Chapter 127 - The Dance of a Mad Goddess

  Adam barely had a moment to breathe before he heard Drake’s voice cut through the chaos like a sharp gust of wind. The urgency behind it snapped him back into motion just in time. Two of the strange creatures lunged toward him, their bodies glowing with divine brilliance.

  As expected, they weren’t beasts of flesh and blood but monsters of raw divine energy, distorted into lupine shapes that shimmered like unstable fire. Their faces twisted into grotesque echoes of wolves, and as their jaws descended toward Adam, he reacted instinctively. A familiar surge of cursed mist enveloped him as he activated [Spectral Mist Step], his body dissolving into an ethereal haze just as the jaws of the beasts snapped shut where his neck had been a second earlier.

  The divine energy that formed them passed through his intangible form, but even so, the boy felt it—like walking through flames made of holy light. No damage, but the sensation was unmistakable. Divine energy in its purest form was something his cursed body rejected, and now he was surrounded by it.

  Around him, chaos reigned. The open space outside the prison had turned into a battlefield, one painted in golden light and splashes of blood. The freed giants—some still limping, others half-bandaged—fought like titans, using broken chunks of stone and torn metal bars as weapons. Katya spun her guillotine-like scythe in long, elegant arcs, the living weapon snarling as it carved radiant beasts apart with precise, sweeping strikes. Angela stood amidst the chaos like a conductor directing her own orchestra of death, dozens of floating swords made of prismatic light orbiting her form and striking with perfect speed and timing. Vaelric, body still ragged from his wounds, fought with the calm ferocity of a proud vampire warrior, his crimson-bladed sword cleaving through the divine monsters in sharp, clean arcs. Each slash left behind trails of red energy that hissed upon contact with the radiant flesh of their enemies.

  Even some of the human soldiers, confused but desperate, were swinging swords or firing crossbows. They fought beside the giants, unaware of how unnatural their current allies were. But none of it was enough. The beasts kept coming. Dozens upon dozens, surging from the outskirts in an unending tide. Divine wolves with burning armor, creatures with serpentine bodies made of crystal and holy fire, towering bipedal figures of light wielding ghostly maces. They moved like avatars of war, unrelenting and tireless.

  Adam gritted his teeth and extended his arms wide. Cursed energy burst from the center of his chest as he activated [Demon-Type Manifestation], summoning forth the massive clawed arm of his most vicious summon. The air around him bent with the sheer pressure as the ghostly arm erupted from his body, the translucent limb towering over the battlefield with claws like jagged towers of obsidian. With one swift motion, Adam brought the arm down like a hammer, smashing the two divine wolves that had circled around to pounce again. The earth trembled from the impact, golden sparks flying as their bodies crumpled beneath the blow.

  But then came the recoil. The discomfort returned instantly, stronger than before. The entire claw wavered—its edges fraying, its structure destabilizing. Adam watched as the ghostly limb flickered like a candle in the wind before vanishing entirely with a painful snap, leaving his chest aching and exposed. The two divine canines, though battered, pulled themselves up again. They weren’t dead. He had only stunned them.

  They lunged again, and Adam was forced to respond by mutating his arms into long, jagged spears. The cursed metal-like flesh twisted and grew until both of his arms became monstrous lances. He caught one creature midair, using sheer momentum to impale it and then slam it into the ground. But the other snapped down on his second weapon, biting into it with divine force. The power struggle sent shockwaves through his body. The beast snarled, the heat of its energy searing through Adam’s corrupted spear-flesh. He was strong—but not strong enough. Not against something born from divinity itself. Not against something that was his exact counter.

  But then came Drake… A blur of motion, a thunderous crack, and a flash of light. The blond crashed into the fight with the force of a meteor, his foot slamming into the divine wolf biting Adam’s arm. The blow landed with such power that the creature's armored chest caved inward, divine plates warping and shattering from the impact. The shockwave that followed blasted both creatures away, hurling them into a heap of rubble and golden dust.

