̦͖̰͙̣̬̗̘̞̳̮̤̩̀́͑̎̓̒̅́̎͌̔͜v̶̥̺͔̠̌̅̉̓͗̋̇̈́̀̾̓̎͜͝ȅ̵̢̢̱̖̭̖͔̭̖͔͎͙͚͎̠̍͂͒͂̊͂̀̃͛̋̊̐͆̿̾̚̕̚r̸̤͙̞̺̼̥̼̊͊̽̎̈́̐̏̐͛͂͘͘n̸͓̺͙͚̑́̇̅́̏̈̐͛͜͝]̶̝̺̪̉́̈̒̈́̍̌́͛͂͐͝͝͠
̸͔͌͗͂̋̐̌̓͘
S̸̡̞͍͓̻͓̣̱͕͔̬̟̙̹̰̿͋͌̀̄́̒͗̀̍̎̇͛̒̀̊̚͠ű̵̧̖͇͔̻̦̪̯̳̥̪̺͌͋͒̃̇̒̑̋̎̽̆́̒͗͛̕͠b̵̢̲͈̗͕́̽͒̃̃͂̄̈́̈́̇͑̓̏̌̒̆̂̊̚̕s̸̲͙̻̪̣͓͈̺̯͙͕͔̹̹̞͓̗͔̽͑͜͜͜p̴̧̨̬̖̗̦̰͊̐̋͐̒̂͌̄̓̀̆̓͛͛̀̑̈ę̶̞͖̬̖̞̮̗͓͎̹̻̰̩̦̹̪͕̬͉͓̙̦͊̑͐̓c̶̨̡͚̖̣̤͍͉̺͙̰͖͖̘̱̱͎̗͖͉͔͈͓̱͐͊̾͌́̍͂̈́̑̚͝ͅî̶̢̡̡̧̧̩̟̯̺̠̭̝̲̭̻̻̱̈̆̄̂̽̈́̕͘̕͜ę̶̨̫͎͓̫̲̱̺̤̣̰̖̲̘̿͒̆͌̈́̏̈́̍̏̈́͠͠ş̷̢̛̛̞̰̼̪̱̜̘̮̫̟̖̜̩̻̬̩͈̣̰͒̒̋̔̉̿̊̌̐̑̐̇͌͆̐͝ͅ ̶̡̡̲͇̼̙̭̦̪̺̺̜̪̹͗̅̾̔̓͐͗̓͆͐̉̀̐͛̊̐̒̕̚͜͜D̸̢͙̹̘̹̗̖̟͇̦͈̼̲̲͎̏͊̄͂̄̀̄̾̏̆͘͘ę̸̨̢̖͍͚̖͎̥̤͔̤͈̝̪͚̓̒̃̆ͅg̵̟͙̮̬͆̀̿̀̄͂̈́̌͒̐̾̌̚͝e̵̛͈̽͆̏͆̋́̐͒̈͑͐̈́̓̏̄̽̅͝͝͝ņ̵̨͉̤̻͚̲͍͔̹͉̾́͆̾͛̋͊̽̄̀̇̊̃̐͘é̸̢͚͚̘̦͍̠̝͕͈͌͂̓̊͝ŗ̶̛̠̹̪̪̙̘̙̭̲̱͕̪͇̗̂̔̂̎̉̃̂̅̓̇͂́͆͌̚͝͝ă̶͙͇̋̊̇̓̄͂͌̇̄͑͋̆̍̈́͛͒̍͑̚t̶̨̗̩͍̙̗̫͚͕̣̹̗̳̣̤̗͎̱̘̩̬͓̦̳̞͕̊̐́̀̾̑̽̂̓̏̎̈́͗̓͊̕͘͘ͅì̴̛̠̳̯̈́͂͑͌͑̑̌̃̊̌̐̀̉̋͗̽̿̈́̈̕͝ǫ̸̢̛͓̫͚̘̺̳̞̩̘̯̪͓̼͌͗ṇ̸̢͓͉̦̠̠͚͕͈͚̞͍̉͋̏̈́́̉̈͂̇̂͒̔̓͆̒̀̃̓́̕͘͜͠:̵̨̛̥͓̫̺̗̖͎͔̜̺͉̙̤̪̘̜͔̈͂̃̓̀̾̈̆̚͠ͅ
