Chapter 124 - Arianka’s Faith

  The descent was silent. As Zhuhai’s massive serpentine body began its final glide, the air grew heavier with tension. Below, the shattered bones of a once-proud settlement sprawled across the dusty terrain—ruins of wide stone pathways, crumbling walls, and shattered pillars lay like discarded relics of an age long buried. The morning light cast long shadows over the mountain valley that had once cradled the great giant city of Uldroth.

  From above, Adam and the others could make out the faint outlines of human encampments interspersed among the ruins, though curiously, many of them seemed either recently abandoned or oddly inactive. As Vaelric had predicted, there were no patrols, no guards watching the skies, and no divine defenses flaring to life at their approach. It should have been suicide to fly this close in broad daylight in normal circumstances—especially to a site protected by the Paladins of Arianka. And yet, the outskirts were eerily still.

  The dragon angled downward, his elongated body gliding effortlessly through the open air, weaving with fluid precision between the jagged stone spires that jutted from the mountainous terrain below. With each subtle motion of his powerful musculature, he adjusted his descent, the pressure in the air shifting around him in silent deference. Then, with a final controlled motion, Zhuhai lowered himself toward the cracked ground. The impact was solid but graceful—an immense force pressed into the stone, sending dust and fine debris into the air while he curled into a wide, protective loop around the chosen landing site.

  One by one, the five passengers leaped from the dragon’s head, landing firmly on the ground. Angela bent her knees slightly, adjusting to the solid terrain, while Katya exhaled sharply as if she’d been holding her breath the entire flight. Vaelric was the last to touch down, boots clicking lightly on the stone as he took a moment to scan the horizon, his undead gaze sweeping across the expanse of ancient ruins with silent reverence.

  Drake stepped forward first, raising a hand toward his companion with a quiet, respectful nod.

  “Thanks for the ride, Zhuhai. You can return now.”

  He said with calm sincerity. The dragon lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment, his golden eyes narrowing. For the first time, the others heard the dragon speak—not in roaring declarations, but in a deep, resonant voice that vibrated through the air itself.

  “It was no trouble, but be warned, my friend... I can feel a power growing within this land. It seems it is not yet awakened, but should it rise, it will rival even my father.”

  Adam’s brow furrowed at the mention, turning toward the beast in surprise. He hadn’t expected intelligible speech, let alone such insight from the dragon. Angela’s eyes widened slightly. Katya took a small step back. Even Vaelric tensed ever so slightly.

  Drake, however, only gave a small smile, as if the warning had merely confirmed something he already knew.

  “I’ll be careful; send regards to the Northern Emperor.”

  He replied quietly. Without another word, Zhuhai lifted his head toward the sky, his body rising in a sinuous coil. Then, with a flick of his tail, he summoned the strange portal once more—a circular gateway resembling a wooden door, its edges shimmering with ink-like patterns. The opening hovered in the air like a suspended mirror, its frame rotating slowly with gentle creaks.

  With a final glance at Drake and a gust of wind from its body, the dragon ascended, gliding through the portal with majestic ease. His vermilion scales shimmered once final time under the sun, and then he was gone. The portal spun once before snapping shut with a sound like a cracking bark and then disappearing.

  The warning left behind by Zhuhai lingered in the air like a silent weight. Only Drake truly grasped the scale of what it meant to stand in the presence of something that could rival the power of the dragon’s father—a being few could face and none would want to provoke. But more importantly, it confirmed their earlier suspicion that within the immense temple standing tall among the ruins, one of the Paladin Paragons resided.

  It was not a comforting realization, but it was also not a deterrent. The purpose of their mission had never been to fight. No one in the group had come with illusions of charging into a confrontation with the divine. This was reconnaissance—an attempt to gather whatever fragmented truths remained in the rubble of Uldroth, to piece together what had happened to the giants.

  The five of them gathered near the base of a jagged hill, looking toward the massive white and gold temple in the far distance. After a brief exchange of glances, they agreed silently that they would have to approach the ruins on foot. It would take time, and it would be dangerous, but it was the only viable option if they wanted to avoid detection and limit exposure to the human forces. However, there was an immediate issue. Vaelric. Unlike the rest of them, his vampiric nature was unmistakable—both in aura and in appearance. As they moved closer to the temple, the saturation of divine energy would only increase, and that posed a critical threat to him.

  Adam narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Vaelric.

  "The divine energy around that temple… it's going to get stronger the closer we get. Are you sure you can handle it?"