  Drake landed beside Adam with the force of a thunderclap, the earth beneath his polished dress shoes cracking from the impact. His long coat fluttered behind him in the wind of chaos, the black and silver trim now stained with the light-scattered remains of the beasts he’d torn through moments before.

  Towering wings of radiant gold flared wide behind him, erupting from his back in twin arcs of energy that shimmered like living fire. They cast wild reflections across the battlefield, their divine radiance pulsing in sync with the breath of their master—but this time, they weren’t rampaging on their own. They weren’t out of control. They moved with Drake, not against him, held steady in perfect sync with his thinking. The same wings that had nearly impaled him earlier now flared like banners of war. His blue eyes blazed, not with panic or confusion, but with pure, furious Imperial Ki, condensed and burning like blue flames that danced from his pupils to his temples.

  “You alright?”

  Drake asked, crouched low, fists raised and wings spreading wider as more of the divine beasts began closing in from every side. He didn't look at Adam. He didn’t need to. His voice was steady, but underneath it was the tremble of urgency. His stance was that of a master martial artist—legs perfectly aligned, back straight, one foot slightly lifted, ready to pivot into a deadly strike at any second.

  Adam, breathing hard, blood trickling from a cracked lip, stood upright again. His arms pulsed with dull pain and his cursed energy fluctuated, struggling to maintain form in this divine-saturated battlefield.

  “I’m fine.”

  He said, though the bitter taste of blood in his mouth told him otherwise.

  “What the hell is happening?”

  Drake finally glanced at him, and there was nothing calm in that look—only fury and disbelief.

  “The paladins… all of them. They just turned. Their bodies started glowing and twisting, and before I could react, they were monsters. These things—”

  He gestured at the charging beasts

  “—they used to be men. Now they’re rampaging beasts, radiating with whatever corrupted blessing is running through this place. They're not just attacking us—they're attacking everything.”

  Before Adam could even respond, three more of the radiant beasts surged forward. Their movements were erratic, like puppets convulsing under too many strings. Divine light flickered across their twisted forms, fangs of pure radiance dripping with holy flame, armor clicking and grinding unnaturally over grotesque muscular bodies. They lunged as one, aiming for Drake.

  But the blond boy was already moving. His body blurred in motion, a single step catapulting him forward. His left hand shot up, palm flat, and struck the first beast directly beneath the chin with such force that its armored skull snapped backward, launching it into the air with a shockwave that flattened dust and debris in a ten-meter radius. Without missing a beat, Drake turned and twisted mid-air, his right leg sweeping into a spinning roundhouse that collided with the second creature’s ribs—metal crumpled under the blow like paper, and the creature was hurled into a pillar of broken stone, where it burst into a flash of divine particles.

  The third beast came in low, jaws wide, but Drake caught it by the throat with one arm, slammed his knee up into its chest with a crunch, then pivoted smoothly and tossed the monster over his shoulder with a shoulder throw, driving it head-first into the ground so hard that its divine frame fractured and shattered.

  The flames in his eyes pulsed. His wings flared, not with grace, but with force—raw, commanding, divine and martial power fused into one. And yet, he remained dressed in that same pristine formal outfit from earlier—clean lines, tailored fit, sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms. It should have looked ridiculous, fighting gods in a blazer and polished shoes. Instead, it made him look actually pretty cool.

  Adam stared, overwhelmed for a second by the sheer efficiency of it. Drake had always been strong, but this was just another level. Even when they were sparring in the lobby, seeing him in real combat showed how much he had improved during his training year in Murim.

  However, the monsters kept coming, and the battlefield did not calm. There was no time to be impressed.

  “Let’s go!”

  Drake barked, snapping Adam out of his awe.

  “We move together!”

  And just like that, they turned toward the next incoming wave… The battlefield was chaos. Smoke and light danced violently across the fractured stones, and the cries of the wounded mixed with the shrieks of divine beasts. Amid the madness, Adam and Drake sprinted forward, weaving between rubble and burning banners, each one desperately scanning for signs of their scattered allies.

