Now I understand.
The destruction of Morvath Vigil… it wasn't because of a dungeon explosion.
No.
It was the dying will of the ancient dragon.
A being so powerful that its very death tears the world apart—its final breath strong enough to level cities, its rage etched into the air like a curse.
This fortress... it will be reduced to ashes. Just like in the original timeline.
Everyone will die.
And Liana… she'll die too.
I clench my fists. My chest tightens.
I can't let that happen.
No matter what it takes... I have to stop it.
Even if I have to fight fate itself—I will not let Liana die.
"How can I stop it?" I ask, staring at the unfathomable creature before me.
He doesn't look like he's dying.
Not at all.
He radiates power—ancient, overwhelming, and still alive despite the cracks tearing through his form.
"How can I stop this destruction?" I repeat, voice lower this time. Desperate.
He turns his gaze to me. His eyes hold a weight I can't begin to measure.
"You can stop it," he says calmly. "And not just that—you can awaken your darkness attribute."
My heart skips a beat.
Darkness.
The affinity that never showed itself... not even once since I stepped into this place.
Could it really be possible?
To awaken it now—and save the fortress?
A flicker of hope burns in my chest.
But right behind it... doubt creeps in like a shadow.
That easy? No. It can't be.
There must be a price. Something I have to give. Something I have to do.
I narrow my eyes, forcing myself to breathe.
I look at him again.
And this time, I'm ready to listen—no matter what the cost is.
"It's simple," he says. "You have to absorb the mana I've been releasing for the past thousand years."
My eyes widen.
Absorb mana? That's it?
I almost scoff. "That... sounds easy enough."
But then he continues, voice calm, ancient—carrying the weight of a dying god.
"After I was wounded in battle, I retreated here. But my body… it could no longer absorb mana naturally. So instead, I began collecting it—compressing it into my heart."
He taps his chest. A faint pulse echoes through the cavern, like the heartbeat of the world itself.
"I couldn't just release it into the air. Doing so would make this place far too unstable. The mana density would skyrocket… and invaders would come. Drawn to it like moths to flame."
"So you didn't release it," I say quietly.
He nods. "I forged a separate core. A vessel. It absorbs the mana I exhale... and in return, it stabilizes this place. It also acts as a shield—hiding this sanctuary from the outside world."
I stare at him, slowly understanding.
The core isn't just a prison.
It's a barrier. A heartbeat. A dam holding back a flood of power.
"And because of my nature," he continues, voice low and heavy, "the mana I released… wasn't ordinary."
I freeze.
"It's pure dark mana. Tainted by my affinity. For centuries, I've been exhaling it—letting it seep into the core. But over time… it's grown more potent. More volatile. Now, it's overloading."
He closes his eyes, jaw clenched.
"I'm not strong enough to stabilize it anymore."
A chill runs down my spine.
"How much time do we have?" I ask.
He opens his eyes and looks at me. "A week. At most."
A week.
That's all?
He chuckles softly. "That's why I was… surprised when you appeared. It felt like divine mercy. As if the gods themselves finally showed pity."
His gaze sharpens.
"To send a human… with darkness affinity… right when I needed it most."
My breath catches.
Only someone with darkness affinity can absorb it.
Only I can do it.
But that means...
If I fail—this entire place will fall. The fortress, the people… Liana.
No.
I can't let that happen.
I look up at him again, jaw clenched.
"What do I have to do… to stop it?"
Noctharion's burning eyes narrow.
"You must absorb the mana stored in the core I created."
The moment he speaks, the ground shudders. A low, guttural tremor rolls through the dark chamber, and for a heartbeat, it feels as if reality itself cracks.
From the air—no, from beyond the air—something emerges.
A gleaming black sphere descends from the void.
It's small. Smooth. Almost like polished marble.
But it pulses with an aura so thick, so dense, it warps the space around it. The air vibrates. The shadows stretch and twist unnaturally. My mana senses scream in warning just by looking at it.
This is the core.
Noctharion's core.
And I can feel it.
Power.
Raw, ancient, unfiltered.
More potent than anything I've ever encountered.
I've seen S-rank mana up close. Even the energy of S+ individuals.
This goes beyond that.
It's pressure incarnate. A weight upon my soul.
Even standing near it makes my mana pathways ache.
A single mistake… and my body will collapse. My core will rupture. I'll explode before I even begin.
I swallow hard. My throat is dry. My voice cracks.
"How… how can I absorb that?"
I step back, instinct screaming to run.
"It looks like it'll tear me apart. I don't think I can take it all."
"No… you don't have to absorb it completely," Noctharion says, his voice deep, strained. "And it's not like you could. You're not strong enough. If you try, your body will explode from mana overload."
He pauses, his ancient eyes narrowing.
"You only need to absorb enough to stabilize the core… drain the excess. That alone will be enough to awaken your darkness affinity. The mana is potent—tainted with centuries of my essence. You won't find a chance like this again."
I stand silent, breath shallow, heart pounding against my ribs.
Darkness affinity… unlocked?
I want to ask more—about the betrayal, about his past, about the truth—but this isn't the time. There's only a week left before this core detonates and takes the entire region with it. I can't return to the fortress for help either.
Commander Arvell would never believe me. And the Hound… he's still out there, waiting.
Most of all—I can't risk it. If I walk away now, this chance might vanish forever.
I clench my fists.
I still don't trust Noctharion. Not fully. He might be lying. Twisting the truth.
But I have no choice.
I have to do this.
No matter what it take
"I'll do it," I say, eyes locked onto his. "I'll absorb the excess mana."
Noctharion nods, the corners of his spectral face lifting slightly. "Good. You've made the right decision."
He gestures toward the massive, hovering core behind him.
"You just need to touch it. Let the mana flow into your body. I can't do much—only my will is present here—but I'll ensure the process stays stable. Once I think you've absorbed enough, I'll stop the flow."
I rise to my feet.
My body aches, but the minor wounds have already closed. The blood at my side has stopped leaking, though my right arm still dangles limply. It doesn't matter. Not now.
I take a step forward. Then another.
The closer I get to the core, the heavier the air becomes. A crushing weight presses down on my shoulders, like the world itself resisting my approach.
And then—I stand before it.
The core floats silently in the air, pulsing with an otherworldly rhythm. It shimmers with swirling strands of violet and black, twisting around each other like a storm frozen in time. It's mesmerizing—like a star born from darkness, beautiful and terrifying all at once. It doesn't just glow. It breathes. A living heart of corruption and power.
I steady my breath, trying to calm my racing heart. My eyes flick toward Noctharion once more.
"Is there anything you're not telling me?" I ask quietly.
He doesn't respond for a moment. Then, in a low voice, he says:
"You will feel… immense pain."
Pain?
I almost laugh.
"I'm no stranger to pain," I murmur. "I've lived with it for as long as I can remember. How bad can it be?"
I lift my good arm, fingers trembling slightly. I reach out—and touch the core.
At first, there's nothing.
Warmth.
Comfort.
The energy flows into me gently, like water slipping into a dry sponge. It feels… good. Almost euphoric.
I glance at Noctharion with a faint smile. "It's not so bad—"
Then the core shudders.
A surge erupts from its center, and tendrils of raw darkness explode into my hand.
It happens too fast.
The darkness races up my arm like black fire, spreading across my body in seconds. My vision blurs. My breath catches.
Then—
Agony.
It tears into my flesh. Into my bones. Into my very soul.
Every nerve screams. My body convulses as if it's being torn apart and rebuilt all at once. My knees buckle, but I don't fall. The darkness holds me upright, forcing me to endure.
I want to scream—but no sound escapes.
And the process has only just begun.