  Vaelric didn’t flinch. He drew in a steady breath, straightening his posture with a slow nod.

  "I can endure it, Lord Adam. As long as I’m not struck directly by a divine spell or blade, I’ll be fine."

  Adam tilted his head slightly, unconvinced.

  "You say that like it’s normal. Vampires aren’t supposed to be able to walk through divine territory without being burned."

  The boy said, clearly worried that the vampire wasn’t understanding correctly.

  "Certainly, most can’t."

  Vaelric admitted calmly.

  "But I was there during the ‘Great Awakening’. When Arianka’s light first poured into this world. I stood on the battlefield when it happened. Everyone around me was turned to ash. But I survived. Barely. I don’t know how or why… but something in me resists her energy. Not completely, but enough to stay standing."

  His gaze grew distant, voice low. Angela crossed her arms in response.

  "So your issue isn’t with the energy itself—it’s your face."

  Vaelric gave her a dry look.

  "Huh, yes. That, unfortunately, is harder to conceal."

  Angela exhaled sharply through her nose and shook her head as if the solution were obvious.

  “Then just leave it to me.”

  She said, stepping forward. With a casual flick of her wrist, a paintbrush formed between her fingers, materialized from thin air. The group watched as she moved with practiced confidence, swirling the brush once in the air before touching it to Vaelric’s chestplate. From the tip of the brush spilled a strange, shimmering paint-like substance, light as mist but sharp with intent. It spread quickly over the entirety of the vampire’s form—coating armor, skin, hair, and even the subtle glint of his eyes.

  The transformation was seamless and fast. Within seconds, the sharp paleness of Vaelric’s undead features faded. His hollow cheekbones softened. His once-lackluster hair darkened into a modest chestnut tone, combed but no longer unnaturally pristine. His armor dulled into the leathers and chainmail of a traveling mercenary, losing its regal red-black gleam in favor of worn grays and muted browns. He looked human now—utterly convincing.

  Adam, watching closely, saw the new information thanks to his ‘Cursed Vision’.

  The text vanished from view just as Angela stepped back, appraising her work. Vaelric blinked a few times and looked down at himself, clearly unsettled by the change but respectful of the necessity. His voice was quiet as he muttered something.

  “Strange... I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.”

  Angela rolled her eyes and replied flatly.

  “Just don’t get it wet.”

  With that, the group took one last moment to check their equipment, and then they began moving. Step by step, they left the safe zone behind and descended toward the heart of Uldroth’s shattered past.

  The group began their trek through the ruined outer paths of Uldroth in silence. Each of them stepped carefully over the fractured ground, where once-paved roads had long since been broken and devoured by time and war. Jagged rocks and collapsed stone markers littered the way ahead, remnants of a civilization buried under the weight of divine conquest. What might once have been the grand defensive ring of the giants' proud city was now no more than a skeletal outline of scattered ruins, each structure broken and sunken into the earth like forgotten gravestones.

  As the minutes passed and they continued deeper into the hollowed bones of the fallen city, the divine presence in the air began to thicken. At first, it had been a faint pressure—like the moment before a storm—but now it felt heavier, denser, pressing down on their skin like wet heat. Adam felt it immediately. It wasn’t painful, but it was uncomfortable, like stepping into a sauna that refused to let him breathe normally.

  He gritted his teeth and pushed forward. A glance to the side confirmed that Vaelric was struggling similarly, his expression tight but determined. The divine energy was agitating both of them, lingering in the air like a punishment—but neither showed signs of slowing down.

  Then, Adam noticed something else. Angela had started to bounce… Literally bounce—her steps turned to light skips, her usual calm posture replaced by a sort of animated energy he wasn’t used to seeing in her. Her eyes shimmered with unearned joy, and for a second, the boy blinked, wondering if she had finally lost it. Before he could ask, he turned and caught sight of Drake, who had been walking quietly until then. The blond’s body language had shifted—he was stretching his arms, cracking his neck with a wide grin across his face. Adam narrowed his eyes, disturbed.

  “Angela?”

  He asked, his voice steady.

  “What’s with the sudden change of mood?”

  She turned to him with a light shrug and a cheery smile.

  “I don’t know. I just feel… really refreshed? Like, I’ve been sleeping well for a week straight.”

  That made no sense. Not here. Adam turned his attention to Drake instead.

  “And you? What’s going on with you?”

