Elliot moved steadily northward, drawn by the overwhelming presence of corrupted essence. The oppressive energy made his skin crawl, yet most of the villagers he passed seemed blissfully unaware of it. Furrowing his brow, he thought, “How can they not sense this? Even the fighters I saw didn’t seem to notice…” The realization unsettled him. Could it be because they lacked the ability to wield essence? That seemed plausible, but it didn’t sit right with him.

“No,” he mused, “it’s not just that. I’ve seen essence users before, and even they didn’t react like this.” He turned the puzzle over in his mind as he walked, the corrupted energy gnawing at the edge of his senses like a persistent itch. “Could it be because I’ve fought corrupted essence before? Does that make me more attuned to it?” The thought lingered, but he couldn’t draw any conclusions.

His speculation was cut short when he arrived at his destination. The source of the energy wasn’t the expected ruin; instead, it was a towering sanctuary. Its architecture was imposing and intricate, with walls that glimmered faintly as if they had absorbed centuries of essence, both pure and corrupted.

Elliot stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “This… this wasn’t here before,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The structure felt ancient, yet somehow out of place, as though it had forced its way into existence recently.

Tentatively, he reached out and placed a hand on the cool surface of the underground entrance. The stone felt unnervingly alive, faintly pulsing with a rhythm that matched the corrupted energy flowing through the air. The sensation made his chest tighten, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed his palm firmly against the wall, as if trying to ground himself.

“What is this place…?” he muttered, the weight of the sanctuary's presence pressing down on him. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and stepped forward, ready to uncover whatever mysteries lay hidden within its depths.

As Elliot ventured deeper into the sanctuary, the air grew heavier with each step. To an untrained eye, the place seemed inviting—brightly lit and imbued with a serene ambiance that could almost be called refreshing. But Elliot’s finely tuned senses told a different story. Beneath the façade of tranquility lurked an ominous presence, a tension that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

His thoughts raced as he tried to pinpoint the source of the corrupted essence. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from… It’s everywhere and nowhere at once,” he thought, frustration creeping into his mind. The sanctuary felt like a living organism, its essence diffused and constantly shifting, as though it were deliberately trying to obscure itself from him.

Clenching his fists, Elliot’s resolve hardened. “I have to find it,” he told himself. “If I don’t, this whole area will get corrupted, and it’ll be too late to stop it.” His urgency stemmed from a deep understanding of the threat. Corrupted essence wasn’t just a danger to those who wielded essence—it was a plague on everything it touched. Prolonged exposure could seep into the terrain, poisoning the soil and twisting the lives of those nearby into something unrecognizable.

The memory of his parents flashed in his mind, unbidden but vivid. He could still recall the stories—the way the corrupted essence had invaded their adoptive family’s bodies, ravaging their essence channels and leaving them defenseless. That corruption had taken everything from them, and he and Towan were left in its wake.

Shaking the thought away, Elliot pressed onward. His steps echoed faintly in the sanctuary’s expansive halls, but he didn’t falter. The weight of his mission bore down on him as heavily as the thickening air. If he couldn’t root out the source of the corruption here, he risked letting history repeat itself. And that, to him, was simply unacceptable.

It was then that something unusual began to happen. The sanctuary seemed to stir, as if it were reacting to Elliot’s very presence—his resonance with corrupted essence, though he was still unaware of this connection. The air around him grew heavier, charged with an unsettling energy, and the faint hum of essence grew into a resonant vibration.

Without warning, the ground beneath his feet began to shift. Tiles twisted and cracked, groaning as they moved, and the floor opened up like a gaping maw, trying to swallow him whole.

“What the—?!” Elliot exclaimed, his sharp instincts flaring to life. The chaotic fluctuations of corrupted essence surged, disorienting him for a brief moment.

Acting on pure reflex, Elliot sprang into the air with a powerful leap, narrowly avoiding the abyss that had formed below. He felt the rush of wind as the chasm's jagged edges snapped shut just below his heels.

Had his reaction been even a fraction of a second slower, he might have been lost to the darkness below. As he landed safely on solid ground a few steps away, his heart pounded in his chest. “What kind of place is this?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the area cautiously.

