Single for Eternity
Chapter 66: Corruption (2)

Chapter 66: Corruption (2)

I stammered while speaking further, my mind racing with countless possible questions. Was this man Ness himself, or Skin, or maybe both? But they were the same, right? Should I run? Could I even do that? Every fiber of my being screamed at me to flee, yet something rooted me to the spot, an invisible force of dread and intrigue intertwining, keeping me locked in place.

Perhaps he saw my flustered appearance, because he chuckled lightly, his tone tinged with amusement and mockery. "Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I can control my corruption."

I was skeptical. How could he? And more importantly, what exactly was corruption? As such, I asked the burning question, my voice low but firm. "What exactly is corruption?"

He nodded his head as if he had been expecting that very question. "Corruption, in simpler terms, is knowledge."

Intrigued, I pressed further. "Meaning?"

Leaning back on his chair, he seemed to be brooding over something before he finally spoke, his voice dark and heavy. "It’s like knowing or imagining existence beyond nothingness or bypassing the shimmering membrane of realms. It is taboo, forbidden knowledge."

I nodded, slowly digesting his words, though they left a bitter taste in my mouth.

He continued, his tone laced with something akin to reverence. "If you stumble upon such knowledge, if you pry where you shouldn’t, you gain the forbidden wisdom. And that—that is what corrupts you. Corruption is the defiance of us lesser beings against the laws of the cosmos, the higher powers."

I tapped my fingers against the side of my chair, thinking, contemplating, trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle he was laying before me.

I met his gaze, his eerie, knowing gaze, and asked, "What exactly happens to a corrupted being?"

He chuckled, a lighthearted sound that felt out of place given the gravity of our discussion. "It depends on how exactly you acquired that knowledge. The corruption will manifest according to your defiance, your transgression against the natural order."

A shiver crawled down my spine as he sighed before adding, "But one thing is the same for every corrupted soul. They suffer. Not just ordinary pain, but unrelenting, excruciating torment, ceaseless and merciless. Until they find a way to lessen the agony."

An uneasy silence settled between us, the weight of his words pressing against me like a suffocating fog. My mind raced. If corruption meant suffering, if it brought ceaseless pain, then what was his antidote? What kept him from breaking apart?

My voice was steady but slightly faltering as I asked, "What is your antidote?"

His smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, more unsettling. "Serving Lord Skin. Increasing his influence on the living world."

My breath hitched.

Increasing his influence? That was just another way of saying awakening that eldritch horror, wasn’t it? Bringing forth something that should never walk among the living.

I stammered before asking, "How exactly do you increase his influence?"

His expression remained unreadable. "You already know."

I did. I didn’t want to, but I did.

We both spoke in unison.

"Sacrifice."

My throat felt dry, my skin clammy. My fingers curled against my palm to keep myself grounded, to stop the rising panic that threatened to consume me. "Then what do you want me to do?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "You can’t do anything in your current state. This town is filled with horrors beyond the comprehension of mortal minds—spawns of Lord Skin."

My heartbeat pounded like war drums. "Then what?"

His expression shifted ever so slightly. "Then what?" he echoed, as if mulling over the question himself. He placed his hand on his chin, contemplating. "Get stronger. Then come back and kill an immortal."

Silence.

And then—laughter. Pure, unfiltered, boisterous laughter. It burst from me involuntarily, an uncontrollable, borderline hysterical sound. "You... want me to kill? A literal immortal? How?"

He smirked and mumbled something inaudible to me, his gaze flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. "Because you are uncertainty itself. The enemy of the Cosmic Order or at least thats what I think or most importantly...Hope."

He took one last sip of his tea before standing up. "You will understand when you get stronger, when you learn more about the world. Just keep in mind—I won’t hold back from defending myself."

Before I could process the weight of what had just transpired, the scenery shifted. Without warning, I was somewhere else.

A chamber. A room filled to the brim with aether crystals, shimmering like trapped stardust. The very same spherical green orbs I had extracted from the spider.

"Catch it!"

Reflexively, I reached out, my hands closing around something smooth and round. I turned toward the voice. Ebon Val Borg stood there, smiling.

He leaned against a table, his arms crossed. "Take them as a souvenir from me. There are enough aether crystals for your awakening and some sporb for your travels."

I stared at him, bewildered. Was this man giving me his own bounty?

I wasn’t about to question it. Hell no. I had come here for these very things, and now they were practically being handed to me.

Ebon noticed my expression and chuckled. "You look awfully happy for someone who just got gifts from an immortal being."

Was that sarcasm? I didn’t cafe. I didn’t even try to hide my excitement. My ticket to awakening was in my hands. "Of course I’m happy!"

His laughter was light. "Good for you. I suppose this is goodbye, then."

I suddenly remembered the mercenary group. "Your Immortality, do you have any information about my mercenary group?"

He shook his head. A small relief washed over me—they hadn’t been caught yet.

"Can you teleport me to Crescent Pond?" I asked.

He smirked. "You’re quite demanding."

I shot back, "You started it."

His chuckle resonated through the chamber. "Fair enough." With a flick of his wrist, a black sphere enveloped both of us. A single pulse, and the next moment, we stood at Crescent Pond.

The sky was painted in hues of deep orange and violet. The dusk had arrived.

"Thanks, Your Immortality," I muttered.

He gave a knowing smile. "Any other requests?"

I hesitated before asking, "Were the emergency requests a fraud?"

He nodded. "Yes. A means to gather more sacrifices and search for people like you."

Interesting.

One last question lingered on my tongue. "Who is your wife?"

A small, muffled laugh escaped him. He was genuinely trying to suppress his amusement. "You’ve met her quite... closely. The barmaid you kissed, Priscilla."

His voice turned cold at the last word.

I paled.

Before I could grovel at his feet for forgiveness, he vanished, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

’Well. Fuck.’

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