Chapter 6
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- Corrupting the Heroine's First Love
- Chapter 6 - Embracing the Outside World
“Yes, indeed. I possess sufficient strength, just enough strength to end the life of one more individual,” I stated with a chilling resolve. Only then did Father turn his gaze toward me. Had he detected the undertone in my voice?
“Do you perceive that?” I moved toward the window and peered downward. The allied forces were rapidly approaching—a multitude of people who neither could nor should die. “Can you truly see them, the humans surging toward us? You can’t see them now, can you?”
With a subtle gesture of my hand, the people vanished from sight like apparitions. The space they had occupied was instantly replaced by a desolate emptiness. The bridge connecting the lands and the expansive field beneath the tower lay completely vacant. Not even an ant could be found.
“You! You vile wench!” Father’s hands trembled violently.
He raised his staff to strike me, but Hiron acted swiftly. Coiling its entire body around his arm, the serpent restrained Father’s hand.
“Karina!” Father’s voice thundered.
“Ah, it would be a relief if that mouth of yours were silenced too.”
[Then I shall do it.] Hiron promptly wrapped its tail around Father’s mouth, stifling his throat. I could hear Father’s rough groans, but I paid them no attention. Stepping away from the window, I gradually backed him into a corner.
“Do you recall what you taught me, Father? You told me to kill if I wished to avoid being killed,” I jeered as I observed his skeletal frame quiver.
It was a pity that Father no longer possessed any skin. It would have been amusing to witness the color drain from his face. I raised a hand, and a dark, miasmic cloud gathered around it.
A menacing smile graced my features as I continued, “I choose to kill. Farewell.”
The dark cloud surged directly toward the mana core deeply embedded within his skull. A deafening explosion reverberated through the walls, and the tower began to crumble. In the distance, I heard the chandelier Father had cherished shatter upon the ground. Soon, not a trace of it would remain.
***
“What’s happening?”
“Be cautious!”
The priests of Latem screamed and sought cover as the ground trembled violently beneath them. The intensity of the quakes was so great that they were compelled to flatten themselves against the ground. The abrupt movements subsided as quickly as they had begun. The priests, including Reneiger, cautiously rose to assess the aftermath.
“The situation remains uncertain; be prepared for combat,” Reneiger commanded with a rallying tone. “Stay vigilant! Attacks could come from any direction and at any moment.”
His composed demeanor starkly contrasted his youthful appearance. Standing tall, Reneiger marveled at the clear skies above them. It was such a beautiful day that it was difficult to believe a merciless slaughter had unfolded not long ago.
The tide of the battle had swiftly turned in favor of the humans after the vampiric man had rescued the injured serpent woman. Once they had retreated from the frontlines, it became comparatively easier to push back the enemies. When the Apocalitan forces attempted to escape the battle, the allied forces naturally pursued them.
Everything proceeded smoothly until they were ensnared in the magically conjured sandstorm. However, a Kambyte mage knew the location of the Apocalita’s stronghold. Thus, the humans pressed on, determined to eradicate the final remnants of their foe and end the millennium-long feud.
Unfortunately, no matter how much ground they covered, they struggled to reach their intended destination. Instead of the towering fortress they expected, they found vast, open wilderness. Many questioned if a wrong turn had been taken, but the Kambytes insisted they had not erred. Reneiger, too, inwardly sighed, wondering how they had ended up here.
Reneiger’s duty as the bearer of the Sacred Sword was to heed the its will: drench it in the blood of those who opposed God. Today’s battle had barely satiated the sword—it hungered for more bloodshed.
“Oh, look over there!”
At that moment, large, murky plumes of dense gray smoke billowed not far from their location. Judging by the scale of the destruction, something monumental must have fallen.
Reneiger’s eyes widened as he desperately searched for the cause. However, before he could investigate more closely, strong gusts of wind began to buffet them. The violent tempest was so potent that the priests shielded their faces and braced against the gales that shoved them back. All, that was, except for Reneiger.
Enduring the wind whipping across his face, Reneiger looked upward at the sky. Through narrowed eyes, he observed a human figure traverse the heavens. Was she truly human? Against the backdrop of white clouds and vibrant blue sky, her bright red form—a woman—spread her jet-black wings. Her midnight-blue hair trailed behind her, akin to a patch of the night calling for the moon, contrasting starkly with the daylight.
Tracking her with his eyes, Reneiger watched as she paused, hovering in the air just beyond his reach. The striking chartreuse eyes that regarded him held the essence of the forest. For a moment, he was enchanted.
Suddenly, she flapped her wings, sending many priests tumbling. Soaring away into the air without a care, she appeared entirely free in that instant. She was free, and therefore evil. And because she was evil, he could not reach her. All he could do was follow her vanishing figure with his deep ocean-blue eyes. And that was the last he saw of her.
Act 3 – Calmato
After escaping the tower, I flew eastward and chose a small village in the Latem region called Kuhiran as my refuge. Concealing my identity, I secured a suitable residence for myself. For the first time in my existence, I slept deeply and peacefully. In fact, I slept so soundly that I remained in slumber for three days and three nights. It took considerable effort to finally rouse myself, but I was elated that my tranquil days were finally commencing.