The sanctuary, it seemed, was alive—and it had just tried to consume him.

Elliot stood still, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the spot where the floor had opened beneath him. A faint trace of corrupted essence lingered in the air, like a sour aftertaste, but what unnerved him most was the sensation—something within the sanctuary had recognized him. It wasn’t a simple trap; it felt... deliberate.

He crouched down, placing a hand on the cold, cracked tiles. They were smooth to the touch, but a faint pulse of corrupted essence throbbed beneath them, almost as if the sanctuary itself was alive, watching him.

"Why me?" he thought, his brow furrowing. Elliot wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences, and this felt too targeted to dismiss. The corrupted essence he’d faced before had been mindless, driven by instinct, but this... this felt calculated, like it was testing him.

He rose to his feet, his mind racing. Could it be testing me?, just as master got tested with copies? The sanctuary’s eerie design didn’t offer answers—columns lined with faded glyphs stretched upward into shadow, and the flickering glow of corrupted essence veins ran along the walls like a network of veins.

“Whatever built this place wasn’t just dabbling in essence corruption,” Elliot muttered. “They mastered it.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Despite his apprehension, curiosity began to stir within him. The patterns in the walls seemed to shift subtly when he moved, like they were responding to his presence. He tilted his head, trying to make sense of them. Were they glyphs? Symbols? Directions? His analytical mind couldn’t help but try to piece together the puzzle.

Elliot touched one of the glowing lines cautiously, his fingers tingling as the corrupted essence sent a faint jolt up his arm. He pulled back, shaking his hand, but the tingling sensation didn’t fade. Instead, it spread through his palm, up his wrist, and into his core.

“Great,” he muttered. “Let’s just hope this doesn’t kill me.”

The sanctuary seemed to hum louder in response, its resonance growing stronger. A deep, guttural noise echoed through the chamber, like the sound of a massive heartbeat reverberating through stone.

Elliot's gaze darted toward the far end of the hall, where the corrupted essence pulsed brightest. He squared his shoulders, the weight of his situation sinking in.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out what’s going on,” he said, steeling himself.

As he moved forward, the air grew colder, and the sensation of being watched became almost unbearable. This place wasn’t just testing him—it was calling to him.

Elliot’s steps were cautious, each one accompanied by the faint creak of the sanctuary's ancient floor beneath his boots. The rhythmic thrum of corrupted essence pulsing through the walls seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat, growing louder the closer he moved to the glowing center. It was a disconcerting feeling, like the sanctuary was reaching out to him, trying to pull him deeper into its enigmatic grasp.

He clenched his fists, the memory of his master’s teachings flickering in his mind. "Corruption doesn’t think, Elliot. It spreads, it consumes, but it doesn’t think."

“Then what is this?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His analytical mind worked overtime, trying to make sense of what he was experiencing. If corrupted essence doesn’t think, then why does it feel so… aware?

His gaze darted to the glowing glyphs on the walls. They shimmered faintly, their patterns hypnotic yet unreadable. Each step he took seemed to awaken a new ripple of movement along the walls, as though the sanctuary itself was alive, observing him, waiting.

Was this place responding to his essence? Or was it reacting to something deeper—something within him that he didn’t yet understand?

Elliot shook his head, trying to dispel the unease creeping up his spine. "Focus," he told himself. "This isn’t the time to overthink. Keep moving."

But his thoughts refused to stay quiet. Why does it feel like it’s targeting me? Why now? The others hadn’t described anything like this in their previous encounters with corruption. Towan had faced brute force, and Kade and Rhys were likely battling something similar. But this… this felt personal.

He tightened his grip on the small dagger at his side—a precaution, though he doubted it would be useful against whatever this was. The weight of the blade was comforting, a reminder of his training and the lessons drilled into him by his master. Still, doubt lingered.

Am I ready for this? What if it’s too much?

He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to focus. Stop it, Elliot. You’ve prepared for this.

The pulse of corrupted essence intensified as he neared the heart of the sanctuary. His steps slowed, hesitation creeping in despite his determination. The air was thick now, each breath feeling heavier than the last, as though the sanctuary itself was weighing him down.