  The enemy was everywhere. Golden-eyed horrors with twisted canine bodies and armor forged from raw light prowled the battlefield, mauling anything in their path. It was impossible to regroup with anyone—the terrain had fragmented into separate combat zones, each drowning in its own crisis.

  Drake suddenly veered off, catching sight of Katya surrounded by at least five of the creatures. Without hesitation, he launched forward, using the momentum from his divine wings to propel him like a bolt of judgment. Adam, on the contrary, stopped mid-stride, his breath caught not by exhaustion but by the icy presence that curled at the edge of his thoughts. Malzaphir was watching. Cold and unamused, the devil’s presence loomed within him like a shadow made of knives. There was no mockery in it—only disinterest. This, to him, was not entertainment.

  And for some reason, that was what sparked Adam’s clarity.

  These things weren’t beasts. They were pure energy, basically divine constructs. Their form was just a shell—light given shape by Arianka’s power. If that was true, then maybe it wasn’t strength he needed, but disruption.

  He didn’t wait and create two spectral wings from his back, each one crackling with unstable ghostlight. With a push, he soared into the air, higher than before, until the entire battlefield stretched out beneath him. Bodies moved, and he could see almost every combatant in the surroundings. But it was not enough.

  Adam needed more.

  His Spectronomicon burst from his chest like a blooming curse, a skeletal thing cloaked in translucent mist and stitched symbols that breathed across its grinning skull. It laughed—a grotesque, hollow cackle—and circled him like a predator awaiting its signal. Adam inhaled sharply and began to concentrate to the fullest of his abilities.

  Then he activated everything. His body darkened instantly, swallowed by the corrosive field of [Corrupted Existence]. The aura surged from his skin like tendrils of ink in water, shadowy and thick. It wrapped around his form and seeped into the world around him, distorting the air itself. Then came his newly acquired [God’s Plague], its effect invisible but immediate—lacing every inch of his corruption with parasitic influence, designed to twist and infiltrate anything divine.

  And then, finally, the trigger.

  “Mgehye’lloig”

  He whispered, and the Spectronomicon obeyed, finally using the skill that he had gained in the second scenario, thanks to Thaddeus reading for him the ancient language of the Necronomicon’s page, a very powerful mental disruption skill.

  The ghostly skull tilted its jaw back, and a scream erupted—not a sound, but a weapon. The cry sliced through the battlefield like a knife across glass, impossibly high-pitched and resonant. Soldiers fell to their knees. Giants groaned in disorientation. Angela screamed in pain, and her blades dissolved into paint. Katya collapsed behind a boulder with her hands covering her head, and Vaelric remained unaffected—thanks to his racial traits, his vampiric blood sparing him from its effect. Even Drake, floating above a pile of disabled enemies, winced and clenched his fists but held firm.

  But the real targets—the beasts—suffered far worse. Every divine creature on the field howled, their forms convulsing in unnatural patterns. The armor of light flickered and cracked, their limbs trembling violently as if their very structure was collapsing. The mental parasitic attack embedded within Adam’s skills lashed out like invisible worms, embedding into their essence, burrowing through divine pathways. One by one, they began to unravel.

  The first burst like a shattered mirror, its holy light fracturing into harmless strands that vanished in the wind. Beneath it, a paladin—wounded and gasping—collapsed to the ground. Then another. Then ten more. Every beast that had once surged with divine energy began to collapse inward, their monstrous shapes breaking down, shattering into glimmers of residual power until only human forms remained. Armor charred, faces pale, most of them unconscious—but undeniably alive.

  Adam hovered above the battlefield, body trembling under the strain of what he had just done, and watched as the wave of purification completed. He hadn't saved them. He hadn't cured anything. But he had broken the control, and for now, that was enough.

  The moment Adam confirmed that the last of the divine beasts had shed its corrupted shell and collapsed into human form, he deactivated his skills at once. The oppressive aura surrounding his body faded into thin air, the spectral energy dissolving around his limbs and retreating from the battlefield. The screaming of the Spectronomicon ceased, and the echoing toll it had unleashed over the world died with it, leaving behind a silence that felt almost alien.

