We began on the ground floor. The main room where we had rested was massive, with patches of dusty, torn wallpaper clinging to smooth gray walls. Huge portraits hung crooked in their golden frames, most of the images rotted or faded beyond recognition. The few that remained showed generations of Tharrans, judging by their fine clothes and ornate jewelry. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out this mansion once belonged to the ruling family.
Scattered pieces of broken furniture lay among toppled marble statues of the Tharrans, their once pristine forms cloaked in grime and dust. The air was musty, thick, and suffocating.
We moved past the wide, curving staircase toward the mansion's rear.
Three Tharrans waited for us in the hallway. Their decayed forms still bore the tatters of elegant tuxedos, intricate embroidery barely visible through the grime. A few arrows from Bel’vorgar were all it took to cut them down. But the sound of the brief skirmish carried down the corridor, drawing more of them from the surrounding rooms.
Joro’gar stepped forward, raising his shield to meet the charge. He braced himself, taking the brunt of the attack, and began hacking into their ranks with brutal efficiency. I stood behind him, driving aura infused spikes into the floor to slow their advance and stabbing any that slipped past his defenses.
From the backline, Bel’vorgar and Sylvan’dar loosed arrows with precision, targeting any Tharrans foolish enough to try throwing debris or projectiles at us. Meanwhile, Ilin’dar moved like a phantom through their ranks, her daggers gleaming. She flowed from one vital point to the next, piercing short necks and decayed hearts with an elegance that was almost mesmerizing.
In minutes, it was over. The last Tharran fell, its body dissolving into smoke. Thal’gar had barely needed to intervene, healing only a few shallow cuts mostly mine from moments when my enthusiasm got the better of me.
Bel’vorgar’s commanding voice cut through the heavy silence. “Great job, Alex. You’re getting better at your positioning. But for the love of the gods, try staying behind poor Joro. You’re making him worry.”
Ilin’dar burst into laughter “He’s not wrong!” she said between giggles.
“It’s not that funny,” I muttered, but I nodded grudgingly. Bel’vorgar had a point.
We continued down the hallway, checking the empty rooms as we went. Most contained nothing but broken furniture and shattered memories.
The last door at the end of the hall stood out. Wooden planks had been nailed across it, and a faint scratching sound came from within.
I reshaped my spear into a crowbar.
Sylvan’dar watched me with a curious expression. “I’m honestly amazed you can use your manifestation skill so well. Most people I know treat it as little more than aura control practice. Soulbound equipment is far more reliable... though it can get expensive.”
Her casual tone felt like an opening, so I decided to trust them ,at least a little. “To be honest, I haven’t been an ascendant for long, so I haven’t come across any soulbound items yet. Earth is pretty peaceful where I’m from. I don’t really walk around armed.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, I figured as much. You were adorable, playing pretend . Nobody just carries a weapon around hoping it’ll imprint on their soul. That’s ridiculous.” She gestured toward Bel’vorgar’s bow. “There are enchanters who can make anything soulbound,if you’re willing to pay the price.”
Bel’vorgar straightened, pride evident in his voice as he said, “My family’s bow has been passed down for generations. There’s a contest in my family every generation, and the winner…”
Sylvan’dar groaned. “We’ve heard it before, Bel.”
The others burst into laughter as their leader pouted.
“Anyway,” Sylvan’dar continued, “it’s not cheap. We all had to pool our resources to get Joro’s shield enchanted.”
The tank thumped his shield with a grin. “Best investment we ever made.”
“Thanks for the lesson,” I said, chuckling. “I should’ve asked sooner, huh?”
A chorus of “Yes!” followed, accompanied by more laughter.
I pulled the last plank from the door, stepping aside just as it burst open. A hulking amalgamation squeezed through the frame, its mass writhing and shifting.
Joro was ready, slamming into it with his shield and blocking its advance. I morphed my weapon into a glaive and began hacking from behind his shield. The weapon felt awkward in my hands, but I didn’t care. I swung with all the strength I could muster.
The others joined in, their attacks relentless. The amalgamation couldn’t use its full power in such a tight space, and soon its body collapsed into smoking fragments.
Joro stepped over the remains, his shield still raised, and I stayed close behind.
The room beyond was dark, faintly illuminated by gaps in the barred windows. Flattened furniture and debris littered the floor, and the stench of decay was overwhelming.
Thal’gar covered his nose. “What do you think happened here?”
Ilin’dar scanned the room, her gaze sharp. “Looks like they imprisoned people here when the corruption started. Most sentient species implement quarantine measures during an unanchoring event.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine. That’s exactly what Earth would do.
“How do planets become unanchored?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Thal’gar placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “No one knows for sure. There are theories, but no concrete answers. High levels of energy seem to protect against it, though. That’s why high leveled beings prefer to live on energy rich planets.”
