The rest of the week blurred into a humdrum of meetings, interviews, and more meetings. Dealing with mortals remained an exasperating chore, yet he found himself growing surprisingly adept in the art of managing them. Even his command of their primitive language was growing, the quirks of their syntax and idioms starting to coalesce into something akin to sense.

  He recalled a recent conversation with one of his newly hired employees. The man had been attempting to impress him with a display of technical jargon, but he'd quickly lost the plot as the employee rattled on about 'brand positioning' and 'synergistic approaches.'

  Despite his own unfamiliarity with such terms, he'd managed to stay the course, nodding along and interjecting with the occasional 'indeed' or 'absolutely' as he maintained an appearance of rapt attention over the man's clumsy efforts at self-aggrandizement.

  What was that called again? Ah, yes—politesse. How quaint.

  Zark'thul's reflection was interrupted by the sharp tone of Elspeth's voice. "Sir, Squad 2 is ready to depart."

  He blinked, tearing himself away from his silent reverie, and nodded his acknowledgment.

  It was time to get those worgs.

  Zark'thul entered the Nexus Room to find Squad 2, the goblinoids, already assembled. Their boisterous banter fell to a hush as they saw him enter. They exchanged a brief glance, nodding in acknowledgment of their CEO's presence.

  He met their collective gaze with his own piercing eyes. "Listen closely. Skitters, Rakk, Vraza, you three will disregard the objective and focus on finding those goblin tribes to secure us worgs. I'm giving you a bag of coins and rare materials for bartering. I expect you to broker a favorable deal."

  Rakk nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, worgs! Big boy!"

  "Will do, boss," Skitters added, drawing his thumb across his chest in an exaggerated gesture of compliance. "Them tribes'll be our friends, see, and them worgs'll be ours too."

  Vraza, for her part, merely grinned, a wide, toothy smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear. "I get those worgs, boss, don't worry."

  Zark'thul turned to the other two, Urgan and Filu. "You two will accompany me to complete the objective. The rest of the team will rendezvous with us once they've acquired the worgs."

  "Yes, chieftain," Filu responded with a respectful nod. Urgan acknowledged the command with a simple grunt and a stiff bow.

  He inhaled deeply, studying them all with a scrutinizing eye. They seemed eager enough, and their previous performance had shown promise. They were ready, and so was he.

  Zark'thul stepped onto the transportation platform, facing the towering blue energy column. "Depart."

  Instantly, they were bathed in a brilliant azure light. A brief surge of energy coursed through them, followed by a sudden dislocation of their surroundings. The world around them melted, and the forest materialized in its place.

  Just like when he'd previously visited the forest with Byron's squad, the sunlight filtering through the dense canopy above bathed them in a dappled shade. The scent of earth and decaying wood hung in the air, a sharp contrast to the sterile cleanliness of the Tower. The soft moss and detritus of the forest floor yielded beneath his shoes as he shifted his weight.

  Zark'thul turned to address his Agents. "You three, begin your mission. Rendezvous back to this point before the time limit."

  Rakk, Skitters, and Vraza promptly began their trek into the heart of the forest, their enthusiastic voices fading away as they disappeared into the dense growth. Urgan and Filu turned to him, awaiting his next instruction.

  "Let's start," he said, and the two grunted in unison and followed him deeper into the forest.

  The forest grew darker as they moved deeper. Twisted and gnarled trees clung to the decaying floor, their roots sinking deep into the earth like desperate, grasping claws. The light fought to reach this place, casting an eerie gloom across their surroundings.

  Zark'thul waded through a carpet of decaying leaves and damp moss, his footfalls cushioned by the spongy earth. A fetid stench rose up, carried on tendrils of mist that curled around his form like phantom hands.

  Qliphotic taint.

  He recognized its corrupted aura—subtle at first, a barely perceptible undercurrent, but as they progressed, it grew more pronounced, an underlying miasma that suffused the forest.

  The vegetation, too, was tainted. Twisted, blackened roots breached the surface, as if struggling to free themselves from the soil. With every step, Zark'thul felt his power resonate with the Qliphotic essence that permeated the area.

  Up ahead, a faint, luminescent trail became visible—glowing, spectral imprints of delicate footsteps pressed into the earth.

  He turned to Filu. "What do you know of dryads?"

  "They are forest spirits," she replied, kneeling to inspect the spectral trail. "Some can shapeshift between a human form and that of a tree, while others manifest as ethereal forms among the trees. But they're not a unified race; instead, they're bound to specific forests or certain groups of trees."

  "Hrmm." He crouched beside her, his fingers tracing the luminous outlines of the footprints. "So, these are their tracks?"