  Drake exhaled and rolled his shoulders with almost theatrical satisfaction.

  “It’s strange. I feel light. Really light. Kinda like… something heavy I didn’t even know I was carrying just dropped off my back. It’s like I could run forever.”

  He looked down at his open hands. Before Adam could respond, Drake suddenly took off—rushing forward at full speed, his shoes kicking up dust and gravel as he leapt effortlessly over scattered debris and bouncing from one jagged stone to another. Then, just as the terrain grew steeper, he bent his knees and launched himself upward in a clean arc, soaring through the air. A second later, he activated his trait ‘Single Step’. With an audible shift of Ki, his body took another step midair—then another, and another—each one propelling him further upward like invisible footholds across the sky. He climbed dozens of meters high in seconds.

  “Woooo!”

  Drake shouted, his voice echoing through the empty ruins.

  “This feels amazing!”

  Adam’s heart sank. Katya flinched. Vaelric hissed. Angela—still skipping nearby—didn’t seem to care, with everyone blinking up in alarm as Drake floated above them like a beacon. This wasn’t just dangerous. It was suicidal. The city might have looked deserted, but Adam had already sensed life nearby—hidden and quiet, but present. And now, the blond had just announced their arrival like a signal flare.

  “Drake!”

  Adam yelled, but it was already too late. At that exact moment, something changed. A blinding golden light flared behind Drake’s back. Two massive wings of pure radiance burst forth—shaped not of flesh, but of glowing divine energy. They extended outward with impossible majesty, each wing spanning several meters and shining with the same sacred brilliance they had seen days ago—on the Paladin Champions that had descended upon Celestia Sanctum.

  Adam froze. His thoughts blanked as a single, horrible sound echoed in his mind: divine resonance. He had felt it before, when Arianka’s soldiers moved. But now… it was coming from Drake.

  “What the hell…”

  Katya whispered, her voice tight with disbelief. Vaelric stared upward, his jaw tense, hands curling into fists. Even Angela, who had still looked light-hearted a second ago, now stood stock still, her expression like she was seeing something beautiful.

  Adam didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because something else had appeared in front of him—a faint blue shimmer, a single translucent screen of the system. It floated gently at eye level, anchored in place in front of Drake’s glowing figure above.

  It took Adam several seconds to truly process what he was witnessing. The system notification still hung in the air like a guillotine, silent and merciless in its implications. [Arianka’s Infection]—the title alone was damning. Even without a proper description, Adam understood exactly what this was. It wasn’t a blessing. It wasn’t some divine gift bestowed upon the righteous. No, this was something far more dangerous—something parasitic. A foreign will embedded into Drake's body, residing in him from the inside. Adam had seen it before. He lived with it. Most of his powers were built on the same principle: invasive, self-sustaining curses and a literal parasite that twisted their hosts into vessels for something else.

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  And now, it was happening to Drake.

  Without another thought, Adam summoned spectral wings. They unfurled in a burst of black and crimson mist, crackling with cursed energy as he launched himself into the air. The wind tore at his clothes, and his thoughts raced even faster. Drake still hovered above them, laughing uncontrollably as the massive golden wings behind him pulsed and shimmered. He wasn’t in control—Adam was sure of it.

  “Drake!”

  Adam shouted as he reached his height.

  “Snap out of it! Something’s wrong!”

  There was no response. Drake’s body twisted in midair, floating lazily, arms stretched wide, like a puppet basking in an unseen radiance. The wings moved behind him—not gently, but violently. A slow, deliberate shift of light, like a blade being drawn from its sheath.

  Adam’s eyes narrowed; he had to act. Without hesitation, the boy’s body changed. A dozen appendages erupted from his back and shoulders—jointed, glistening, insect-like limbs sharpened into scythe-like blades and coiling tentacles. He didn't care how it looked; if he had to rip that infection out by force, he would.

  He cursed the fact that Emir wasn’t there to help him, he would have been perfect for this situation, but he couldn’t lament it since time was running out. He remembered the procedure he’d done on Abbess, how he’d removed her cursed Jiang Shi heart. Could he do the same here? Could he cut out the source of the contamination within Drake?

  He didn’t get the chance to find out.

  The divine wings reacted before Adam could close the distance. In an instant, they moved—not like energy, but like solid blades forged from pure light. They twisted, curved, and sliced through the air with terrifying speed. The first strike came without warning, one wing lashing out and severing two of Adam’s approaching appendages cleanly. Pain erupted through his nerves, so sharp and immediate it almost caused him to falter midair.