  Below him, the results were immediate. All around the battleground, both giants and human soldiers were dropping to their knees or falling flat against the ground, breathing heavily, their faces pale and strained as they fought against the lingering disorientation from the mental assault they had endured.

  Angela clutched her temples, staggering back against a rock. Katya had to support herself with her scythe, her eyes half-lidded, trying to stay upright. The giants stood or knelt in heavy silence, and then, one by one, they slumped over, utterly drained. The human soldiers, some of whom had tried to assist or fight beside the freed giants, were no better off. Even with their lack of divine alignments, their minds had still felt the edge of the screech, and most were too dazed to do anything more than gasp and retch. And yet, despite all of it, there was peace now. Brief, temporary—but peace nonetheless.

  Adam hovered above the ruined field, scanning the scene below with hollowed eyes. It was over. They had done it; the giants were free, and the paladins were still alive, confused and broken but alive. They could continue with the escape plan for all the giants immediately.

  But then came the flicker of light.

  Without warning, a system notification blinked into existence before his eyes—words etched in cold, sterile letters that made his stomach twist the second he saw them:

  Adam’s breath caught in his throat. A second time? What did that mean? Was it related to him, or had something else happened that triggered this—?

  Then it began. No explosion, no beam of light. Just sound… a sob.

  A soft, broken wail that seemed to rise from nowhere and yet filled the entire world. A cry so delicate and sorrowful it didn’t even register as an attack—until the effects hit.

  Every giant collapsed at once.

  Adam’s eyes widened in horror as the entire field shifted. Warriors as tall as buildings toppled like puppets whose strings had been severed. Groans filled the air as they fell, slamming into the ground with terrifying force. The thunder of their bodies echoed like war drums. Even Thalgrun dropped to his knees, his fingers clutching his chest as if some invisible hand had reached inside and crushed his heart. Only one among them remained standing: Mughal. The child looked around, bewildered, his small fists clutching the divine cloth as he whimpered and tried to understand what was happening.

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  The humans remained unaffected. Angela, Katya, and even the recovering paladins looked around in stunned confusion, untouched by the sound. Vaelric stood frozen, having clearly heard it—but unlike the giants, it had done nothing to him. He didn’t fall. He simply stared upward with narrowed eyes, without understanding what was happening.

  But Adam… He didn’t even have the strength to cry out. His vision went completely white.

  System messages surged again, filling his vision with red warning text:

  His wings shattered into ghostly mist, dissolving behind him as his body went limp in midair. He began to fall.

  The world turned into a blur of movement and noise as the wind howled in his ears. Drake saw him. He shouted something that the unconscious Adam didn’t get to hear, but the blond warrior was already moving, pushing his wings to the limit, flying like a spear through the air. But even Drake wasn’t going to make it in time.

  The ground rushed closer. The rocks were sharp, jagged, broken by battle. It would only take a second more for everything to end.

  And then, from the depths of Adam’s mind, a voice slithered into his thoughts—smooth, lazy, amused.

  “No fun if the other side cheats.”

  Malzaphir said, like a spectator bored of a rigged game.

  “If she’s using her rules, then I’ll use mine.”

  In the same instant, Adam’s mind snapped back into focus, filled with devilish energy. His eyes flared open, gasping violently as if he had just been ripped from drowning. With no time to think, he activated [Spectral Mist Step] instinctively, and his falling form turned into black fog just before impact. The rocks below passed through him like a breeze through smoke.

  He reappeared several meters away with a solid thump, materializing on one knee, chest heaving, body covered in cold sweat. His heart thundered in his chest like it was trying to escape. He stayed there, panting, clutching at the earth beneath him like an anchor while the last echoes of that sorrowful wail faded from his ears.

