Night had fallen, but the battlefield glowed with unnatural light—fires, spells, and the shimmering pulse of laws colliding. The once-verdant plains were now a wasteland of twisted roots and scorched earth. Every breath reeked of blood and ozone.
Aeron stood amid the chaos, his scythe drawn, eyes cold and sharp. Around him, the survivors had scattered, each one a fragment of the storm that raged across the field.
He could sense their power like sparks in the dark—every aura distinct, every intent dangerous.
---
The first to strike was Kael, the armored warrior who had warned him earlier. His gauntlet glowed with molten light as he charged, the ground cracking beneath his feet. "If we keep fighting separately, the beasts will tear us apart!"
"Then form a line!" someone shouted back—Seris, her golden runes flaring as she conjured a barrier of molten sigils around them.
The beasts—massive, many-eyed constructs of corrupted mana—screeched as they hurled themselves forward. Their bodies were amorphous, half-living, half-spirit. They moved like liquid nightmares, devouring whatever they touched.
Aeron didn't hesitate. He swung his scythe in a wide arc, releasing a wave of black-green energy. The ground decayed instantly, turning the charging beasts to ash as the Plague of Decay spread outward in a rippling surge.
But for every creature that fell, two more took its place.
---
To Aeron's left, a young mage in crimson armor screamed as one of the beasts latched onto him, its tendrils burrowing into his chest. He convulsed once—then went still.
A heartbeat later, he rose again.
Not as himself.
The corpse moved stiffly, its skin grey and eyes empty, veins glowing faintly with a green luminescence. The Plague had claimed him, twisting life and death into a single grotesque existence.
"By the gods—what did you do?" Seris shouted, horror flashing in her eyes as she saw the reanimated soldier turn on their allies.
Aeron didn't answer. His jaw clenched, his focus unflinching. The fusion was spreading faster than he intended—every kill feeding the infection, every death birthing something new.
The Plague Genesis was alive.
---
The ground rumbled as a new presence emerged—a towering figure cloaked in white fire.
Darian Vale.
Ranked third in the academy.
Known for mastering the Law of Purity, the antithesis of Aeron's power.
"Enough!" Darian's voice boomed, the heat from his aura evaporating the toxic mist around him. "You've tainted this field, Aeron! If you don't stop, I'll cleanse it—and you with it."
Aeron met his burning gaze. "Try."
Flames collided with rot.
Darian's blade, wreathed in holy fire, cut through the plague mist like sunlight piercing fog. Aeron countered with a sweep of his scythe, the two forces meeting in a blinding explosion. The shockwave rippled through the field, sending soldiers and beasts sprawling.
The Law of Purity seared against the Law of Death, each trying to erase the other's existence.
---
Meanwhile, chaos spread among the others.
Lira, the beastfolk, tore through a cluster of infected with claws glowing gold. Elias, the blind swordsman, moved silently through the carnage, his blade leaving trails of absence—cuts that didn't bleed, but erased what they touched.
Seris stood in the backline, weaving runes faster than human eyes could track. "I can't hold the barrier much longer!" she yelled.
Kael slammed his gauntlet into the ground, creating a fissure of light that split a charging creature in two. "Then we clear the field!"
Darian shouted above the noise, "Focus on the infection! Burn it out!"
But the infection wasn't just on the field anymore.
It was in the air.
---
Aeron's breathing slowed. His senses had shifted.
He could feel the plague's spread—not as chaos, but as an extension of himself. Each corpse was a nerve, each dying breath a signal. He was inside every decaying cell.
It was… beautiful.
But it hurt. Gods, it hurt.
Every death fed him, but it also ate at him. His skin cracked along glowing green fissures, his blood turned dark and thick. The Plague Genesis was consuming him as much as it empowered him.
The book's voice whispered through the pain.
"You are standing at the threshold of godhood—and oblivion."
Aeron's voice came out hoarse. "i'll manage."
He thrust his hand into the soil, unleashing everything.
The world screamed.
---
The ground erupted in veins of black and green, spreading like wildfire. Beasts disintegrated, their bodies collapsing into pools of plague matter. Even the air shimmered, vibrating with toxic resonance.
The reanimated dead rose again—stronger, faster, bound by his will. They turned on the wild creatures, tearing them apart in a storm of claws and bone.
"Control it!" Darian shouted, shielding himself behind a wall of pure light. "You'll wipe us all out!"
"I am controlling it!" Aeron's voice was both human and not, layered with something deeper.
The infected corpses moved in perfect rhythm, obeying his silent command. They attacked the beasts, not the living. For now.
Seris stared in disbelief. "He's… using them."
Lira hissed. "what is he? Necromancer?"
---
The battle raged for hours, until only a handful remained standing—Kael, Seris, Lira, Elias, Darian… and Aeron.
The others lay dead or vanished into the mist.
At last, Darian lowered his blade, exhaustion etched across his face. "The beasts are gone. The plague… contained." He spat blood and glared at Aeron. "But if you lose control again, I'll end you myself."
Aeron didn't reply. The Plague Genesis pulsed faintly beneath his skin, a dark rhythm he could neither silence nor deny.