Chapter 7: The Cult's First Move
The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and something else—a coppery, metallic smell that made Tim's stomach churn. The snow, usually a pristine white canvas, was blackened and melted in patches, as if an immense, invisible fire had swept through the small settlement. Torren, his face a mask of revulsion, walked silently beside Tim, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"What kind of monster does this?" Torren's voice was a low growl, a mixture of disgust and primal fear. He had seen wights, had seen men torn to shreds in battle, but this... this was different. The bodies were not frozen, but scorched, their forms twisted into grotesque, unnatural shapes.
[SYSTEM: CORRUPTED ENERGY SIGNATURE DETECTED. SOURCE: CULT OF THE SUN-EATER.]
The Sun-Eater, Tim thought, the name a cold, grim promise in his mind. The same energy signature the Frostspire had detected. This wasn't a random attack. It was a declaration of war. He knelt, placing his hand on the melted, still-warm ground. The warmth wasn't comforting. It felt malignant, like a fever. He could feel the energy signature, a ghostly echo of a grotesque, malevolent magic, a twisted reflection of his own power. It was like his ice magic, but instead of freezing, it burned.
They're using the same power. But perverted. Twisted. They're not just a cult. They're a counter-force. My opposite number.
He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his head, a white-hot agony that made him gasp. Ysmeine, who had been standing silently behind him, stumbled, her skeletal body trembling. Her whispers, which had become a sign of a burgeoning consciousness, were now a frantic, disjointed mix of fear and pain.
"Fire... they burn... but it's not fire... it's a hunger."
He looked at her, his heart aching with a new kind of dread. The System's voice, now a bit more somber, gave him the answer.
[SYSTEM: PSYCHIC ECHO ENGAGED. DATA LOG: YSMEINE'S MEMORIES ARE TIED TO THE CULT'S MAGIC.]
She's remembering. She's remembering how she died.
He saw it, a brief, violent flash in her mind. A scout, a young woman, on a patrol. She had seen it too, in the distance. The cult. The fire. The burning hunger that had consumed her. She wasn't just a victim of a monster. She was a victim of a great, cosmic evil.
"They're still here," Tim said, his voice grim. "The energy... it's fresh." He looked at Ysmeine, who was still trembling, her whispers now a low, mournful sound. He had to act. He had to get to the cult before they could do this to anyone else.
The trail was easy to follow, a grim, bloody path of blackened snow and melted ice. Tim, now a new kind of detective, was using a new skill the System had provided him with. He held his hand out, and a faint, blue mist emanated from his palm, drifting over the ground. It was an ethereal, forensic tool that only he could see.
[SYSTEM: FROST-TRACE INITIATED. TRACKING CORRUPTED ENERGY SIGNATURE. TRAIL LEADS TO A HIDDEN CAVE.]
The ground, to his eyes, was a canvas of malevolent red, a glowing, shimmering trail of the Cult's magic. It wasn't a physical trail. It was a digital one, a footprint of their power.
"They're not just moving," Tim said, his voice flat. "They're... leaving a trail of corrupted energy. Like a disease."
Torren looked at him, his face a mixture of fear and confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"It's the magic," Tim said. "It's... bleeding out of them. It's a sickness." He was no longer just a king. He was a doctor, and the world was his patient. The Frost was his cure, and the Sun-Eater was the disease. He and his allies, a band of misfits, a man, a warrior, a sentient skeleton, were on their way to confront the source of the sickness.
The trail led them to the mouth of a hidden cave, its entrance obscured by a cascade of ice. The air was unnaturally warm here, filled with the same smell of burnt flesh. A faint, sickening red light pulsed from within.
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