  "Yes. These imprints were left by a dryad that shifted between physical and spirit forms frequently, leaving these traces," Filu replied, her face creasing into a frown. "But something is wrong here. Look at the patterns; they're erratic, almost haphazard. They seem to be going in circles as if they're disoriented or driven mad."

  He rose, peering into the shadowy depths of the woods.

  "It seems we're on the right track. Let's move," he said, starting off again, his eyes fixed on the trail of glowing footprints.

  Their trek continued, following the dryads' spectral trail deep into the forest. The undergrowth thinned, revealing a large clearing. Here, the canopy opened up, offering a rare glimpse of the sky above. The ground was littered with fallen trees, their trunks split and branches scattered as if they'd been torn from the earth in a violent frenzy.

  At the center of the clearing stood a massive tree, its trunk blackened, the bark curling and peeling away, revealing a fleshy, pulsating interior. The tree's branches were stripped bare, its limbs contorted into grotesque, sinewy appendages that twitched and flexed.

  Within the tree's trunk, Zark'thul saw figures writhing within a layer of pulsating flesh—dryads. They squirmed and thrashed, their mouths opened in silent screams of agony as their bodies fused with the corrupted tree.

  As he drew closer, the dryads' cries reached him, telepathic screams that echoed in his mind. They were pleas for mercy, for death. It was almost comical to him. Almost.

  Around the clearing's edges, twisted figures—formerly dryads—shambled aimlessly, their forms half-transformed between humanoid and arboreal. Bark-like skin and vestigial branches erupted from their bodies, giving them a grotesque, misshapen appearance. Their eyes were vacant, glowing with an eerie, pallid light that reflected a complete lack of sentience.

  Filu and Urgan hung back, their expressions darkening as they beheld the macabre scene.

  "What happened? What is this place?" Filu whispered.

  "A Qliphotic spawn pool," Zark'thul replied, his eyes narrowing as he took in the corrupted tree and the dryads' transformation. "The Qliphoth have cultivated a point of ingress into this realm. This tree is a gateway. Those unfortunate dryads must have been drawn to the pool's power, hoping to save their home from the taint, and they ended up trapped in the tree, forever bound to it."

  Filu's grip tightened on her staff, her free hand now crackling with arcane energy. "What happens now? Can they be saved?"

  Zark'thul raised a hand, forestalling Filu's attack.

  While simply destroying the tree and the shambling dryads would be a straightforward task, Zark'thul's instinct compelled him to investigate the pool further. A simple slaughter lacked finesse and would only serve to sate his baser instincts.

  There had to be something more.

  The directive had a lengthy time limit for a reason. Surely, there was more to uncover. He had a full four days to investigate—it would be wasteful to finish everything in only a couple of hours. He also needed to figure out the hidden requirement to fulfill the bonus objective.

  "We're not doing anything... for now," Zark'thul decided, ignoring the looks of disbelief on his Agents' faces. "This is just the beginning of what we need to uncover. We'll return later. Mark this location."

  Filu's eyes widened. "Are you sure? We shouldn't allow this blight..."

  "Remember your directive," he reminded her firmly. "Investigate the missing dryads and the source of their corruption. Ending their suffering might be a part of it, but the directive doesn't state what that entails. We have a larger objective. If we must return to end this, then so be it. But for now, we must understand why this is happening."

  After a moment of silent contemplation, Filu nodded reluctantly. "Of course, chieftain. I understand." The energy around her hand gradually dissipated as she relaxed her stance.

  Zark'thul, satisfied with their acquiescence, turned to lead them back into the depths of the forest, leaving the tormented tree and its captive dryads to their fate, at least for now.

  After hours of trekking through the increasingly dark and twisted forest, the group found a suitable resting place. Zark'thul didn't require rest, but his subordinates did. Plus, the location they chose appeared to be one of the least tainted places in the woods. At this point, any form of respite was welcome.

  "I'll stand guard," he declared, situating himself at the edge of their makeshift camp.

  Urgan grunted an acknowledgment and settled down, his broad back against a gnarled tree. Filu conjured a small arcane fire, its flames burning with an azure light that provided both warmth and illumination without the risk of spreading. She sat cross-legged beside the fire, her eyes reflecting the dance of the spectral flames.

  The night stretched on, the forest silent save for the distant sounds of nocturnal beasts. Zark'thul kept watch, his senses attuned to the shadowed depths of the woodlands. Hours drifted by, and eventually, the fire began to wane, casting long, flickering shadows across the camp.

