The forest was alive and vast.
Birds called lazily from the branches, a soft rhythm beneath the rustle of leaves.
Sunlight slipped between the trees in thin, broken shafts, painting the dirt path in gold.
Gareth walked alone, hands clasped behind his back.
For once, he wasn't rushing — just walking, quiet listening. His boots pressed quietly into the moss as he breathed in the faint scent of pine.
A small smile tugged at his mouth."Peaceful," he muttered. "Kinda nice for once."
A distant flutter answered him — then another.
He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder.Nothing.
Then came the sound.A faint hiss.Then another, sharper — from somewhere behind the trees.
His smile froze."…Nope."
The next second, he was gone — sprinting between the trunks, cloak snapping behind him.
Branches whipped past as he ducked under roots and leapt over a fallen log.Whatever was hissing stayed out of sight, but he didn't wait to find out.
By the time he broke through the last line of trees, he was drenched in sweat, breath heavy, armor clinking with each step.
He stopped — and blinked.
The forest had opened.
Before him stretched a vast lake, gleaming beneath the midday sun.
The surface shimmered so brightly he had to squint — waves glinting like melted glass.
He wiped his forehead and let out a shaky laugh."Great. Terrifying noises behind me, paradise in front. Love the balance."
He stepped closer, eyes tracing the light as it danced across the water.
Then, for the first time in what felt like forever, he actually saw the sun — full and clear above the horizon.
He lifted a hand to shield his eyes."…Missed this," he murmured.
The air near the water was cool, soft.
He crouched beside the edge, watching his reflection ripple in the silver-blue surface.
"Alright, let's hope this one isn't cursed."
He dipped his hands into the lake. The water was cold — biting, refreshing.He took a sip.
It was perfect.Clean. Sharp.Almost sweet.
"Delicious," he said with surprise. "Finally, something good—"
The words broke off.
A sharp burn seared through his throat.His veins pulsed — the mark on his arm flaring like a brand.
He gasped, clutching his neck as his vision blurred white.Then came the convulsion — sudden, violent.
He fell to his knees and vomited.
Thick, black water splattered across the sand — sizzling faintly as it hit.
The smell hit next: rot, iron, decay.
"Are you kidding me?!" he coughed, wiping his mouth. "Can't even drink anymore?"
The mark on his arm throbbed once more, dimming slowly from white to red.He glared at it like it had betrayed him.
"…Thanks for the warning, by the way."
The lake, once so clear, now looked darker — its reflection bending unnaturally, hiding things below.Gareth stood up, breathing hard, still annoyed.
"Delicious, he said," he muttered. "Refreshing, he said."
He brushed sand from his clothes and turned away from the water, following the curve of the shoreline.
After a few minutes of walking, the trees grew thin again.
The world felt quieter here — even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Then he saw it.
A small shelter — stone half-buried in vines, roof collapsed, walls cracked and leaning.Maybe a watch hut, or something older.
He stared at it, squinting."…Yeah, this definitely doesn't scream 'bad idea.'"
Still, curiosity pulled him forward.
He stepped closer, his shadow stretching long across the cracked stone.
The mark on his arm flickered faintly again — a quiet pulse, as if something inside the ruin was waiting.
Gareth crouched near the ruin, brushing dust from the stone. The air here was cooler, heavier. Even the birds had gone silent.
He looked around — just trees, lake, and this lone shelter leaning against the slope.
"Nothing creepy about this at all," he muttered.
He scanned the ground, picked up a dry stick, and then struck his dagger against a flat stone. Sparks flew.
Once. Twice. Then finally — fire.
The flame caught slowly, licking up the stick until a faint glow filled the ruin's entrance.
He lifted it, the light flickering across his face.
"Alright… let's see what you're hiding."
He stepped inside.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the sound outside faded — like the air swallowed it whole.
His footsteps echoed faintly against the broken floor.
The place was small, maybe once a prayer hall or storage chamber.
