A massive stag stood in the center of the clearing, its gaze fixated on one person only.
It’s presence, more than just a creature. Regal. Towering. Wrong.
Its fur shimmered like moonlit obsidian, shifting with subtle iridescence as if the forest had bled its shadows into flesh. Six long, powerful limbs held it unnaturally still, hooves sunk slightly into the soil as though the earth itself dared not let go.
But it was the antlers that truly stole the breath from Jace’s lungs.
Enormous, spiraling arcs of bone swept out like a crown forged by the gods themselves—jet black, yet threaded with veins of molten silver magic. They pulsed faintly, like veins beneath skin, alive with raw, ancient energy.
Light didn’t touch it. It avoided.
Even the mist parted respectfully around its form, refusing to cling to its flanks like it did the trees.
Jace stepped forward without realizing it, his instincts at war—part reverence, part terror.
“It’s beautiful…” Nyra whispered, almost against her will.
“No,” Torak said, voice low, antennae twitching. “It’s wrong.”
The temperature dropped again.
Just slightly.
Then the antlers pulsed again.
Silver veins flared—then fractured.
The pulse returned… twisted.
The silver threads turned violet. A sickly, luminous shade of corruption. Cracks spiderwebbed down the stag’s body, leaking wisps of violet mist that curled unnaturally in the air like smoke from an open grave.
The creature raised its head.
And the antlers burned.
Not with flame—but with roiling, spectral fire. Purple and black and deeper than any void Jace had ever looked into. The mist thickened around its legs, coiling like tendrils hungry for flesh, and the clearing responded in kind—trees groaning under invisible pressure, the very air vibrating with restrained malevolence.
Jace's soul recognized this thing.
This wasn't just a guardian of the Veilwood.
It was a corrupted sentinel.
A creature once sacred, now devoured by something far older.
The stag’s eyes flared, locking onto Jace.
And in the quiet before the storm, the System hiccupped.
[Analyz%%%%ERROR]
[D$%#!@ Target corrupted. Classification: ██████████████]
Threat Level: ███ Unkno###wn ████
Recommendation: --runnnnn–
That's when Jace noticed. It stood over the corpses of five other beautiful dead stags. Their bodies were twisted, broken, their fur matted with blood.
It had been feeding on them.
‘Corruption…’
The same twisted energy that had seeped into the Wyvern, into the Horror, into the Broodmother. But this time, it felt… deeper. Older. Like the corruption had sunk its teeth in long ago.
Jace barely had time to react before the creature exploded forward, hooves tearing deep furrows into the earth as it surged toward them with terrifying speed.
Nyra threw herself forward, her tower shield slamming into the dirt just as the beast’s massive frame collided with her.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the clearing. Nyra’s boots dug into the soft earth, her arms straining as she held against the sheer force. Splinters cracked along the edge of her shield, but she stood firm.
"RRRRGH!" she growled, teeth gritted.
Jace didn’t hesitate. He moved.
A pulse of dark energy surged through his veins.
‘Soulrend.’
The stag flinched, its body shuddering as soul energy latched onto it, siphoning its vitality. Black veins spiderwebbed across its hide, its movements stuttering for the briefest moment.
Torak seized the opportunity, his four arms a blur as he dashed forward, blades flashing. His first two strikes carved deep into the stag’s left hind leg, black ichor spilling from the wounds. His third and fourth swords aimed for its ribs—
But the stag moved unnaturally, its body twisting in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.
It lashed out mid-spin, its antlers coming around like a set of deadly scythes.
Torak barely managed to deflect one antler, but the second one smashed into his chitinous shoulder.
The force sent him sprawling, his body skidding across the dirt before he rolled back to his feet.
“I am unharmed,” Torak chittered, shaking off the impact, his shoulder hardly cracked.
The stag reared back, its hooves slamming down into the earth with a deafening thud. The ground trembled, a surge of corrupted energy rippling outward.
Patch reacted instantly.
Golden runes flared to life, his massive hands weaving complex patterns in the air.
A barrier of golden light materialized just in time—
The stag’s blackened antlers slammed into the barrier.
The impact sent shockwaves through the clearing, the ground beneath them cracking from the force.
The barrier fractured—It slammed again.