  It was in these quiet hours that Zark'thul's mind began to wander. He found himself reflecting on the events of the day, and of the Qliphotic spawn pool they had discovered. He was drawn to it, feeling a strange affinity for its dark, pulsating power. Yet, the Qliphoth and their relentless urge to eradicate all existence was a far throw from what he once sought.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Before his ill-fated defeat, Zark'thul had sought to conquer and absorb, not destroy. To subsume and assimilate the diversity of existence, not reduce it to nothingness. He had been a being of hunger, but it was a hunger that had form and shape—a desire to encompass and transform.

  His eyes drifted skyward, tracing the constellations that glittered high above, their light dimmed by the smothering miasma of the tainted forest. They were a reminder of the cosmos he had once traversed, of the myriad worlds he had consumed and the countless civilizations he had brought into his fold. He was an architect of grand designs, weaving the threads of life and matter into a fabric of his own making.

  He wanted, no—needed to ascend to such heights once more.

  Therein lay the true reason he did not immediately destroy the Qliphotic spawn pool—curiosity. It was an itch in the back of his mind. The Qliphotic pool held a resonance, a beckoning to a power that was tantalizingly familiar, like the long-forgotten echoes of a distant dream.

  Did the Qliphoth hold the secret to his liberation? Was their power the key to breaking the chains of his confinement, to unleashing him once more upon the cosmos?

  Doubtful.

  The more probable answer was that they were merely a means to an end, a stepping stone on the path to his ultimate goal. Their power, though resonant, was antithetical to his purpose.

  Hours passed, and as the first rays of dawn broke through the canopy, Zark'thul rose from his silent vigil. He roused Urgan and Filu, and together they packed up the camp. Their journey continued, the forest growing denser, the shadows deeper.

  Throughout the day, they had found two more Qliphotic spawn pools and corrupted dryads, some bound to trees, others wandering about in a stupor. None of the pools were more potent than the first, each capable of corrupting only its immediate area. Though an infestation, there was no significant influence that threatened the entire Gloomshroud forest.

  Another curious discovery was that the trees linked to the spawn pools had begun to transform. Fleshy pods had started to grow beneath the knotted sinews of their bark, each about the size of a small beast or humanoid.

  He sent his scrying eyes to study one of them.

  The flesh of the pod was taut, its surface slick with an oily residue that bore an unsettling resemblance to the amniotic fluids of gestation. Within, an outline of a dryad's body pressed against the membrane, its limbs contorted in a fetal position. Despite its stillness, an inner radiance pulsed softly, betraying the presence of life, albeit in a state of stasis or transformation. The skin of the creature within was a mottled patchwork of bark and flesh, as if it was halfway through a metamorphosis.

  Every now and then, a spasm would ripple through the pod, causing the form within to twitch and jerk violently. But these movements were brief and sporadic, quickly subsiding into the eerie stillness of whatever unnatural process was at work.

  His eyes pulled away, returning to himself.

  Urgan and Filu looked to him, an unspoken question in their eyes. They awaited his direction. Orders. Plans on what they had to do next.

  And yet, he couldn't quite settle on an action.

  Nai'hum's influence, the Qliphothic spawn pools, the dryads, the ley lines... and the town of Athebury, the victims of the abductions and sacrifices. The straightfoward approach would be to simply destroy the spawn pools as soon as possible before the corrupted trees could finish their gestation. There were already enough corrupted dryads wandering the forest.

  But was that really all there was to do? Find and destroy?

  That certainly would deal with the immediate problem, but all of the dryads would perish. Given what he'd heard of the nature of dryads from Filu, this could have unfortunate consequences for the forest and its inhabitants.

  Hmm... Perhaps finding a way to destroy the spawn pools while preserving the dryads' lives would fulfill the hidden objective. It seemed like the only logical possibility.

  So, he needed a method to separate the Qliphotic essence from the dryads and then find a way to properly dispose of it without letting the corruption spread further. A solution that balanced the opposing elements of preservation and destruction. But what? None of his powers nor the skills of his Agents provided him with a feasible answer.

  Wait...

  He raised his brow, recalling an elusive fact that hinted at a possible solution to his dilemma.

  Opening his AetherLink, he scrolled through his list of powers, settling on Vocarious Maw of the Abyss.

  [Voracious Maw of the Abyss (Rank 1)] You conjure an otherworldly maw from your body, capable of devouring the corpses of slain enemies. Consuming a corpse grants additional EXP and resources, based on the target's level and rarity. You can only acquire experience from a unique creature once. Cost: 5 Essence; Cooldown: 30 seconds

  Hmm...

  He was on the right track, but the effect didn't consume essence, only corpses. Perhaps if he increased its rank...

