133. War for Elarith
Lumiel's ascension was a symphony of power. Floating in the air, his divine core greedily absorbed the refined light and chaos energy. He felt an unprecedented clarity, a feeling of elevation that coursed through his veins as every part of his body drank in the light divinity.
He basked in the raw power, a divine euphoria unlike anything he had ever known. "Yes… that's it… give me more," he thought, his elation soaring. The light cleansed him, and the chaos would empower him. This was the moment. He was rising, not just to Stewardship, but to true Godhood. The tainted world, the flawed creations of the other gods, would be his to remold.
He was a new god, a pure being forged from this sacred process. He would start a new world, a perfect world. He would be its sole arbiter. The thought brought a fierce joy to his core. He would leave behind only those worthy of the new creation. The weak, the unworthy, and the defiant would be erased. The other Stewards, who had dared to stand in his way, would be the first to go. Their petty squabbles and flawed ideologies would not taint his new age. He would do it all by himself. They will all either bow to him or be destroyed.
"I will start a new world. Destroy the tainted world. Soon I will prepare this world to receive you, my God, but first, I will ensure that the world is more fitting for you. It's gonna be a new start for us. I will be borrowing your power for now, Chaos God… then I will use it to revive you…"
Then, the symphony became a discordant shriek. A flicker of doubt turned into a surge of panic. Chaos energy? Why wasn't he feeling it? He looked at the artifact that was supposed to refine both light and chaos, but none of the chaos energy was flowing into him. Only the light energy.
Panic set in. The light energy was being sucked into him at a terrifying rate. He tried to slow down, but his body wouldn't obey. "Wait, too fast. Why is my body, my core, not obeying me? Wait! Stop!"
His core was starving, a ravenous void forcefully pulling in all the light energy and violently rejecting the chaos in the air. His vision swirled, not with the future he desired, but with a visceral past that wasn't his own. He saw himself consuming other gods, tearing them apart, corrupting everything that stood in his way. This... this was the Corrupted God of Light's memory. He felt the hunger, a raw and primal force that had no end. It was the memory of true, unchecked divine malice.
For a fleeting second, his own voice, a whisper of his former self, cut through the noise. I was supposed to create. Not destroy. Not this...
He snapped back to his body, a horrifying transformation underway. His hand, once bathed in ethereal light, was now a bloodied, corrupted talon. The light was turning into a grotesque mockery of itself, a swirling, coiling darkness. The other hand was also being tainted, a slow pigment of red swallowing him whole.
"Oh no," he gasped. "The God of Light's corruption has always been in me, too?"
What had he done? The thought barely formed before he was consumed entirely, his essence turning into the very god he despised. He became a petrified statue, a horrifying sculpture of a man in torment. Then, slowly, his body began to bubble and writhe, a disfigured, monstrous form. It grew and grew, instinctively moving away from Aurel, as if filled with a primal fear. Aurel, meanwhile, remained coiled and lifeless, barely breathing.
The once-proud body of Lumiel was now a grotesque blob, a creature of pure corruption. It noticed the remaining light energy from Dainoric and stretched out a tentacle-like arm, moving with a horrifying speed. Dainoric couldn't react in time. The tentacle grabbed him, sucking all the divinity from his body before pulling him in and swallowing him whole.
The abomination didn't stop there. Any remaining life was a target. It grew larger, its mind focused on one thing: corruption.
The air itself felt poisoned. "What is going on, Nephra?" Sybris asked from a distance, her voice laced with fear. "Is that part of your plan, too?"
"No, not at all," Nephra replied, his gaze fixed on the horror unfolding before them. "I don't even know what that thing is."
Whiz's voice crackled with recognition. "It surely looks like the same power as the Corrupted God of Light."
Nephra's thoughts raced. "Is this what the Chaos God warned me about with Lumiel?" he said to Whiz and Sybris. "He felt something in Lumiel that he couldn't comprehend. It's a being made of corruption, a mindless entity, just like the Corrupted God of Light."
A knot formed in Sybris's stomach. "What about Aurel? Is he okay?"