  But the wings didn’t stop.

  They expanded outward, splitting and multiplying, each glowing edge dancing like the fangs of a celestial beast. Then they surged toward him—blades of divine will crashing against Adam in a flurry of attacks, forcing him to twist and spiral through the air just to avoid being torn apart. He tried to retaliate, slashing back with his remaining limbs, but the wings intercepted every attempt with brutal precision. Their movements were too fast, it was obvious that they weren’t acting on Drake’s command—they were acting on their own.

  Adam clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth as he banked hard to the right, narrowly dodging another arc of light that would’ve cleaved him in two.

  “It’s protecting its host…”

  He hissed to himself.

  “There’s no doubt now—this thing isn’t a normal blessing. It truly is an infection.”

  And that explained everything, it was reacting the same as his [Mark of the Damned] and [Overmind Parasite] when he was attacked.

  Why [Malediction Reversal] hadn’t activated when the divine energy was in contact with Adam’s body. The reason why the divine energy felt so twisted, yet it was unable to harm him. The infection was hiding behind the veil of divinity, operating under Arianka’s name, or worse, the goddess’s energy itself worked as a parasitic entity— was Arianka’s even a goddess to begin with?

  The battle in the air continued, a chaotic dance of sharp turns, feints, and near-misses. Adam didn’t strike back—not even once. He couldn’t. This was not an enemy to destroy, these wings belonged to Drake, or rather, to something that had taken hold of him. Every motion he made was defensive, angled not to retaliate but to evade—his arms and spectral appendages moving in a coordinated blur as he deflected and weaved between sweeping arcs of divine energy. Every time he got close, the wings lashed out again, almost as if sensing his intent to reach the host. He couldn’t risk damaging them, not until he understood exactly what was going on.

  But then, without warning, the rhythm changed… Drake suddenly stopped laughing.

  His eyes widened, and his jaw clenched tightly, his entire body tensing mid-air as if he were pushing against an unseen weight crushing his mind. The golden light still blazed from behind him, but his expression had shifted—no longer blissful madness, but pain and determination.

  Then, to Adam’s utter disbelief, the blond began to speak.

  “My body and mind are my domain.”

  He said through gritted teeth.

  “Temple that only I control.”

  Adam’s eyes widened, hovering nearby as he barely managed to deflect another glancing strike from the wings. Drake repeated the words, louder this time, though it was clear each repetition took an immense toll. The air around him pulsed with tension, and the radiant wings froze mid-motion, as if stunned by the audacity of the declaration.

  “My body and mind are my domain. Temple that only I control.”

  Then came the shift. The wings—once hostile and frenzied—snapped back toward Drake like a spear being reloaded, moving with terrifying speed toward his chest. Adam’s instincts screamed. There was no time to wonder if they intended to merge back with him or pierce through his heart. He surged forward at full speed, cursed spectral wings tearing through the air behind him as he threw himself in the way. His auxiliary limbs, twisted and grotesque, shot forward—jagged spears of bone and flesh intercepting the divine blades mid-flight.

  They collided in midair with a force that rattled Adam’s core.

  The impact wasn’t just physical. It was spiritual. Divine will clashing with cursed defiance. Sparks of white and crimson energy exploded from the collision, and Adam grimaced as several of his spectral limbs shattered in the process, pain shooting up his nerves. But he held the line.

  “I knew it…”

  He muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on the still-floating Drake, who hadn’t stopped his mantra even as the battle raged around him.

  “My body and mind are my domain. Temple that only I control!”

  Again the wings came—now more frenzied, more desperate. But this time, they weren’t just striking at Adam. They were striking at both of them. At anything that dared interfere with their grip on the host. The boy snarled and spread his arms wide, calling upon every ounce of strength his corrupted body had to give. From his back erupted more tendrils—dozens, perhaps hundreds—twisting in the air like a swarm of living weapons. He summoned jagged heads of Feral-type ghosts, misshapen maws opening wide to absorb and devour the waves of divine force that lashed toward them.

  And suddenly, in the back of his mind, he felt it… The gaze.

  Malzaphir’s presence, like the chill of a dagger pressed to the nape of his neck, watched in silence. Expecting. Inviting. Adam didn’t need to hear the words. He could feel the question in the air, unspoken yet clear—do you want help?

  “Sit back and enjoy the show.”

