Scott emerged from a miniature nihilistic zone, chains unfurling in a deadly dance as his war hammer settled into his grip. A system notification flared immediately upon his arrival:
You are invading the Rashka Territory! Conquer or be defeated!
Where are they? I should’ve stepped out from Zara’s shadow. Did they have to leave suddenly again? Questions churned through Scott’s mind as his gaze swept over the dusty expanse. The relentless echoes of explosions in the distance only worsened the arid conditions, filling the air with choking clouds of debris.
“Guys, where are you?” Scott asked through the party channel. Only the rumbling ground and distant detonations answered.
“Scott, where are you?” Orion’s voice finally crackled through the channel. “Can you bring us in? We can’t let you fight alone.”
“I’m in another lord’s territory,” Scott replied, his voice steady despite the growing tension. “You’ll need to enter the nihilistic zone in our territory first. Once you do, I should be able to pull you over here.”
Scott hesitated for a moment before continuing. “But Fi-Fi might not be in any shape to join us. She probably needs more time to absorb her prey. You’ll have to decide whether to send a clone or leave one behind with her.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Orion declared resolutely.
Scott didn’t respond, his attention shifting back to the desolate landscape before him. Could it be that they were already forced out? he wondered. He had moved instantly after receiving Zara’s distress call, yet a gnawing sense of being too late crept over him. The fact that he had invaded another lord’s domain didn’t bother him—saving his companions was all that mattered.
Then, more notifications flooded his vision.
The Calamity of Envy is near! The Calamity of Pain is near! The Calamity of Destruction is near! The Calamity of Pleasure is near! The Calamity of Disobedience is near! The Calamity of Thunder is near!
Scott’s grip on the war hammer tightened, his expression tightening. Are they the reason the others vanished? he wondered grimly.
With a sharp swing of his hammer, Scott dispersed the swirling dust cloud that enveloped him, revealing the terrain in stark clarity. A war-torn expanse stretched before him, scarred by craters, jagged potholes, and smoldering boulders. The ground bore the scorched imprint of battle, blackened and desolate.
Scott’s gaze roamed the devastation until it froze mid-thought. Barely three hundred meters away, he spotted a kneeling figure encircled by a patch of scorched and blackened earth.
His brows creased as a growing sense of unease rippled through him. Who—or what—was that?
Scott stared at the figure, his lips trembling ever so slightly, eyes blinking incessantly as his legs carried him forward in an instinctive daze. Explosions echoed faintly in the distance with each unsteady step, and the ground trembled beneath his boots. Yet he pressed on, stopping only when he loomed over the fallen figure.
“E-Ember?” he called out, his voice breaking as it emerged, barely louder than a whisper. His eyes fixated on the massive ceremonial spears piercing through the midsection of the dragonkin. Blood oozed from countless gashes, the dust around her wounds caked into a grotesque film. Ember’s hands lay limp, her body unmoving.
Scott released his war hammer, the weapon falling with a dull thud to the quaking ground. He knelt, lowering himself until his gaze met hers. Her eyes—once blazing with life—were vacant, the light within long extinguished.
With a trembling hand, he reached for her face. There was no warmth, yet he lifted her head gently, tilting it toward him. His breath slowed, unnaturally steady as he stared into the lifeless eyes of the dragonkin. Beneath him, the nihilistic zone stirred—but this time, it was different. It bubbled and writhed, confined to the space under his feet, countless tendrils clawing upward, quivering with suppressed rage.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Scott whispered, his voice raw and barely audible. His hand hovered over her face before closing her unseeing eyes. Slowly, methodically, he gripped the spears impaling her body and pulled them free.
What is wrong with me? Scott’s thoughts churned as he watched Ember’s motionless form. Why don’t I feel anything? They killed Ember, yet I can’t get angry. Why can’t I get angry? Why am I not sad? Why am I not rampaging? Why is there only... nothing?
His hand continued to trace the contours of Ember’s face, caressing her cold, blood-stained cheeks with a tenderness at odds with the emptiness inside him. He couldn’t cry, though he wanted to. No tears came. Screaming felt futile—a hollow performance.
Without hesitation, Scott summoned an item from his inventory.
He stared at the luminous pearl resting in his blood-soaked hand—the beacon he had once extorted from the elves. Silently, he placed it on Ember’s still chest. For a moment, nothing happened.
Scott didn’t react, his focus unwavering as the seconds stretched into eternity. Dust swirled around them, settling like a shroud over the scene. Then, the beacon stirred. It emitted a soft, rhythmic hum before sinking into Ember’s body, soaking itself in her blood.
