The source of corruption was gone, but not the corruption per se. We still had to get out of there before it got to us. In my head, though, I had some other idea.

My class is corrupted. By extension, doesn't that mean that I'm already corrupted?

If I was right, staying in the dungeon wouldn't have any adverse effect to me. If I was wrong, then I'd be no more.

The next steps were clear. As much as I would like to take the risk, I wouldn't do so if there was any other alternative. Thus, I joined the expedition on their way back.

Lebil was quiet. He didn't look my way or bark orders to anyone else. I didn't know if he was depressed that our expedition had lost over one third of its initial members. Perhaps he was still furious over me overshadowing him. Or maybe, simply scheming how he would justify the partial failure here.

We exited the building with no traces of new undead waking up. No one was concerned now that the dungeon was cleared. The common understanding was that there wouldn’t be enough corruption left to raise such kind of monsters.

Monsters. The word had stuck with me. By their definition, I was a monster now. Technically, I had always been; I just didn't know.

The more I thought about it, though, the least concerned I was. I was, potentially, immune to corruption. I had given the option to evolve five levels earlier than usual. I didn't have to care about mana.

I didn't see any downside.

My experience showed that monsters were not necessarily mindless. The wolves had been, they acted individually and without any regards for each other. But the skeletons had been the complete opposite.

They coordinated. Protected the evolved individual. Tried to trap us and play a war of attrition. Everything suggested that they were intelligent. That they actively communicated among themselves.

We were their enemies, and they tried to kill us. Had the system told them so? I didn't know. But clearly, a monster didn't need to act against their own.

I could live amongst humans as a monster. And I was planning to do so.

I barely noticed were I was when I started hearing the noises of horses and carts around us. At some point we had reached the road, away from the corruption already.

Going home was as much of a relief to them as it was a curse. It didn't help lighten the mood. Everyone wore devastated faces. Their friends had died. Their spouses and husbands. Some would have to deliver bad news home. Maybe even to children.

Everything felt so… foreign. I had never had to fight for my life. Much less for pleasure. I volunteered to an expedition, fought monsters, saw others die. I was not prepared for any of it.

And I would like if I sad I didn’t feel all of it coming at once. During the heat of the action, I hadn’t cared if someone died. I would, perhaps, even done so myself. But now, when the dust settled and only people and feelings remained… it hit hard.

It was not guilt. I wasn’t responsible for their deaths. I didn’t even know them. Yet, somewhere inside me, I felt like I could have done more. I had the power to do more. The potential. I knew whatever I had, this corruption, was a boon unlike any other.

I needed more.

Power. Friends I could trust—I gave Lebil a dirty look. Knowledge. A network that could do more than simply support my growth. I needed to be given wings, I desired exponential growth.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

And I knew were I would start.

!!Evolution available!!

The message lingered on my vision. I could have moved it, discarded it even, but I wanted the reminder. I wanted to know the next step was right in front of me. I shook my head to get rid of all the uncertainties and fears in my way. I had to read the book, practice my skill, and then I would evolve.

Silence was my only companion all the way back to the city. Silence that was only broken by occasional my small and localised explosions. I had made it my mission to make the best out of my time.

Concentrating the energy to a single point easy. I made it shapeless, gathered it in a small spot in front of me, and then kept pilling more of it in the same place. The problems began when I tried to compress all of that.

Whenever two of this infinitesimally small particles were brought close together, they started pushing apart. There was an invisible force that separated them. The harder I tried to compress them, the stronger this force was.

It heated. It revolted against my will. It just wouldn’t group together. And, when it decided it was enough, it blew off.

[You have lost 435 energy]

The first time, it had send me flying back. All the energy I had tried to channel, was stripped away from me. I suffered the backslash from that, from the blast, and the impact on some random tree.

That was the first and last time I tried with so much energy at once.

I kept trying, 50 energy at a time to avoid blowing myself up. To no one’s surprise, I still messed and made it explode a few times—not that they cared. With each subsequent trial, I refined my technique. It was a delicate dance between gathering the energy, shaping it into a formless mass, and then gradually coaxing it into a small, concentrated spot.

I learned to sense the threshold at which the particles would naturally resist one another. The invisible repulsive force that had plagued my earlier efforts still lurked, but through persistence and patience, I discovered the balance needed to compress the energy without triggering its rebellion.

After hours of tireless practice, a breakthrough came when, at last, I discovered the missing piece. Overdrive worked because it forced out all the energy in a single blob. What I was trying, though, was to unite thousands of distinct particles. Once I grasped that, and actively converted the shapeless particles into a single semi-solid chunk, I managed to compress the energy into a single, small, shimmering ball.

The tiny, concentrated sphere of energy hovered before me, pulsating with an ethereal glow. It was unstable, emanating heat as it spun and formed winds. It was mine.

[You have learned the spell ]

That finally made me click. I was fusing the particles into a molten core. How fast, efficient, and stably I did it would determine the quality of the resulting sphere.

I spent the rest of the way back trying my best to make it more powerful. Attempting to add more energy to an already volatile mixture. And I didn't succeed.

No one asked us to stand in a long queue to enter the city. Not because there wasn’t one—there was, and it was bigger than the first time. The guards didn’t ask for our IDs. No one brought me to the Church.

It was clear also that nobody wanted stick around for longer. Everyone scattered in all directions, and I did the same.

I brushed past all of the very same scenes that a few days ago had been so interesting. I ran past the stairs without realizing, until I was at the top, that I was out of breath.

And I attempted to blaze through the maze of corridors and rooms, but I was intercepted.

“Darian! Saints! You are okay!” Yasmin's affectionate voice came from somewhere my left, forcing me to stop.

“I am.” I tried to be friendly. I really tried. But I don't think it came out that way.

“I heard what happened, and I wasn't sure if you had…” She left the phrase unfinished.

“You heard?”

“Yes! One [Scout] of your expedition swiftly made his way here. He explained how dire the situation was. And-”

“I see.” I interrupted her. Strange that the [Scout] didn't mention me. “Yasmin, it's been two days of non-stop fighting. I didn't even get to sleep. Would you mind if we postpone the conversation until I have rested?”

“Oh my! Of course, Darian!” I could literally see how she realized how tired I must have been, and how rude she was to get in-between me and sleep.

I didn't feel that way at all. I couldn't care a bit less about sleep. Or her guilt. I wanted to get to my bedroom. Madly so.

I had a book to read.

And a class to evolve.