  Adam thought bitterly, his eyes flaring with cursed energy as he pushed his body even further. His spine twisted, bones popped, and new extensions of warped armor and monstrous claws emerged from his shoulders and hips. He was reshaping himself into a bulwark of corruption—an immovable wall between Drake and the infection that sought to reclaim him.

  The assault didn’t stop. The radiant wings of divine energy continued to lash out with tireless fury, carving through the air with the relentless precision of a force that didn’t require rest, thought, or mercy. Adam’s monstrous extensions, already worn from the repeated clashes, were starting to falter.

  He remained between the wings and Drake, intercepting every strike he could, but he was beginning to feel the toll. Hairline fractures traced up his cursed limbs, spectral armor cracked and splintered, and shallow cuts formed across his chest and shoulders where the radiant energy grazed past his defenses. He clenched his teeth as pain surged through him, but his resolve didn’t waver. No matter what, nothing would get through him. Not a single attack had touched Drake yet.

  Still, it wasn’t enough, it was just a matter of time for him to be overwhelmed. Adam, trying to assess his rapidly declining options, managed to glance toward Drake again—and that was when the system responded. Two panels appeared in front of his eyes, and just reading them made his stomach turn cold.

  Adam’s blood went cold. Drake’s body had welcomed divine energy due to the nature of his new class, and the infection—parasitic and predatory—had found in that synergy the perfect vessel. The system itself was saying it: Drake’s mind was eroding, breaking apart under the strain. That smile, that euphoric laughter—it hadn’t just been some temporary mental lapse. It had been the early signs of complete loss of self.

  Adam cursed under his breath, his friend was fighting back. That chant he’d repeated earlier wasn’t just symbolic—it was an act of sheer willpower, a line drawn in the sand against a force trying to devour him from within. But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t enough. He was being drowned in light, his own soul dragged under by something that was divine in nature but functioned like a parasite.

  The boy knew that feeling. He’d lived it. Being eaten alive by something that wasn’t really part of you—but that didn’t care. Something that tried to rewrite who you were from the inside out. He wouldn’t let Drake go through that.

  For a second, he considered grabbing him and flying far, far away. Distance might weaken the divine energy. It might buy them time. But it would only delay the inevitable. Adam had lived long enough under the weight of impossible conditions to know that prolonging pain wasn’t the same as solving it. And if there was one thing he had sworn to himself, it was that he would never leave someone to suffer like he had.

  No. He had to stop it now.

  Without another second of hesitation, Adam closed the gap between them and seized Drake’s hands. The moment their skin touched, thin black tendrils erupted from his fingers, needle-like appendages piercing into the knuckles and palms of his friend with a sickening wet sound. The blond flinched but didn’t resist—the contact didn’t seem to hurt him, at least not immediately.

  Adam’s cursed energy rushed in. It wasn’t a clean method. It wasn’t elegant. But it didn’t need to be. He created a direct link, a parasitic bridge between their bodies. And through that link, he poured his own twisted abilities into motion—his vampiric biology, his parasitic affinity, the strange cursed mutations of his race—into Drake. Not to take control, not even to infect him since the divine energy inside him was preventing it. But to help stabilize the infection.

  He had no idea if it would work, but it was all he had. Immediately, he felt resistance. Divine energy pushed against him through the connection, raw and burning like fire beneath the skin. His own cursed essence recoiled at first, hissing at the intrusion, but Adam forced it to hold. He kept the link open, anchoring Drake’s presence to his own, creating a foundation, a stabilizing structure—like scaffolding around a crumbling tower.

  And in doing so, he made himself completely vulnerable. He could no longer dodge.

  The radiant wings sensed the shift instantly. Without the evasive motion of before, their target became clear. They redirected, slashing toward Adam like golden blades wielded by the wrath of a god. One struck across his back, splitting open cursed armor and spraying black mist into the air. Another raked across his shoulder, nearly severing one of his insectoid limbs. A third grazed his side, carving a burning gouge through his flesh that sent a jolt of agony into his core.

  Adam groaned but didn’t scream. He kept his grip on Drake’s hands, even as his arms trembled.

  “You’re not taking him.”

  He growled under his breath, eyes burning red as he pushed back against the tide of divine fury.

  “Not while I’m still breathing!”