The tremors and explosions plaguing the region ceased abruptly, leaving an eerie stillness in their wake. Scott barely noticed. His hands remained on Ember’s face; his touch gentle as if afraid to break her fragile form.
The beacon continued its absorption, its radiant glow slowly darkening to a bloody hue. Minutes passed in silence until the pearl shot out from Ember’s chest, spinning violently above her.
For the first time, Scott’s gaze shifted, locking onto the spinning beacon. His fingers stilled, hovering over Ember’s lifeless features.
A voice, soft and melodic yet laden with arcane power, broke the silence. Its allure wrapped around him like a spell.
“Come back, O ye that has been lost.”
The temperature around him plummeted, his breath visible in the freezing air. Instinctively, Scott turned to his right.
In the distance, an ethereal figure emerged, its form translucent and unsteady. It raced toward the beacon with a sense of urgency, cutting through the fog like a fragment of some forgotten dream.
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Scott’s pupils widened momentarily as if catching a glimpse of something unfathomable. Without thinking, he stood, his movements mechanical, his gaze locked on the spectral form before him.
The spirit materialized suddenly, halting in place as its gaze met Scott’s.
Scott stared back, his eyes flickering between Ember’s lifeless corpse and the apparition hovering above. They shared the same face—the same piercingly cold yet hauntingly inviting eyes. Her movements, her aura, even the subtle tilt of her head—they were hers. Yet something about the spirit felt… off. The dissonance gnawed at him, a truth just out of reach.
The spirit’s lips curved into a soft smile; her expression tinged with sorrow. Tears streaked down her translucent cheeks as she reached for Scott’s face. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, as her hand hovered near his skin.
“I have missed you,” she said, her voice a soothing melody, both familiar and foreign. Her tears fell faster now, each drop a ripple of emotion that should have reached Scott but didn’t. “I’ve missed you so much,” she sobbed, her arms opening slightly as if yearning to embrace him.
But the beacon intervened. Its pull was magnetic, inexorable, dragging her ghostly form closer.
Thump.
Scott instinctively clutched his chest. It wasn’t his heartbeat—he hadn’t felt anything like it in… how long? His nihilistic existence had stripped him of emotions, of sensations, leaving only emptiness. Yet now, something stirred within him, alien and incomprehensible.
The spirit’s face remained fixed on his, her tears unwavering.
“Sibiru?” The name escaped Scott’s lips before he could stop it. His own voice sounded foreign, as if it didn’t belong to him.
The spirit broke into heavier sobs at the sound of the name, her form quivering with unspoken words. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the beacon pulled her in. She vanished into the glowing sphere before her voice could take shape.
The beacon’s bloody hue turned pristine white in an instant, and it fell silently into Scott’s waiting grasp.
The earth groaned beneath him, trembling with a new, violent energy. Distant roars tore through the sky, guttural and unrestrained, carrying with them an overwhelming sense of dread. Scott tightened his fist, and the beacon vanished into his inventory.
The tremors grew fiercer, the ground cracking beneath his feet. He turned back to Ember’s body one last time, his gaze unwavering. Slowly, a nihilistic portal formed beneath her corpse. The tendrils writhed hungrily as they dragged her remains into the void until they disappeared completely.
A roar, more deafening than the former, shattered the oppressive silence. Scott turned, his eyes narrowing as he peered through the haze of dusty rain.
Through the gloom, a colossal silhouette took shape, striding forward with terrifying purpose.
Another roar tore through the air, scattering the lingering smog within a one-mile radius. Now unobstructed, Scott saw it clearly—a nightmare given form.
A towering behemoth with six elongated arms marched forward, its steps shaking the earth like thunderclaps. A triangular steel cage encased its head, spewing green fumes and shimmering heat hazes into the atmosphere. Each of its arms, drenched in a grotesque mixture of blood and blackened oil, moved with mechanical precision. Its massive legs, gnarled and unyielding, corroded the earth with every step, leaving a trail of ruin in their wake.
The Harbinger of Rot; The Calamity of Rot has descended!
The system notification rang in Scott’s mind, cold and detached.
The creature let out another hellish bellow, thick gases belching from its armored head, the acrid stench palpable even at a distance. It paused mid-stride, its gaze—or what might pass for one—locking onto Scott.
Scott stood still, his eyes limpid, free of fear or any emotion whatsoever. Beneath him, the bubbling tendrils writhed with renewed vigor, their movements erratic, ravenous.
Slowly, Scott stretched out his right hand. The War Hammer of the Mad God materialized in his grasp, its chaotic energy resonating with the turmoil beneath his feet.
