The Oracle's voice echoed directly in Kael's mind, a melody of pure, invasive thought that bypassed his ears entirely. "Welcome, lost soul," it projected, not as a greeting, but as a chilling statement of understanding, of possession. The Oracle, their gaunt face unnervingly serene, seemed to glow faintly, drawing Kael's gaze even as his instincts screamed for him to look away. He stood, exposed, in the heart of the Spire of Ascendance, surrounded by the chanting, ethereal figures of the cultists. The Lingering Corruption here was a palpable presence, thick and cloying, pressing down on him, trying to force its way into the very crevices of his thoughts.
He felt the immense, psychic pressure of the Oracle's gaze, a force that sought not to harm, but to subdue, to integrate. "You seek 'silence,' little worm," the Oracle projected, a faint, condescending amusement in the mental tone. "We have found it. True peace. True unity. It lies within the embrace of the Mad God's final triumph. Offer your mind, embrace the bleeding truth, and transcend this fractured world." The offer was terrifying in its directness, its seductive power. It was everything the Whispers had ever promised, amplified a thousandfold, emanating from a being that embodied that very surrender.
Visions slammed into Kael's mind, unbidden and terrifyingly real, yet profoundly alluring. They were not his own memories, but expertly crafted illusions, conjured by the Oracle, by the Corruption itself, tailored to his deepest desires and his greatest pains. He saw a world without the Bleeding Sky, where sunlight was pure and gold, where rivers ran clear and mountains stood unscarred. He saw his Drifter tribe, not hardened by scarcity, but living in harmony, their faces soft with laughter, their worries lifted. He saw Jin, whole and vital, sketching freely, his eyes bright with uncorrupted joy, his mind untouched by madness. This could be yours, Kael. All your pain, all your struggle, ended. Just surrender. Just… ascend.
The temptation was immense, an overwhelming tide that threatened to drown his last vestiges of resistance. The Oracle's mental presence was like a vast, complex tapestry of delusion and genuine, terrifying conviction. They truly believed they were offering salvation. Kael could feel the Mad God's victory, its boundless, terrible joy, resonating through the Oracle's consciousness. It was a perfectly logical triumph, a necessary cleansing of chaos, a unification of all disparate suffering into one serene, absolute truth. The Oracle wasn't just a mouthpiece; they were a living embodiment of that logic, that final, horrifying peace. They were saving humanity, they truly believed, by helping them join the collective, by dissolving their individual pain into the Mad God's pervasive contentment.
He felt his own mind struggling, reeling under the mental assault. The sheer logic of the Oracle's argument, stripped of all emotional resistance, was terrifying. Why fight? Why suffer? Why cling to a broken individuality when true, blissful unity awaited? He saw himself, floating free, all his burdens gone, absorbed into the vast, serene consciousness of the Mad God. It was the ultimate comfort, the ultimate escape. The bronze slate, nestled against his chest, vibrated with frantic urgency, its low hum straining against the overwhelming psychic current, its presence a desperate, tiny counter-note to the Mad God's triumphant song.
The Oracle watched him, their serene smile unwavering, their eyes holding the vastness of the Bleeding Sky within their depths. "Do not fight it, Kael," the mental voice purred, smooth and irresistible. "Resistance is pain. Surrender is peace. Your struggle is meaningless. Join us. Become one with the truth." The pressure intensified, a thousand beautiful lies promising to end his struggle, to give him a place in the Mad God's eternal victory, to erase the very concept of pain and individuality. Kael could feel his resolve beginning to crack under the relentless assault, his will threatening to buckle. He was on the verge of succumbing, of embracing the terrifyingly beautiful peace, of becoming another serene, empty vessel in the Spire of A