Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

The ceiling above was teeming with grotesque, misshapen insects, their bulbous bodies bloated and pulsating with the same twisted corruption that filled the dungeon. These creatures skittered and crawled along the stone, their many legs clicking softly against the cracked surface as they moved. Their glowing red eyes, scattered haphazardly across their malformed heads, tracked every movement below with an unsettling, unnatural precision. Each pair of eyes gleamed with a malevolent hunger, following every step Cyrus and Athena took, as though waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The insects themselves were nightmarish, their once-simple forms now distorted into horrifying shapes. Some had too many legs, others had wings that were ragged and torn, hanging limply from their swollen bodies like useless appendages. Their exoskeletons were cracked and warped, leaking thick, black fluid that dripped onto the floor below, leaving trails of decay wherever it landed. Their mandibles twitched erratically, clicking together in a constant rhythm, as though they were tasting the very air with an insatiable desire for destruction.

Every now and then, one of these insects would lose its grip and fall silently from the ceiling, plummeting toward the ground. Upon impact, the insect would burst open with a sickening squelch, its bloated body releasing a thick, noxious cloud of choking spores. The spores spread through the air like a toxic mist, swirling in thick, gray clouds that clung to everything they touched. The mist was suffocating, carrying with it a putrid stench that made every breath feel like inhaling decay itself.

The spores, once released, quickly began to spread, clinging to the walls, floor, and even the creatures that roamed the dungeon. Where they landed, the spores seemed to pulse with a life of their own, growing in size and releasing even more of the vile substance into the air. Each cloud of spores was thick and cloying, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. The mist hung in the air like a dense fog, obscuring vision and adding to the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon. Continue your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire

Cyrus and Athena instinctively covered their mouths as the spores spread, their eyes narrowing as they tried to navigate through the thickening haze. Every movement felt slower, more labored, as though the very air had become toxic. The spores clung to their clothes and skin, leaving a faint, tingling sensation wherever they touched, a reminder of the corruption that now infested every corner of the dungeon.

As they pressed forward, more insects dropped from the ceiling above, each one bursting open in the same grotesque manner, adding to the growing clouds of spores that now swirled through the air. It was as if the dungeon itself had come alive, the very atmosphere conspiring against them, trying to choke the life out of anyone who dared to venture deeper into its depths.

It was as if the dungeon itself had been infected by the miasma, its very essence warped into something horrific and unnatural. The atmosphere was suffocating, oppressive, and filled with a sense of impending doom. Every corner seemed to hold a new, grotesque horror, waiting to pounce on the next unfortunate soul who dared to enter.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes as he took it all in, the weight of what lay ahead pressing down on him. "This place... it's been completely corrupted." His voice was low, tinged with both caution and disgust as he turned back to Sylus, the monstrous dungeon looming ominously behind him.

"Yes, this is what we call Corruption. It's the name of a dungeon that has contained too much miasma. Only people proficient in aether such as the church and I assume you two are able to move around freely."

Cyrus' gaze remained fixed on the grotesque, pulsating horrors surrounding them, his mind swirling with a thousand questions. He clenched his fists, the oppressive air making each breath feel like a burden. After a tense pause, he turned toward Sylus, his eyes sharp with both curiosity and concern.

"This corruption... how does it spread? And how does it affect the dungeon? I've never seen anything like it," Cyrus asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with a strange mixture of wisdom and wariness. "Corruption isn't something that happens overnight. It festers, builds over time. A dungeon like this, already teeming with natural darkness, can only hold so much miasma before it becomes... twisted. The creatures within, the walls, the air—everything warps. But it's not just physical. The dungeon itself begins to change. Floors shift. Layouts rearrange. It's as though the dungeon is alive, growing more hostile with each pulse of miasma."

Athena, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer, her brow furrowed. "Is it contagious to people? Can we become... like them?" She gestured toward one of the bloated, grotesque creatures limping through the dark corridors ahead.