[̶̧̪̖̪͇̘͓̫͆̑́̆̃̈́̈́̊͊́̇̅̓̕͠͝Ĺ̶̹͍̺̝͍̞̗̣̦̭̥̼̃̇͛̒̐̍̚ȩ̴̨̢̧̤̼͎̻͕͉͓͔̞̞̖͇̉̆͆͐̾̒̋̈́̋̀̾̐̔̚͜ş̶̧̢̺̪͓̟̣͍̥̱̺̦̦̝̟͐̏͆̈́̇̈́̑͑͆̂͘͜ͅͅs̷̢͈̍̀͝͝ȩ̷̡̡̪̼̻͚̫̙̥͕̳̞̼̱̱̟̮͈̀̈́͛́̊̅͑̃̒̋͊͑͗̓́͒̿̃͒̽̓̓̆͗͘͝ȓ̴̢̡͚͎̠̦̼̗̰̳̙̘̙̖͍̯̰̠͚̬̯͓̭̦͐́̀̏̆̀̽̈́̒͋̈́͐́͘̚͘̚̕͝͝ ̴̡̡̛̭͔̥̤̖̙͎̼̼̲̣̩̮͎̳̫̞̠̞͕͎̙͖̣̫͒͒̆͐͂̈́̋́͛̓̋͛͑̃̃̿̋̃̔̓̊͊͘̚͠F̸̢͍̥͖̗̖̮̺͕̪̻̐̿͒r̴̨̧͓̥̦̺͎̳̯͈͎̠̙͙̱̟͑͑͐͛͂͌͆̕͘͜o̶̡̨̜̪̜͉̻͈̹͈͔̳̩̯̦̻̻̳̦͕̖̣̺̙͕͂̏̔̐̒̆͒̽̽̂̽͜͝͠͝ś̴̢̧̖̲̝̥̰̳̩͉̝̯͙͔̗͎͇̜̱͍̝̊ͅẗ̷̢̢̛̛͈̘̻̳̥́͂͑̊̒̌̌̕͠ ̶̳͖̞̪͚̟͉̟͇̠͊̇̎͆̄͛̐̋̈́͑͆̃͋̈́̅́͂̄̓̀͌͑̽͝͠Ẅ̴̫͔̠̫͓̲̟͎́̈́̄͋̓͑̓̇̐͠ẙ̷̛̛͈̳̹̝̤͈̬̩͈̫̥͙͔͙̤̊̾̏͂̍̈́̀̊́̊̌̂̎̓̾̈́̐̋̂̽̏̎͜͝͝v̶̢̧̹̹͍͇̯̬͇̖̆̓̋͑̑̊̉͑̎̈͐̂͊̃̚͜e̸͓̦͉͉̯̦̞̱̐̋͛͆͐̂̄̇͂̅̐̇̅̃̌̈͜͠ŗ̷̡͎͎̮̲̠͔̼̲̙̪͚̊͛̃͐̋ͅͅn̷̢̫̼̫̜̜̭͈̭̞͕͓̹̖̳̳͔̮͚͖̥̯͍͇̿̅̈́̈̽͒́̒̾̓̆̂͊̎̍̀̇̑̋̅̚͜͠͠]̴̛̛̛̝̝̱̖̝̖̤͔̗̤̟̻͔̟͇͙̭̜̇̋̅̇͋̓͛̅̒̈́͗̌̑̿̃̉͂̄̔̕̚̚͝͠ͅ ̴̨͔̤̤̟͇̠̼̓͗͐̃̐͜-̵̟̜̫͉͚͔̱͎̤̱͉̙̻̯̻̊̓͜>̴̹̠͎̝̐̏́̎̍͋̀͋̐̉͒̒̔́͑̀̈́͊͌̀͘̕͝͝͝͝ ̸̡̛̛͖̤͇̫̺͚͙̝̠̻͚͙͔̲̒́̇̅͂̐̽̽́̓̿̀͑̂͌̒͊̒́̾́̾̌͝[̴̢̢͙͔͇̥̮͓͉͈̮̥̫̫̠͙͗ͅͅ-̷̞̱̞̝̭̫̞͍̋̂͌̅̈́̂͘̚-̶̡̩̬̣̖̬̱̥̾̽̊͋́̕͘-̵̡̧̟̩̳̺̪͇̮̺͇̓͛͛̐̔̈͜ͅ-̶̛̛̥͎̗̻͔̹̮̘͓̦͑̋̓̔̽̇́̈̀̿̈́͆̐͒̒̎̍̿̎̈́̃̈́̕͠ͅ ̴̧̮̖͕͉͇̣͚͈̫̎̊̊Ẅ̵̥͋̓͊̽͋͋̃͌̿͒̊̇̓͛͑͗͘͘͝y̵̨͖̟̤̗̥̜͚̳͓̽̌̇̂̀̅͌͑͝v̴̧̨̛̠̝̟̭͕̫̹̺̩̯̯͙͇͕͉̜̹̠̟̮̽̉̅̕͜͝ē̴̱̻̥̠̗̻̇̇͑ͅṛ̸̢̛̻̩̰͕̮̠̍͆͗̌̇̍͆̐̈̂̂̂͑̊̾ń̴̛̦̘̼͔͈̲̝̺̰̿̐̀͂̽̏̾͗̋̅̈͘̕̚]̶̟̟͙͖̣̩͈̳̭̍͒͛̍
Š̴̡̻̟͎͈̖͎̺̃̈́̆̀̂̈́̀̈́͒̀͠k̸̖̘̜͎̘̻̘̺͇͕̒͂i̸̡̢̡̡͖͕̲̠̱͕̻̳̞͔̩̤͍̳̖̼̓͊̇̂̆̅̾̔̈̒̇͑̀̈̀͐͗́͘͜͜͠ļ̶̢̣̜̼̖̬̫͈̝̝͕̗̙̥͔̰̲̮̻͙̜̻̠̬̌͋͊͛̾̐̔͋̋̌̋͑͌̈́̅̈̈̏͋̓̎͂̎̐̽̕͠ͅl̵̛̯͙̺̖̐́̿̄͛̅̀͗̓̍͘ ̵̨̢̧̡͉̫̮̮͎̗̟̥̠̻̳̹̬̱͙̲͈͉̈́͛͗̈́͋́̄̏̇̈́̓̔͜͝͝͝ͅ[̶̢̛̫̦̟̪͕͈̪̬̩̪̩̳̮̺̩̉͋͑̇͆̈́́̋̂̔́͂̒̋͛̅̐̉̐͂̎͘͠͝͝F̵̢͚̥͇̩̦̥̹̊̃̈́̔̋́̑̀̋͑̿̓̔̓ͅr̴̡̧̖͖̘̦̰̦̙͚͎̖͚̩͉͕̩̹͔̳̐͑̏͘ó̵̢̡̨͓̩͔̘̬̗̗̞̯͚̹̭̺̟̪̙̺̈̒̈́͛̉͘͜ͅs̵̢̢̨̭̤͕̟̟̙̱͎̼̘̱̯͍̝͖̼̼͕͇͓̳͕͐̀̒͋̆̈́̈́̚ͅͅt̴̡̨̡̢̩͚̬͍͉̳͉̰̪̳͇͎̹̙̱̪͓̻̥̭̪͎̊̾̍͗̇͌̈́ ̵̢͈͉̦̳͇͉̘̤̹̘̫̮̻̲̩͖̊̔̊̈́̃͆͂̿̄͋̀̌͝B̶̢̨̰̦̙̟̤̯͔̲̟̌̔̓̌̽r̶̨̧̤͈͚͉̺͎̭̃̀̀͆͑̚͜ę̶̡̧̛̹̰͍͉̯̖͔̝̖̼̪̳̪̯͉̫̯̼͕͎͑̓̓̿̏̀̽̐̓̕͠ä̸̡̡̰̘̟̻̩̠̹̟̰̬̫̠͎͔͇͉̳̩̠͙̤̦̟͍́̾̑̈́͛̄̔̏͐̀̇̈̍̄͛͑̓̀͘͝͝͠͝ͅţ̶̧̠̻̫̤̜͆̂̎͑͋́̔͗͜͝͝h̴̢̬̹̗̦͙̲͖̜͖̩̦̤̭͎̞̳̱̘͎̭͉̀̿̋̿̏̏̔͐͂͜͜͜ͅ ̸̢̨̢̡̨̢͖̠͉̥̭̩̻̼̬͍͈̭̺̪̯̳̺̼͆̓̉̍̽͊̃̓͋̂͜-̴̢̨̢̪̻̺̞̪͇̯͔̤̖̤̜͓̬̳̳̝͙̰̐́͗͐͜ ̶̧̢̧͇̼̱͕̳͈̗̦̗̳̬͕̱̻̠̜̜͈̪̻̙͍̫̊̈́͌̾͐͑̑̃͑̅̏̌̈͆̀̑͜L̷̢̨̡̛͔̺̱̘̻͖̪͕̹̤̫̲̤̹͈͖̠͍̖̓̄̅̽̉̋̒͋̚͘͝v̷̢̧͉̪͚̼̙̱̜͈͇̈̃̔́̎͑̉̑́͐̋̿̊͑͗͆̍͘͝͝ĺ̶͎̮͈̞̦̥͔̗̦̂̿̀͑̈̏̐̽͆̅ ̵̖̱̫͈̺̥͚̘͕͊3̸̡̢̢̧͈̻̱͓͇̣̳̭̗͍̫̠͉̫̰̞͓̉̔̅̄̂̀̊̈́̓̎̓̐̎͒͗́̈́̽̌͘͝͠͝͠0̷̝̤̩̼͎͕͚͝ͅ]̵̢̢̡̻̲̱͎͍̱͙̘̪͚̤̤͖͓̠͎̼̗͐̊͊͊̾̈́̉́̇̋́̇͑̕̚͘ ̴̢̢͎̤͖̭͕̠̫͕͌͂̔́͋̆̽̃̎̈́Ĺ̷̨̺̞̓̉́̔̍̌͑͗͋͂͋̿̈́͐̓͆̒̊̊̓͒̕͠͝ờ̵̖̙̖̝̪̹̬͖̼̝̀̀̑̍̽̾͛̌̋̇̈́̒͒̍̑̕͠s̴̜͎͓̉̎̽̅̑̽̌̒̓̀̽̔̀̓̇̐͑́̓̅̏̍͘̚t̶̨̜͎̠͉̩̦͙͓̠̝͈̞̙̻͖̠͉͓̬̥̗͖̟͓͗̈́̽—̴̻̳͈̆́
S̷͓̪̹̩̍͂̅͒̀̅̅̐̒̑̋̀͛͒͊̊̓͑̔̎͘̚̕͝ḱ̴̯͖̱͙̫̤̻͇͓̤̮̜̘͉̮̮̙̝͕͉͔͓͙͇͜͝i̸̧̭̩͖͙̺͂̎͂͑̽̊̈́̈͘͘͘͠l̵̨̧̧̧̛͍̣̹̰͇̙̫̹̰͓͔̺͇̠̜̭̆̀́̓̎͘͠͠͠l̷̨̢̢͕̖̗̥̳̲̲̩̝̠̻͕̭̠̺̖͔̼̭̟̘̠̅͐͊̆ ̵̙̱͇̳̘͈̣̌̀̈́̋͑̈́̆[̴̘̫͓̲͇̪̦̻̣̘̆̀̏̍̏Į̴̯͍̻̭̉̿̐̉͋͋̇c̵̛̣̫̙̮̈́̒͒̎̃͌̐̆͛̽̋̈́̌̆́̾̇̄̒́̃̽̕̕͝ë̴̬͉̩͐̒̈́̊̔̀̈́͗͊̑͆̀͐̃ ̴̨̲͓̠͚͂̎͜͠ͅM̶̡̩̤͇̭̪͎͙͈͖̗͖̞͔̳̀̏̉͐̀͛́̑̓̍͐̏̔̓̚͠ͅͅͅ—̶̛̯̈́͒̐́̆̕
The lone Wyvern’s consciousness began to fade as she let the corruption take over her. All she could dream of was vengeance. Or… no. Not vengeance. She dreamt of protecting her kin. Her people. As that final thought plagued her mind, regret sank in.
