The final moments of William's life were a blur, a flash of betrayal, the bite of steel, the cold grasp of death. He had fought valiantly, but it was in vain. His world had slipped away, his body broken and discarded in the darkness of an empty dungeon. But death had no claim on him. Not yet.
Deep beneath the earth, where the world of the living could not reach, a pulse stirred. It was not the pulse of life, but of something far older, far darker. Nether energy, primal and raw, surged upward from the depths. The roots of Umbryssil, the cursed tree of the Nether, spread through the very ground beneath him, weaving into his shattered form.
As the energy touched him, it did not heal him in the way healing magic might. It did not repair what was broken; it transformed. William's body, once vibrant and full of life, was drawn back from the brink of death, not by warmth, but by a bone-chilling cold that filled him from within. His chest, once still, now began to rise and fall with shallow, hollow breaths. The air around him was thick with the icy breath of the grave.
His skin, once warm and tan turned an unnaturally pale color, as though all warmth had been drained from him. It was smooth, smooth to the touch, leaving behind a blank canvas, devoid of humanity. His body seemed almost otherworldly now pristine in its new form, but cold, unfeeling, as though it belonged to neither life nor death.
His hair, once dark and unremarkable, had turned a thick, pure white. It was not just a color change, it was an embodiment of the transformation that had taken place inside him. His hair flowed thick and lustrous down his back, untamed and yet impossibly perfect. The strands shimmered in the dim, musty air, glowing faintly as if they were filled with an ethereal light.
William's once-vivid blue eyes, brimming with life, had been forever altered by the Nether element, becoming haunting symbols of his rebirth. The brilliant azure of his irises now shimmered with an otherworldly glow, an ever-shifting dance of deep violet and shadowy black that churned like smoke trapped within glass. Yet, faint remnants of the original blue lingered, flickering like distant stars struggling against the oppressive night.
The sclera bore intricate, vein-like fractures of luminous silver and pale blue, as if his eyes were fragile crystal vessels barely containing the infinite void within. These cracks pulsed faintly in a steady, unnerving rhythm, echoing the Nether's dark energy coursing through him.
With these transformed eyes, William gained a harrowing gift: the ability to see souls. Every being radiated a unique aura of vivid, shifting light and energy. Bright, fiery souls exuded warmth and vitality, while dim, shadowed ones whispered of sorrow and corruption. To him, the soul's essence unfolded like a living tapestry, revealing hidden truths, emotions, and the untold weight of their existence.
The first thing William noticed when he opened his eyes was the corpse of the dark dragon lying around him, slowly turning into dust. The creature's massive, decaying body was sprawled across the cold stone floor, its scales once black and shining now disintegrating into fine ash with every breath of the cold air. A low, unsettling hum echoed through the dungeon as the remains of the beast crumbled, scattered by an unseen force, the corruption of the Nether claiming it as much as it had claimed him.
His eyes, now deeper and darker than before, traced the decaying remains of the dragon, witnessing the very life force of the creature being drained and absorbed by the Nether.
The cold presence surrounding him seemed to draw everything toward it, to consume it. There was something eerily beautiful about the way the dark scales and thick claws turned to dust, vanishing into the air, as if the Nether itself had decided it was time to erase the creature from existence.
The remnants of the dark dragon scattered into the air like ash, leaving only the echoes of its final breaths. It, too, had been claimed by the Nether, its power drawn into the endless void. William's black eyes, glowing softly with the dark energy now flowing through him, turned away from the fading corpse and focused on the chest in the center of the room, it was ancient, adorned with glowing runes that pulsed in time with the distant hum of the Nether. The chest seemed to beckon him, an empty promise wrapped in cold darkness. Something inside him whispered that it was his, that it had always been meant for him.
William hesitated for a moment before stepping toward it. His movements were slow, deliberate. The dungeon seemed to close in on him as he approached, the weight of the Nether thickening with every step. He reached out and opened the chest.
Inside, nestled among the dark velvet lining, was a dagger unlike any he had ever seen. The blade was forged from a strange, shadowy metal, its surface shimmering with an unsettling glow. The edge was thin but perfectly sharp, and it seemed to absorb the light around it, as though the very air around it was drawn into its darkness. The hilt was wrapped in black leather, smooth and worn, and the pommel was adorned with a strange violet gemstone that pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.
The moment William's fingers brushed the dagger's hilt, a cold, almost icy sensation surged through him, "At last, you have come." William froze, his grip tightening on the hilt of the dagger. The voice was deep, ancient, and dark, reverberating through his thoughts as though it had always been there, waiting for him.
William looked around and after not seeing anyone he began to limp out of the dungeon the way the group had come and after a few hours of walking began to see the exit where the sun was just beginning to rest over the horizon, as he exited the dungeon his features returned to normal as the light hit him as if the nether was retreating, returning his form to what he look like before the transformation he took his first steps back to Fairfax back to home back to his sister.
he found the recently slain corpses of a few wild monsters nearby, it appears that the group wanted to take their new weapons out for a spin before they returned home.
