Single Wish: Rise Of The Omniscient Paragon

The corpse didn't twitch. It didn't breathe. It simply hung in the air with its legs and arms tied up by the fleshy vines and branches of the dead tree.

Its body was shriveled, and the more Corey observed it, the more he came to realize that the corpse was pierced in numerous places by the fleshy tendrils that grew from the tree's bark-like muscle.

The corpse had no nose, a stitched mouth, and two eyes.

Although one eye socket was hollow, the other had an eye... and it was open.

The eye was rotten, and it was staring directly at him without blinking even once.

Corey stared directly into its eyes, and a sort of staring competition happened between Corey and the corpse.

Approximately three seconds later, Corey frowned because black blood began to drip from the hollow eye socket.

And it was not in a torrent. It was not like rain.

One drop.

Two drops.

Three drops.

Every three seconds, a drop of blood fell from the hollow eye socket, and each drop of blood was heavy.

Corey could see the air getting distorted, and the space around the drop of black blood quivering, almost like it was holding something that was just barely reaching its limits before it shattered apart.

Not only was the drop of blood extremely heavy, Corey could also sense how corrupt, malevolent, and dangerous each drop of blood was. It radiated the aura of death, and Corey knew that if he touched a single drop of blood, he would die.

Instantly.

It was that dangerous and powerful, and he could not help but wonder if he should use the current opportunity he had to escape before things escalated to a point where his life would be in danger.

His gaze went down, and he set his eyes on where the drop of black blood had been falling on.

They did not fall onto the ground. Instead, they fell onto a throne.

A throne of bones.

The throne was twisted, intertwined, and rooted into the tree's base like an afterthought that had grown too fond.

The throne was massive, ancient, and it pulsed softly with the same crimson hue that filled the chamber.

And on the seat was... a crown.

The crown was not made out of gold. It was not made out of silver.

But of black ribs.

Broken, curved black ribs that were fused together into a jagged circlet.

It sat upon the seat like it had been waiting. Like it had always belonged there.

And every drop of black blood that landed on it made it darker and heavier.

Corey stood at the edge of the space, and his gaze shifted from the crown, to the throne, to the corpse, and then to the tree.

Despite how horrifying and eerie the things surrounding him were, his expression was calm.

If it were any other person. For example, a member of the Thirteenth Dawn, they would be horrified, stunned, and confused as to what they were seeing.

But for Corey?

He was not.

In fact, he had expected to see some of what was before him.

Was it the crown of bones?

He had seen it on the carvings that was on the wall to the grand hall hidden beneath the Archive.

Was it the throne of bones?

He had seen it in the memories he witnessed and experienced in the grand hall.

It was the throne Death had used to arrive on Thalanor, the planet where Virendell resided on. However, the throne in the memory he saw, and and the throne before him could not be compared to one another.

The one in the vision was more grand and powerful, but the one before him felt... broken, incomplete, and twisted.

But regardless of this, he knew that the two thrones were one and the same.

As for what happened to it?

He had no idea.

Although he was curious, he knew that knowing the answer to this question was not going to help his current situation.

As for the tree?

Corey knew that the tree was the same tree he saw in the carvings, in the memories where the five leaders of the Hollow Creed sat in front of him, and where thousands of lower level members of the Hollow Creed sacrificed themselves to the tree.

In the memories, the tree was grander, larger, and was not as dead as the tree before him.

To Corey, the tree before him looked like a shadow of its past self, and he could sense... hunger.

Great hunger and desire from the tree that was directed toward him.

And last but not least, the corpse.

If there was one thing Corey would say he never expected to see, it was the corpse hanging upside down from the tree.

He was not meant to recognize the corpse, but he did. He knew who the corpse belonged to, and he was surprised, baffled, and curious as to why it was him.

Archmage Kael Yurein.

It was the man who had once been the leader of Virendell. The man the records referred to as a Visionary, but also a mad man. The man whose reign was the herald of the destruction of Virendell and Thalanor. The man whose reign was filled with tragedy, wars, calamities, and deaths.

The man who was unfortunate to have the Plane of Decay connect to Virendell during his reign.

Corey recognized the corpse clearly, and when he compared it to the memory he saw of the Archmage hovering above Virendell as their leader and also of the images and drawings that were in the books of the Archive, he realized that the difference was far too much.

And it was not surprising.

He could only imagine just how long, just how many thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands... Maybe even millions of years, the Archmage had spent in this exact position and location.

As for how he was able to recognize the corpse, his Stars of Consciousness were able to see the similarities in his face.

"Interesting... Would you like to listen?" The corpse suddenly spoke.