Roots crawled down the walls, winding between faint carvings long erased by time. Every corner smelled of ash and age.
He moved deeper, holding the burning stick ahead.
Shadows slid across the walls, twisting with the flame's rhythm.
Then he froze.
A mural stretched across the far wall — enormous, covering stone from floor to ceiling.
Painted figures clashed beneath a shattered sky — legions of men, winged beings, and creatures of light and darkness locked in war.
Colors bled into one another — gold, crimson, black — though the paint had long faded.
But it was alive.
Even half-ruined, the mural pulsed faintly with a glow from underneath, like it remembered what it once was.
Gareth stepped closer, eyes tracing the battle — until he noticed the writing.
Small symbols etched beneath the painting — curling, sharp, and ancient. No one in the modern world could read them. No one, except him.
His hand trembled slightly as he brushed dust off the letters.
They weren't foreign. They were familiar.
He read slowly, voice low, almost disbelieving.
"I am an Otherworlder… from the Age of Gods."
The words sank into him like a knife.
He took a step back, pulse quickening. The fire flickered harder, shadows crawling across the walls as if they'd heard it too.
For a moment, he just stood there — the flame shaking in his hand, his mind caught between disbelief and recognition.
"…No way."
The mark on his arm flared once, faint and slow — as though agreeing.
The mural glowed faintly in the dark.
The longer Gareth stared, the clearer the words beneath became — no longer whispers of dust, but a voice etched in stone.
He leaned closer, reading the inscription, each word heavy and deliberate.
"I am an Otherworlder — the last emperor of this age. I ruled with an iron fist. I forged the Kingdom of Sion and the six sectors that served beneath it. If you've found this… then perhaps my name still echoes. I bet I'm famous."
Gareth blinked, lowering the torch slightly."…You bet you're famous? Guy sounds like he'd kill for applause."
He almost laughed — almost.
Then his eyes caught the next lines, carved deeper, sharper.
"If you do not understand this tongue…if none alive can read these words…then the truth has been buried.The Age of Gods — erased.
The kings and nobles — liars.They hide what came before.What they fear to remember."
The flame flickered.The shadows on the wall shifted — slow, deliberate.
A cold feeling crawled up Gareth's spine.The air changed, thickening, pressing down like unseen weight.
He felt it.Something breathing behind him.
He turned — nothing.Only the faint echo of his own pulse.
Then his gaze snapped back to the wall.New words had appeared beneath the others — fresh, dark, wet, as if carved by something still alive.
RUN OR DIE.
The torch sputtered violently.
Gareth's instincts screamed.He spun, throwing his hand out — the Veil igniting in a pulse of white light.
Telekinetic force slammed into the far corner.Stone cracked — and something lurched into view.
A figure — tall, armored, its metal warped and dripping black ichor.
Its helm bore the sigil of a burning sun — the mark of Sunstead.
Its voice came out like scraping iron."...Unworthy..."
The ground trembled as it stepped forward.
"Yeah, sure," Gareth muttered, voice tight.
"Of course it's from Sunstead. Why wouldn't it be?"
He raised his hand again — another telekinetic blast.It hit, but the creature barely staggered.
Then it roared — the sound warping the air, vibrating through his bones.
Gareth's mark blazed open.
The Veil surged.But this time, something went wrong.
The corrupted air flooded him instead — dark tendrils seeping into his veins, turning them black.
His chest tightened. He gasped, coughing hard — thick, black blood spilling down his chin."—Not… good…"
The corrupted warrior lunged.Gareth stumbled back, his vision spinning, the mark on his arm glowing violently.
Then — it shifted.The mark drank the corruption.
Energy pulsed through him, his body trembling as light and rot clashed beneath his skin.
He dropped the torch — it hit the ground, sparks scattering — then darkness.
Only his glowing mark lit the ruin now.One heartbeat. Two.
Then he moved — pure reflex.
He slammed both hands forward, telekinesis exploding outward like a shockwave.