Sylus's gaze flickered toward the twisted monstrosities. "For the weak, yes. Prolonged exposure to corrupted miasma will degrade the body and mind. Adventurers with low mana or those not trained to harness aether? They'd start changing within days, losing their sanity, their shape—eventually becoming part of the dungeon itself." His tone was grim but resolute. "But for people like us, who command aether, it's a different story. We're shielded, to an extent. The corruption can't overtake us... but it can still affect us in subtler ways."

Cyrus frowned, digesting the information. "Subtler ways? How?"

Sylus crossed his arms, his silver armor catching a faint gleam from the dungeon's dim, sickly light. "Aether users can resist the physical corruption, but prolonged exposure to this level of miasma can erode your mana and drain your will. You start feeling it in your thoughts—paranoia, fear, anger. It turns allies into enemies in your mind, and breaks your focus in battle. That's the real danger. It's not just a physical war but a mental one."

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. "And the creatures here... they're born from it? The corruption created them?"

"Not exactly," Sylus responded, his gaze growing distant, as though recalling something buried deep in his memory. "The creatures here weren't born corrupted—they were twisted by it. Regular dungeon monsters get warped into something unrecognizable. Extra limbs, distorted forms, and insanity driving them mad. It's like the miasma pulls out the worst parts of their nature, and then amplifies it beyond reason. The deeper you go, the worse it gets."

Athena's hand instinctively moved toward her weapon, her expression hardening. "How far does it spread? Is it contained to the dungeon, or could it leak out?"

Sylus shook his head slowly. "Dungeons like these... they act like a barrier. The corruption doesn't easily escape unless the miasma is somehow released. That blue crystal you encountered? That was one of the seals keeping the corruption in check. When it shattered, the miasma was unleashed, accelerating the dungeon's descent into chaos."

Cyrus thought back to the crystal, to the rush of foul energy that had erupted from it. "So, we broke the seal. That's what caused this?"

Sylus gave a slight nod, his face grim. "In a way, yes. But don't blame yourselves. It was only a matter of time before something else broke that seal. Corruption like this is inevitable in dungeons that accumulate too much miasma. The real question now is how to stop it from spreading further."

Cyrus mulled over Sylus's words. "And can it be stopped? Or is it just a matter of surviving until the dungeon collapses under its own weight?"

"There are ways," Sylus said, his voice heavy with experience. "But they aren't easy. Purging a corruption this advanced would require a powerful source of pure aether—something that could counteract the miasma. That's why the church is involved. They've been trying to purify corrupted dungeons like this for centuries."

Cyrus exchanged a glance with Athena, both of them processing the gravity of what they were up against. The church was notorious for its zeal in cleansing such evils, but even they rarely succeeded without significant casualties.

Athena's eyes narrowed as she asked, "And if we fail to cleanse it? What happens to the dungeon?"

Sylus's gaze darkened, and his voice dropped to a near-whisper. "If the corruption reaches its peak... the dungeon collapses. But it doesn't just vanish. When that happens, the miasma spreads beyond the dungeon, infecting the land around it. Villages, cities—they'd become twisted, just like the creatures here. The world would fall into darkness."

A heavy silence fell over the group. The weight of the situation bore down on them, a looming dread that could not be shaken.

Cyrus broke the silence, his voice firm. "Then we don't let it reach that point. We stop it before it gets any worse."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I admire your confidence, Cyrus. But this corruption... it's not like anything you've faced before. You'll need more than just strength to survive what's ahead."

Cyrus straightened, the determination in his eyes unmistakable. "I've survived plagues, storms, and monsters before. This dungeon won't be any different."

Sylus chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. "We'll see. But I warn you—there's more at stake here than just survival. This dungeon, this corruption—it will test you in ways you're not prepared for."

Athena stepped forward, her expression resolute. "We've faced death before. We can face it again."

"Athena…" Cyrus began.

"Yes?"

"Don't say that shit again. You sound like a cringy-ass movie character."

With Athena rolling her eyes, the group pressed forward, the twisted dungeon looming ahead, every step a reminder of the corruption that awaited them deeper inside. They had no choice but to confront it, knowing that failure would mean unleashing a nightmare far worse than anything they had ever encountered.