Time flowed by without much incident. There were no more somber windows obstructing the warm sunlight, no demon cadavers littering my surroundings, and no screams echoing from the basement. Each day, when I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the radiant sun and the refreshing scent of morning dew wafting in on the breeze that swept through the open windows.
Stepping outside my door, I was greeted by a lush green field. As I leisurely stretched, I relished how the vibrant sunshine caressed my cheeks. I had developed an affection for this place. It exuded vitality; there were no traces of death. Honestly, though, I would have appreciated any place that was not that dreadful tower.
[Thou hast become lazy now that thou hast escaped into the world without,] Hiron chided. The serpent lifted its head from where it was basking on the windowsill. [Thou art losing thy power due to idleness. Thou shouldst hasten to tend to thy neck injury!]
“Again with the lectures,” I sighed, waving off the serpent as I settled into a chair.
Seated before the mirror, I commenced unwrapping the cloth from around my neck. It had been entirely soaked through and required changing due to the blood. As the bandage fell away, a torrent of blood surged uncontrollably from the exposed wound.
The injury stood as a grim farewell from Father, a cruel parting gift delivered just before his death. Being a necromancer, his power bore an enduring poison, which prevented the wound from healing naturally. Consequently, the flesh surrounding it refused to regenerate, and the bleeding persisted. Applying my abilities to the wound could temporarily stem the bleeding, but the moment I withdrew my touch, blood would flow once more.
To prevent the risk of bleeding out, I needed to infuse my power into a black cloth and wrap it around the wound until it became as thick as my finger. This makeshift solution made me feel as if I was wearing a collar around my neck. Moreover, the cloth required daily changes. While it was the only feasible option, it was only temporary. The constant pressure on the wound to counteract the poison using my abilities was gradually sapping my strength.
Muttering curses against the old lich under my breath, I suppressed the frustration rising within me. Whenever the wound agitated me, I reminded myself that Father was no more. I had shattered his bones and consumed his mana core, rendering him devoid of a soul. Finding solace in the fact that I had exacted my revenge, I endeavored to disregard the injury.
[Why dost thou not seek assistance from Rapios?]
“I don’t want to.”
My stern response to Hiron’s persistent inquiries displeased the serpent. It responded with an irritated hiss and flicked its tongue in agitation.
[Thou knowest that Rapios’s medical skills are unparalleled. Why dost thou reject his help?]
“What if my visit to him leads the Apocalitans to discover my location?”
[Even so!]
“It’s fine. Moreover, this injury has granted me another ability.”
As I opened my hand, a dark energy sphere materialized above my palm. Instantly, the door to my room swung open. An undead figure clad in rags entered with purposeful strides. Ignoring Hiron’s hissing, the undead passed by and began tidying up the room. Its actions were those of a skilled, skeletal housekeeper.
I had successfully assimilated the necromantic powers that once belonged to my father.
[Thou art likely the only one who wouldst use the undead in such a manner.]
“Why not? It’s efficient, isn’t it?” I shrugged. Rising from my seat, I stretched before picking up my coat from the chair.
[Art thou leaving again?]
I nodded while slipping my arms into the coat, a motion that caused Hiron’s tail to quiver in displeasure.
Truth be told, there was no other option. Three years had passed since my escape from the tower. It was ample time for my siblings to regain their strength, and they returned with a vengeance. I was horrified by the devastation they left behind. They launched attacks on Latem temples, the Dapen sanctuary, and Kambyte’s magic tower, mercilessly slaughtering priests, spiritualists, and mages alike.
The Apocalitans advanced, claiming countless human lives. They had clearly grown more formidable after recovering from their defeat in the First God-Demon War. In response to the impending threat, the allied forces joined once more and began bolstering their military might in anticipation of an inevitable second conflict.
I, too, needed to prepare. With my powers significantly diminished, I needed a means of self-defense. Utilizing my newfound necromantic abilities, I decided to raise an army of the undead. I scoured the battlefields where the Apocalitans had wrought havoc, selecting the most robust-looking corpses to transform into obedient undead servants. In time, I amassed a formidable force numbering in the hundreds.
Despite the seemingly adequate strength, I did not halt my efforts. In fact, I could not stop, driven by fear. I feared defeat, of being unable to overcome my siblings who had grown stronger during my absence. I dreaded being dragged back into the nightmare I had fled. There was a saying that fear only gripped those with something to protect—I subscribed to it. I desperately desired to safeguard the life I had built, to avoid returning to a life of anguish and hardship.
“Let’s go. I need to return before it’s time for work.”
[I do not approve of thou working in such a place.]
Extending my hand to Hiron, I teased with a smile, “Is there anything you actually like?”
Hiron’s mouth opened, as if to retort, but then its tongue withdrew. It slithered up to coil around my hand.
[I wish to feast upon a demon—a fresh one.]
“I’ll get one for you.”
Once Hiron had settled around my neck, I crossed the threshold and stepped outside. The bright sunlight and warm breeze greeted me immediately.
***
Amidst the ruins, a solitary flag fluttered in the wind, bearing an abstract devil emblem and a single line of text: “In the name of the Apocalita.”
Three years had elapsed since the tower’s collapse, and I had anticipated a semblance of stability. My misconception became evident as I frowned in the face of reality. That flag, whenever I encountered it, still managed to churn my stomach.