  After a while, the pain in Adam’s chest was finally starting to subside, but his breath came in short, ragged bursts. His body trembled slightly from the effort of resisting Arianka’s Lament, and he remained on one knee, one hand planted into the scorched soil as he tried to collect himself. The aftershock of divine influence still echoed in his skull like a fading scream, and though he was conscious again, it felt like a thin thread was all that tethered him to reality.

  Heavy footsteps closed in. Drake’s voice was the first thing he recognized.

  “Adam!”

  He called out, urgency bleeding through the usually calm tone. Adam turned his head just slightly, meeting the tall blond as he knelt beside him, quickly scanning for damage.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  Adam coughed, wiping the blood from his lip.

  “The system… It said Arianka used a global skill. ‘Mad Goddess Lament.’ She didn’t like what I did.”

  He said, voice hoarse. Drake’s jaw clenched.

  “A global skill? That’s—”

  But his words were cut short when a deep rumble shook the earth beneath them. The sound came not from the remnants of battle still echoing across the field, nor from the injured giants groaning in pain nearby—it came from far ahead, where the great white-and-gold temple of the Paladin Paragon once loomed. The sound of stone fracturing, of something ancient and monolithic cracking from within.

  They turned as one, their eyes locking on the horizon.

  From the shattered remains of the sacred temple, a golden light erupted, not like the soft warmth of sunlight but an overwhelming blaze that scorched the senses. In its wake, debris launched into the air like cannon fire, and then—through the collapse—a figure emerged.

  It was a giant.

  No, not like the giants they had freed. This one was at least three times larger, its mere presence distorting the very air around it. A massive form clad in radiant white armor, etched with golden sigils that pulsed in synchrony with the divine energy bleeding from its body. Eight luminous wings unfurled from its back, each one shaped from raw divine essence, and in its right hand, it held a colossal war hammer, glowing with so much divine energy that it looked like it was distorting space itself.

  The creature moved slowly at first, each step shaking the ground, but then its glowing eyes scanned the battlefield—and found them. Adam stepped back instinctively.

  “What… is that?”

  Drake’s face paled. His gaze narrowed and then flared again with Imperial Ki as something changed in his expression.

  “I know what it is… Ever since I became a Holy Cultivator, I’ve been able to see the names and titles of inhabitants of the scenario.”

  He swallowed, then shouted.

  “That’s the Paladin Paragon, and...”

  “Groz’mar? The giant chief?”

  Adam echoed, stunned.

  “Well, he’s not a chief anymore. He’s a Paragon now.”

  Drake replied bitterly.

  “And we’re not ready for this.”

  Adam said under his breath. The divine behemoth raised its hammer slightly, as if testing the air, and took a slow, deliberate step toward them. Each movement it made felt like the tolling of a death bell, deep and final. The very ground under their feet cracked as divine pressure began to build again.

  The boy turned, calling out.

  “Everyone, regroup! We have to move now!”

  The others were not far. Katya and Angela sprinted toward them, Vaelric guiding Mughal with ease. The real problem was that no giant had regained consciousness yet, but there was no time—they could not fight this.

  But before Adam could issue a proper order, Katya let out a piercing scream and collapsed to her knees. Everyone stopped.

  “Katya?!”

  Angela rushed to her side. The blonde’s hands were clutched to her chest, her face pale and twisted in panic.

  “Something’s wrong—Kazue—something’s wrong with Kazue!”

  She gasped.

  “I can feel it—I can feel it through the bond!”

  Adam stepped forward, still clutching his ribs.

  “Katya, calm down—what do you mean?”

  “I have to go to her!”

  Katya’s voice cracked as her eyes darted wildly across the chaos, as if she could see beyond it, sense something none of them could.

  “She’s in danger—I need to go now!”

  Angela tried to grab her shoulder.

  “Wait—we can’t split up like this, not with that coming for us—”

  But it was too late. Katya’s body flared with white energy, pure and overwhelming. The ground around her glowed as a symbol burned into reality beneath her feet.

  “No—wait!”

  Adam shouted, taking a step forward—but instead of light, a harsh screech rang through the battlefield as a new system message suddenly interrupted the activation.