  The wings tore through the sky in a storm of radiant violence, each strike more feral than the last. After all that, Adam could barely hold his ground anymore. He had managed to keep every inch of Drake protected, but it came at a price. His outer limbs had lost most of their structure, with shattered chitin and torn sinew trailing behind him like falling ash. Defensive extensions regenerated too slowly. Spectral armor flickered and broke apart under the divine pressure. He couldn’t take much more.

  Then—finally—he saw it.

  It was happening. The infection was no longer spreading—it was being taken apart, internalized, rewritten by Drake’s will. But Adam’s relief was short-lived. Even if the process had started, it was not fast enough. Seconds felt like hours as his defenses continued to crumble. He was running out of time, body and mind pushed past their limits in a desperate gamble.

  The percentage climbed. Slowly. 17%, 31%, 48%— And then chaos returned.

  From Drake’s back, new appendages exploded outward—dozens of them. Not wings, but tendrils, filaments, serpents of divine energy lashing in every direction. A tangle of golden blades and flailing light that screamed without sound. They surged at both boys alike.

  Adam tensed and braced himself, ready to take the hit… But the strike never came.

  With a sharp metallic crash, a series of slashes cut through the glowing limbs, severing several of them cleanly midair. Adam snapped his gaze to the side.

  Katya had arrived. She stood on a floating platform, holding her massive living scythe, its edges already humming from the divine contact. Next to her stood Vaelric, his crimson longsword dripping with radiant sparks. Both looked furious and completely out of breath. It was obvious they'd taken considerable effort to reach this height without the ability to fly. Down below, Angela stood on a big rock, knees shaking and hand gripping her head like it was splitting apart. Her other hand still held her paintbrush, its tip glowing faintly, proof that she’d used one of her skills to help the other two reach them in time.

  Despite the divine saturation that filled the sky like a poison mist, Katya and Vaelric stood their ground. Their arrival gave Adam just enough breathing room. The girl slashed wide arcs to keep the divine tendrils back, her scythe screeching each time it struck them, meanwhile, Vaelric intercepted the limbs that came from below and the sides. His sword sang each time it collided with light.

  But even with their combined effort, the radiant mass only grew more aggressive. Their platforms were unstable, floating in place with minimal maneuverability. Both of them were getting wounded, cuts lining their arms and torsos—but neither backed down.

  Adam’s defenses were crumbling as well. No matter how many tendrils he conjured, no matter how many layers of corrupted energy he shaped into barriers, and no matter how many his allies cut down, the divine assault never relented. He was bleeding now—cuts deep across his arms, seared marks along his sides, broken stumps where extra limbs had been cleaved off by radiant force.

  And then the worst happened.

  Adam froze. His mind locked. No—no, no, no. Not now. Not after everything. Of all the times for that cursed title to activate, it had to be now? The absurd cruelty of it made his stomach twist. His teeth clenched until they cracked. All of it wasted? The infection would remain. Drake would fall, and there was nothing they could do.

  Until he heard it.

  “Like hell I will!”

  Drake’s voice ripped through the sky like a blade. His head snapped upward, his eyes blazing with fury and will. And then, everything shook. A column of raw Imperial Ki exploded outward from the blond’s chest, shattering the air. The golden wings convulsed, writhing and faltering under the pressure of such potent and foreign energy.

  Adam didn’t hesitate. In that instant, with the connection between them still active, he let his own cursed energy pour out again—this time not just feeding into the link, but merging with Drake’s Ki. Shadow collided with light. Miasma mixed with resolve. And instead of destroying each other, they surged forward, united in purpose. Just like in the training room, when their powers had overlapped by accident. Only this time, it was intentional, just as they had practiced. They knew what they were doing.

  Both of them screamed.

  The wings flailed while the divine infection spasmed like a dying beast. Adam felt it. Something had shifted—something deep inside Drake. Something broke and gave way, washed by the enormous wave of Imperial Ki and Cursed Energy. Adam didn’t question it. He seized the moment and activated the skill [Soul Ingestion]. Instantly, a black cloud tore free from Drake’s body and surged into Adam. It burned like acid, like divine tar invading his cells. But he held it in. He welcomed it. It was the infection, fully exposed. [Arianka’s Infection], now inside him.

  There would be no second attempt.

  “Skill Devourer!”

  He screamed. Black light erupted from his form. A vortex of corrupted energy surrounded him, lashing out like the jaws of a beast ready to feed. Somewhere deep inside his mind, Malzaphir was laughing with savage joy, his voice echoing like broken glass in a cathedral.

  And then, as the black storm surged around him and the system trembled in response, a new message appeared.