Then shattered.
Jace moved, raising his spiked bone mace. It smashed into the stag’s skull, twisting its head sideways with a sickening crunch. The beast stumbled, black ichor dripping from its ruined jaw.
Sylas was already in motion. A blur of shadow. She reappeared behind the stag, daggers flashing. One blade sank into its exposed flank, twisting deep.
The stag bellowed, its long legs kicking wildly. Sylas barely managed to dodge, rolling clear as a hoof slammed into the spot she’d just been standing in.
The beast was desperate now.
Then the corruption surged.
The stag let out a horrifying, unnatural screech, its entire body convulsing violently. The silver veins in its antlers pulsed brighter, glowing like molten metal.
The ground trembled.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Jace muttered.
“BACK!” Garrik bellowed.
The stag’s body pulsed.
Not with magic—With memory.
The mist around its hooves screamed, curling upward in jagged spirals as the ground beneath it shattered like broken glass… revealing not stone or soil, but time.
Cracks spiderwebbed through the clearing, not physically, but temporally, moments of before and after flickering in and out of sync. Trees flickered between blooming and burned. Shadows reversed their course. The air rippled as though reality were being rewound.
Jace’s vision twisted violently, his equilibrium shattering as the world jerked, like someone had hit rewind on existence itself.
The stag’s wounds unspooled, reversing, sealing with threads of purple flame.
Time glitched.
[Corrupted Skill Activated: Echo Reversal]
Reality Desync Detected
Effect: The Entity rewinds its immediate timeline.
Warning…
Dungeon Stability…
Compromised…
Jace hit the ground hard, his stomach lurching as the forest re-stitched itself like a bad edit in a cursed film reel.
“What the hell was that?” he gasped, pushing himself up.
“It just reversed time,” Garrik growled, eyes wide. “The beast is warping reality in the dungeon.”
Sylas spat, flipping her daggers with extra tension. “So now it’s cheating in the past tense, too?”
Jace gritted his teeth, rising to his feet as the stag’s glowing eyes locked back onto him, calm, cold, infinite.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Fine,” he snarled, tightening his grip on his weapon. “Then we make sure it has nothing left to rewind.”
They regrouped, the stag watching with the detached stillness of a predator that already knew how they’d die.
Nyra rushed forward, shield raised and shoutin,g activating a skill, keeping the stag’s focus locked on her.
Torak and Sylas moved in tandem, their weapons dancing through the air, slicing deep into its legs and flanks.
Patch channeled his magic, runes glowing as waves of healing energy washed over them.
Jace took a deep breath, channeling everything he had left into one final strike.
Soulrend pulsed through his veins. Soul Infusion poured into his weapon.
The stag lurched, slowing, its body shuddering as its life force was siphoned away.
He surged forward, hammer crackling with powerful energy. He planted his foot, twisted his hips, and swung.
The bone hammer caved in the stag’s skull.
The creature twitched once—
Then collapsed.
The corruption unraveled, black mist rising from the corpse, swirling before being sucked into Jace’s core.
Jace exhaled sharply, his entire body burning with exertion.
Jace barely had time to process the rush of power flooding through him. His body burned with the familiar sensation of soul fragments, his muscles tightening, his mana surging, his reflexes sharper than before. The aftermath of battle still clung to the air—the acrid scent of blood and corruption, the lingering echo of the Veilwood Stag’s last agonized screech.
His vision flickered as a cascade of notifications filled his sight.
You have killed a C0rrup7ed V32lw00d 5ta6 of unknown level.
Reaper's Touch activated
+20 Soul Fragments
+20 (-10) to Endurance, +25 (-15) to Strength, +50 (-25) to Wisdom, +50 (-25) to Intelligence
Core Progression 70/100
‘No. No, no, no—what the hell is this?!’ The numbers flashed past his vision like shards of broken glass, jagged and taunting. ‘It has to be that siphon array.’
‘I earned those stats,’ he hissed internally, voice sharp as a blade. ‘I earned them—’
He clenched his fists. The burn in his veins didn’t feel like victory. It felt like theft.
Like something was taken from him. Again. Always again.
His pack pulsed once, faint but insistent.
The egg.
He didn’t even have to check. It was awake. Hungry.