William's footsteps were silent, but the world around him felt loud—unnaturally so. His senses, heightened by the Nether, picked up every rustle of the wind, every crackle of the leaves beneath his boots. The very air around him seemed thicker now, tinged with a heavy darkness that seemed to follow him, clinging to the edges of his mind.
The forests surrounding Fairfax were still familiar to him, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. There was an unease, a sense that the world was now subtly off-balance, and that it had been since the moment the Nether had taken root inside him. As he walked, his gaze scanned the horizon, and he felt a growing discomfort in the pit of his stomach.
Soon, he came upon a clearing that made him stop in his tracks.
Lying in the grass, littered across the ground like discarded playthings, were the corpses of wild monsters. A variety of beasts, some familiar, some twisted beyond recognition, were scattered in haphazard piles. Their bodies were torn and mangled, their flesh sliced open, exposing innards and broken bones. Some of the monsters looked freshly slain.
William's footsteps were quiet but deliberate as he moved through the dense woods, the path to Fairfax stretching before him. His senses were sharper now, the air feeling heavier with every step. The Nether coursed through his veins, a constant reminder of his transformation. His pale skin and white hair still felt foreign, as though he were a stranger in his own body, but it was the darkness in his eyes that unsettled him the most. The violet glow beneath his lids had become a permanent fixture, a sign of the power he now possessed.
The forest around him felt different. He could feel the pulse of life beneath his feet, every rustle of a branch, every small movement in the underbrush. It was as though the world itself was more aware of him now. But something was wrong. A tension in the air that prickled his skin.
Then, he came across a clearing.
Scattered across the ground were the corpses of wild monsters, their bodies torn apart. A mix of beasts, some unrecognizable, others familiar, lay in pools of their own blood, their forms disfigured by powerful weapons.
They had tested their power here, using these monsters as little more than targets for their new weapons.
William crouched near one of the bodies, his hand brushing against the blood-soaked fur of a beast. It was clear that these creatures had been hunted, but not for survival. This was a massacre, a display of strength and cruelty. The adventurers had used their new powers without regard for the lives they destroyed, and William was left to witness the aftermath.
He stood up, anger bubbling within him, but he suppressed it. There was no time for anger. He had to keep moving.
A sound broke the stillness, a twig snapping in the underbrush. William froze, his instincts sharp as the forest seemed to hold its breath.
The growl came next, low and guttural, followed by another. Then, the unmistakable sound of paws pounding against the ground.
A pack of wolves appeared from the shadows, their eyes glowing with an eerie light. These were no ordinary wolves, these were creatures twisted by corruption, their forms larger than any natural wolf, their bodies covered in matted fur and streaks of blood. They circled him, their movements synchronized, as though they had been hunting together for years.
William's hand went instinctively to the dagger at his side, the cool metal of the blade comforting in his grip. He was no stranger to battle, but the creatures before him felt different, more dangerous, their eyes filled with a malevolent intelligence.
The largest of the pack lunged first, its teeth bared, aiming for his throat. William sidestepped at the last second, the wolf's jaws snapping inches from his neck. With a swift motion, he swung the dagger in a horizontal arc, the blade slicing through the wolf's side. The creature yelped, but it didn't retreat. Instead, it spun, swiping at William's legs with its claws.
The attack connected, and William felt the sting of the wound, but it was fleeting. The Nether inside him numbed the pain almost immediately. He used the momentum of the wolf's attack to push himself back onto his feet, slashing again with the dagger. This time, the blade found the wolf's throat, and the creature fell, its body twitching for a moment before going still.
Before he could catch his breath, another wolf was on him, its jaws snapping toward his face. William ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the attack. He sprang to his feet and drove the dagger into the wolf's side, twisting the blade as the creature let out a strangled cry.
Two down, three to go.
The remaining wolves were more cautious now, their glowing eyes filled with calculation. They were circling him, their movements slow and deliberate. William's breath was steady, his grip firm on the dagger. His body felt strong, but the Nether inside him was beginning to stir—an unsettling hunger, urging him to give in to the power. But he ignored it, focusing on the fight.
The next wolf attacked from behind, its claws swiping at his back. William spun, slashing the blade across its chest, the edge slicing through its fur and flesh with ease. The wolf staggered back, but it didn't fall. It growled, its lips curled back in a snarl, but William was already on top of it. He drove the dagger into its chest with all his strength, and the beast went limp.
The final two wolves hesitated, eyeing each other for a brief moment before turning their attention back to William. They were clearly stronger than the others—bigger, more vicious. The pack leader, the one with the red eyes, took a step forward, its massive jaws snapping as it bared its teeth.
William stood his ground. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the Nether at bay, but he wasn't about to let these beasts overpower him.
The wolves charged in unison, their bodies a blur of motion as they leaped toward him. William reacted without thinking, his body moving as if on instinct, ducking under one wolf's attack while stabbing the other with a swift, brutal strike to its heart.
Only the leader remained.
The largest wolf, the pack leader, was unlike the others—its fur was jet-black, matted with streaks of blood, and its eyes burned an unnatural red. It moved with eerie precision, every muscle in its body coiled and ready to spring. William could feel the malevolent intelligence behind its gaze. This was no ordinary beast.
