Jack's eyes fluttered open, but he was greeted by nothing—just an oppressive void of darkness. His body felt familiar, yet foreign, like a vessel he hadn't inhabited for a long time. A chill crept up his spine. 'Am I in my old body again?' he thought, a wave of confusion hitting him like ice water. The entire space was shrouded in shadow, but it wasn't the darkness that unsettled him. It was something else. Something... wrong.
Then, a strange text materialized, blocking the edge of his vision.
[Path: Become the next Lord of the Dead]
[Mission: Stop whatever force threatens your path]
"What the hell?" Jack muttered, his voice echoing in the emptiness. 'I don't remember reading about this...' he thought, trying to swipe the message away. But it wouldn't budge, hanging there stubbornly in his line of sight.
He tried again—swiping, blinking, willing it to disappear. "Get out of my face!" he growled in frustration. As if obeying his command, the text blinked out of existence. Jack paused, blinking. 'Did that just... work?'
"Come back," he thought.
The message returned, just as he expected.
[Path: Become the next Lord of the Dead]
[Mission: Stop whatever force threatens your path]
Jack's heart raced. 'I can control it with my thoughts...' But before he could contemplate further, the message shifted.
[You have been granted access to the Altar!]
'Altar?' Jack's curiosity was piqued. At that moment, the black earth beneath him trembled, and he instinctively braced himself. Blue flames ignited around him, encircling him like a ring of fire. Their cold glow revealed what had been hidden in the darkness—a stone altar, ancient and foreboding, standing before him.
On the altar sat a small black orb, pulsating with an eerie energy. It seemed to devour the light around it, leaving only emptiness in its wake. Yet Jack felt a pull, a deep connection to the orb, as though it held the very essence of his being. Without realizing it, he began walking toward it, step by step, drawn to the dark object like a moth to a flame.
But as he reached out, a blinding white light exploded across his vision. The light shot past him, slamming into the black orb with devastating force. The impact reverberated through the ground and through Jack's body. Pain—blinding, soul-shattering pain—tore through him, as if a blade had been driven into the core of his being.
A scream erupted from his throat, raw and desperate. His veins bulged, every nerve in his body alive with agony as the white beam continued to assault the orb. Each strike sent waves of torment coursing through him, his body convulsing with every blow. His vision blurred, his senses overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught.
'Why? Why was I brought here to suffer again? Haven't I faced enough already?' Jack's mind was unraveling, flashes of his past traumas resurfacing—the ridicule, the loneliness, the world that had chewed him up and spat him out.
But through the haze of agony, a voice emerged. Low, ominous, vibrating through the very fabric of the space around him.
"Why bury that pain?" the voice whispered, not from the darkness, but from within him. It was everywhere and nowhere, filling the void.
"Don't bury it. Embrace it. Pour it out. Become one with the darkness."
The voice slithered into his mind, seductive and poisonous. Meanwhile, the orb in front of him cracked under the relentless assault of the light. Jack's vision blurred further, his body on the verge of collapse. He could feel himself slipping—slipping into that endless abyss.
But something stirred within him. A defiance, a fire he hadn't realized still burned.
'No. I won't die again.' His soul screamed in resistance. Everything he had fought for, everything he had dreamed of—freedom, power, revenge—it was all within reach. He would not let it slip away. Not like this.
With a guttural roar, Jack's eyes flared, turning pure white. Darkness erupted from within him, consuming the beam of light, swallowing it whole. The force of it felt like an explosion, and the white light vanished into the void, leaving Jack standing amidst the chaos, breathing heavily.
---
"What's happening? Is my child alright?" Arwen's voice trembled as she watched little Asriel's eyes flutter shut.
Jamiel, standing beside her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "There is nothing to fear. The spell is taking effect. I must leave now—I have been summoned elsewhere." His voice was calm, but there was an urgency in his gaze.
With a graceful wave of his hand, Asriel's small body floated gently into Arwen's arms. She cradled him tightly against her chest, her heart racing.
"Thank you, Ancestor Jamiel, for your kindness," Aldermond said with a deep bow.
Jamiel offered a solemn nod. "Family is family. I will not allow my grandchild to come to harm." His form shimmered, dissolving into pure light as he vanished from sight.
Aldermond turned to his wife, his eyes soft with concern. "Trust him. Our ancestor would never steer us wrong. Asriel will be fine."
"I hope so," Arwen whispered, pressing her lips to her son's forehead. But her hands trembled as she stroked his tiny face.
---
Jack floated in a void once again. The darkness embraced him, but this time it was not unwelcome. He felt the pull of something deeper—something ancient stirring within him. And then, the familiar screen appeared.
[Host has become one with darkness. The gate to the underworld has been opened!]
[Mission successful.]
[New skill acquired: Corruption.]
[Reward: +10 soul essence.]
The words swam in his vision as his eyes blinked open. "What... was that?" Jack whispered, still processing what had just happened. The memory of the altar, the orb, the overwhelming pain—it all felt distant now, like a half-remembered nightmare. Yet something inside him had changed. He could feel it—he had lost something, some vital piece of his humanity. But in its place, there was power. Cold, dark power.
And the emptiness... He could feel it spreading within him, but instead of fear, he welcomed it.
'Why should I care?' Jack thought with a scoff. The void inside was comforting, a space he could finally call his own. 'Emptiness isn't a curse. It's freedom.'
He shifted his gaze upward, staring at the ornate ceiling of the castle. "Now, what other games are these fools planning?" he muttered, a cold smile creeping across his face. With great effort, he turned his head, scanning the room.
What he saw froze him in place.
The rhythmic creaking of the bed, the soft moans that filled the room—it all hit him at once.
"Should I even be seeing this?" Jack's mind blanked, caught between shock and disbelief.