Arc 1, Chapter 7: Crimson Forge

  Pale gold threads of light filtered through the canopy and patterned the forest floor. Ash knelt at the edge of the river. The water flowed over his hands as he reached into the cold current. His numb fingers closed around scales.

  The fish thrashed once before going still. He had gone days without food. He spent his time in the cave forcing dark mana through transformations that resisted his will. His stomach had stopped cramping days ago, but his body needed fuel.

  He built a small fire. Controlled flames licked at dry wood that popped in the morning air. Smoke curled into the heavy branches overhead. The sound of the crackling wood felt normal, a stark contrast to the violence of the past week. He roasted the fish slowly. The skin blistered and split to reveal steaming white flesh. Fat dripped into the embers and hissed. The scent triggered a sharp hunger.

  He ate quickly. He tore the meat from the bone with fingers still stained by black sludge. The taste was a mix of smoke and river minerals. It was fuel to keep him standing. When he finished, he leaned his back against the rough bark of a tree.

  The forest remained aware of him. He felt the weight of the trees pressing against his skin. Shadows pooled in the hollows of the roots even where the light reached. An ancient presence breathed beneath the sound of the water. It was patient.

  His leg throbbed.

  The wolf bite had closed. Mana and the blue potion had forced the flesh to knit together, but the rot remained. He rolled up his torn pant leg to inspect the damage.

  Black lines traced across his calf like ink beneath the skin. They pulsed with a rhythm that did not match his heartbeat. Each throb sent a chill through his muscle. The marks looked darker than the day before. They were growing.

  The Crimson Eyes triggered without his command.

  Heat erupted across the infected flesh. It was a warm sensation that did not burn his skin. He felt the rot beneath his calf recoil. The black veins writhed and tried to burrow toward the bone to escape the light. The crimson fire hunted the darkness through his tissue.

  He watched the veins shrivel. It took minutes for the wrongness to burn away. The dark marks faded into a faint discoloration, looking more like an old bruise than an active infection. The Crimson Eyes dimmed. He stood up and tested his weight. A dull ache remained in the muscle, but he could walk.

  A small dark shape in the grass near the riverbank caught his eye. He thought it was a clump of wet leaves until it moved.

  It was a bird. It lay in the damp grass, its chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow bursts. One wing sat at a sharp angle. Broken bone or torn joints held it in a twisted position. Ash approached and knelt. The bird did not fly. It watched him with yellow eyes, waiting for a predator to finish it.

  Black sludge stained its feathers. The rot was thick and leaked from the wing like oil.

  “You flew through a pocket of it,” Ash said.

  The bird’s beak opened, but only a dry wheeze emerged. He reached out his hand. He hadn't tried to use the Eyes on another living thing yet. He didn't know if the power was limited to his own body.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  He activated the Eyes. Geometric patterns spun in his vision. He focused on the corrupted wing. Nothing changed. The bird continued to struggle. His power hit the surface of the creature like it was hitting a wall of glass.

  He changed his approach. He opened the Seed of Life in his chest. He let the warmth flow down his arm and into his fingertips as he touched the feathers.

  The Seed stirred. Recognition bloomed in his mind. The rot in the bird was the same as the rot he had burned from his leg. It was a twisted mana that had taken a physical form. The Seed in his chest reacted with a surge of aggression.

  Raw power flowed from his palm. It wrapped around the bird's wing like liquid light. The corruption writhed as the mana flooded the small body. The black stains vanished. The twisted bone straightened. Feathers regained their natural brown and white colors.

  The bird’s breathing slowed. Its eyes cleared.

  A black mass fell from the wing and hit the grass. It was wet and small. Ash pulled his hand back as the mass moved.

  Six legs extended from the dark lump. It was a piece of living rot that had separated from its host. It moved with a purposeful crawl.

  Ash’s eyes flared. Instinct moved faster than his fear. A stream of crimson fire erupted from his palm and hit the crawling thing. The creature turned to ash without a sound. He stared at the scorched circle in the grass. The fire had left nothing but carbon.

  The rot could take a shape. It could move on its own. It could leave a host and survive. That thought felt like cold iron in his chest.

  The bird stood up. It extended its wing to test the strength of the limb. It ruffled its feathers and looked at Ash for a second. Then it launched itself into the sky. It circled once and vanished into the canopy. Ash was left alone with the smell of smoke.

  He stood up and brushed the dirt from his knees. The morning air felt colder.

  Two weeks passed.

  The stone walls of the cave became his entire world. He lived by the light of his fire and the steady drip of water. He practiced his magic every day.

  “Dark Gate: Shield.”

  The magic circle formed. The translucent barrier shimmered with the power of the Seed. It was the same shield that had shattered when the wolves attacked. He pushed the crimson fire into the structure. The dark crystal became brighter and more dense. It looked like polished diamond. He tested it by punching the barrier with all his strength. The impact jarred his shoulder and made his teeth ache.

  The shield did not crack. It absorbed the force. He felt the Seed throb from the effort of maintaining the enhanced magic. It was a heavy cost, but the protection was absolute.

  He practiced the spears next.

  “Dark Gate: Void Lances.”

  Five circles appeared above his head. Weapons carved from shadow took shape. He infused them with the crimson fire. The black spears turned into lances of compressed flame. They shrieked through the air and hit the far wall of the cave. The impact shattered the stone. Fragments of superheated rock sprayed through the cavern. Deep holes remained in the wall.

  Speed was his next goal. He gathered mana in his legs and added the fire.

  His first attempt launched him across the cave like a stone from a siege engine. He could not stop his momentum. His shoulder hit the far wall with enough force to crack a rib. He slid down the stone and gasped for air.

  He refined the technique on the second try. He used less fire and more control. He crossed the distance in a single leap and landed on his feet. By the tenth attempt, he could move with a grace that allowed him to dodge and counter.

  Each use of the power drained the Seed. He learned the limits of his new body. He saw the scars on the cave walls from his failed experiments. Burn marks and craters covered the stone. He was the one who had wounded the cavern.

  A full month passed.

  Thirty days of meditation had filled his reserves. He drew mana from the air and the ancient stone with a patience that felt like drowning. He felt the energy building. The Crimson Eyes had changed how the world responded to him.

  The cave pulsed with his power. He felt like he was carrying a second heart made of fire. He sat cross-legged and breathed deep. Every inhalation pulled energy from the shadows.

  When he stood up, his joints popped. He felt solid. The power hummed beneath his skin, ready to be shaped. The forest waited for him outside the cave entrance. It was dark despite the sun. It was full of threats he could not see.

  He stepped toward the light.