  Everything stopped. The radiance vanished. The circle beneath Katya’s feet cracked like shattered glass and dissipated. She stood frozen for a second, staring down in disbelief, and then staggered forward, eyes wide with panic.

  “No... no, no! Why?! I activated it! I used it!”

  Adam’s breath caught. There wasn’t time to ask why it failed. Not with the towering Paladin Paragon moving closer, its massive frame wading through the wreckage like a living fortress. The earth shook with each step, and the glow from its eight wings only intensified.

  “Drake!”

  Adam roared, already launching into the air, his spectral wings bursting to life behind him in a flare of ghostly light and cursed smoke.

  “Go!”

  Drake didn’t hesitate. His own golden wings ignited behind him as he followed Adam skyward. The air cracked as his Imperial Ki surged outward, wreathing his body in golden flames that flickered with divine harmony and martial precision. But this time, the divine energy within him merged with his Ki, making it even more radiant. His eyes burned with brimming light as he soared upward, landing beside Adam midair.

  There wasn’t time for a plan. Only instinct.

  Adam's body pulsed with [Corrupted Existence], his form leaking black energy that twisted unnaturally around him. The recent infusion of devilish influence—courtesy of Malzaphir’s interference—had begun to permanently stain his aura, threading it with an unholy presence that defied the divinity nearby. His ghostly, parasitic energy curved around Drake’s holy flame like oil over fire.

  And just like they had been practicing during the sparring matches, they didn’t reject each other; on the contrary, they resonated.

  Adam’s monstrous right arm twisted into a jagged claw of translucent corruption. Drake’s hand gleamed with tempered gold and roaring Ki. Together, they launched forward, fists extended, their power fusing mid-sky in a spiral of colorless flame and blackened light.

  The beam erupted. The sky itself trembled as the colossal wave of energy screamed across the battlefield, a coalescence of infernal curse and divine discipline, the raw sound of it tearing across the heavens like thunder. It slammed into Groz’mar, the Paladin Paragon, striking his armored chest with a force so great that the giant was forced to plant both feet deep into the stone.

  He stopped, and the attack held. A struggle of force and will surged in the air—two broken boys pouring everything they had into one final strike, the very definition of incompatible energies refusing to be divided. For a moment, even the divine titan couldn’t advance.

  But it didn’t last… Slowly, inch by inch, the white and golden armor began to glow brighter. The Paragon took a step forward—then another. The ground beneath his feet shattered again as his body pushed against the twin energies still pouring into him. And then—silence. The beam faded, and the skill collapsed.

  And Groz’mar hadn’t moved, not one scratch. His hammer rose again, golden light erupting from the weapon like a solar flare. Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

  “It didn’t work…”

  Drake grabbed his arm, dragging him back as they flew down toward the group again.

  “We have to go—now!”

  But then—the Paragon stopped. It let out a scream—high-pitched and ragged, as if something had struck it from within. Its wings flared out, spasming, and divine energy exploded outward in jagged bursts. For the first time, it stumbled.

  A system message appeared:

  And then, without needing another command, the system responded.

  White light engulfed them all—Adam, Drake, Angela, Katya, Vaelric, Mughal, Thalgrun, the unconscious giants—and before any of the remaining paladins or soldiers could react, they vanished, leaving behind only silence, a shattered battlefield, and a divine monster screaming into the void.

  ——————————————————————————————————————————————————

  Far from the battlefield of Uldroth, across a shattered valley of divine stone and golden banners, a massive figure fell from the sky like a comet. The impact was thunderous, shaking the ground for miles in every direction. The behemoth, easily the size of a multi-story fortress, crashed down with a howl of agony as its white and gold armor shattered on contact with the earth. Four immense arms sprawled outward, each having once gripped a flaming sword now scattered across the debris-strewn landscape. Golden blood splattered in thick streams as the divine essence that had once illuminated its body flickered, dimmed, and then slowly began to fade.

