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Meanwhile, somewhere else on the Eastern Plains…
Shadows stretched long over the trees as Nivara, Arin, and Rynveil pushed through the last wall of forest. The air grew thinner, colder, almost expectant.
Two days ago, they had accepted a quest from the guild in Thalorein. Their mission: investigate a series of anomalies reported across the Eastern Plains, disturbances that might be linked to the Tyrant's Hand or possibly the Nullscribes.
They had expected traces of minor corruption, perhaps restless wildlife or unstable rifts—but nothing could have prepared them for this.
The clearing opened before them, and at its center, a massive tower loomed—dark, monolithic, and unnatural. It had only appeared the night before, rising silently as if summoned by some unseen hand.
A faint pulse radiated from it, subtle but insistent, vibrating through the earth beneath their feet. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
°°°°
"Holy mother of runes…" Rynveil murmured, eyes scanning the area.
"Oy—what the heck happened here?" Arin muttered, bow half-raised, scanning the horizon.
Nivara's jaw tightened. She had felt the pulse too, in her chest and the back of her mind. This isn't ordinary corruption.
She exhaled, speaking firmly, more to herself than the others.
"We need to inform Master Kinon first."
Arin blinked, tension in her posture.
"Yeah… Twig's right. Better safe than dead."
Rynveil hovered slightly higher, hands tracing the air as glowing runes formed beneath his fingers.
"I'll prepare the barriers. If this corruption spreads, it could reach the plains in hours. Maybe less."
A whisper of wind stirred across the clearing. For a heartbeat, Nivara thought she heard something—a low, almost imperceptible murmur:
"…awake…"
She blinked. It vanished. Probably nerves… probably.
°°°°
Minutes of tense preparation followed, runes tracing glowing patterns across the grass, the team silent except for the faint hum of magical energy. Every pulse of the tower seemed to echo faintly in their minds, testing them, waiting.
Finally, Nivara exhaled, closing her eyes for a brief moment of focus. We've been traveling for two days, chasing reports from the guild. If we fail… it won't just be us who suffers.
"Rynveil, can you maintain the barrier while we link to Lumina?"
Nivara asked, eyes scanning the looming tower.
"I can," Rynveil said, his voice calm but firm.
"The circles are stable… for now. But the full effect will take time. If the corruption pushes outward before then…" He let the thought hang.
"I see… can we link a teleportation circle? Just in case?" Nivara asked.
Rynveil nodded.
"Yes. But I'll need guidance from a Void Walker. Lumina should be able to overlay the pattern. If she's precise, the connection will hold."
Nivara focused, sending her mind across the distance. Lumina… we need your help. Can you guide Rynveil in forming a teleportation circle? It's urgent.
A brief pause. Then Lumina's clear, calm voice answered. I hear you, Nivara. Describe the runes exactly, and I'll overlay the teleportation pattern. But any misalignment and it could fail.
Rynveil's hands moved faster, runes pulsing brighter. Energy strands wove between the barrier and the emerging teleportation circle. Arin's eyes darted nervously around the clearing.
Minutes passed like hours. Nivara felt the tower's dark presence pressing against her mind. Whispers of corruption tried to worm into her thoughts.
Finally, Rynveil exhaled.
"It's linked. The circle is stable. Lumina confirms the connection. You can summon assistance if needed, once Lumina regains full strength, Master Kinon could follow immediately. Until then… we're on our own."
Nivara nodded, a mix of relief and tension tightening her chest. Help is coming… but not yet.
°°°°
The black mist around the tower thickened as the trio advanced, tendrils of corruption brushing against the barrier. The clearing felt alive, silent but tense.
A sudden rustle in the grass made Arin freeze, arrow drawn, eyes narrowing.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered.
Before Nivara could respond, shadows detached themselves from the darkened horizon. Figures moved with casual grace, almost gliding over the uneven terrain.
Six individuals emerged, radiating confidence and power, clad in armor and robes that gleamed under pale moonlight.
The first, a tall human male with a flowing crimson cloak and twin swords strapped to his back, smirked arrogantly.
