Illéa, the Ancestral Spirit of the Blighted Realm, sat upon a throne made of twisted roots and thorns. Even here, in the heart of her realm, the blight continued to spread. She was helpless to stop it from encroaching upon her final bastion. With this realization came the sad understanding that she was but a fragment of what she had once been.
Having begun life as a sapling Ancestral Oak, a rare form of Woodland Spirit that had yet to develop a consciousness, she was discovered by a young Elven child who lived in a nearby outpost. Due to the Ancestral Oak's regal demeanor, and the way its pearly white leaves seemed to glitter under light of the sun, the imaginative child had declared the sapling spirit to be a Prayer Tree, like the one from her favorite bedtime story.
Although it was little more than the overactive mind of a child hard at play, when that same child had clasped her hands around the base of her very own Prayer Tree, and said words for her departed loved ones, a small amount of Spiritual Energy was bestowed upon the sapling. This caused an instant and noticeable growth spurt. Shocked, the child whooped with glee, immediately rushing off to gather her family, eager to show them her mystical Prayer Tree.
The end of that first day saw Illéa standing an additional three feet tall. Over the next few decades, the spirituality imparted by her many visitors was the spark that ignited the dormant consciousness locked away within the heart of that now-sturdy Ancestral Oak into awakening.
As Illéa became accustomed to her newfound existence, she found herself very much enjoying her wholesome life as a Prayer Tree. Day in, and day out, she basked in the Spiritual Energy she received from the prayers. It was a simple life, yet she felt a sense of peace and contentment in the simplicity.
However, one fateful day, the nearby Elven outpost was sacked by a battalion of Orcs in the midst of a battle-quest. The victorious Orcs strung the corpses of the villagers upon the branches of their beloved Prayer Tree. The life-blood of her benefactors had instilled within Illéa both a raw, intoxicating power, and an emotion she had never before experienced. Rage.
Fueled by her anger, and the life-blood of the carcasses draped from her body, Illéa underwent a rapid, and vehemence-driven Evolution. Taking on a humanoid form in order to allow herself mobility, she set out for vengeance against the Orcs who had defiled her peaceful existence.
She brought with her an unquenchable thirst for blood.
Although she detested this new form, her bark-like skin, piercing red eyes, and the curved, antler-like branches extending from the sides of her head were a testament to her newfound power, and the determination to exact her revenge.
Once her quest for vengeance was fulfilled, Illéa drifted aimlessly for a time, gathering knowledge about her world, and constantly seeking out new avenues of growth. After several close encounters with death, and multiple evolutions, Illéa awakened a Core. Her awakening had been what allowed her to traverse the Heavenly Ladder.
In hindsight, that was where everything had started to go wrong.
Gazing out over the sickly forest that was her Spiritual Realm, a Realm that had been labeled as one of the Nine Hells because of her own inadequacies, Illéa narrowed her eyes in deep contemplation.
Things hadn't always been like this. The Blighted Realm was once a forested wonderland of a Spiritual Realm that she had named the Ancestral Forest. When Illéa had stumbled on the final step of the Heavenly Ladder, her Core had been corrupted as a consequence, and her Spiritual Realm was struck with blight.
Now, her forest was in a perpetual state of decay. The once-lush trees were wasting away. Their leaves withering and falling, constantly adding new layers to the rotting undergrowth. Like everything else in this wretched place, the wildlife was corrupted, and diseased.
Bears stumbled through the underbrush, their fur patchy, skin covered in festering scabs. Their eyes dull and lifeless, dragging their feet as they roamed the wilting forest. The Wolves of the Blighted Realm were no better off. Their fur was thinning, and once sharp teeth were now yellowed and rotten.
To say the birds were a sorry sight would've been an understatement. Their feathers were tattered and dull, and were soon to lose the capacity for flight entirely. They hopped and fluttered from one decaying branch to another, searching fruitlessly for scraps of food in the ravaged, and desolate treetops.
The air of the Blighted Realm was heavy with the overpowering scent of mildew and rot. The stream that once nourished the forest had turned a deep yellow, and reeked of sulfur.
Illéa sighed as she gazed upon her once beautiful Realm, now reduced to a decaying wasteland.
Yet for the first time in ages, she had caught sight of a small glimmer of hope. Her harsh reality was interrupted by the image of Alan Robbins, a strange Variant of Beast-Folk that had somehow happened across the [Warden of Blight] Class Scroll, the last Scroll of its type, and one that had been thought lost to her for good over a thousand years ago.
From the safety of her astral form, Illéa had simultaneously given, and overseen Alan's Class Trial. Watching as the young man struggled to break free of the roots that bound him to the floor. Despite the ease with which he was overcome, Alan refused to yield. Instead, he had locked eyes with Illéa's astral form, and cursed at her from beneath his restraints.
Illéa was taken aback by Alan's defiance. She couldn't remember the last time she had witnessed such audacity from a Mortal being. As she retreated back to her physical form, she found herself pondering the young man's bravery.
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Was it foolishness she had witnessed, or could it be possible that Alan actually possessed the strength of will necessary to become a [Warden of Blight]? He would be required to do so if she was to break free from the stagnation in her progression.
Although it could be argued that Alan Robbins had barely passed his Class Trial, he had shown a glimmer of defiance that had piqued Illéa's interest. She realized that a [Warden of Blight], if allowed to grow strong enough, could greatly diminish the blight in her Realm, and perhaps even allow her to finally ascend that last step of the Heavenly Ladder.