“Was it you?” Scott’s voice barely broke the silence, a whisper laced with unmistakable rage and bloodlust. Yet it thundered across the battlefield, its presence felt more than heard.
The Harbinger of Rot roared in defiance, the steel cage encasing its head rotating with a shriek of metal on metal. Corrosive gases spewed forth in waves, coiling around its six arms like venomous gloves. It unleashed another bellow, its charge shaking the earth.
Scott remained still; his gaze fixed on the oncoming monstrosity. His grip on the War Hammer of the Mad God tightened, his knuckles pale as he bit down on his lip. Even now, I can’t feel it... I can’t feel anything. But it doesn’t matter anymore. They want chaos? I’ll give them chaos!
The Nameless One is now watching you! The Nameless One bestows upon you the inheritance of the Nihilithians!
Beneath Scott’s feet, the bubbling nihilistic zone erupted, a monstrous wave of blackness surging forward like a tsunami. The Harbinger of Rot halted mid-charge, its steel-caged head tilting as the void writhed and coiled into a massive, towering wall of darkness.
At that moment, three portals tore open near the Harbinger. From the first stepped a figure clad in blazing armor, surrounded by a swarm of levitating spears. Its three gleaming eyes surveying the battlefield, its silver-and-gray fur rippling like a stormy sea. Next to it was a colossal form of sheer muscles and mass. It had no head, but its impressive well-toned body and physique was clear for all to see. The third portal revealed a water sprite, her lithe form shimmering with an eerie, amused smile.
The Calamity of Destruction has descended! The Calamity of Pleasure has descended! The Calamity of Disobedience has descended!
The Calamity of Destruction turned toward the Harbinger, its molten gaze flickering within its helm. “Who dares tamper with the soul?” its voice grated, each word a clash of metal on stone.
“The one marked for death by the gods,” the Harbinger hissed, its whisper carrying an edge of wrath.
“And what is that?” rumbled the Calamity of Pleasure, gesturing at the wall of writhing blackness. Its voice was a deep, guttural vibration that reverberated through the ground.
The Harbinger did not respond, its focus remaining on the stationary wall. Meanwhile, the water sprite giggled, twirling through the air in a dance of glittering droplets.
“So, the troublemaker is here after all,” she mused, her voice lilting with cruel amusement. “No wonder he slipped through our grasp. Hiding in the shadows like a worm.”
“Enough!” snapped the Calamity of Destruction, its spears crackling with arcane energy. “Our task is to retrieve the dragonkin’s soul. We will not concern ourselves with their bounties!”
The sprite stuck out her tongue, still laughing as she spiraled upward.
“Focus!” the Calamity of Destruction barked, turning back to the Harbinger. “What did he use to steal the soul?”
The Harbinger hesitated, its voice subdued. “A beacon… of the Tree of Life.”
The air seemed to freeze. The Calamities of Destruction and Disobedience turned sharply toward the blackened wave, their collective gazes alight with urgency.
“She cannot be revived!” the water sprite hissed, her playful tone vanishing, replaced by venomous resolve.
“Do you think we don’t know that?” Destruction growled, but his retort was cut short.
The wave of nihilistic energy moved. It compressed inward, folding upon itself, shrinking rapidly until it vanished completely.
When it cleared, Scott and Orion stood where the black wall had been, the tendrils of the void coiling around Scott’s feet like serpents.
The Calamity of Destruction’s molten gaze locked onto him. “Hand over the beacon,” it commanded, its voice like the cracking of a thousand whips. “I won’t ask twice.”
Scott raised his head, his expression devoid of fear. The fiery worlds in his right eye burned brighter, while the flickering yellow sigil pulsed with maddening intensity. His lips curled into a chilling smile.
“Mortals, calamities, champions, and gods alike…” His voice was a low whisper, yet it reverberated across the battlefield like a thunderclap. “Bow. Madness itself now walks among you.”
The heavens groaned as they fractured, the all-seeing eye and the cosmos revealed themselves through the cracks. The earth bubbled and ruptured, blackened tendrils tearing through the surface in a frenzy of destruction.
Above, a vast section of the heavens ripped open, exposing thousands of burning worlds blazing in defiance. From the swirling yellow mist beyond burning stars, colossal tentacles emerged, writhing and slithering with malevolent intent.
Scott stepped forward; his hammer nestled in his hand. His chilling smile widened as he whispered once more, the words dripping with untold madness.
“Drag all of them out of the abyss!”
The Chains of the Abyss rattled and rustled, their cold metal screams echoing through the broken skies. Hundreds—no, thousands—of portals manifested in the void, each one an entryway to a nightmare.