[Corruption Wielder] Chapter 76: Save Us the Pain

Will had to give it to the corruption cultists. As terrible a selection of people as they were, it was them who had broken into the tournament so thoroughly that Will had been forced to face the facts.

After a few rounds of abnormal but otherwise relatively normal challenges, he had nearly forgotten what this world was now. Gods sent their champions, sometimes to do their bidding, and sponsors had worked with a number of them, but that was just the start. Not until now had he fully clocked how little the pretense of fairness mattered.

If everyone else was cheating, why wouldn’t he do the same?

Will had already assessed the situation, Sen’s eyes apparently capable of entering the locked-off arenas even with the system gates on them. Lystri Zero was low gold, which was definitely a problem, but Will had fought above his rank before and wasn’t going to stop now.

Will: No corruption immunity, but he has a badge. I’ll highlight it.”

Caiyeri: I know where it is. Give me an opening.

Will: I can do that.

After all the grinding Will had done over the past month, his inventory was bogged down with all sorts of random shit drops. A lot of the stuff he’d gotten was of little to no use to him, but even a bronze-rank weapon could come in handy as a distraction, especially with the skills he had.

He opened his inventory, allowing three bronze-rank gargantuan weapons that he’d looted from an animated armor in one of the surface dungeons near Everdale to drop out into the air, immediately cloaking them in a thin layer of shadow.

The hunger phantasm allowed him to use touch-range skills on items and creatures it was touching, so Will gave them each a rank of silver-rank corruption with Decaying Touch and charged them with Thunder Wraith’s Grasp.

Then, he let them fall, entering a dive of his own to keep pace.

Lystri’s weapon of choice was a magical swarm of flechettes that constantly replenished itself and swirled around him like bees on a hive, simultaneously serving as offense and defense.

Warp Strike, a subskill of Weapons Free, let Will make an attack that originated from any weapon within 120 feet. The flechettes absolutely qualified.

All three weapons, each of them individually larger than Will himself, vanished, reappearing inside the flechette storm. The weapons were bronze-rank, and so they were beaten and battered by the gold-rank flechettes and riddled with holes, but they didn’t need to deal lethal damage. All they had to do was hit Will’s target.

As Will fell, he added another attack to the mix, drawing and firing a charged arrow from his Starstrike Longbow, which split the arrow into five separate bolts, each of which he could guide to its target.

Not every attack hit, but enough did.

[First Blood] doubled the power of your attack.

[Mark for Death] increased the power of your attacks.

Critical hit!

You have inflicted five levels of silver-rank [Bleed] on [Lystri Zero]. You have inflicted five levels of silver-rank [Poisoned] on [Lystri Zero].

[Gargantuan Axe] inflicted a level of silver-rank [Corruption].

[Elven Chaos Anchor] negates silver-rank [Corruption].

[Gargantuan Mace] inflicted a level of silver-rank [Corruption].

[Elven Chaos Anchor] negates silver-rank [Corruption].

Though the corruption didn’t stick, the rest of the attacks certainly did. That seemed to surprise Lystri, who must have assumed that his gold-rank abilities would automatically nullify all the conditions.

“See, the fun part about Mark for Death,” Will said, catching himself with an air-dash and swapping weapons out for his new scepter, “Is that it makes afflictions more effective against you too. Underrated bit, but it really does make afflictions a rank lower still punch hard, doesn’t it?”

He held off on using A Bell Tolls. That skill had a pretty high cooldown, even with the scepter reducing it to less than half of its original cooldown, and it worked best when he’d already damaged an opponent quite a bit.

Will: Is that opening enough?

Caiyeri: I’m healing. Give me a bit.

Will: Bro. Say what you’re doing beforehand, will you?

Caiyeri: Excuse me for being on death’s door.

He needed to buy a bit more time. That was definitely doable.

Lightning ripped through the flechette storm. Though it didn’t annihilate the shields, the chaining effect of the levels of Charged amplified the electricity, stunning the weapons long enough for Will to fire a blast from the scepter, using all ten charges in one fell swoop.

Shadowy flame exploded as a flechette intercepted the blast, consuming all of the swarm and Lystri himself. It wouldn’t be a lethal blow, but Will had pumped everything the scepter had into that one devastating explosion.

Before the dust had even cleared, Will confirmed that a large portion of the flechettes had been wiped out by the peak silver-rank explosion. The ones that remained were moving more sluggishly now, the Despair condition lowering the efficacy of Lystri’s magic.

He pulsed his aura out, furthering the list of debuffs he was stacking on Lystri. Even though the elf had a gold-rank aura, he was so overwhelmed by the sudden fury of Will’s chain of attacks that he wasn’t able to fully resist the effects of the hunger aura, restoring Will’s stamina, health, and mana even as it ate at Lystri’s.