  The once-majestic temple of Arianka that had stood proudly at the center of this place was no more. Collapsed pillars, broken altars, and burning standards marked the devastation of the holy site. All around the ruins, dozens of soldiers and paladins lay crumpled on the ground. Some groaned weakly, others screamed in disbelief.

  The wounded crawled over each other or sat frozen, clutching holy symbols in trembling hands, unable to comprehend the truth laid bare before them: one of the Four Paladin Paragons—their protectors, avatars of the Goddess’s wrath—had been slain.

  From that destruction, the viewpoint shifted. Eight figures stood at the center of the chaos. Or rather, they lay scattered, most of them on their backs or slumped over, panting, bloodied, and bruised. The air around them shimmered with residual power and fading heat. It was clear the fight had taken everything from them. All but one had collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

  Solène Beaumont, their leader, stood tall amidst the wreckage. Her crimson hair hung loose over her shoulders, sticky with sweat and blood. One arm hung limp at her side, completely unresponsive, while thin trails of glowing embers escaped her lips with every ragged breath she took. Her chest rose and fell with effort, but there was pride in her expression.

  “That thing was a nightmare.”

  She rasped, barely audible through the heat haze.

  “But we actually did it. We’ll get a hell of a lot of points for this.”

  A man nearby, dressed in a formal black suit with a tattered coattail and a tall top hat askew on his head, shifted his weight and sat up against a broken wall. His face was pale and slick with blood.

  “Points don’t matter if we die getting them.”

  He muttered, his voice weak but edged with sharp frustration.

  “That thing... it wasn’t even supposed to be beatable. It was way above our level.”

  Solène glanced over her shoulder and snorted faintly.

  “Stop whining, Reginald. You’re not dead. You’re welcome.”

  The suited man rolled his eyes but said nothing more. Another figure grunted nearby. A tall, stern man with short blond hair and a tattered military uniform leaned forward, gripping his side as he looked down at the steaming corpse of the Paragon.

  “We’re in no shape to fight anything else. Our target was the ‘No Name’ team, not this... holy monster. Was it really worth it?”

  Solène turned to face him, her eyes still glowing faintly from residual energy.

  “Maybe not. But we’re alive, everyone’s fine; nothing a day or two near our ‘Life Tree Bonzai’ cannot heal. Besides, now we have something even more valuable. ”

  She lifted her functioning hand and gestured to the edge of the crater, where another of their number was slowly pushing himself to his feet.

  “Konrad. Do it.”

  The man in question—tall, wiry, cloaked in black—barely managed to raise his head. His entire body trembled from exhaustion, and blood soaked the hem of his hood. But he nodded slowly. Without a word, he limped toward the fallen titan. In his hand was a long staff, matte-black and inscribed with crimson runes. At its head was a spherical orb of deep obsidian that pulsed faintly with sick energy, a caged abyss bound in glass.

  Konrad knelt beside the corpse of the Paragon and raised the staff with both hands. With a single whisper, the orb cracked like brittle bone. A thick, black miasma poured out, crawling across the ground like living smoke. The tendrils of cursed essence slithered toward the dead Paragon’s body and began to coil around it.

  The reaction was immediate.

  The golden armor turned pitch black. Radiant metal warped and hissed as the divine plating corroded under the invasive curse. The body twitched violently. Muscles spasmed. One arm jerked upward, then another, until all four limbs convulsed with unnatural motion. From within the hollow chest of the fallen Paragon came a deep, guttural growl—no longer a voice of divine order, but something broken, something corrupted.

  Then the corpse began to rise. Steam hissed off its back. A black flame roared to life around its shoulders. The once-pure white aura had become an aura of shadow and contempt. Its once-holy wings, now skeletal and torn, unfurled in a shriek of unholy resurrection.

  Konrad let out a long, exhausted breath.

  “It’s done, it worked.”

  He said, slumping slightly as he stood back. A new message appeared in the system window that only their group could see:

  The monster stood still now, towering, its eyes glowing red through the visor of its warped helm. It was no longer a servant of Arianka. It was theirs.