While it was challenging to keep her hopes tempered, there was one potential problem. As she studied Alan, she could sense the presence of Zalbohg The Impure One all over him. She had many reasons to despise that foul creature. After all, it was because of Zalbohg's interference all those millennia ago that she had failed to ascend.
Despite this, she decided to allow Alan to take the [Warden of Blight] Class, if for no other reason than to slight Zalbohg. But she felt it would be in her best interest to keep a close eye on both the Mortal, as well as the future movements of the Impure One.
Radiating determination, Illéa began to plan out a way to make this unexpected turn of events work in her favor. Luck had been in alarmingly short demand, and she was going to do all that she could to help the Mortal survive.
******
Alan came to on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. A faint tingle in his guts rapidly intensified. It was a disturbing feeling, one reminiscent of ingesting too many Golden Plantains in a short timeframe. He rubbed his abdomen, trying to to soothe the unsettling sensation, but that only seemed to make things worse.
Groaning his displeasure at suffering from stomach issues again so soon, Alan looked himself over and saw that the black roots which had held him in place were nothing more than tiny veins that were being absorbed directly through his scales. If he looked close enough, he could see veins spreading out beneath the surface, somehow visible through his heavily layered armor plating. That… Can't be good…
Each vein pulsed and throbbed, as if being filled with the dark, slithering Essense of the decaying vines they were so greedily devouring. The wriggling veins ran all over his body, branching off, and connecting to every inch of himself that he could see. He could feel strange, and alien life forms growing inside of him, spreading and multiplying, infecting his very being.
The description of the [Warden of Blight] Class Scroll came to mind unbidden.
(Rare) Class Scroll [Warden of Blight] Patient. Enduring. Though decay spreads rampant amongst the undergrowth, you stand firm in your defense of the Ancestral Forest, and her many beasts. A primarily offensive Class, focused on beast taming, and guerilla warfare using a diverse array of fungus/bacteria-based Skills from both close, and long range. +10% Strength, +5% Willpower, +5% Agility. Slight increase to odds of taming beasts below your Level.
Alan shuddered, the thought of being a walking biological weapon, capable of cultivating bacteria and fungus, apparently within his very own body, was both frightening and exhilerating. He had never felt so dangerous, and yet so vulnerable at the same time.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing mind. And then looked down at the veins running down his arms. Each one seemed to be absorbing the ambient light, adding to them an ethereal quality. It was hard to shake the feeling of unease, but he knew it was far too late to turn back. He was going to have to learn to both accept, and control the new power that lay within him.
The sensation was disagreeable, to say the least. Thinking about what he was now capable of was daunting, yet he also felt a sense of excitement when considering the many new possibilities that were now laid out before him.
Eyes suddenly narrowing with concern, Alan's thoughts were interrupted by the image of the mysterious figure that had been watching his struggles from within the depths of that strange green blob. He couldn't help but be curious as to who that shadowy being was, and what their intentions were. The unease in his guts intensified, and Alan found himself wanting to look over his shoulder, to search for any sign of the mysterious observer. The thought of someone or something watching him was unsettling, and Alan couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that he was being studied.
Thankfully, the grey haze had cleared out at some point, leaving behind no trace of its existence. Alan was confused and disoriented, and it was becoming a struggle to remember the full details of what had just transpired.
Slowly, Alan pushed himself upright. As he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't shake off the eerie feeling that had settled into his insides. He took solace knowing that he was once more in the Safe Zone, but the feeling of unease that had settled into his guts was making it hard to be cheerful. He couldn't be sure what had just transpired, but the annoying flash of unopened notices let him know that he wasn't finished quite yet.
Before Alan worked up the nerve to check his notifications, he noticed that something seemed off with the quality of the ambient light. The harsh glare was all but gone, replaced by a cool, pale luminescence. One glance upwards was all that it took to discover the cause for the abrupt change.
The first thing that caught Alan's eye was a full moon. It was a giant, glowing orb in the sky, casting a silvery light over everything below. It was bright enough to illuminate the entire area, making it almost seem like it was still daylight. Countless stars twinkled like diamonds against a deep purple night sky, their reflections shimmering on the surface of the lake like a million tiny fireflies.
The clouds seemed to be gathering overhead, creating a mesmerizing pattern as they drifted lazily across the sky. Alan was awestruck by the beauty of it all. Not since he was a child had Alan born witness to the night sky. For a moment, he simply stood there, taking it all in.
As if subjected to magnetic attraction, Alan's gaze kept getting pulled back to the lake. The nighttime view was refreshing, but the reflection of the moon and stars on the calm surface of the water was especially stunning. It created an ethereal, otherworldly vibe. Filled with a sense of awe and wonder, Alan felt like he was standing in the center of a fairy-tale world.
As he stood there on his makeshift bed, basking in the majestic scenery, he was suddenly overcome with a flood of pent up emotions. It was a relief to have survived the insanity that opening that damned Class Scroll had wrought, but the thought of what those notifications contained was eating away at his resolve to leave them unopened until after he got some sleep.
Laying down, Alan stared up at the sky with tear-stained cheeks, marveling at the beauty of the endless stars. The Sound of crickets and other insects filled the air, creating a peaceful, and calming background scenery. Eyelids growing heavy, Alan permitted his eyes to close, giving his overtaxed mind a chance to relax.
Despite his best efforts, the distracting intermittent flashes of unanswered System Notifications persisted in the back of his mind. Alan felt slightly guilty for ignoring them, but deep down, he knew he needed to focus on recuperating his physical and mental strength for the difficulties lying just over the horizon.
Sucking in a lungful of the fresh night air, Alan exhaled slowly, and repeated the process until he drifted off into a deep sleep.