The corrupted warrior crashed into the wall with a deafening crack.Dust and debris rained down.
Gareth staggered, vision fading, and bolted for the exit.
He burst through the broken doorway, collapsing against the cool grass outside.The night wind hit his face — cold, clean, real.
Behind him, the ruin groaned, and faint black mist seeped from its cracks.
Gareth spat blood, still panting.
"Run or die," he muttered weakly. "Yeah… got it."
He looked at the lake — once silver, now dull and dark.The mark on his arm pulsed faintly, as if alive.
Then the forest fell silent again.
The corrupted knight stood still — towering, breath rattling through broken metal.Black steam hissed from its armor joints, dripping onto the stone floor.
Gareth's pulse pounded in his ears. The mark on his arm flickered, aching for release — but he forced it still."No," he muttered. "Not this time."
He lowered his stance, fists tight.
The warrior moved — faster than its size should've allowed.A punch tore through the air where his head had been.
Gareth ducked, rolling to the side as the impact shattered a pillar behind him.
Dust rained down. He coughed, eyes narrowing.
"Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way."
He lunged forward — one step, two — then slammed his fist into the creature's chestplate.
The sound was like striking iron — his knuckles burned, but the impact drove the knight back half a step.
It growled — a sound that wasn't human anymore.Dark liquid sprayed from the cracks in its armor, scattering across the floor.
A drop splashed against Gareth's lips.
Cold.Bitter.It burned.
The world twisted.
He staggered, eyes wide — the ruin around him melting away into light.
Suddenly, he was standing in a grand hall.
Golden banners hung from the walls.
Crowds roared, cheering.At the center of it all — a man in radiant armor, crowned with sunfire. His presence was commanding, divine.
The Emperor.
The same man from the mural.The Otherworlder.
People knelt before him, shouting his name — though the sound was lost in the roar of victory.
And beside him… the warrior Gareth had just fought.
Young.Strong.Proud.
Their laughter echoed — friends once.
But the light shifted.
The hall darkened.The cheers faded.
Now — betrayal.
The same young warrior's eyes turned black, his hand trembling as another blade struck him from behind.
Blood spilled like ink across the throne room floor.
The Emperor's crown fell.The light of Sion dimmed.
The warrior screamed — voice twisting, body warping as corruption swallowed him whole.He fell into darkness.Fell through ages.
Until only one truth remained:
He awoke again — here.
Gareth gasped — the vision snapping apart.
The world slammed back into him.
The corrupted knight's fist connected squarely with his jaw.
The impact threw him backward, crashing against the wall.Pain shot through his body, white-hot and real.
He hit the ground hard, the torch flying from his hand.The flame went out.
Darkness swallowed everything.
His thoughts blurred, vision fading.But through the haze, he saw it — the knight standing over him, silent, almost mournful.
For a heartbeat, Gareth thought he saw its eyes flicker — not red, but human.
Then everything went black but he awakened easily.
Gareth's breath came ragged, the faint silver pulse in his chest flickering beneath torn fabric.
He pressed a hand there, steadying himself as the corrupted warrior circled him.
"The Veil in my chest…" he muttered, voice low, almost reflective. "People call it a core or heart, but it's simpler than that — it's a root."
His eyes glowed faintly, like light trying to breathe through storm clouds.
"It drinks from the world — draws in what you'd call magic, or energy, or whatever holds reality together. I just… reroute it. Like a thief breaking into the system."
He let out a shaky laugh, half-mad, half-fascinated."I don't cast spells. I hack the rules — rewrite the smallest truths until the world bends a little."
He looked down at his trembling hand, veins faintly pulsing with silvery blue.
"But the price's real. Too many nutrients, and I overload. I burn from the inside out.
And in a place like this…" — his eyes swept over the black forest air, thick with rot and malice — "…every breath is poison.
Every particle is corruption. Anyone else would die the instant they drew it in."
Then he smirked, faintly, even as pain wracked his body.
