The Thunder Wolf staggered, bleeding purple-red from dozens of wounds. Its survival instinct, deep beneath the erased mind, kept it fighting.
"One more strike," Draven said, breathing hard. His shoulder throbbed where the claws had torn through. "End this. No more suffering."
Malvorn's earth erupted. Massive crystalline constructs wrapped around the beast's body, holding every limb. Overlord power was absolute, and the peak Lord-tier creature was completely restrained. Draven drew his blade. Steel cold in his hand—a necessary tool for a necessary act.
"I'm sorry," he whispered one final time, the sound swallowed by the swirling mist. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."
He stepped forward, blade ready. His hand was steady, though his heart trembled. The Thunder Wolf's empty white eyes tracked him, devoid of recognition, showing only the fading instinct of a predator. Draven struck. Clean. Precise. Through the heart in one smooth motion.
The beast stiffened. Lightning crackled one final, dying time, and then nothing. The body went instantly limp in Malvorn's restraints, the suffering gone. For just a heartbeat, Draven thought he saw something in those empty eyes—not consciousness returning, but simply release. Peace finally granted after corruption's torture.
"It's done," Draven said quietly, his voice hollow. "It's over."
The Thunder Wolf's body began to shimmer instantly. Edges blurring. Flesh turning to purple-white mist. Bones becoming vapor. Blood evaporating into the corruption that had created it. The mist swirled upward, rejoining the zone's oppressive atmosphere, corruption reclaiming what it had manufactured. In less than thirty seconds, nothing remained. No corpse. No blood. Just the empty clearing, the swirling mist, and Draven standing with his bloody blade.
The oppressive silence rushed back, combat noise gone. Draven stood motionless, the blade hanging from numb fingers. Exhaustion overwhelmed every sense, and the constant drip of blood from his shoulder was a steady reminder of the price paid. Another beast dead. Another one he couldn't save. How many more would he have to kill before he found the answers?
His legs gave out. Knees hit the ground, the blade clattering beside him. Grief crashed down like a physical weight.
---
Malvorn's massive form settled beside Draven, the Overlord's presence gentle despite his size.
"You did what had to be done," Malvorn said quietly. "That beast was suffering beyond endurance. You gave mercy when nothing else remained to give."
Draven didn't respond immediately. His throat was too tight.
"I know it hurts," Malvorn continued, resting a crystalline hand carefully on Draven's uninjured shoulder. "You wanted to save it, like you saved me. But some are too far gone. It's not your failure, Draven. It is just tragedy."
Draven's breath shuddered. "How many more? How many will I have to kill because I can't save them?"
"I don't know," Malvorn replied. "But you will face each one with the same compassion you showed today. The same attempt to save before killing. The same grief when saving fails. That is who you are. That is why I follow you."
Malvorn helped Draven stand, physically supporting the exhausted human. They began the slow walk back toward the boundary, following their tracks through the scorched earth. The atmosphere lessened gradually with each step. Draven's shoulder throbbed, the wound deep. Sylvara's life magic was useless here; they had to exit the zone first.
The Genesis Codex pulsed gently. Adhivar was stirring, preparing to speak. But first, safety.
They crossed the boundary line, stepping from the corrupted mist into the clean, forest air. The pressure vanished, the cold evaporated, and normal reality snapped back into place. The Codex flared, and the Sanctuary doorway opened without prompt.
The Pack emerged rapidly. Zor landed first. Velnar followed. Feyra bounded forward despite her new eight-foot size, shrinking instantly to four feet as she neared him. They surrounded Draven and Malvorn immediately.
"You're hurt!" Feyra's voice was sharp with concern, her Lord-tier telepathy having felt his pain through their bond. "Badly hurt! And you feel so sad! What happened?"
"We killed it," Draven said, the truth feeling hollow. "I tried to save it, but I couldn't. It was too far gone. So I had to end its suffering."
Zor's wing brushed his uninjured side. "You tried. That matters more than anything else."
"Sylvara," Malvorn called gently. "He needs healing. The wound is deep. Your life magic should work now."