And she wished she didn’t succumb to that which destroyed her home.
[-̶̧̛̻͕̹̩̖͕̑̈́̂͗̾͊̓͌̀͗́͝ͅ-̵̖͎͖̤̌̇̿̓̿̌́̆͛͆͘͝-̵̧̣̩͚̗͕̤͙͉̱͕͎͔̟͐̑͊͌ͅ-̶̻͕̲͓͈̼̥̰̘͔͛̍̊̒̉̈́̐̂̋̕͝ Wyvern - Lvl. 142]
“What is that?”
Helena Warshade stared in shock as the former Mistress of Remnants’ body twisted into itself. The world around the Wyvern tore apart, rippling with the familiar distortion I’d seen twice before. I leap back, and my clones readied themselves.
“That’s the corruption! Get back! It’s dangerous!”
“The corruption?”
Repeating after me, the Archmage stupidly stayed where she was instead of actually listening. I scowled as the world itself began to warp and tear, permeating the corruption to everything that was around it. A fissure seemed to whip out at Helena Warshade, and that was when she finally moved out of the way.
The Great Tempest Archmage of Mavos Academy unleashed a crackling lightning bolt into the center of the corruption, but it swerved into the distorted mass and joined it. The corruption grew larger. Helena Warshade stared.
“What… is going on? That is not any space magic I’ve seen.”
She struggled to even articulate herself as her cloud circled around the corruption. I scowled, looking into the blurry figure of the Wyvern with [Planar Navigation].
“That’s because it’s not! It’s the corruption. You know, the thing that comes from the Endlands?”
“The End… what—”
She started, only for a flying rock to shoot her way. The Archmage barely conjured a barrier in time as I narrowed my eyes.
“Focus! You can’t attack it, but we can still stop this!”
It wasn’t like the [Ancient Centinel] which seemed to have control over the corruption. I remembered the transformation when I battled it— the Corrupted Centinel. It transformed all at once, and it retained its sanity.
But the Wyvern? The former Mistress of Remnants? She made garbled noises as she shrieked, breaking apart and dying. It was completely different. The corruption was taking control over her.
I turned to Helena Warshade as the corruption began to spread out.
“Can you use space magic?”
“I can only cast space magic spells equal to a level 70—”
“That’s good enough! I need you to contain it!”
My clones and I charged forward as I reached out with [Mystical Projection]. The pair of invisible arms tore into the corruption, pushing it apart as Helena Warshade supported me from behind. The corruption was almost palpable— I could feel it pushing me back and digging into my skin.
I grimaced, and my clones leapt in front of me to lead the charge. Their flaming skins flaked off with each step we took. Behind me, I heard Helena Warshade mutter and point at the area around us.
“Cube of Isolation.”
The ground beneath me shifted, like it was overlaid with a box. And the box began spinning, shrinking as it trapped myselves and the Corrupted Wyvern. The corruption grew thicker the instant it was cordoned off, and I couldn’t hear anything outside of this faux pocket dimension.
I got closer and closer as the corruption grew wilder. The pocket dimension began to crack, the corruption threatening to leak out once more. One clone vanished as I used [Mystical Projection] to finally pull apart the distorted Wyvern hide. Finally, I caught sight of the source of the corruption.
Blood. It was blood. The former Mistress of Remnants was nothing now but a mosaic mess of scales and hide and wings, but her blood continued to flow. Even without a body. Even without anything to course through. It moved faster and faster, glinting with ever-changing colors as it hovered at the center of the mass.
A voice cried out as another of my clones dissipated, bubbling away into distorted wisps.
“̴͎̟͎̲͉̅̇͝M̴̺̣̬̭̹͎̿̔͊̎̏̃͛́͂͜y̵̨̗͎͎̪͓̼͖̠̻̮̑̓ͅ k̸̢̗͎̓̎̾́͐̑̊͂͆͝i̶̯̪̳̐́͜n̷̜̱͈̰̭̦͇̺̻͓̮̔̃̂̆̉͋͛͋̓̑͑ͅ…̴̨̝̰͙̭̳̰̾́”̵̢̜̟̗̟̙̹̀̍̽͂̇̈́̌͂̊̃̕͝
“What? How are you even talking?”