"I'm not sure," Nephra admitted, his voice strained. "I can't feel any sign of life from him. Did I make a mistake?"
He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on Aurel's still, lifeless form. The mutated Lumiel was an abomination, but Aurel was his most trusted ally, a fellow child of Chaos who understood the depths of their shared power. "I need to get to him. He's right there. I have to make sure he's okay."
Whiz immediately interjected. "No, don't! You'll be swallowed by that thing."
"I can't just leave Aurel there to be consumed by that hideous thing, can I?" Nephra argued, the conflict visible on his face. But then, he noticed it. The abomination wasn't getting close to Aurel. It was actively avoiding him. Nephra squinted, noticing a faint, silver light flickering around Aurel's body. It was an ethereal shimmer, too chaotic to be divine but too pure to be corrupt. A silent, potent force that repelled the abomination's very presence. A faint, unintelligible whisper seemed to carry on the wind.
Nephra's curiosity, the ever-present spark of a scientist, overcame his fear. "Fascinating," he mused. "It's actually avoiding him. I guess we don't have to worry about Aurel for now."
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He quickly activated his communication device, connecting to Lysara. "Sister Lysara! We have a situation," he said urgently.
"What is it, Nephra? I'm kind of busy here," Lysara's voice replied.
Nephra sent a live feed through the device. "What is that thing?" she demanded.
"That is Lumiel, or at least, what was Lumiel," he replied. "Quick, drop everything you're doing, this is urgent. Send every powerful support you can give, we need to get rid of that thing."
Lysara, the Abyssal in charge of all intelligence, sent an immediate SOS to every ally, divinant and non-divinant alike. Coordinates were broadcast to the Umbrafang, the Shadowblades, and even the Royal Vanguards—groups that weren't typically allied with the Abyssals. Everyone received an urgent plea for help.
The realm-wide response was a symphony of desperation and unlikely unity. The abomination continued to grow, consuming the dead bodies scattered across the ground. After many hours, the reinforcements arrived. The remaining sections of the Arkhanis floating fortress transformed into a massive weapon, unleashing chaotic beams aimed at the corrupted being. No one was foolish enough to get close; they had already witnessed what happened to those who did.
Karthas, the last of the Athenari generals, stood on the command bridge of his flagship, the Aethel. He watched the Arkhanis fortress—the ancient Abyssal citadel—reposition itself, its crystalline spires glowing with chaotic energy. A message came through on a secure channel, an unauthorized link from the enemy.
"General Karthas," a cold, synthesized voice spoke. It was Vyran, the Abyssal commander. "I see your armada. I presume you are here to gawk at the end of the world you helped bring about?"
Karthas's jaw tightened. "Abyssal," he spat, his gaze fixed on the horrifying blob in the distance. "I am here to ensure that monstrosity does not consume what little is left of this realm. Your own recklessness unleashed this."
"A fair point," Vyran replied, the sarcasm palpable even through the static. "But it would appear we share a common enemy. The enemy of my enemy, as they say."
Karthas offered no reply, simply a hard, defiant stare into the void. The unspoken ceasefire was in place. The ancient feud was not forgotten, but it was set aside. He immediately assigned some of his armada to aid the Arkhanis fortress in destroying the corrupted being.
Suddenly, Eryn appeared, still desperate to find his master. "Where is Master Aurel?" he asked Nephra. "Please tell me, I sensed he is in danger, he disappeared, someone took him in front of us."
Nephra pointed toward the growing monstrosity. "Well, that was the one who kidnapped Aurel."
Fear and rage filled Eryn's eyes. "What?! Master got consumed by that thing?!"
Nephra quickly reassured him. "Relax, Aurel is safe." He pointed to Aurel's location, and a wave of relief washed over Eryn as he saw his master unharmed in the distance.
"I'm going to him," Eryn declared.
"No, please don't," Nephra said, stopping him. "Aurel is fine, I believe he is transitioning and evolving, give him time. Our focus is that thing. Please summon all the chaos beings under your control, we need to get rid of that no matter what."