Will brought the elf’s attention to himself as he rocketed forward, slayer sword at the ready. Thanks to Escape Artist, his air speed was shockingly good, but he didn’t plan on using it to escape here.

After the initial wave of dread and panic subsided, Lystri refocused on his target, realizing that he was in for a real fight now. The gold-rank elf empowered his flechettes and sent them hurtling towards Will as a deadly, stinging storm. Their gold-rank speed eclipsed the corruption wielder’s, and they were so maneuverable that there was no way he could escape them.

Just like Will, Lystri made use of afflictions. Each time he fired his flechettes, he peppered them with a skill that would inflict a severe custom affliction that sapped the stats, functionally knocking his opponents down a full rank if they were stricken by enough of the darts. For Will, that would be an instant death sentence, and it was clear that it had reduced Caiyeri to far below where she would normally be already.

Well, it would be an instant death sentence if it weren’t for the fact that Will wasn’t playing by the rules either.

He covered the face and took the swarm of flechettes on his limbs and torso, wincing in pain as they sank into his flesh. Time in a Bottle gave him the flexibility to minimize the amount of flechettes he took, but they peppered his arms nonetheless. At gold-rank, even the finger-sized darts could inflict significant of damage to him.

Except they didn’t.

One level of [Blessed] has been consumed to mitigate damage.

One level of [Purified] has been consumed to mitigate afflictions.

“Nice waste of resources, asshole,” Will said.

Caiyeri: Taking the shot.

A white bolt of light connected Caiyeri’s gun to a certain spot inside Lystri’s dart storm, the bullet moving with so much magic that it left a visible trail behind.

The crack of a high-rank chaos anchor being broken was audible even dozens of feet away

Caiyeri: I have one bullet left. Instant Death is a lot less instant than it advertises. Lystri’s gotten up from the last few. Sigil skills are powerful.

Will: He won’t get up from this one. Get ready to fire again.

The gold-rank elf roared in anger, throwing his hands to either side and beginning the incantation for another skill.

Just in time for the hunger phantasm Will had snuck behind the elf while he’d approached to materialize physically, brushing against Lystri’s flesh.

“Tag,” Will whispered, knowing the elf would be straining to hear him. “You’re it.”

You have inflicted a level of silver-rank [Corruption].

A bell tolled, and the elf froze.

Lystri Zero was now suffering from five levels of bleed and poisoned, both of which nerfed attributes and dealt ongoing damage, one of despair, which dropped his Soul and Speed, two of corruption, and one of wither. With his extant injuries, each of which had been worsened by The Bell Tolls, those would stack up very quickly.

Already, Will could see him going for the same Mother’s Grace ability that he’d seen another one of the elf originals use. It would negate every affliction and reset Lystri’s health to full, granting him massive amounts of the Blessed boon.

Will didn’t intend on letting that happen. He teleported into range as Lystri cast his skill, activating Ghostflame and cleansing all fourteen conditions right before the elf activated his sigil skill.

Lystri restored himself to full health, wounds closing in an instant, but he gained no boons.

And half a second later, Will descended on him with a massively overcharged Ghostflame, pummeling him into the ground.

Will was much more wary of continually using Ghostflame now that he knew how much it damaged his life-force, so he moved to finish the job quickly.

He needn’t have worried.

Finally back to full health and at her proper power level, Caiyeri pulled the trigger on the seventh shot of her six-shooter.

[Instant Death selected.]

This time, the bullet option proved itself to be worthy of the name. Will had smashed through the rest of the elf’s gold-rank defenses, giving the bullet the opportunity to be a finisher instead of a simple armor-piercer.

Before he’d arrived, Lystri had been using the flechettes to redirect the bullets when he got close. Now, though, he didn’t even have that.

The elf’s body jerked back with the force of the shot, the remnants of his head splattering all across the ground and Will’s fists.

He dropped the Ghostflame as Caiyeri made her way over, slowly limping past the decimated temperate forest landscape.

Her armor, the Red Knight set that he’d gifted her from the corpse of the leader of the gang that had taken over Everdale University, had been shredded to pieces. It wasn’t completely beyond repair, but there wasn’t a single portion of the armor that hadn’t been warped or torn by the flechette storm. The red metal had been overwhelmed by a darker crimson. Their fight had gone on for a while, and her armor and hair were both matted with dried blood.

“You stole my kill,” Will said.

“I’m about to take your loot, too,” Caiyeri said. “Unless you think the Elven Mother is willing to give a human a sigil.”

“She abandoned the last champion after I killed him. What makes you think the same won’t happen this time?”