  Using the AetherLink, he accessed the Maw's upgrade page. Scrolling down, he found the information he sought:

  [Rank 2] New feature—'Abyssal Devourer.' The maw gains the ability to consume certain magical effects, granting temporary enhancements or detrimental effects based on the nature of the consumed effect. Cooldown reduced to 20 seconds.

  [Rank 3] …

  Yes! This was what he needed. If he could use it to consume and separate the Qliphotic essence from the dryads, he might be able to meet the directive's hidden objective.

  The upgrade would cost 300 Quintessence Shards. Given his current shard count of 940, it was an affordable expenditure. A small price to pay for potentially fulfilling the hidden directive.

  He upgraded the ability without hesitation.

  [Upgrade successful. You have gained new functionality: 'Abyssal Devourer.']

  Zark'thul felt a subtle shift in the energy flowing through him, a tangible indication of the upgrade taking effect. He nodded, turning to Filu and Urgan.

  "I've got a plan..."

  As Filu and Urgan engaged the corrupted dryads, Zark'thul rushed towards the tree. His goal was to reach the center of the Qliphotic spawn pool and consume the essence fueling it, which pulsed beneath the darkened earth and turgid flesh of the infected tree.

  But first, he needed to weaken it.

  He fired an Eldritch Blast at the tree, obliterating a section of its lower trunk. The tree shuddered and contorted, its remaining dryad prisoners wailing in unison as black ichor gushed from the gaping wound.

  Around him, the corrupted dryads pressed in, their twisted forms writhing and snapping. Urgan and Filu kept them at bay, the orc tank deflecting attacks with his shield and sweeping his mace in broad strokes to push back the creatures, while Filu unleashed bursts of arcane energy, searing and blasting their assailants.

  The tree, now towering over him, began to shift and transform. Its massive trunk bulged and stretched, sprouting twisted, vine-like appendages that lashed out at Zark'thul.

  He dodged and wove between the attacks, waiting for the right moment to strike back.

  As the tree lashed out once more, he fired another Eldritch Blast, severing several of the attacking tendrils. Black ichor sprayed from the stumps, splattering him in dark, sizzling liquid. Ignoring the foul substance, he began to hack and slash at the tree with his bare hands, tearing chunks of flesh-like bark away, revealing more of the pulsating, corrupt essence beneath.

  The Qliphotic essence, a writhing, amorphous mass of darkness, pulsed and squirmed beneath the surface. Zark'thul stared into its swirling depths, his own primal hunger stirring in resonance.

  He fired an Eldritch Blast directly into the exposed essence, causing the entire tree to shudder and scream. A cacophony of anguish arose from the trapped dryads as their bonds tightened, the tree's tendrils coiling around them like constricting snakes.

  With the tree stunned by his attack, Zark'thul activated his Voracious Maw of the Abyss, a gaping, tooth-filled orifice materializing as a shadowy appendage from his back. The maw lunged at the exposed essence, clamping down on it with rows of shadowy teeth. He could feel the essence's power resist the pull of his Maw, its energy attempting to seep back into the ground and the surrounding forest.

  But Zark'thul's hunger was stronger. His Maw tore at the essence, ripping it apart and dragging it into the shadowy void within.

  The Qliphotic essence was a maelstrom of discordant energies, chaotic and violent. It surged and twisted, fighting against the consuming force of his Maw. Zark'thul's mind was flooded with visions of unmaking, of a universe devoured and returned to the void.

  It was the antithesis of everything he was—a being that sought to consume and transform, not annihilate and erase. But even with its violent struggle, he overpowered it, pulling it in, claiming its power for his own.

  His Maw continued to devour the essence, the shadowy appendage becoming engorged with dark energy. The tree before him started to change. Its blackened, corrupt flesh slowly turned pale and lifeless, the tendrils that held the dryads in their grasp withering and retracting.

  The dryads, now freed from their bonds, fell from the tree and lay on the ground, stunned and disoriented. One by one, they stirred, their forms slowly transforming back into their natural, verdant states.

  With a final, decisive pull, his Maw claimed the last of the Qliphotic essence. The tree, now a withered husk of its former self, stood lifeless and inert, its once-dark presence now cleansed.

  The other dryads, those that had been shambling about the clearing, also underwent a transformation. The corrupted bark and twisted growths that marred their forms receded, leaving them untouched, their eyes regaining a semblance of consciousness and awareness. They looked around, bewildered, as if awakening from a terrible nightmare.

  Filu and Urgan paused in their defense, watching the transformation in awe and disbelief.

