Harnessing The Sundial's Power (1)

The crackling of the campfire filled the silence of the night as Alab sat, sword resting across his lap, his eyes scanning the shadows of the forest. He was alert, as always, a silent sentinel guarding their small camp. The only sounds that broke the stillness were the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of night creatures.

Bagwis on the other hand, sat inside their makeshift tent as his heart was racing against his ribcage as he stared down at the sundial resting on his lap—the corrupted sundial. The artifact radiated a subtle but undeniable malevolence, pulsing faintly.

Bagwis took a deep breath, his mind swirling with everything his master had taught him. He pulled out a small dagger from his belt, its edge glinting in the dim moonlight. With a swift, practiced motion, he drew the blade across his palm, opening a deep wound that immediately gushed with warm blood. The pain was sharp but fleeting but he wasn't bothered, after all, he'd done this before.

You should first bathe the artifact of your very own mana infused blood.

The blood dripped down onto the sundial, each drop soaking into the darkened metal surface as though it was being greedily absorbed. Bagwis closed his eyes, centering himself, focusing on the flow of mana within and around him. His master's teachings echoed in his mind.

Unlike most adventurers or warriors who used artifacts like tools to amplify their abilities—like a sword to cut or a shield to defend. His master, The Lonewolf Sitan—had taught him a far more lunatic method of harnessing an artifact's power. 

Artifacts, like humans, possessed mana cores, concentrated centers of power that gave them their unique properties. And corrupted artifacts....well, they were on a whole different level.

The transfusion of corrupted mana was a forbidden art that was personally created by his master. The mana was volatile, tainted by corrupted mana coming from dreadful energy and born from unimaginable negative forces. Using it required more than skill—it required pure madness, and a good deal of mental strength.

Most who tried to wield such corrupted artifacts ended up consumed by it, driven insane or worse, turned into monsters themselves. But Bagwis wasn't most people— as for he was the sole disciple of the Lonewolf Sitan who was infamous for his insanity.

He recalled his master's ritual clearly. It wasn't just about controlling the artifact—it was about becoming one with its core.

His hand held the artifact, blood dripping, fingers spread, as he began to concentrate in getting ready to transfuse the artifacts corrupted mana core into his very own.

Normally, artifacts were tools, powerful objects that adventurers and warriors used to amplify their abilities. But his masters method were far more inconceivable.

He was about to consume the sundial's corrupted core.

Bagwis was prepared. His master had taught him how to let the madness flow through him without losing control. You have to dance with the darkness, his master had once said, but never let it lead.

The sundial began to vibrate slightly from his hand, its dark aura intensifying as the corrupted mana within stirred. Bagwis felt the tainted mana begin to seep into him, snaking through his blood veins like poison. His muscles tensed, and his vision flickered with dark tendrils at the edges.

The mana was trying to overwhelm him, to break him, to corrupt him beyond repair. Not so fast you corrupt artifact! Bagwis held firm, his will like iron as he directed the flow of energy into a single point, his own mana core.

Most sane people saw the corruption in artifacts as an inevitable path to madness. Once corrupted, the artifact could corrupt its wielder, driving them insane.

His heart raced as he thought back to his master's words, "You don't use it like a weapon. You become it."

The absolute lunatic way to garner an artifact, and that was through direct consumption. Devour it whole.

Bagwis raised the sundial to his mouth, with not a moments hesitation. The artifact pulsed with an ominous glow, as if it knew what was about to happen. He could feel the vile energy emanating from within, ready to twist and bend his mind if his mind wasn't strong enough.

CRUNCH!

The first bite was excruciating.

His teeth cracked down on the ancient artifact, and immediately, a searing pain shot through his jaw, reverberating into his skull. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream, as shards of corrupted mana-infused metal dug into his gums and tongue. Each piece he swallowed was like molten lead sliding down his throat, burning and clawing its way into his gut. It felt as though it was tearing him apart from the inside. Shit. I definitely do not miss this excruciating feeling.