The high of the Ascension settled into a cold, terrifying clarity.
Corvin stood on the balcony of the High Seat, the violet veins of the Third Circle pulsing slowly beneath his skin. He looked out over his new domain—the sweeping coast, the calm ocean, the shivering grasslands of the South. It was a masterpiece of Order, held together by the gravity of his will.
But to the North-East, the tapestry was torn.
With his new vision, Corvin didn't just see the horizon; he saw the Weave of the world. He saw the ley lines pulsing through the earth like arteries. And where the city of Voluptus sat, he saw a gangrenous, pulsing wound.
"It resists," Corvin whispered. The sound was like grinding stones.
Centurion Kael stepped up beside him. "The Union garrison, My Lord?"
"There is no Union there, Kael," Corvin said, his voice devoid of pity. "Only the grave."
I. The Diagnosis of Rot
Corvin extended his hand toward the distant city. He pushed his domain forward, trying to drape the cloak of the Imperium over Voluptus.
He felt it push back.
It wasn't a military resistance. It was a biological repulsion. A sickly, yellow slime of necrotic magic was leaking from the city, staining the ether.
"The Malum," Corvin hissed, recognizing the energy signature.
He turned to the war table, where the obsidian dust formed a map. "The refugees at Observa Divisio... they weren't just fleeing the Velox. They were fleeing the consumption. The Velox were merely the spores; Voluptus is the fungus."
He looked at the yellow pulse on the map. "The city has fallen. Every soul inside—man, woman, child—is gone. Their biomass has been consumed to fuel a rival Anchor. I established an Anchor of Order here; the Malum has established an Anchor of Decay there."
"If we leave it," Kael said, gripping his sword, "it will spread."
"It will rot the ley lines," Corvin corrected. "It will turn my walls to dust and my citizens to husks. We cannot conquer it. There is nothing to rule."
Corvin's eyes flared with the absolute zero of the Void.
"We must burn it out."
II. The Engines of Silence
The march to Voluptus was not a military campaign; it was a quarantine procedure.
They arrived at twilight. The city of Voluptus, once the jewel of the South, stood silent. A thick, bruised-yellow smog clung to its golden spires. The air smelled of sulfur and wet fur.
The Second Legion did not form assault columns. They formed a containment ring, a semi-circle of black steel locking the western approach.
Behind them, the Forge Master unveiled his masterpiece.
Ten Obsidian Trebuchets.
Massive engines of war constructed from iron-wood and reinforced with shadow-steel. They groaned under the weight of their ammunition: massive spheres of density-enhanced rock, carved with glowing orange runes.
"The rounds are ready, My Lord," the Forge Master grunted, wiping soot from his face. "Infused with Obsidian Fire. It does not just burn wood. It burns mana. It eats corruption."
"Load them," Corvin commanded.
III. The Hive Wakes
The city sensed them.
As the counterweights creaked, the gates of Voluptus burst open. There was no battle cry, only a wet, collective shriek that tore at the sanity of the mind.
The Malum poured forth.
It was a tide of twisted flesh—the fused remains of the city's population, reanimated by the rot. They sprinted on broken limbs, a hive-mind wave desperate to silence the artillery before it could speak.
"SHIELDS!" Kael roared.
The Legion slammed their tower shields into the earth. The Cohesion Collective flared, linking their minds. They were not individuals; they were a wall.
CRASH.
The wave of abominations hit the black wall. Claws raked against obsidian plate. The smell of rot was overwhelming. But the wall held. The Obsidian Asturias thundered along the flanks, their heavy destriers crushing the creatures that tried to circle the line.
IV. The Glassing
Corvin sat atop his horse on the ridge, watching the carnage with the detached gaze of a god. He raised his hand.
"Cleansing Fire."
THWUMP. THWUMP. THWUMP.
Ten massive rune-stones soared through the air, arching high over the Legion's heads. At the apex of the flight, the runes ignited, turning the stones into meteors of black-and-orange flame.
They fell upon the city.
BOOM.
The impact didn't just shatter stone; it liquefied it. Obsidian Fire washed over the outer districts. It was a heavy, fluid flame that clung to the buildings, eating through the masonry and devouring the yellow smog of the Malum.
The screeching from the city grew deafening.
"Again," Corvin ordered.
Volley after volley rained down. The trebuchets found their rhythm, dismantling the city district by district. The Great Market vanished in a column of violet smoke. The Noble District melted into slag.
V. The Broken Anchor
Finally, the central spire—the heart of the rot—took a direct hit from three stones simultaneously.
The structure collapsed. A shockwave of heat blasted outward, incinerating the remaining smog. The Anchor of Decay shattered.
Instantly, the horde attacking the Legion went limp. The animating force was gone. Thousands of abominations collapsed into piles of inert meat.
VI. The Scar
By dawn, Voluptus was gone.
In its place lay a massive, glowing crater of glass. The fire had burned down to the bedrock, cauterizing the wound in the earth. The Malum had been purged.
Corvin rode to the edge of the crater. He took a deep breath. The air was hot and smelled of ozone, but the rot was gone.
He felt his domain surge forward. With the resistance removed, the Raven Heart pushed his influence effortlessly across the charred remains, snapping into place against the mountains in the distance. The South was now truly whole.
"The infection is dead," Corvin declared, turning his back on the smoking pit.
He looked South-East, toward the narrow pass where the mountains met the sea—the only land route into his new kingdom.
"Now we secure the door," Corvin said, his mind already constructing the blueprints for the next impossibility.
"Pack the engines," he commanded Kael. "We march to the border. We build the Gate of the South."