While the depths of the Academy hummed with the newfound stability of the Anchor, the royal quarters of the Astrum estate were silent as a tomb.
Prince Julian von Astrum sat in a high-backed chair, the moonlight carving harsh lines into his pale, hollowed face. Since his expulsion from the combat trials, the "Golden Prince" had become a ghost. His father, the King, had sent a letter—not of concern, but of cold disappointment. In the Lion God continent, a prince who could not dominate was merely a political pawn.
"Samuel Light..." Julian spat the name like poison.
He looked at his hands. They were trembling. The feedback from the Scepter of the Scorched Earth had left his mana circuits frayed and sensitive. Every time he tried to circulate mana, it felt like swallowing glass.
"You seek strength, young lion? Or merely the blood of the lamb who shamed you?"
The voice didn't come from the door or the window. It crawled out of the shadows beneath Julian's bed, oily and thick.
Julian didn't flinch. His desperation had long since killed his fear. "Who's there? Show yourself."
The shadows pooled in the center of the room, rising into a tall, spindly figure wrapped in tattered grey robes. Where a face should have been, there was only a void, save for two glowing, violet horizontal slits.
"We are the Hollowed," the figure hissed. "The ones the Goddess Gaea forgot. The ones who saw the truth of the Rifts long before your 'Headmaster' did."
"A Shadow Cult," Julian sneered, though he didn't call for the guards. "You're the ones who worship the rot inside the Dungeons. Why should I talk to a heretic?"
"Because the heretic has the cure for your broken soul," the figure said, stepping closer. The air in the room dropped ten degrees. "Samuel Light is not what he seems. He carries a scent... an old scent. A scent of the First Era. You cannot defeat him with Royal Relics, Julian. You cannot defeat a mountain with a candle."
Julian stood up, his eyes flashing with a manic light. "Then how? He has infinite recovery! He stands there and mocks me while I burn out!"
The cultist reached into his robes and pulled out a small, jagged sliver of purple crystal—a fragment of a Broken Rift Core. It throbbed with a sickening, rhythmic beat.
"The Goddess gives her pets a 'System,'" the cultist whispered. "But the Void gives us 'Hunger.' This fragment will not fix your circuits, Prince. It will replace them. You will no longer recover mana; you will devour it. Every spell cast against you will only make you stronger. Every life you take will expand your pool."
Julian looked at the fragment. He could hear it whispering—a thousand overlapping screams of a world that wanted to end.
"And the price?" Julian asked, his hand reaching out instinctively.
"When the Anchors fall—and they will fall—you will be the King of the New World. You will open the gates for us. You will be the God of the Ruined Land."
Julian's fingers closed around the purple shard.
SCREECH!
The shard didn't just sit in his hand; it liquefied, turning into black, needle-like tendrils that burrowed into his skin, racing up his veins toward his heart. Julian threw his head back in a silent scream as his blonde hair turned a dull, ashen grey. His blue eyes—once the pride of the royal family—bled into a solid, terrifying violet.
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED]
Removing: Blessing of Gaea...
Installing: [THE VOID HUNGER]
Name: Julian von Astrum
Status: Corrupted
Talent: Mana Vampire (Rank: Forbidden)
Skill: [Nullification Field] - Passively drains 5% MP per second from all targets within 10 meters.
Julian slumped to the floor, panting. The pain was gone. In its place was a cold, bottomless emptiness. He felt... hungry. Ravenously hungry.
He looked at the cultist. With a sudden, blurred movement, Julian reached out and grabbed the shadow-man's throat.
"Wait! I am your—"
Sluuuuuurp.
The violet light in Julian's eyes flared. The cultist didn't bleed; he shriveled. His very essence, his dark mana, and his life force were sucked into Julian like water into a desert. In seconds, the cultist was nothing but a pile of dry, grey rags.
Julian stood up, stretching his limbs. He felt more powerful than he ever had as a "Prodigy." He looked toward the Academy towers in the distance.
"Go ahead, Samuel," Julian whispered, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. "Refine your mana. Grow your pool. Make yourself a feast fit for a King."
He looked at his status one last time.
Current Objective: Consume the Source.