“Because,” Caiyeri said tiredly, lightly kicking the dead elf, “this was my kill. At the very least, the Mother will see it so.”

Unexpectedly, she clapped him on the back, a little awkwardly.

Will raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Thank you,” she said, letting her hand slip. “That, uh, I saw some of the other humans doing it at the settlement. It seemed like a positive thing.”

“Do elves thank each other differently?” Will hadn’t even considered that, but he supposed that as much as they looked like taller, prettier humans, they were still a different race.

Caiyeri doffed her helmet, shaking her mussed, blood-matted hair over her long, pointed ears. They dipped forward like they were bowing, heard head dipping at the same time.

Will smiled. “That’s kind of cute.”

“If you say so,” Caiyeri said. “I prefer human customs to elf ones.”

She looked pointedly at the now-headless Lystri.

“Mind if I snag the credits from this guy?” Will asked.

Caiyeri’s smile always seemed a bit like a predator’s, but right now, it looked uncertain and abnormally vulnerable.

“Of course. I’ll be… right back.”

A sigil flashed into her hand, and she collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

#

Caiyeri found herself in a tea room with an open ceiling. At the center, a beautiful tree glittered with abyssal light, stretching into the purple sky. She squinted, still unused to the sensation of being exposed to the open air. After nearly two decades spent in the Arcadian caves, isolated and alone, the sky still seemed impossibly vast. Logically, she knew how physics worked, but in her heart of hearts, she admitted to fearing that she would one day simply lose grasp of the earth beneath her feet and fall into that endless, infinite void.

“Beautiful, is it not?”

The presence of the Elven Mother should not have surprised her, but it did nonetheless.

“Mother,” Caiyeri said, unsure of how to respond. Her feelings on the goddess that she was supposed to be willing to lay her life on the line for. “You did not choose me before.”

“I am now,” she said. “I can only support so many so far, and many of my children did enter this.”

“Only the life and abyss elves have been able to make it this far,” Caiyeri countered. “The others have failed out. You could have granted me my rightful spot.”

“Rightful?” the Elven Mother said. Her voice was serene, but her aura pressed down upon Caiyeri, threatening her like a titan raising its boot to threaten a bug. “You did not prove yourself worthy until this very moment, my child. You are, yourself, a copy of another one of my champions.”

Caiyeri clenched her fists. “You speak like the circumstances of my birth make me inferior.”

“They do not. You are, after all, still a child of my kind. How could you be anything but perfect?”

The Elven Mother was blindingly beautiful to look at, her very presence an exemplification of everything that made elves who they were, and yet Caiyeri didn’t find herself terribly impressed.

“Oh, dear,” said the Mother. “The corruption wielder’s influence has come over you.”

“So he has,” Caiyeri. “As has yours, the Zeroes, the life elves, and the humans. We are products of our environment, Mother. I have nobody to blame but you for the one I found myself in.”

The goddess set her sights on her newest champion. “You would reject my grace?”

“No,” Caiyeri said. “Your grace is power, and that is what I have been sorely lacking. Few gods want me because of your dominion over our kind, and those that do give me scraps. Yet you ignore me.”

“As with all my children, I was waiting for you to prove worthy.”

“Have I proven myself worthy enough?”

“You have. You would not be here under any other circumstance. Become my champion, Caiyeri Seven, and lead our kind to prosperity.”

“This is the sticking point,” Caiyeri replied. She should have been quaking in fear, but somehow, she had never felt more certain in her path. “I will not carry out your will, Mother. I will take your grace, but I will not be the bearer of your desires.”

The Elven Mother paused, eyes widening ever so slightly. Caiyeri knew that to be an affectation. The Mother was a goddess, for hell’s sake. Even Caiyeri had better control over her physical faculties than that.

“Kadael…” the goddess trailed off. “There are two of them.”

“Kadael?” Caiyeri asked quizzically. “Who is that?”

“I will save us both the pain,” said the Mother. “I will grant you my grace, and I will give you power, as requested. All I ask for is that you abandon Justice.”

“Show me what you offer, and I will decide.”

“Very well.”

It took a bit of negotiating, during which Caiyeri could scarcely believe her fortune, but they worked out a deal.

“You may dislike me in the present, Caiyeri, but you will be a sigil-holder for a long time. You will understand the worth of our connection.”

And then the room faded away.

#

“I cannot believe I agreed to this,” said the Hunger.

“Must be because you like me so much,” Will said, a shit-eating grin painted on his face.

“Or because I am blinded by my hatred for the one who claims Prophecy,” the god replied. “Do not forget you have a deal to uphold. You will regret going against a god’s contract.”