Feeding.
‘The stronger I get, the more it eats.’ His core pulsed—more souls. Seventy now. So close. So damn close. And yet it never felt like enough. It spurred him all the more to feed his whelpling egg.
As if it too felt the siphon, as if it reached with invisible tendrils for the strength slipping through his fingers.
‘Not now,’ Jace thought, swallowing the twist of unease in his gut. ‘Later.’
Then the System messages shifted, and a cold, electric thrill danced down his spine.
Skill Upgraded: [Soulrend] (Rank 5)
Your connection to the veil deepens. Each strike now tears through the soul, siphoning vitality, stamina, and fragments of essence with heightened efficiency. Damage dealt by Soulrend increases significantly, and siphoned energy restores more per hit. Targets struck may experience lingering soul instability.
Skill Upgraded: [Bone Manipulation] (Rank 5)
Your mastery over bone deepens, sharpening control, speed, and scale. You can now shape and weaponize bone with greater precision, reinforce existing structures, and manipulate multiple formations simultaneously. Larger constructs become viable, and your creations respond faster to your will. Essence residue may linger, altering affected bone over time.
Skill Upgraded: [Soul Infusion] (Rank 3) –
Expend Soul Fragments to permanently bind soul energy into weapons, armor, or artifacts. Infused items gain unique traits or effects based on the soul’s nature (e.g., burning touch from a fire wraith, fear aura from a tormented spirit). You may now overcharge infusions, causing volatile surges of power at the risk of destabilizing the item. Infusion time halved. Control over corrupted souls improved.
‘Hah…’ A short, broken laugh escaped him. ‘Of course. Kick me in the teeth and hand me a crown.’
Soulrend pulsed behind his ribs, wild and ravenous now. He felt it, like a second heartbeat—hungrier than ever. The thought of striking something, anything, made his knuckles twitch.
Bone Manipulation danced just beneath his skin, whispering of thorns, spikes, cages—violence given form. He could build an army of jagged fury with a thought.
Soul Infusion now begged him to overcharge, to gamble, to push something too far.
Everything’s leveling up. Except me.
And then it hit—
New Skill Acquired: [Beast of the Hollow] (Rank 1) –
Consumes the soul of a corrupted beast to inherit a fragment of its instincts and primal fury. Temporarily enhances reflexes, movement speed, or other abilities of consumed creatures. While active, your eyes glow with spectral light, and your presence instills unease in nearby animals.
Grants the passive trait: Predator’s Pulse – sense nearby corrupted or dying creatures through their soul resonance.
A low growl coiled in his throat. He could still smell the stag’s corruption, the thick, wrong oil of it in his nostrils. And now its soul lived in him, howling in some spectral cage.
His pulse thumped once, twice, and suddenly he knew where the birds were hiding in the trees. He could feel the twitch of life in the underbrush.
Predator’s Pulse activated.
‘...I’m becoming the monsters I kill.’ And for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he meant that with fear or hunger. Then he turned his gaze forward, eyes now glowing faintly.
Jace let out a slow breath, steadying himself as the new power settled deep into his bones. His bone mace felt lighter, deadlier. His mind felt clearer, attuned to the dungeon in a way he hadn’t experienced before.
Across the clearing, the rest of the team were catching their breath, the glow of their level-ups flickering around them. None of them seemed to have noticed Jace.
Nyra stretched, rolling her shoulders with a satisfied groan. “That sucked… but hey, level up.”
Sylas grinned, flicking black ichor off her daggers. “Not bad for a bunch of Iron Rank newbs.”
Torak nodded, sheathed his blades, and flexed his four arms. “A measurable increase in efficiency.”
Patch simply rumbled, his runes pulsing dimly. “Improvement acknowledged.”
Jace exhaled, pushing his damp hair from his forehead. “What level are you guys now?”
Nyra smirked. “Nineteen.”
“Twenty,” Torak added.
Sylas leaned against a tree, twirling a dagger between her fingers. “Also twenty.”
Patch rumbled, “Eighteen.”
Jace blinked. “…Wait, what?”
Nyra’s ears twitched. “Yeah, what?”
Sylas’s gaze sharpened, her amusement giving way to something else. “Jace. What level are you?”
