Harnessing The Sundial's Power (2)

Bagwis' entire body trembled, his vision swimming with black spots as his mana core flared violently, struggling to contain the sudden influx of raw, corrupted energy.

Every pulse of the sundial's dark power felt like knives stabbing through his veins, and he knew if he lost focus for even a second, he'd be swallowed whole by the madness lurking within. Gah! I remember this pain like it was yesterday!

Sweat poured down his face, and his breathing came in ragged gasps, but he kept going. Piece by piece, he devoured the artifact, each bite worse than the last. His stomach churned as if trying to reject the eaten object. Fucking hell! Why did the old man have to make such painful arts?!

If Bagwis could talk to his master right now he'd most definitely curse at him for creating such a sadistic technique.

When he swallowed the last shard, his body went completely numb. For a moment, there was nothing but silence in his mind—a deep, endless void that threatened to consume him whole. Then the sundial's power exploded inside him.

The pain was beyond words.

Bagwis collapsed to the ground, gripping his chest as the corrupted mana began to flood through his body. It twisted and coiled like a snake, winding itself around his mana core, seeping into every fiber of his being. His hands clawed at the ground, teeth grinding together as he fought the urge to let the corruption take over. 

His master had warned him that this was the moment that separated the survivors from the madmen.

If you let it take you now, you'll never come back.

His mind wavered, thoughts growing hazy as flashes of madness threatened to overtake him—images of blood, carnage, the sound of screams echoing in his ears. The corrupted mana sought to unravel his sanity, to push him into the abyss of evil.

With a shuddering breath, Bagwis reached deep within himself, grabbing hold of his own mana, using it to push back against the corruption. He focused all his willpower on stabilizing the chaotic energy swirling inside of him.

Slowly, agonizingly, the writhing corruption began to settle, coiling itself around his core like a serpent lying in wait. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling with exhaustion.

He felt… hollow. Weak. Yet his body thrummed with newfound energy. Not raw strength exactly, but something more subtle, more deceptive. He reached out and felt the change in his aura. The artifacts power, though dangerous, had left him with something invaluable: an illusion of power. It was just what he needed for his plans, a tool to fool, deceive, and manipulate.

Bagwis grinned to himself as he realized what he had gained. The sundial's original ability was one of deception. It allowed its user to project an aura of faux strength, making them appear far more strong than they truly were. To anyone sensing his mana, Bagwis would now seem similar to Alab's power level— a Haraya, leagues above his true strength.

"Perfect," he muttered, a wicked smile curling on his pale his lips. "Now I understand why his master once said that the artifact he got was of zero use to him." To someone of his masters caliber this artifact was really of no help. But that wasn't the case for the weak Bagwis. This artifacts power was the perfect fit for him, he couldn't ask for anything more!

The ritual was complete, but there was a cost to be paid for the power acquired. Much like the laws of the world; equivalent exchange.

If one successfully gains the power of the corrupted artifact one would require to have the energy to keep it from consuming him or her. And that is through sheer will, concentration, and determination.

To the average man it might be impossible but to him who was living his second life, it was as simple as a walk in the park.

Bagwis laughed quietly to himself, his usual childish façade slipping into something darker, more calculating. This is going to be fun.

He laughed weakly, clutching his sides as the chuckles turned into a manic fit. The pain still coursed through him, but the thrill of what he had just achieved outweighed it.

Outside the tent, Alab sat by the fire, still keeping watch. The night was quiet, but his sharp instincts told him something had shifted. He glanced toward the tent where Bagwis rested, frowning slightly. For a moment, he thought he sensed something—an intense presence, a powerful warrior, perhaps.

But when the tent remained still and he heard Bagwis' sounds of laughter, Alab shook his head, dismissing the sensation. Must be my imagination, he thought.

Still, the unease lingered in the back of his mind.

But just in case, tomorrow, Alab thought with a hint of worry that he wouldn't dare admit, I'll keep a closer eye on the kid.