The wolf lunged with terrifying speed, its jaws snapping inches from William's face. He barely managed to react in time, ducking and twisting his body to avoid its deadly teeth. But the wolf was fast, too fast. As it twisted in the air, its claws raked across William's shoulder, opening a deep wound. The pain was sharp, but it was fleeting, the Nether inside him numbed the pain almost instantly.
William tried to swing his dagger, but the wolf was already on the move again, darting left and right like a shadow, its movements unpredictable. He realized he couldn't outpace it with his dagger alone. The wolf was too quick, too agile. The Nether inside him stirred, a dark whisper at the edges of his thoughts, urging him to use its power.
Without hesitation, William let it in.
His hand clenched, and the ground beneath him seemed to shift. The air around him grew heavier, thick with the oppressive weight of the Nether. He could feel it, feel the dark energy responding to his command. With a sudden burst of willpower, a jagged spike of blackened, twisting Nether energy erupted from the ground beside him. The spike was sharp, jagged, like a shard of obsidian, and it shimmered with dark power. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, thrumming with the essence of decay and death.
The wolf lunged again, but this time, William was ready. He stepped to the side, his body moving with the speed of instinct, and with a swift motion, he thrust his hand forward, directing the spike toward the charging beast.
The spike shot forward like a spear, driven by the force of the Nether, and impaled the wolf in mid-air, its body skewered by the dark energy. The creature let out a strangled yelp, its blood mixing with the dark essence of the Nether as it was lifted off the ground and pinned against a tree.
The leader of the pack struggled, its body twitching in the final moments of life, but it was no use. The Nether spike burned with unholy intensity, feeding on the life of the beast, draining its strength. The red eyes of the wolf dimmed as its body went limp, and with one last, pitiful growl, it fell silent.
William stood there, panting, as the spike of Nether faded back into the earth, leaving only the dead wolf hanging from it like a grotesque trophy. His heart was pounding in his chest, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His body felt powerful, stronger than before, but there was a cost. The Nether was always there, whispering, urging him to take more, do more, feed it more.
With the wolves dealt with, William turned and continued on his journey home, his steps measured and deliberate.
As he neared the outskirts of Fairfax, the familiar sights of home began to appear in the distance. He felt a pang of longing. He wanted to return to normal, but deep inside, he knew that his world had shifted irrevocably. Everything would be different now. The village, the people, even himself.
He was no longer the same person who had left for the dungeon.
William walked through the now-familiar streets of Fairfax, his pace slow but steady, his thoughts drifting between the brutal battle with the wolves and the unsettling power that throbbed within him. The air felt colder than usual, but it wasn't the chill of the wind that made him shiver, it was the weight of the Nether, a constant pressure he couldn't ignore, pressing against his very being. His thoughts were foggy, disconnected, as though his body was on autopilot, and his mind was too exhausted to keep up.
As he passed by the homes of the village, the quiet, familiar sights felt almost alien. The wooden houses, the cobbled streets, the small market square, everything seemed dimmer, as if filtered through a haze. His senses were heightened, sharper than they'd ever been, but they were also overbearing, the faintest sound making his ears ring and the smallest movement setting his skin on edge. He could hear every creak of the wooden buildings around him, feel the pulse of life from every living thing in the village, and yet none of it brought him comfort. It only reminded him of how different he had become.
When he finally reached his home, he didn't even bother to open the door with the key. Instead, he simply leaned against it, his hand trembling slightly as he pressed it to the worn wood. The cool night air brushed his face, but he didn't register it. His mind was far away, lost in the chaos of his transformation.
He let himself into the house, moving like a shadow through the darkened halls. The house was still and silent, the soft crackle of a fading fire the only sound. He passed his parents' room, the door slightly ajar. The faintest glimmer of a memory surfaced, when he was a child, the comfort of hearing his mother hum as she tucked him into bed, but it was fleeting.
He didn't go to his room. Instead, he collapsed onto the old sofa in the living room, his body heavy and aching from the fight. The weight of his transformation seemed to press down on him, the energy within him tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He closed his eyes, his breath shallow as he lay still, waiting for sleep to take him.
But sleep did not come. Not in the way he had known it.
Instead of the usual, comforting void of unconsciousness, William found himself drifting in a kind of limbo—empty, void of dreams. It was a strange, hollow sleep, one that left his mind suspended in an unsettling stillness. There were no vivid images, no dreams or nightmares to torment him. It was as though his mind was too tired, too consumed by the changes inside him, to produce anything more than blankness.
His chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, the silence of the night wrapping around him like a shroud.
For the first time since the dungeon, William allowed himself to fall completely still, succumbing to the weight of his exhaustion and the draining presence of the Nether within him. He felt the coldness of his flesh, the numbness of the emotions that had once been so familiar to him. He felt no pain, no fear, just the crushing, suffocating quiet.
And, in that silence, he finally slipped into a dreamless sleep unknowing of the amulet that materialized on his chest in the shape of a primordial black tree.