A deafening roar echoed through the night sky as Aldric fell, the wind howling in his ears. The ground rushed up fast, and for a brief instant, he thought this might be how he died—splattered against the rocks before ever making it home.
But before he could hit the ground, Clet reacted.
"Water Dome!"
Four shimmering spheres of water shot from Clet's palms, swirling rapidly before bursting outward. The liquid expanded into soft, rolling waves that caught the falling bodies like invisible hands. Aldric's descent slowed abruptly as the water swirled beneath him, cushioning his fall. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud, but it didn't break. He groaned, chest heaving, the air knocked out of him.
Clet landed nearby, rolling across the dirt before coming to a stop. His breathing was uneven, his face pale from mana exhaustion. Adrian crashed down moments later, armor scraping against stone as he landed on one knee. His expression remained stoic, but even his breathing was ragged.
Lionel, however, wasn't so lucky. His body struck the water dome too hard, and he crashed to the ground beside them. His golden robes were torn and soaked with blood. He coughed weakly, each breath wheezing out like it could be his last.
"Lionel!" Aldric rushed toward him, but Clet raised a hand to stop him.
"Don't," Clet muttered, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "We're not safe."
Aldric froze, following Clet's gaze.
The entire area was chaos. Screams filled the night, mixed with the sound of blades clashing and spells detonating. The once orderly caravan was now nothing but wreckage and fire. Carriages burned like torches, horses ran wild, and the faint scent of blood and charred flesh filled the air.
Above them, the massive black moth loomed—a grotesque thing, its dark wings stretching wide across the sky. Each beat of those wings released a gale so violent it tore trees from their roots and sent dust storms swirling across the valley floor.
And with every flap came the sound.
That horrible sound.
A mixture of wind and wailing—a thousand crying voices that made the air itself feel heavy with despair.
This was no beast.
This was something else entirely.
Clet's jaw tightened as he whispered, almost to himself, "A corrupted creature…"
Aldric turned to him, frowning. "Corrupted?"
Clet nodded grimly, eyes fixed on the monstrosity in the sky. "Corrupted creatures aren't beasts. They aren't arcanists either. They're… something else."
He spoke through clenched teeth as he continued, "When a living being—be it beast, human, or arcanist—is tainted by the profane energy of corruption, it stops being what it once was. Their body twists, their minds break, and they become monsters that exist only to destroy everything untouched by that corruption."
Aldric stared at the moth as it hovered, its black wings casting a suffocating shadow across the field. "Where does it come from?" he asked.
"No one knows," Clet said, voice low. "Some say it's the remnant of a god's hatred. Others say it seeps from the cracks between worlds. But whatever it is… it shouldn't exist here."
Before Aldric could respond, the moth flapped its wings again. The gust this time wasn't just strong—it was catastrophic.
The ground split open as shockwaves ripped through the valley. Dozens of arcanists and mortals were instantly caught in the blast. Their bodies were torn apart, pulverized by the sheer force. The screams didn't even last long—just brief flashes of agony before silence.
Aldric raised an arm to shield his eyes, the blast almost knocking him off balance. Even Clet struggled to stay on his feet, summoning a thick wall of water to block some of the wind's fury. Adrian planted his sword into the ground, using it as an anchor.
When the storm finally passed, the destruction it left behind was unimaginable.
Then, something even worse happened.
From above, several black larvae spilled out from the empty eye sockets of the moth's female head. They wriggled through the air, falling like drops of ink. When they hit the ground, the earth beneath them sizzled and darkened.
And then they began to change.
The larvae grew at a terrifying pace—stretching, twisting, reshaping. Flesh tore and bones cracked as they expanded into humanoid figures. In seconds, the once tiny things had become full-grown abominations.
Their skin was mottled—patches of black and white flesh fused together unevenly. Their arms were long and ended in sharp claws that gleamed faintly under the moonlight. Their faces, if one could call them that, were wrong.
No eyes.
No nose.
No ears.
Just a mouth—a gaping maw that stretched far too wide, filled with rows upon rows of thin, needle-like fangs.
The air around them distorted, thick with an invisible pressure.
Clet muttered under his breath, "By the gods…"
Adrian lifted his sword, tightening his grip. "Stay sharp. Don't let them touch you."
The humanoid creatures let out a chorus of shrill, distorted screeches and began to move—jerking unnaturally, limbs twitching as if their bodies weren't meant to function. But their speed was horrifying.
They lunged at anything nearby—mortals, arcanists, even the dead—ripping them apart like animals.
Aldric could feel the blood drain from his face. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his body refused to move.
And then, one of the creatures stopped.
Its faceless head turned slowly in his direction. Even though it had no eyes, Aldric felt its gaze—cold, empty, and hateful.
The creature twitched once, then twice… and then it charged.
Aldric's pulse spiked, his body frozen for half a second. His grip tightened on his newly forged blade as the monster sprinted toward him, claws dragging across the dirt and sparks flying with each step.
Its mouth opened wide, rows of needle-like teeth glinting in the firelight.
Aldric inhaled sharply.
He had no choice but to fight.
–