“Chill, dude. After what you’ve told me? Plus this favor you tossed in? It’s not bad for me at all, and it’s great for you. Win-win! And Caiyeri gets a win, too!”

About ten minutes earlier, Will had induced sleep in himself through his well-practiced meditation, reaching out for the Hunger. He had answered, apparently having nothing better to do than do the godly equivalent of watch a livestream and wait for something interesting to happen.

The Hunger had been somewhat surprised when Will had correctly guessed that he was a friend of the Elven Mother despite the bitter hatred the goblins wielding his sigil had had for the elves, and that surprise had increased exponentially when he’d come with a request for a simple communication.

Caiyeri had abandoned her people to fight by his side, and she was damn good at it. Will was not foolish enough to think he could do anything alone, and stronger allies would result in better results.

He had learned through the Hunger that the gods did have more resources to spend on their champions, but often chose to ration them.

The Elven Mother, whose contestants had gotten far enough to strongly benefit her, was doing the same that the Hunger had tried to do—create puppets who weren’t strong enough to throw off the influence of their gods, giving them just enough power that the gods could try again with someone else if their first attempt failed.

It made no sense to Will, and he’d expressed it as such. The Hunger had told him he was fundamentally wrong, but after some time, Will had persuaded him to send a single message to the Mother.

Give her what she wants.

It had taken a concession from him, but being given a quest to find another sigil-holder and steal their sigil from them was barely a concession when the Hunger confirmed that said sigil-holder was one of the freshly arrived otherworlders running rampant on Earth.

“You are truly an interesting specimen,” the god said, jarring Will out of his thoughts.

“I’d hope so,” Will replied frankly. “Boring seems to get you killed, enslaved, or left behind.”

“So it does. You should best hope you do not cross a line that does the same to you.”

“I love crossing lines,” Will said. “If I didn’t, I’d probably be your thrall, dead to one of the elves I ran into, and you’d be fucked.”

“I would not be so quick to assume.”

“And that’s why you don’t have control over me, isn’t it?”

The Hunger sighed. “Promise me you will annoy Fate this much.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve avoided a destined death a couple of times already, but for you? I’ll make them regret ever ascending.”

“Perfect.”

“You’re awfully petty, you know.”

“I do not recall asking. Should you not be returning to your reality?”

Will could sense his body beginning to wake, his meditation coming to an end. Caiyeri must have finished already.

“Nice chat,” Will said. “Can you bring coffee to our next one? I haven’t had proper coffee in ages.”

He woke up before the Hunger could answer.

#

“Will,” Caiyeri beamed, her feral smile back in full force. “I have the Elven Mother’s grace now, but that’s not all.”

“She folded?” Will asked. “That’s a relief. I was worried all that effort would go towards nothing.”

“You had something to do with this,” she realized. “Why?”

“Why?” Will asked. “Because that’s what comrades do. We help each other.”

She shook her head. “Not to this extent. I don’t even know how many I owe you at this point.”

“Don’t bother counting. I’ll be there for you, so you’ll be here for me. Simple as that, really.”

Round 2 has concluded. All Users outside waiting rooms will now be transported to one.

“You better make it through,” Caiyeri said. “I’ll see you in the finals.”

“Confident, are we?” Will grinned. “See you in the finals.”

They parted, teleportation magic taking hold of them and sending them to the hotel suites that were their waiting rooms.

Amusingly enough, Will was transported to one without any of the corruption he’d inflicted upon the building to get himself out.

There was nothing in the room to train with, only a small minibar where he could buy silver-rank potions, so he went to sleep again, glad for the rest.

This time, he wanted to try something a bit different.

#

Round 3 starts in [3].

[2].

[1].

Initiating teleportation.

[Limiter] has been attuned to your body.

Will had been so focused on his training through rest that the system teleporting him was what woke him up. He was still in the process of rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as spatial magic took hold of him. Will had been lying down in bed, and he had to sit up to even see the arena forming around him.

A familiar aura, now gold-rank instead of the peak silver it had been the last time Will had felt it, pressed up against his before he even recognized the arena they were being placed into. This one resembled the inside of a prison more than anything else—or maybe a dark laboratory, one just like the place the gestalt had been born.

He was instantly wide awake. He knew this aura. 

Your opponent is: [Nymlera Brooksoul].

“It will be a pleasure to take you apart,” she hissed.

“You know,” Will said neutrally, brushing his hair out of his face with his fingers, “that’s the exact same thing you said as last time. Since we’re doing that, let me think… what did I say then?”

“That I should hope I would not run into you again. You will regret ever crossing my path, boy.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Will said, nodding. “Right. Well, fortunately and unfortunately for you, this is the last time you’re going to meet me.”

Before the elf could get another word in, he let his aura fly.