It echoed around me like a whisper. I stared at the former Mistress of Remnants’ head as it wheeled around me. Its eyes faced my direction, crystal clear despite the blur that was everything else.
“̵̭̤͎̻͈͔͍̩̍́͑̓͒̚P̴͈̲̜̩̲͇͛̇̍̅͂̃́̃͗̀̕ͅl̵̦͒́̅͛̒ȩ̷̻̩̣̰͓̗͉͎̻͋̍̏̑̍̔͜͠å̵͓̣̥̙̮͉̻̻̲͆͒̈́̇̌ṣ̸̩̰͈̩̭͔̘͎̳̹̱̉̂̈́e̴̢̗͈̘̯͔̺̪̼̥͓̟͆͊̃̔́̀̆̇̀͠…̵̢̩̦͎͕̠͚̞͈̈́̑͌͌͋͛̓̓̿̀́͘”̸̢̡̣̞͙̬͖̝̯͗̂͗͌̇̂͆͑̂̃͝
I felt my grip over my [Mystical Projection] growing numb. Like when I’d been fighting the Cursed— or Corrupted— Boulder. A third clone died, and I was left with just one another clone as the Cube of Isolation failed. I gritted my teeth as I felt my body twisting, trying to tear itself apart.
“I’m a bit busy right now—”
And I recoiled. The Wyvern head stopped right before my face. I stared directly into its hollow, dead eyes. The mouth moved.
“Save them.”
It spoke in a clear voice. I blinked. It was the voice of the Mistress of Remnants. I looked at it, uncomprehending. But it didn’t matter. As the Cube of Isolation shattered, the Wyvern parts suddenly… receded.
All at once, the corruption was forcefully withdrawn to the broken body of the Wyvern. No— it looked like the Wyvern’s distorted corpse was containing it. Whatever it was, I saw a way out.
I threw myself back as my clone hurled herself into the twisted mass. The corruption seemed to reject her. It wanted to repel my fiery clone and send her flying. But she went through even the corruption. Thanks to Partial Phasing, she slipped through the cracks of space and reached the center of the mass.
I braced myself as I spun around, and I saw a flash of red. Just as I looked away, my clone detonated. She erupted into a wild blast— perhaps it was because of the corruption, but I couldn’t control the size of the explosion.
Everything nearby was swept up by the golden flames. Even me. I readied myself to be burned by my own fire. But I heard a voice. I looked up just in time to see Edithe running down a few streets away with Willy and Daniel. She pointed at me.
“Salvos— [Aura of Greater Protection]!”
A flicker ran through my body. The familiar protective aura wrapped around me, and I beamed.
“Huh. Thanks Edithe—”
And I was engulfed in my own golden flames.
Defeated [-̶̧̛̻͕̹̩̖͕̑̈́̂͗̾͊̓͌̀͗́͝ͅ-̵̖͎͖̤̌̇̿̓̿̌́̆͛͆͘͝-̵̧̣̩͚̗͕̤͙͉̱͕͎͔̟͐̑͊͌ͅ-̶̻͕̲͓͈̼̥̰̘͔͛̍̊̒̉̈́̐̂̋̕͝ Wyvern - Lvl. 142]!
More experience is awarded for defeating an enemy at least 10 levels above you!
Subspecies [Daeva Cambion] Level Up!
[Daeva Cambion – Lvl. 132] -> [Daeva Cambion – Lvl. 133]
Gained 5 Stat Points and 3 Skill Points!
Class [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus] Level Up!
[Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 98] -> [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 99]
Gained 2 Secondary Skill Points!
Class [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus] Level Up!
[Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 99] -> [Grand Mystic of the Nexeus - Lvl. 100]!
Gained 2 Secondary Skill Points!
[Advancement Available]
MelasD
Read up to 20 Salvos chapters ahead on my patreon.
Join my discord or subreddit.
Follow me on twitter or instagram.
