He wasn't really sure what he was doing—following a group of psychopaths into a dangerous mission, driven only by the desperate need not to be vulnerable. Even to himself it felt pathetic, but he couldn't take the risk. He would try to play by the rules. Those four were among the strongest; he wanted to know why.
He was also intrigued by the origin of Thaloren's power. At first, he had thought there might be an alternative explanation, but it turned out Thaloren was so powerful because he had received the blessing of the god meant to protect this solar system—who now just sat idly watching.
Daion packed a few extra things, including extra rations for Aelith. He was sure they wouldn't give her anything, so he'd have to take care of her himself.
He unrolled the map Ken had handed him with a mocking laugh. The path was short: they only needed to investigate a nearby village that had been caught at the edge of the frontier. Multiple disappearances had been reported there. Yet something about the map unsettled him. Beside the village stretched an enormous fissure, and something told him that was where the real problem lay.
His suspicion was confirmed the moment he turned and came face to face with the god.
He glanced around—the flow of time had stopped. Aelith had managed to catch a glimpse of the presence but was now frozen in a defensive stance.
"Nice trick," Daion muttered, while the god only looked around with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. "How'd you pull it off?"
"You're clever, aren't you?" The voice was calm.
"Massive gravity can alter space-time, but I'm not exactly turning into a pancake." Daion shot back. The god chuckled under his breath and gave a nod.
"Half credit. Let's say time distortion can affect you without crushing you if you're at just the right distance. And let's also say these—" he gestured toward the black holes orbiting him, shifting as new event horizons flickered into existence, "—aren't just for decoration. My control is precise enough that I govern time itself… though don't mention it to the Primordial of Time, she'd take it personally. She's still a little immature."
"An immature goddess? Can't imagine that." Daion spat sarcasm at him.
He looked back at the map, deliberately ignoring the god. This time he was certain it wasn't just a hallucination, nor only the voice in his head—the god was really there, in physical form, oppressive and irritating. Just standing near him was unsettling. Daion's gaze returned to the fissure.
"I need to go there, don't I?" he asked bluntly. He expected the god to be evasive, to annoy him with riddles, but instead the deity glanced at him seriously.
"Yes. No time for mysterious-entity games. That was the last place my book was seen, but I can feel something… unpleasant there. If I could, I'd destroy it myself, but—"
"Yeah, yeah. Rules, whatever." Daion sighed. The god nodded and stood up. "At least you're clear this time."
The god shrugged and turned his gaze toward Aelith, curious about the way she glared at him, ready to strike. His expression brightened with a pleased smile.
"Slave cliché? I like it. You should take good care of her."
With that, his form collapsed inward like a miniature black hole and vanished. Time lurched forward again. Aelith lashed out at the space where the god had stood, confused.
Daion exhaled heavily and went back to packing. At least now he had a clearer objective. He was tired of being just another Summoned who could only rely on brute force.
He stepped out of the room carrying a small bag. Aelith, of course, he had forced to carry most of the luggage—if she wasn't going to fight, he would at least make use of his "slave." Still, he remembered his promise: sooner or later, he would have to fight her himself to keep her under control.
Before leaving the tower, he crossed paths with Loryn, whose face was hidden as always. Daion still didn't know why he covered it, and frankly, it wasn't his problem.
"How's life as a champion treating you?" Daion mocked. Loryn looked him over.
"Going with them is a mistake."
Daion raised a brow, sighed, and kept walking toward the exit.
"Not your concern. I had to go with someone."
"They're selfish and cruel." Loryn's tone was firm. Daion paused for a moment. Of course they were. But what choice did he have? Stay here, weak, and wait to die?
"If you trust them, they could—"
"I'm not an idiot. And I'm not going for the company. I'll be fine." Daion's reply was confident. Loryn seemed satisfied; he simply ruffled Aelith's hair before walking away, ignoring the barrage of teenage insults she hurled at him.
Outside, they passed the spot of the execution. The blood still stained the ground, and Daion swore he could hear the man's screams echoing in his mind. At least this time it hadn't been his fault, though that knowledge did little to comfort him.
He looked away and spotted the soldier who had greeted them at the gates on their first day. The man was smoking beside a hunched boy whose eyes were locked on the ground, as though he wanted to sink into it. It was hard to see how far the boy's spirit had fallen—and Daion knew it would only get worse in the days ahead.
They continued until they reached the fortress gates. Waiting there were the four Summoned. Ken wore a striking set of black and blue armor that gleamed in the light. Amelie was dressed in light armor that barely protected her at all, paired with a long, flowing red gown with a plunging neckline that somehow still allowed her to move freely. Brut, by contrast, was recognizable only by his sheer size; his heavy armor covered him entirely, leaving only the glowing eyes of a Summoned visible. And the mute stood silently, eyes down, slipping steel knuckles over his fists while adjusting his assault armor.