Jace hesitated. He hadn't been keeping track—everything had been moving too fast, his focus entirely on survival. But now that he was looking at his status screen…
He cleared his throat. “Uh. I think I'm at 20, after that fight.”
Silence.
“…Bullshit.” Sylas deadpanned. “Three levels since yesterday? No one levels that fast.”
Torak tilted his head, eyes gleaming with newfound interest. “Clarify.”
Nyra’s tail flicked, her gaze locking onto Jace with curiosity. “There’s no way. You were, what, level 5 or so yesterday?”
“I was level 17, thank you very much.” Jace corrected absently.
Sylas threw up her hands. “Oh, screw you. That’s still not normal!”
Even Garrik let out a low whistle. “Twenty, huh?” He tapped his chin, clearly reevaluating something. “Damn, kid. You’re leveling at an insane rate.”
Jace grimaced inwardly. Yeah, no kidding. ‘Shit, maybe he just should kept the number closer.
Each time he absorbed a corrupted beast’s essence, he felt the surge of growth. Faster than what should have been possible.
Sylas squinted at him, suspicion dancing in her sharp, golden eyes. “Are you secretly a ‘Hero’? Some lost deity with an ancient prophecy attached to your name? Because that’s some serious protagonist bullshit, Jace.”
Jace snorted. “Yeah, no. Just a guy trying not to die in two corrupted dungeons.”
“Sure, sure,” Sylas muttered, still eyeing him like she was trying to piece something together.
Nyra let out a breath, a slow grin stretching across her face. “Welp. Looks like we need to start training you harder.”
Jace arched his brow. “I’m sorry, what?”
Nyra cracked her knuckles. “You’re catching up fast, which means we can’t let you slack. Starting tomorrow, training montage.”
Torak nodded in agreement. “Combat drills. Tactical sparring.”
Patch rumbled in approval. “Endurance exercises.”
Jace narrowed his eyes. “I feel like this is a setup.”
Sylas slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, sweetheart. It absolutely is.”
Garrik chuckled, clapping a hand on Jace’s back. “You’ll thank them for it… Eventually…”
Jace sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Fantastic.”
The moment the corrupted stag had used its warping attack, the world around them had blurred, twisted, and reformed. It was as if the dungeon itself had folded in on them, shifting the landscape in an instant. When the haze cleared, they found themselves deeper within the Veilwood Depths, the trees taller, denser, and shrouded in a mist so thick it seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
Jace exhaled sharply, adjusting his grip on his weapon. “Okay. Where are we now? It doesn’t look like the same clearing we were in at the start of the fight.”
Nyra sniffed the air, her ears twitching. “You’re right. The smell is completely different.”
Patch raised a rune-carved hand, pulsing a soft light over the area. “Dungeon anomaly stabilized. We can proceed.”
With little choice, the group pressed onward. The air was thick, humid despite the ever-present mist. Every step they took felt heavier, as if the trees themselves were pressing in around them. The shifting paths were disorienting—one moment they were following a winding trail through thick underbrush, the next they were stepping onto an entirely new path that hadn’t been there seconds ago.
Jace felt it more than he saw it. His new Predators Sense passive was pulsing faintly in the back of his mind, whispering about hidden paths, shifting directions, and the unnatural presence lurking ahead.
Then, without warning, the trees groaned.
A deep, bone-rattling creak echoed through the woods as something massive moved.
Jace instinctively raised his weapon, his mace morphing as he poured mana into it. The head of it shifted, reshaping into a heavy, double-bladed axe that gleamed with unnatural sharpness.
The trees ahead split apart—not from magic, but as if they were pulling themselves aside. Roots twisted, bark cracked, and from the shifting forest, a towering Treant emerged.
Jace's gut clenched. The thing was huge, its form a gnarled mass of ancient wood and sinewy vines. Its hollow eyes glowed with a sickly green light, its clawed fingers dripping with sap like thick blood.
Sylas groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Nyra was already moving, drawing her sword. “Stay sharp!”
As if to prove her point, the Treant lunged forward, its massive arm swinging in a blur.
Jace barely had time to throw himself to the side as the gargantuan limb slammed into the ground, shaking the earth beneath them.