  "Did... did you see that?" Filu murmured.

  "Boss ate the black stuff," Urgan grunted, a hint of awe in his voice. "Boss strong. Very strong."

  As Zark'thul's Maw finished its task, it disconnected from the withered tree and withdrew. He could still feel the residual power of the Qliphotic essence within him, a discordant note in the symphony of his being.

  [You have consumed a Qliphotic Spawn Pool. You have gained 1,000 EXP.]

  [New buff acquired] Abyssal Devourer (Eldritch Power). While active, attacks have a 20% chance to summon an Abyssal Tentacle to strike at a nearby enemy. Lasts for 2 hours. (Buff can be refreshed if you consume another Qliphotic essence within the allotted time.)

  Zark'thul nodded in approval and pocketed his AetherLink. "Regroup. We're going to do the same to the rest of the spawn pools."

  By the third day, the last Qliphotic spawn pool had fallen, devoured by Zark'thul's Abyssal Maw. Each victory had been accompanied by similar transformative results—the restoration of the captive dryads and the reversion of the corrupted dryads back to their natural forms.

  The forest around them, previously weighed down by the heavy cloak of Qliphotic influence, was slowly but perceptibly rejuvenating. The twisted, decaying vegetation had given way to fresh growth, the dark, ominous miasma dissipating into a cleaner, clearer atmosphere.

  "It's almost like a different place," Filu murmured, her eyes following the first soft rays of sunlight as they pierced through the canopy. Her staff, which had been alight with arcane fire for days to provide illumination in the pitch-dark of the forest, finally dimmed.

  Zark'thul slumped against a nearby tree, weariness weighing him down.

  Having only two squad members present to defend him during the cleansing process had proved a considerable challenge, and his strategy for tackling the spawn pools had grown increasingly taxing. His suit, once pristine, was now in tatters, and numerous wounds marked his form.

  But now, at least, it was finished.

  He checked the progress on his AetherLink.

  [Directive 3-4: Investigate the Missing Dryads]

  [You have cleared the objective successfully. 3/3 Qliphotic spawn pools destroyed.]

  [You have cleared the bonus objective successfully. All corrupted dryads rescued from Qliphotic influence.]

  [You have unlocked the 'Sylvan Dossier' in your Agent Recruitment pool.]

  [Do you wish to submit the directive as 'Complete'? (Y/N)]

  No, not yet. They still had one more day to wait for the goblins' return with their promised worgs. After that, they could leave, but not a moment sooner.

  At least his intuition about the dryads being the bonus objective was correct. How he could have freed those captive dryads without Abyssal Devourer, he was unsure, but regardless, he'd achieved it. Now, all that was left was to complete the waiting game until Rakk, Skitters, and Vraza returned with the worgs.

  "Let's head back to the rendezvous point and wait for the rest," Zark'thul said, his voice reflecting the same tiredness that weighed on his body.

  Urgan helped him to his feet, and they slowly made their way back through the transforming forest.

  Zark'thul checked the time on his AetherLink—three hours until the time limit. They'd been at the rendezvous point for a full day. It was getting close.

  The goblins had better show up soon.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, a sharp howl pierced the air, echoing through the trees. Another howl responded, then another. Soon, the sounds of heavy, padded feet and the rustling of leaves and snapping of branches grew louder, signaling an imminent arrival.

  Within moments, Rakk, Skitters, and Vraza burst into the clearing, riding atop three massive worgs. Their mounts were each as large as a horse, their fur a mixture of dark gray and black, and their yellow eyes gleaming with feral intelligence. Behind them, three other worgs followed, these without riders and adorned with sturdy leather collars.

  "Got them, boss!" Rakk declared, his voice filled with pride. He dismounted, landing lightly on his feet, before moving to check the gear strapped to his worg. "T'was a tough deal, but we managed."

  Vraza and Skitters also dismounted, the latter casting a wary eye on the worg he rode, its jaws snapping at him. "I's swearin', this beast's had a vendetta against me," Skitters muttered, giving the worg a wide berth as he joined the others.

  Rakk grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. "It's 'cause you kept pokin' it with that crossbow a'yours, ya green-skinned gimboid."

  "Aww, shut it," Skitters retorted, turning his attention to Zark'thul. "These are the best we could manage, boss. That tribe wasn't too keen on lettin' their guard dogs go, even if we's did sweeten the deal with a whole lot o' shiny things."

  Zark'thul nodded, casting an appraising eye over the six worgs. "Acceptable. Let's prepare to depart."

  He turned to head out, but stopped, glacing back at the three goblins. "Good work."

  The goblins beamed at the rare praise.