Standing on the surface of the vast platform, Siren watched attentively the parched veins beneath the surface. In his now unbound hands rested the amulet, emitting faint pulses of ether.
"How did I even get myself into all this?!"
Thinking this with anxiety, he angrily recalled Priest Tas's actions.
He was, by the way, currently in no better position. The stocky Rude had taken away his rifle and pistol, keeping them nearby. Meanwhile, colossal ants swarmed around the priest, ensuring he couldn't escape.
As it turned out, the faint glow of ether on the ants' bodies was the result of Lance's work. Visible to Siren's eyes were streams of ether seeping from the back of Evalin's head and the ants.
"Ha–ah…"
Taking a deep breath, he once again looked at the iron platform's surface. He had no choice: if he couldn't use the key within a few hours, they would kill him alive. If he failed to restrain the ether flow, the backlash would kill him. And if he did manage to open the gate…
In truth, he still didn't know what would happen to him then.
Gathering his thoughts, Siren focused deeply on the ether sensations. Unfortunately, he couldn't cleanse the flow or manage it safely like normal people, due to the presence of dead ether in his veins. But he could try to use the corruption itself instead. The untamed energy poisoning his body radiated from him every second, slowly destroying his health. His synchronization channels had long since been saturated with this poison, wracking him with pain whenever he tried to use them.
Unfortunately, he had no other choice.
Exhaling slowly, Siren felt a tainted stream surge through his wounded channels. Due to the infection's nature, they were permanently engaged, expanding and mutating in the process. At first it brought him unbearable agony—but eventually he grew accustomed to it. Probably this is how he cultivated his synchronization percentage. But he didn't need that.
If he had the chance to rid himself of the disease—he would gladly have done so.
Yet the constant presence of the corruption within him did not make him a powerful fighter or mage. It only meant his channels were well-developed—and nothing more. It's like training one's body from infancy with grueling workouts, without learning any combat skill.
But now it was time for him to change that.
Staring at the amulet in his hands, Siren saw its illusionary flows, focusing all his thoughts on them. At his command, the powerful ether stream that had earlier seeped from his body through the smallest pores suddenly faltered. The thin strands began converging into a single channel through which the dead ether coursed.
Perspiration from the internal tension and pain broke out across Siren's brow as he breathed heavily, trying to channel the flow in the correct path.
"Hm?"
Lance, who had been lazily seated to the side, suddenly smiled, gazing toward the center.
"What kind of insane corruption ether flow is this?"
Tas, who had been watching Siren closely, frowned, sensing the concentrated ether surge.
"I certainly suspected the guy had a high synchronization level… but so high?"
A cold sweat formed on his brow as he painfully recalled the incident that cost him his arm. The synchronization level of Siren was likely far greater than that of that monster.
"Madness…" the priest thought.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes, now that's power!" Lance suddenly laughed brightly.
"Kid! Focus on the opposite arm!"
Lance, being an outstanding mage, was also a Therian. Right now his animal instincts screamed to stop Siren—but the mad side disagreed.
"You must reduce the flow on one arm! Redirect it toward the other, unless you want to be torn apart!"
Watching an infected person use corruption ether for the first time turned out to be a surprisingly joyous spectacle for someone like Lance.
One of the distinctive traits of dead ether was its rapid infection of the host, turning them into its own battery. That was why the infected were also called life traders—they literally burnt themselves in exchange for the power of untamed corruption ether.
Often it led to irreversible consequences for the host—but wasn't it an entertaining spectacle?
Grinning widely, Lance, for a moment forgetting his newly converted toy, stepped closer to the platform.
"Idiot!" he snapped—but was quickly stopped by Rude, keeping watch over the performance.
At that moment, Siren stood in the middle of the platform, spewing a concentrated stream of corrupted ether into the space. It reached the point where swirling clouds of black ether smoke formed in the air, obscuring visibility.
Stepping out of the shadows, Ayra began shaking Lance from the other side.
"We're leaving! Now!"
In the next second, Rude lifted Lance, then followed Ayra.
As a warrior using the attribute of darkness, Ayra could see perfectly in the dark. Gathering speed, she cared about nothing, heading for the exit.
"Damn, here…"
Unfortunately, she did not expect that the control of the infected would be so high. It seemed the ether had seized control over him, driving him insane. In that situation, the best course was to flee without direct confrontation. The anthill was already an area with a high level of ether corruption. By polluting the chamber further, the infected could completely disarm them, stripping them of their primary ability.
Moreover, at such a frenzied stream, it would not have been surprising if he'd exploded right on the spot.
Siren heard Lance's words before his entire surroundings were shrouded in a veil of black smoke.
Struggling to handle the pain, he divided the single stream bursting from his right arm into two, reducing the load. His hands burned from impulsive agony, yet he strove not to lose himself in this torment. Still gripping the amulet, he directed half of the insane stream into it, trying not to disrupt its internal structure. A powerful impulse flowed from his fingers into the amulet. If he couldn't distribute the energy correctly—it would backfire on him.
Thankfully, Siren could clearly see the device's contours, guiding the flow along its drawn lines. The complex scheme of the amulet came alive, shimmering with black silver. But due to the destructive nature of the corrupted ether, the amulet began glowing hot. Feeling the heat, Siren dropped it onto the platform surface. Without stopping the energy flow remotely, he watched as the now red-hot amulet slid across the surface and wedged exactly into the center of the platform.
Immediately, through the created channel between him and the artifact, even more ether began flowing.
Battling overwhelming pain, Siren focused completely on the streams from his hands, paying no attention to anything else.
At that moment he stood in the midst of spreading black smoke, feeling his consciousness slipping away. On the verge of fainting, he finally saw the entire chain of complex schematics beneath his feet activate with mechanical clicks.
At that very moment, he felt the ground beneath his feet slip away and plunge downward. The energy channel between him and the amulet immediately severed, sealing off the newly opened passage above his head.
Far at the boundary of the subterranean chamber, three Therians watched the expanding clouds of black etheric smoke filling the space.
"Did the flow stop? Is he dead?" Lance asked with curiosity.
To his surprise, the spreading smoke began to subside. Now it was dispersing into the surroundings, losing intensity.
Ayra, who had seen the process with her own eyes, answered without looking at him:
"For a while, it's better not to approach the platform. This guy poisoned everything within a fifteen‑meter radius with corrupted ether."
Rude exchanged a glance with Lance and asked:
"Do you see that guy?"
Rude's concerns were quite justified—if Siren could generate such a corrupted ether stream, he had clearly gone insane. Perhaps he was on the verge of mutation, preparing to become a demon.
"No, it seems nothing remains of him. This place is unsafe. We should leave."
Ayra only hoped that the maddened demon would not chase them. Not that she feared demons—but without proper protection they could easily be infected or even die from the ether shock.
"What about the investigator?" Rude asked anxiously. Another problem could be Priest Tas, who still hadn't concluded the deal.
"Leave him. The clan will announce a bounty on his head once we report this. He can't return to Volkraag—the state itself will pursue him," Ayra replied with cold certainty. "And he won't escape to the Wastelands either. It's only a matter of time before they catch him."
She did not worry about possible losses. Now that they had confirmed the existence of another Gate, they could return—with a larger team, with preparation, with a plan. By God, they had already made progress in the path to his resurrection.