Sylvan’dar nodded, chiming in. “It’s also why high leveled beings are offered all sorts of incentives to live on any planet. Their presence alone helps stabilize the reality barrier. Governments and rulers practically beg them to stay.”
I clenched my fists. I was already working to level up, but now I had even more motivation. If Earth was at risk... I had no choice but to catch up fast.
We climbed to the next floor, a labyrinth of rooms and fading opulence. The grandeur of the past still peeked through layers of dust and grime.
We fought our way through more groups of Tharrans, Luppits, and amalgamations until we reached a massive set of double doors. Their intricate carvings were scarred by countless scratches, patches of rot spreading across their surface.
We stood in formation. With a nod from Bel’vorgar, I pushed the doors open.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
As we stepped inside, a notification blinked to life.
Active Quest: Crownshatter
Objective: Kill the Royal Amalgamation (0/1)
Rewards:
* EXP (based on performance)
* Uncommon-grade item
“Did you all get the quest?” I asked.
The others nodded their expression hardening.
The room ahead was vast, semicircular, and eerily silent. Rows of marble columns framed the path to a raised dais where a massive, decayed throne loomed. Half of the domed ceiling had collapsed, allowing shafts of pale light to stream in, highlighting the decay. Rotten tapestries hung limply on the walls, ornate sconces tarnished and dull between them. Suits of armor lined the columns, each holding a distinct weapon.
We advanced cautiously, picking our way through the debris. Then, from the throne, something began to stir.
At first, it was faint, a bubbling sound, wet and grotesque. Blobs of flesh slithered from the shadows and coalesced, merging into the throne’s base. The abomination grew with every piece absorbed, until it towered over us.
Royal Amalgamation (Level 97)
When the unanchoring began, the royal family hid in their castle, hoarding treasure and food while their people suffered and perished.
Before it could fully form, Bel’vorgar loosed an arrow at its core, the shot ringing like a starting bell. A chorus of unearthly howls erupted, echoing through the room. Beneath the shrieking, faint, fragmented voices cried out:
“Help... us... Pain... Hungry...”
The sound twisted my stomach. For a moment, I faltered, instinctively stepping back. But Joro’gar grabbed my arm, his voice steady and firm.
“Believe me, I know. But we’re doing them a favor.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus. He was right, these weren’t people anymore. They were trapped in a nightmare, and we were their only release.
I nodded. “Let’s finish this.”
Bel’vorgar continued firing at the central mass, while Sylvan’dar unleashed elemental attacks, targeting the smaller, scattered blobs trying to assimilate into the main body. The abomination screeched in protest, but the fragments Sylvan’dar destroyed withered and smoked before they could merge.
Despite our efforts, the creature completed its transformation. It stood over twenty feet tall, a towering horror of fused flesh. Faces pressed against its surface, their mouths wide in silent screams, as though they were trying to claw their way out.
Then it lashed out. A massive limb, grotesque and uneven, formed and swung down toward us.
Joro’gar moved like lightning, his shield meeting the blow. The impact drove him back several feet, but he held firm. He locked the limb under his shield, giving me an opening. Without hesitation, I charged in, hacking at the grotesque appendage with my glaive.
The amalgamation screeched in agony. Another limb formed, sweeping toward us, but the ranged fighters concentrated their attacks on it, forcing it to retract.
I gritted my teeth and swung harder, finally severing the limb. It writhed on the floor before crumbling into ash.
Before I could catch my breath, Ilin’dar dropped from above, her blade plunging into the abomination’s core. I had no idea how or when she’d gotten there, but her strike was perfect.
The creature roared, shaking the entire room. Chunks of debris fell from the ceiling as it lashed out with a swarm of tendrils, but Ilin’dar was already gone, darting back to safety.
The rest of us pressed the attack. Joro’s shield blocked the rare tendrils that slipped past, while Thal healed any minor injuries we sustained. Bit by bit, the amalgamation shrank, its size and strength diminishing as pieces of flesh fell away.
I allowed myself a sliver of hope. We’re actually doing this!
Then it happened. I fucking jinxed it
The amalgamation retreated, slumping back onto the throne. Five long tendrils shot out, bypassing us entirely. They connected with the suits of armor lining the columns, vanishing into their hollow forms.
I stared in disbelief as the knights began to move.
At first, their motions were jerky, unnatural. But with each step, they grew more fluid. The weapons they held glinted with malevolent energy, and their faceless helmets seemed to focus on us.
From the central body on the throne, a figure emerged. It was humanoid, but only from the waist up. Its lower half was still fused with the abomination’s mass. A rotted crown sat crooked on its head, and a scepter hung loosely in its decayed hand.
Its voice rasped like shattering gravel.
“Enough.”