Daion realized then: three tanks and two assault types, counting himself. Grossly unbalanced.
Alongside them were about five demi-humans—two girls and three boys, all roughly Aelith's age. They carried supplies with downcast expressions, their clothes torn to rags. Even Aelith stood out among them, her garments at least washed. She eyed them warily and slipped behind Daion.
"All right," Ken said, drawing his weapon—a massive, single-edged greatsword. "Our admirer finally arrived."
Daion narrowed his eyes.
"Fine. Should we get moving?"
"Almost." Daion was tempted to ask what he meant, but the answer came quickly enough.
The gates behind them opened once again. Out came the two soldiers he had seen earlier, joined by three more. With a closer look, Daion recognized them—lazy fools he'd overheard mocking their superiors a few days ago. Add them to the guard who slept on duty and the boy traumatized after his first kill, and it was clear they were sending the very best of the best.
A sharp, unpleasant weight pressed against his back. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Seraphine stood atop the wall, smiling down at him. Beside her were the woman who had fined him for Aelith's baths and the soldier who had insisted he couldn't speak with her. Daion truly wondered what their presence meant, watching him so intently. He decided to ignore it for now and marched forward with the idiot Summoned.
The road was easy—far duller than exploring the forest. In Corrupted territory there was nothing but a gray wasteland, trees withered by time, and the skeletal remains of what had once been prosperous towns and villages.
"What was your life like before you came here?" Ken asked, dragging his sword along the ground. Daion glanced at him.
"I don't really know. My memory's in pieces," he admitted. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was smart to reveal that, but there was no reason to hide it. Maybe talking about it would even stir something. "I remember I was a soldier, with multiple missions abroad. Beyond that… just fragments."
The depressed soldier stumbled over a rock. Daion looked at him and caught the name on his plate—Yair. Interesting. The man studied Daion in return, curiosity in his eyes.
"You know, I used to be a psychiatrist in my previous life," Yair said. "There are ways to stimulate memory. You could retell the fragments you recall, and more pieces might surface. Or expose yourself to things that could trigger them."
"From psychiatrist to psychopath. Fascinating," Daion shot back with biting sarcasm. Ken laughed and kept walking.
"I know what you think of us," Ken replied with confidence. "Don't worry. Soon, you'll understand everything." Daion wasn't convinced in the slightest. Amelie slipped past and jabbed his side.
"Hey, think we'll find something fun in the village? Like booze? Or some mushrooms?" she asked eagerly.
Ken looped an arm around her.
"I doubt it. That place has survived by sheer miracle for months. There won't be much left worth taking."
The twin suns were already high overhead. By midday, they finally reached their destination: a ruined village. SteelWall had looked decayed when Daion first saw it, but this… This was hardly more than skeletal husks that had once been houses—charred wood, broken stones scattered across the ground. The stench was unbearable, coming from half-devoured animal corpses and dried blood splattered across the dirt. Strangely, much like the first village Daion had visited, there were no human bodies.
They pressed on until reaching the center, where the ground sank into a crater about three meters deep. Around a fire sat a ragged group of survivors. Daion watched in grim silence as men heaved human corpses into the flames for fuel, while others ate what looked disturbingly like the remains of giant spiders.
Aelith let out a shrill cry, leaping aside, fur bristling, eyes bloodshot, ears stiff with alarm. Her arms had already begun to sprout fur when Daion grabbed her shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw the crushed carcass of… something.
It looked insectoid, with the horned crest of a beetle and the compound eyes of a fly. Yet it bore eight limbs, creating one of the strangest abominations he had ever seen.
Daion approached cautiously and crouched beside it. The survivors glanced at him nervously. The creature was very much dead, but some strange fluid still oozed from its body, spreading across the soil. He touched it with his gem, focused for several seconds—yet nothing happened. The monster remained still. He stared at his hand, perplexed. "It has no Omega energy. That makes no sense."
"Don't waste your time. Those things aren't Corrupted," Ken called as they continued forward. The soldiers eyed the carcass warily as they descended into the crater. Daion frowned.
"How can it not be Corrupted? That thing looks straight out of my nightmares."
"That's an Alpha creature," Ken explained. Daion's confusion only deepened. Ken sighed, resigned to giving him an answer.
They reached the survivors. The ragged group shifted nervously, unsure of what the Summoned would do. Finally, one man stepped forward—a tall figure with a comical mustache—and extended his hand. Ken ignored it completely. The man lowered it with a strained smile.
"The Summoned—the divine guild finally sends aid." Daion studied the man. He wore garments that had once been expensive: a green silk shirt with sleeves that had probably been white but had long since turned brown with filth. At his hip hung a fencing sword, and something about it stirred a vague memory in Daion. "My name is Lord Alaric. I was once a noble of this land. These people are under my care."