"But I'm not anyone else. I'm a walking anomaly — a flaw the Veil can't fix. Maybe that's my curse…"
He clenched his fist, the ground cracking beneath him."…or my advantage."
He staggered once, coughing, the silver glow faltering. "Gods, it hurts like hell," he whispered through gritted teeth. "But pain means it's working."
The corrupted warrior's last blow hurled Gareth backward — through splintered stone and dust — straight into the old chamber of the mural.
His back slammed against the wall, the air knocked out of him.
He groaned, pushing himself up amid the ruin — and that's when he saw it.
Half-buried beneath rubble and ivy, something gleamed faintly — red and black, pulsing like a dying heartbeat.
A sword.
The air around it hummed, alive and dangerous. Gareth hesitated for only a breath before wrapping his hand around the hilt.
The moment he did, the blade sang — a deep, metallic resonance that vibrated in his bones.
The markings along its edge shimmered faintly crimson, as though recognizing him.
He stepped forward.
The corrupted warrior loomed again in the doorway, its armor shrieking against stone.
Its once-human face twitched beneath blackened helm plates, and a harsh, broken rasp escaped its throat —
"...You shall… die…"
The words weren't spoken. They were dragged out of the creature's soul.
Gareth's eyes narrowed. "You first."
He dashed forward — movements sharper, faster now — the new blade cutting clean arcs of red light. Sparks tore through the air as steel met corrupted iron.
One strike. Two. He slipped under the creature's swing, twisted, and drove the blade through its chest.
It screamed — a distorted echo that rattled the walls. Then it went still.
Gareth exhaled shakily, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Not bad for a relic."
But before he could take another breath, the thing moved.
The corpse twitched, then rose again, its armor splitting open, black fluid spilling out like smoke.
"Oh, come on—" Gareth hissed, leaping back as a claw ripped through where he'd stood.
He steadied himself, eyes flicking across the field — the lake shimmering faintly in the moonlight just outside. Think, Gareth.
He ran. The monster roared and followed, each step cracking the ground behind him.
At the lake's edge, Gareth turned, breath ragged, eyes calculating. The air trembled with corrupted pressure.
"If I'm right…" he muttered, backing up. "Then a corrupted thing can't handle more corruption."
He waited — timing it perfectly — and as the warrior lunged, Gareth leapt clean over it. The beast crashed through the surface, vanishing in a surge of black water.
Gareth landed hard, sword in hand, panting as ripples spread across the lake's surface.
"Let's see what happens," he murmured.
The lake hissed like acid. Bubbles churned, and the black water frothed violently as if boiling from within.
Gareth stood still at the edge, sword dripping, watching the chaos with narrowed eyes.
"Guess that's what happens when corruption eats corruption," he muttered, half-expecting silence to follow.
But silence never came.
Instead—
A roar split the air.Low, guttural, ancient. The kind that makes the ground itself flinch.
Gareth froze, pupils narrowing as the lake surface exploded.
The monster rose again — no longer merely corrupted, but twisted.
Its armor had fused with its flesh, black veins glowing faintly crimson beneath the cracks. Its face had become something grotesque — a mockery of humanity, split into too many eyes and too many smiles.
And then — it clapped.
Slow. Echoing. Mocking.
Each clap reverberated through the forest, shaking the trees. Water dripped from its limbs as its distorted grin widened, revealing rows of blackened teeth.
Then it laughed.
A deep, distorted laugh that carried across the entire forest — wild, guttural, almost joyous.
Gareth took a step back, muscles coiled, heart thundering. "You've got to be kidding me…" he whispered.
Far away, deep within the forest , cadets paused mid-walking. Some turned nervously toward the sound.
Even Kael looked up from his group, eyes narrowing for just a moment.Then he turned away. "Ignore it," he muttered. "We've got a mission to complete."
And the laughter continued — stretching, echoing, fading into the distance — as Gareth stood alone at the edge of the corrupted lake… staring into the heart of something far worse than death.