The knights fanned out, their metal shoes echoing on the marble floor like a death knell. They stood between us and the throne, dull gray armor rusting in places. From the cracks in the metal, black, oozing flesh writhed unnaturally, as if seeking freedom.
Each knight was around six feet tall, a hulking wall of menace. The two in front carried shields and spears, their stance defensive but unyielding. Behind them, two more wielded long polearms, a halberd and a billhook, weapons designed for brutal, sweeping attacks.
The last knight stood apart, pacing deliberately near the throne. Its armor was more ornate, tarnished bronze with sagging plumage barely clinging to its helm. It carried a long saber with an intricate basket hilt, its movements fluid, almost predatory.
The tense silence was shattered when the decayed king on the throne raised its scepter and fired a bolt of dark magic. Joro’gar moved in an instant, his shield intercepting the blast with a sizzling crack.
“Take the knights first!” Bel’vorgar shouted, loosing an arrow toward the king. It flew with frightening precision, aiming for the abomination's face. But one of the shield knights stepped in, raising its shield with mechanical precision. The arrow clattered off with a hollow clank, shattering on impact.
The knights retreated slowly, shields raised, forming a wall in front of the throne. Bel’vorgar continued firing, but every shot was deflected.
“Damn it!” he growled. “Sylvie, slow them down with fire! I’ll keep the king busy. Ilin, take out the sword knight, it’s dangerous. Be careful!”
Sylvan’dar raised her arms, conjuring twin jets of liquid fire that roared to life like twin flamethrowers. The shield knights howled as the flames licked their shields , but they didn’t fall. The knights in the second row leaped high, their heavy forms defying gravity as they brought their polearms down toward Sylvan’dar in a synchronized attack.
Joro was there again, his shield absorbing the blow with a thunderous impact.
I morphed my weapon into a warhammer, adding a spiked head for good measure. Slashing would be useless against armored opponents, and I didn’t trust my precision enough to target the gaps. Blunt force would have to do.
One of the polearm knights landed heavily in front of me. I swung low, striking the back of its knee. The armor crumpled inward, and I kicked the knight into its companion. Both fell onto a spike trap I had prepared earlier, the sharp aura construct piercing an inch or two ,enough to hinder their movements.
With Joro intercepting the king’s bolts and Bel and Sylvan keeping the shield knights occupied, I focused on the grounded polearm knights. I rained down blow after blow, the sound of crumpling metal mingling with their agonized howls. Their armor caved in further, trapping the fleshy tendrils that oozed from the cracks.
From the corner of my eye, I caught the sword knight charging toward me. Before I could react, Ilin’dar was there, a blur of motion. She struck fast and hard, her blade aiming for the gaps in its armor.
The sword knight moved with equal precision, parrying each strike with calculated efficiency. Its movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, as it forced Ilin to retreat and reposition. She dodged its counterattacks with nimble grace, but even she couldn’t avoid every strike. Each time the blade landed, Thal’gar’s healing magic kept her standing.
“Alex, focus!” Bel’vorgar shouted, snapping me back to reality.
I turned back to my opponents. The polearm knights were still struggling, their tendrils writhing desperately. But their deformed bodies were too broken to escape.
“Sylvan! Fry these two!” I shouted.
She nodded, directing a stream of fire toward the grounded knights. The air filled with the sickening stench of burning flesh as their howls turned into faint, grateful whispers.
“Thank you...”
The words strengthened my resolve. I turned back to the sword knight, now fully engaged with Ilin.
Ilin suddenly leaped forward, feinting high before ducking low. Her blade flashed, striking the gap between the knight's gorget and helmet. With a sickening tear, she almost severed its head completely. The knight staggered back, its head lolling unnaturally, held together by black, writhing tendrils of flesh.
“Oh, gods, that’s disgusting,” Ilin muttered, recoiling slightly.
I grimaced. “Agreed. Push it toward me, I want to try something.”
She grinned, sidestepping another strike. “Sounds fun.”
The knight, distracted by her relentless attacks, didn’t notice as I set up a small aura step behind it. Ilin feinted high, forcing it to dodge back, and its foot caught on the invisible construct.
It stumbled, and I didn’t hesitate. I swung my warhammer with all my strength, aiming for the shoulder joint. The armor caved in with a sickening crunch, and the knight’s sword arm fell limp.
I stepped on its weapon for good measure and systematically crippled its legs and remaining arm, trapping the monstrous flesh inside.
“Sylvan! Another one!”
She approached calmly, her flames finishing the job. The knight’s screams faded, replaced by a soft whisper of gratitude.
The others had already taken care of the shield knights, and the king looked visibly weakened. It slumped on the throne, its energy spent.
Sylvan lobbed a few fireballs at it, and its flesh began to melt away. As it dissolved into ash, its voice echoed faintly through the room.
“My dynasty... ruined...