Soon, a legion of warriors appeared. Men from the Royal Vanguard, wearing tech that allowed them to fly, assembled under Clyde's command. He directed his army of soldiers clad in dark tactical gear and wielding advanced weapons. Sylas, the chief engineer, distributed tanks and other jets, along with advanced suits.
Eclipseborne from different factions gathered, weaving shadow magic to launch long-range attacks. They were headed by the Shadowblades. Chaos beings under the Abyssals' control—Malifuge, Malus, and other mecha units that was sent by Vyran—joined the fray.
The assault began with a terrifying coordinated symphony of destruction. The Arkhanis fortress and the Athenari armada fired their primary cannons in unison. The chaotic energy and pure light beams converged on the central mass of the abomination. The sickening smell of burnt flesh mixed with a sickly sweet, metallic tang filled the air. The beams didn't vaporize it; they caused the flesh to bubble and hiss, melting away in a grotesque cascade of goo before it immediately reformed.
The ground forces opened up. The Royal Vanguard's armored suits, equipped with experimental plasma cannons, unleashed a continuous stream of fire. Each shot hit with a concussive boom, but the corrupted being simply absorbed the energy, its form shuddering with each impact but never breaking. The Eclipseborne conjured massive voids of pure darkness, which acted like black holes, sucking at the corrupted being's edges and dissolving entire chunks of its flesh.
The corrupted being finally halted its movement and unleashed a horrifying screech, the sound echoing for thousands of miles. People in distant towns, who had no idea what was happening, heard the eerie wail and panicked. "What was that? Another malice bloom?" A few of the less divinely-attuned soldiers in the Vanguard ranks fell to their knees, clutching their heads as the sound seemed to tear at their sanity.
The barrage of attacks ceased. A tense silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the bubbling of the monstrosity. Hope, fragile and desperate, flickered in the eyes of the weary fighters. Was it over? Was it finally dead?
Slowly, the exterior of the corrupted being began to harden, as if turning to stone.
"Is it over? Is it dead?" Aric remarked, his voice uncertain.
Everyone watched in silent awe, readying themselves for another attack but unable to tear their eyes away from the petrifying process. Then, just as slowly, the muddy flesh began to melt and shrink. Thousands of small pieces, like bits of clay, separated from the main body.
Nephra's voice cut through the comms, a frantic mix of fear and genius. "No, it's not over! It's a defensive adaptation! It's shedding its armor and spawning defenders!"
The separated parts began to take form, not just of the beasts it had swallowed, but of twisted, more hideous versions. A particularly gruesome creature rose from the muck, its body a bloated monstrosity covered in fused-together pieces of what looked like Royal Vanguard tactical gear. A dozen distorted human faces, all screaming in a silent, unending agony, pulsed along its surface. A mantis-like creature with six bladed arms and glowing red eyes sprouted from a piece of goo. A wolf-like beast, its body a pulsating mass of red and black, solidified from another. An army of corrupted flyers with bat wings and screeching maws rose into the air, while a horde of crawling horrors with too many limbs and razor-sharp teeth scuttled along the ground.
The battlefield became a chaotic mess as the residents of Elarith fought to survive against this new army of corruption. The air was filled with the sounds of plasma fire, magic incantations, and the sickening squelch of corrupted flesh. A Royal Vanguard unit was swarmed by bat-like creatures, their suits failing as the creatures' acidic spittle melted through the armor.
A group of Eclipseborne unleashed a wave of shadow arrows, but the corrupted wolf-beasts were too fast, their forms shifting as they dodged and weaved through the battlefield. They retaliated with beams of sickly, red light from their eyes that turned their targets to dust.
For hours, the war raged on. The allied forces, though powerful, were fighting a tireless, self-sustaining enemy. Every corrupted creature they destroyed was just a temporary victory, a diversion. The main body of the abomination began to move again, consuming everything in its path while its army of corrupted beings ensured it was defended. Its advance was slow but unstoppable, a tide of pure malice that turned the ground beneath it into a barren, corrupted wasteland. The war for Elarith had just begun, and the odds were stacked against them.