Elliot’s thoughts turned inward, his mind racing through everything that had led him here. He thought of Towan, always the first to dive into danger, and Kade, whose confidence never seemed to falter. He thought of Rhys, who carried an air of effortless strength. Compared to them, Elliot often felt like the weakest link—better with puzzles and strategy than combat.

But maybe that was why this place was pulling him in. It wasn’t about strength. It was about something else entirely.

“I’m not just some pawn for you to play with,” Elliot muttered, his voice defiant. "If you’re going to test me, then I’ll give you an answer you won’t forget."

He pressed forward, his resolve hardening. Whatever was at the heart of this place, he would face it—not just for himself, but for his companions. They were out there, fighting their own battles. He couldn’t afford to falter now.

The sanctuary’s pulse grew louder, and the glowing patterns on the walls intensified, casting an eerie light across Elliot’s determined face. This was it. Whatever lay ahead, he would meet it head-on.

Not as a victim, but as someone who would find the answers he needed—and survive to tell the tale.

Elliot closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a steadying breath. He needed to focus. The chaotic, pulsating energy of the sanctuary was disorienting, but he knew if he wanted answers—if he wanted to understand the origin of this corrupted place—he had to trace the essence to its source.

As he concentrated, his thoughts became a storm of fragmented images and memories. For a moment, it was overwhelming, but then one memory stood out with crystal clarity: the first ruin they had encountered. There had been a black figure there—an imposing presence, capable of wielding corrupted essence and even vital essence effortlessly, defying the warnings and limitations his master had taught him.

His master had explained the anomaly later, though even he seemed unsettled by it. That figure wasn’t bound by the natural rules of essence; it was something else entirely.

Elliot’s gaze sharpened as he looked around the sanctuary. The patterns on the walls—the intricate designs glowing faintly with corrupted energy—matched the ones he’d seen in the drawings at the previous ruin. His stomach churned with unease, but his analytical mind raced.

“It can’t be… can it?” he whispered, his voice almost lost in the oppressive silence of the chamber.

A chill ran down his spine, but he didn’t falter. The fear was there, undeniable, but it didn’t control him. Instead, it steeled his resolve. His steps became firmer, each one more confident than the last.

“I know my capabilities,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with defiance. “This is well within what I can handle.”

Then, without warning, the sanctuary struck. A dark arm, jagged and sinewy, emerged from the wall behind him, stretching out to grab him. Elliot didn’t see it, but he felt the shift in the air—a malicious intent that sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

Without hesitation, he spun on his heel, his leg cutting through the air in a sharp 180° kick. The precision and force were unmatched, and the arm shattered into fragments, dissolving into corrupted essence before it could touch him.

“It seems my training wasn’t useless after all,” Elliot thought with a hint of pride, realizing that his reaction time had reached a level he wouldn’t have thought possible mere months ago.

But the sanctuary wasn’t finished. More arms erupted from the walls, writhing and twisting like serpents as they reached for him. Their movements were erratic but relentless, driven by a singular purpose: to subdue him.

Elliot stepped back, his sharp gaze tracking their movements. As one lunged toward him, he sidestepped and struck with his open hand, slicing through it with a precise, blade-like motion. Another came from his left, and he ducked, pivoting to deliver a strike that severed it at the base.

The air was thick with the stench of corruption, and the faint cries of the fallen seemed to echo through the chamber. It was then that something clicked in Elliot’s mind—a realization that sent a shiver down his spine.

Vital essence comes from the living, but the corrupted figures I’ve fought before… they weren’t alive. They were remnants, memories of fallen fighters.

He froze for a heartbeat as the pieces fell into place. His eyes darted to the glowing patterns on the walls, the ominous energy pulsing through them like veins in a body.

“So this place is trying to use me as a vessel?” he murmured, the weight of the revelation settling over him like a cold shroud. “It wants to implant the essence of the black figure into me… to bring it back?”

His pulse quickened, but not with fear—with determination. If that was the sanctuary’s plan, it had underestimated him. He wouldn’t let himself be consumed by its corruption.