"Well, well… looks like we're not the only ones hunting tonight."
Beside him, a lithe elven woman with silver hair and a blackwood bow scanned the area lazily.
"They don't look… very experienced."
A stout dwarf in spiked armor hefted a warhammer, chuckling.
"Hah! Did someone forget to tell them monsters bite back?"
Two more figures followed: a pale, cloaked mage with a staff crowned with an obsidian crystal, eyes glowing faintly purple, and a masked rogue whose movements were unnervingly silent.
Finally, a tall Drahgorn stepped forward, blackened steel armor glinting under moonlight, golden edges shimmering faintly. A massive lance rested confidently in his hand.
"You!!"
He said, voice deep and commanding.
"This tower will be conquered by me and mine. Stand aside."
Nivara's jaw tightened. Six high-level adventurers, seasoned and arrogant, stood between her team and the tower.
°°°°
"Rynveil, maintain the barrier at full strength. Arin, stay close," she whispered.
The human swordsman laughed, flipping one blade casually.
"Cute little barriers. Don't tell me you're trying to contain that."
He gestured at the black mist.
"With… runes?"
"They're working," Arin snapped, bristling.
"Really?" the elf scoffed.
"From what I see, you're a few arrows short of a real team."
The dwarf slammed his hammer against his palm.
"We could clear that tower ourselves before you even figure out which end of your bow to hold."
The pale mage tilted their head.
"Or we could… make this interesting. See who survives the corruption inside."
The masked rogue let out a low chuckle.
"I like a challenge. But these kids… they might slow us down."
The Drahgorn raised his lance.
"Enough talk. We go first. Stand aside, or be left behind."
Nivara felt the weight of the barrier beneath her, pulsing in sync with the tower's corruption. She glanced at Rynveil.
"Keep it stable. If they try to push past, signal me immediately."
The swordsman laughed again.
"I'll bet they crumble the moment something bites back."
Rynveil's hands glowed faintly, energy flowing into the barrier. Nivara squared her shoulders, a calm storm of resolve building inside her.
"Let them talk. We have work to do."
°°°°
The Drahgorn strode forward, followed by the others, moving confidently toward the tower. Black mist curled around their boots as they disappeared inside, arrogance radiating like heat.
But even as they entered… a faint tremor passed through the air, subtle and alien. Something older than Tyrant's Hand, older than the Nullscribes, stirred deep within the tower.
A presence not mortal, not fully material—an ancient entity, bound but watching. Its pulse resonated with the corruption, whispering promises of ruin to any who dared enter.
Nivara's jaw set. "Let's not lose focus. We hold the barrier, we follow cautiously. They may go first, but we'll be ready for whatever waits inside."
°°°°
Meanwhile...
Inside the tower, far above the blackened halls and shadowed corridors, a dark chamber awaited.
Only a single torch flickered, casting a pale purple glow that barely pierced the darkness. Shadows clung to the corners, restless and silent.
At the edge of the spire, a mysterious figure stood, gazing down at the plains below. Its presence made the very air heavy, a weight that pressed against the soul.
From deeper within the chamber, five more figures emerged, their forms cloaked in darkness, moving with unnatural grace. They paused, glancing toward the one at the edge, as if acknowledging a master, a predator, a force beyond reckoning.
The figure turned slightly, and eyes that shimmered red and black locked onto the distant horizon. Slowly, another eye opened at the center of its forehead—an eye that saw far beyond mortal sight.
It exhaled, a soundless breath that rippled through the chamber like a wave of power.
"I am Daath, and I am not a monster nor demon… I am something… in between God and Abyss."
He said his voice shaking as he delivers every words with terror and cruelty.
"And Gods should always be on the top.
Well I wonder, will this world struggles longer enough before it's impending doom."
It whispered, voice threaded with eternity itself.
Its gaze swept the world below, landing on the small, fragile groups scrambling across the plains. A cruel smile curved its lips—or what passed for lips.
"Now… let us see if this world can amuse me."