Sylvara's verdant eyes glowed bright. Life magic flowed from her into Draven's torn shoulder, a wave of warm green light that began knitting the flesh. The deep wound required time, but the healing was effective. The Pack formed a circle around them—Velnar creating earth seats, Zor keeping watch, Feyra pressing close. Five minutes later, the wound was closed completely, a faint scar remaining. Draven was healed physically, but the weight of the grief remained.
---
The Pack settled at the zone boundary. The Genesis Codex pulsed gently. Adhivar's presence manifested conversationally, conveying ancient knowledge directly into Draven's mind.
"You remember the Ruins of Chains," Adhivar began. "You learned there about Fate's curse. About how this world exists as punishment. Now you witness the mechanisms manifest. Corrupted mana is seeping. Beasts are mutating. Zones are appearing. The pattern is accelerating."
"But why now?" Draven asked. "Corruption existed for centuries. Why is this crisis happening more frequently now? What changed?"
Adhivar's presence conveyed ancient frustration. "That answer eludes even me. But the mechanisms, I can explain. The nature of the corruption, if not its timing."
"The corrupted mana was not always a curse," Adhivar explained. "During Theia's creation, mana existed as a pure blessing. But Fate enacted revenge for sins committed. The blessing was inverted. The gift became poison. This corrupted mana atmosphere encircles the planet, trapped by gravity."
"And it just... surrounds the world?" Sylvara asked, scholarly fascination overcoming horror.
"Precisely. Normally separated by spatial barriers. But those barriers weaken. Tears form. Mana seeps through those tears into reality, creating the anomaly zones where corruption bleeds into the world."
Draven clenched his hands, remembering the Thunder Wolf's empty eyes. "And when it touches living beings?"
"The substance is fundamentally the same as pure mana, but inverted. When it touches living beings, it attempts biological enhancement. Cells try to evolve rapidly. Power increases dramatically. But bodies cannot sustain the enhancement. Minds cannot process the transformation."
"For beasts, that means mutation into peak power with consciousness destruction. For humans, it means immediate breakdown. The body rejects the substance entirely—a guarantee of the curse—leading to immediate bodily collapse and death within seconds."
"The 47 stable zones," Draven realized. "Those existed for centuries. They were ancient tears, small and manageable. Beasts adapted slowly to the small seepage, allowing Overlords to ascend there through prolonged exposure and controlled pressure."
"Correct. Evolutionary pressure rather than a death sentence. But these new zones, like the one we just left, are different. They are larger tears. Heavy seepage. King-tier entering mutate within hours. No adaptation is possible. Just madness and death. And the frequency of these new tears is increasing."
Velnar clicked nervously. "But why now? What is causing the spatial fabric to tear more frequently?"
Adhivar's presence conveyed ancient uncertainty. "That is the core of the mystery. Unknown. I observe the mechanisms. I understand the corruption. But the cosmic causation? The identity of the trigger? That remains unsolved."
Draven stood slowly. His wound was healed. His body recovered. His grief was acknowledged, if not resolved.
"So we know what's happening. We know how the corruption works. We know zones are appearing more frequently. But we don't know why it's happening now, and we don't know how to stop it."
"Correct summary," Adhivar confirmed. "Knowledge is incomplete. Investigation must continue."
"Then we keep investigating. Keep gathering data. Keep trying to understand." Draven looked at his pack. Family surrounded him. Supporting him. "Together."
Zor's wing touched his shoulder. "Always together. You aren't carrying this alone."
Feyra bounced gently, her green roses shimmering. "We help! Lord-tier now! Stronger! More useful!"
Malvorn rumbled. "Overlord immunity means I can investigate any zone safely. Use me."
Sylvara's mind was already at work. "We document everything. We build the database. We find the patterns. We will discover the trigger."
Draven nodded. Grief remained. Questions remained. The crisis remained. But he wasn't alone. He had family. He had purpose. He had determination.
And tomorrow, maybe tomorrow brought answers.
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