Torak’s blades flashed, slicing across the Treant’s arm, but the wounds barely registered—the wood closed in on itself, healing almost instantly.
Patch’s runes flared, sending a pulse of golden energy across the battlefield. “Burn it,” the golem rumbled. “Fire is effective.”
“Don’t have fire!” Jace shouted.
Sylas flipped backward, narrowly avoiding a vine that tried to lash around her ankle. “Then we do this the hard way!”
Jace didn’t hesitate. He gripped his new bone axe tightly, mana surging through his limbs as he charged. His feet barely touched the ground before he leaped, bringing the massive weapon down in a vicious arc.
The blade bit deep.
The Treant screeched, a sound like wood splitting apart, and lashed out. A dozen more trees groaned in response.
And then, more Treants stepped from the mist.
Jace cursed. “Of course. Because one wasn’t enough.”
Nyra gritted her teeth, taking up position in front of the group. “Sylas, Torak—thin them out! Patch, keep us standing!”
Sylas vanished into the shadows, appearing behind one of the newcomers and driving both daggers into its back. The Treant shuddered, but didn’t fall.
Torak darted through the battlefield, his four blades moving in a flurry of slashes, carving deep gashes into bark-like flesh.
Patch stomped a foot down, his runes pulsing. A barrier flared to life around Nyra, just as another Treant swung a massive limb toward her.
Jace snarled, his axe shifting mid-swing as he drove it into another enemy. His weapon was heavy, brutal, and designed for raw damage. Each strike split bark, shattered limbs, and sent green sap flying.
One by one, the Treants fell.
By the time the last one collapsed, Jace was panting, his muscles burning. His axe dripped with sap, the forest floor littered with splintered wood and twitching vines.
Sylas wiped her daggers clean, shaking her head. “That… sucked.”
Nyra exhaled, resting on her tower shield. “Not bad, though. Could’ve been worse.”
Torak nodded. "Minimal injuries. Efficient takedown.”
Jace leaned on his weapon, catching his breath. His body ached, his mana reserves were low, but the fight had left him buzzing with energy. The thrill of battle. The satisfaction of victory.
He had gained another 10 souls. He went ahead while everyone was resting and threw all but 20 of his soul fragments into the whelpling. So far, everything he had learned about his core, the skills and abilities he was gaining, coupled with the siphoning… he wanted nothing to do with filling it up.
He also gained some strength and endurance, but lost half of it to the siphon array. He needed to…
Then he realized something.
The forest was silent.
Not just quiet—unnaturally still.
Even the mist had stopped shifting.
Sylas frowned. “Why do I feel like this is the part where something worse happens?”
At that moment, the trees ahead bent backward, snapping apart, revealing a massive, hulking figure.
It was twice the size of the Treants they had just fought. Its body was layered in thick, gnarled bark, massive limbs moving with slow, deliberate force. Vines hung from its shoulders, its glowing green eyes burning with intelligence.
“Is that a fucking tree golem?!” Jace groaned.
“Hey Patch, you know him?” Sylas joked as she elbowed the party's own golem.
[Sylas]: Okay, but objectively, that tree golem looked exactly like you if you forgot to moisturize for like... a decade.
[Patch]: Incorrect. My structure is rune-forged stone with organic bonding elements. The Treant’s was fermented wood matter with parasitic vine reinforcement. Also, it screamed too much.
[Sylas]: Wow. You are sensitive about this. Did I hit a nerve, lumberjack?
[Patch]: I possess no nerves. Only reinforced impact channels and superior battlefield utility.
[Sylas]: That’s code for “yes.” Admit it. You’re tree-adjacent. He was like your crunchy cousin from the wrong part of the glade.
[Patch]: If that... “cousin” were held together by moss, rot, and poor decisions, then perhaps. I, however, do not leak sap when stabbed.
[Sylas]: …Yeah, you just leak disappointment and terrifying optimism. Totally different.
[Patch]: Affirmative.
[Sylas]: Anyway! Stay tuned to see if we finally murder Patch’s long-lost forest brother on the next episode of Harmony of the Fallen!
[Patch]: Clarification: Not related.
[Sylas]: Denial. Classic sibling behavior.
So… how we feeling after that corrupted stag and surprise treant ambush?
