The Lord’s spawner was razed,
A crystal sat pretty, in his nest,
Unable to return home, he was unfazed.
This was a chance to prove he was the best.
With each verse the passed,
His song faded and wings turned to glass,
Cancer ran its course with each beat,
As the mana that burned in his soul didn’t retreat.
He respawned in the air,
His body formed by a prayer.
To onlookers he blinked from reality,
As each teleport restored his vitality.
But that was only half the story,
Half the song-
On the wind he fluttered along,
Unwilling to die, and let go of the glory.
He had become his own swan song.
Each death, each life, another chance to write his story.
His life was short and wild,
But with it came joy as he smiled.
He was the paragon of the sky,
Of time and the rhythm of sound,
So he called out in reply-
“A horde of enemies are inbound.”
Creatures of flesh and blood,
Like maggots they wiggled in the mud.
They crawled out of their cave,
Unaware that this would become their grave.
They were made of a fallen god,
But their physical forms with just a facade.
They leaked power and fought for scraps,
As the earth around them collapsed.
Walls fell from their foundation,
As the Lord showed he was the greatest of the generation.
He flew in close,
His mana unable to diagnose-
The cancer that had birthed these bottom feeders.
With the enemy unknown, he stepped up as the leader.
A hundred birds blinked into reality on his tail,
As they bombarded the enemy to no avail.
With each death there was a burst of flame.
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The bird’s song ceased to be a choir.
A dozen notes faded into chaos…
But the grubs were also at a loss.
As the Lord flapped his wings with new vitality,
He soared above the ruins to see a new reality.
They were not maggots that crawled,
But blood cells, through the body they sprawled.
So dense with unfathomable power,
He was amazed they could last even an hour.
With each death there was a burst of flame.
The mana in the dungeon boiled,
As the trees were next to get caught up in the game.
But he had a chance to see the plan foiled.
In the limbo of the afterlife and immortality,
He danced the edge of individuality,
On the verge of seeing everything destroyed,
He had a chance to stare into the void.
And it broke him, in ways unseen,
As he was just another cog in the machine.
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A gentle wind rustled the leaves, as someone screamed out in agony.
It was a mangled corpse. Skin burned away, left arm shattered and missing below the elbow with bone marrow exposed to the air. An infection had set in, but he didn’t care as he drug himself further on metal legs that squeaked with every step.
Baros gritted his teeth and continued forward, as another sway of the wind set his mind alight with pain. His muscles twitched uncontrollable, as tendons audibly snapped into place as there was no skin to soften the sound. Every nerve ending was still intact and made sure he was well aware of every aspect of the agony he was in.
He dared not look down and take stock of just how bad the situation was, he already had an idea. Notifications popped up about the reduction in pain, how he had maxed out the limits of his abilities, how he had gone beyond his limits… it was all so cliche, especially as the system was the one to both set the arbitrary limits, and the one to tell him his class specialized in breaking them.
So he kept walking, as he outlived his own body.
He heard the sound of leaves rustling and snapped his jaw close to avoid biting off his tongue. Jaw clenched, the “heavily reduced” pain never came. It was not caused by the wind, but the flow of mana. Far beyond what his eyes could see, but his cracked scry stone showed him the battle that took place between him and his destination.
The corrupted blood of a god attacked the dungeon, and fed it in equal measures.
Baros paused for a moment as he looked at the scrystone, and decided to turn around.
He was dedicated, not stupid. He would just go around.
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The Core had been distracted when the maggots first crawled out of their pit, but now they had his full attention. Even if it was only after the birds screamed and charged headfirst into the enemy. The geysers of flame from each death lit up the night sky definitely made it difficult to ignore.
As the maggots wiggled towards the rest of the dungeon, the birds did what they could to stop them, but were outnumbered. Hundreds of those maggots made their way out, undeterred by the hail of feathers, as they made their way into the forest.
The Core gave the command, and suddenly they didn’t make it far. Branches speared them from above as roots smashed them, each one splattering its golden innards to the world. There was a flood of mana from these dense creatures and the Core loved it, but it came so far the forest caught fire from mana burn. So much energy escaping its mortal confines as it rushed past the trees it set them on fire.
For the third time the Core learned this lesson, magic was energy, and energy really liked fire.
The Core was smart enough to realize the implications. The universe’s natural state was fire, everything else was an accident, probably. Even the dirt was just a cold fire. This was knowledge that could be weaponized… probably.
He didn’t have time to ponder his discovery further, as the fire spread. It lept from tree to tree and set them ablaze as more maggots were consumed by the heat. Each one that popped only added fuel to the inferno.
“This isn’t good,” the Core thought to himself as he gave the order for the trees not currently on fire to run away. They were slow, and most couldn’t escape the flames, but as hours passed he was able to save a fraction of the forest he had just a month prior. It was a good start as they made a fire break to prevent any further disasters.
Fire needed fuel to grow, and the Core was a master of not helping things grow.
As the flames died out, and the battlefield returned to the earth to fuel the next generation of growth…. When it eventually came… in a few months… it would grow back really big! Just… eventually.
The Core wasn’t worried. There was no need to mourn when there was new knowledge to be gained!
He watched as mana swirled through the air, so light and fluffy as it mixed with the wind, and in a single breath he drew it into his center. So much to taste, as its metallic notes took center stage, but it was a flavor he was familiar with so he was able to dig deeper.
Hints of sulphur that burned at the edge, an acidic aftertaste as it mixed with rot and made his mind curl. It held a euphoric power that expanded his mind and made him all the more aware of the world around him. This was his second taste from what was below, and the first taught him about its existence, while the second only refined and expanded the knowledge that took shape in his mind.
It was perfect in so many ways.
It was the flavor of life itself.
It was power, distilled and crystalized.
He was power made physical, reinforced from just a taste.
In the haze of flavor, he hadn’t noticed that he held his breath. It was no mistake, as he refused to let the power out. He needed it, he craved it. After an hour of deliberation, he realized he could use this.
The Core let out his breath, as that perfected mana flowed over the dungeon. Crystals formed along every surface, as the ice melted and was replaced with something far better. The mana was thick, as it clung to everything it touched as made every monster pause. The world slowed as every monster got a taste, as they absorbed the crystals as their skin.
Humans shared what they had gained, and the Core was practically human by now. It shared this knowledge and used it to saturate every tree, leaf, slime, statue, and stone. Each one got their share of the pure bliss that was this divine mana.
Only after the new flavor of mana found an equilibrium in the dungeon did he realize its sour aftertaste. That intoxicating flavor had masked something bigger, but the Core didn’t care. He was strong and was smart enough not to make mistakes.
That's why he knew this would be fine, and that nothing bad was going to happen.
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> Corruption has reached 66%