He didn't have the pompous air Daion associated with nobility. He spoke with confidence, his words charged with energy even in such a dire situation. The soldiers glanced at each other, and the slaves tried to take the opportunity to rest—only to be reminded otherwise by Amelie slamming her sword into the ground, her crazed eyes daring them to move.
"Pretty lively for someone in your position," Daion ventured. Alaric scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Well, I can't complain too much. Someone has to look after these people." His voice sounded sincere—Daion could hear the faint tremor in it. He was afraid. That much proved he wasn't simply putting on a show. Alaric extended his hand, and Daion's eyes lit up.
"Daion. A pleasure." he said, clasping it as the noble replied with energy.
I like this one, he thought.
Ken sighed, scanning the small crowd. There weren't many survivors—only a handful of villagers, with soldiers conspicuously absent. They gathered around the bonfire as Alaric frowned, watching one of the townsfolk toss another corpse into the flames.
"It started a few weeks ago. We had managed to keep the Corrupted at bay thanks to the wall." He gestured toward what remained of a great stone barrier that had once circled the village. "Before corruption spread this far, the place was relatively safe. But everything changed once the Alpha creatures joined the Corrupted. The plague spread before we even realized it. It drained our strength, weakened our defenses, and finally allowed the Corrupted to overrun us. We held out until about two weeks ago—then a large force slaughtered our soldiers and carried off the survivors. Among them… my father."
"Wait, if they carried them off, doesn't that mean they're still alive?" Daion asked.
"It's not impossible. The plague creatures often keep their food alive for weeks."
Daion glanced sideways at his group and immediately realized he couldn't trust them to help. The four idiot Summoned were rifling through rubble, looking for alcohol. The demihumans stood silently, staring at the ground. And the soldiers—aside from Yair—were too busy eyeing the survivors, particularly the women.
He approached Ken, who already seemed to know what he would ask.
"Don't worry. Our mission is to identify the cause of the disappearances," Ken said, settling down on the ground.
"And you'll do that lying on your ass? Brilliant strategy," Daion mocked. Ken chuckled.
"You're still hung up on it, aren't you? That we sacrificed that soldier without hesitation."
Daion clenched his fist, fighting the urge to break his face right there.
"I'll follow the trail. They attack constantly, but we have no idea where the plague originates. It won't take long. Five Summoned and a demi-human of semi-high rank give off enough Omega energy to drive Alpha creatures into a frenzy. And then I'll show you why you shouldn't worry—because to us Summoned, soldiers don't matter. After all, this was Seraphine's request. Maybe I'll even get to sleep with her as a reward."
Daion narrowed his eyes. Seraphine. That bitch was playing her game again. He had known she was toying with him from the moment he agreed to come—but he hadn't expected them to flaunt it so openly.
"You said Alpha creatures. What are they?" Daion asked.
"All you need to know is they don't belong to this plane. They're not Corrupted. They don't consume Omega energy—they're its antithesis. Negative matter. Normally they don't mingle with Omega worlds, but when they do, beings far more dangerous than Corrupted emerge. And unlike Corrupted, you can't absorb them."
Alaric suddenly stiffened, his expression darkening. Ken was right. Something big had noticed them. The ground trembled, the flames of the bonfire dimmed, and thousands of tiny footsteps echoed in the distance. Patches of earth and rubble twisted and warped, forming abominations Daion couldn't even classify—deformed insects fused with other species, swarming in the hundreds.
The group braced themselves. Aelith transformed instinctively, her senses bristling with violent rejection of whatever was approaching.
The earth split apart, and from the depths crawled a nightmare. A woman's naked torso rose—but only the torso, fused grotesquely to the body of a massive centipede. Her face twisted between agony and horror. Alaric froze in place at the sight. Half of her face was disfigured with jagged growths, while the other half still bore the young features of a once-beautiful woman.
The noble covered his mouth in shock as the abomination reached into its own body and pulled out a pair of curved swords dripping with black liquid. A single drop fell to the ground, erasing matter itself where it landed, dissolving stone and earth alike.
Negative matter, huh? Daion thought grimly.
The Summoned readied their weapons while the villagers fled. Alaric fell to his knees, paralyzed. Daion grabbed him by the sleeve, trying to drag him away.
"Hey, you need to move!"
But Alaric's expression wasn't fear—it was devastation, his gaze locked on the creature. Daion gritted his teeth and stepped in front of him.
"Ready for a real Summoned battle?" Amelie asked as the Tank and the Mute moved into position.
"Handle the plague swarm. We'll deal with the Alpha Guardian," Ken said with a confident grin.
The creature tilted its head. Its mouth split open, shredding what was left of its human face until it resembled a puppet filled with rows of teeth. Then it unleashed a bone-shattering screech as it swung its first blow.
End of Chapter.