Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System-Chapter 389: Mutated Second Floor: The Grave of Grotesque Toads (7)

Sylus’s gaze hardened. "That’s the real question. Whoever placed this gem had the knowledge and power to set this entire chain of events in motion. And they didn’t leave it here by accident. This was a calculated move."

Cyrus clenched his fists, his eyes scanning the ruined church, his mind racing. "So, someone is behind this corruption. But what’s their end goal? And why this dungeon?"

Sylus shook his head slowly. "That, we don’t know yet. But one thing’s for certain—whoever did this didn’t expect us to find it so quickly. We need to be on guard. This corruption isn’t just a random occurrence... it’s part of a larger plan."

Athena glanced at Cyrus, her eyes filled with determination. "Then we should be ready for whoever—or whatever—comes next."

"Do you have to speak in movie lines?" Cyrus cringed.

"Once again, I have no clue what a movie is."

As the three stood over the shattered fragments, the atmosphere felt charged with residual magic. The corrupted energy still lingered, like an unseen force threading through the air, waiting for the right moment to strike. Athena narrowed her eyes, already formulating a plan.

"This kind of magic isn’t something we can brute force or dispel," she said, her sharp gaze moving between Sylus and Cyrus. "We need a different approach—something that addresses the nature of the spell itself."

Cyrus, arms crossed, looked at the swirling remnants of aether still drifting through the room. "I’ve dealt with ancient spells before, but this feels... like it’s embedded into the very essence of the dungeon. It’s not just a spell—it’s a seed that’s taken root."

Sylus, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward, his golden eyes scanning the room. "You’re both right. This spell wasn’t just cast—it’s tied to the dungeon’s core. Its corruption spreads because it’s feeding on the miasma and the dungeon’s energy. But what if... instead of trying to destroy it, we transform it?"

Athena raised an eyebrow. "Transform it?"

Sylus nodded, a plan forming in his mind. "The spell is ancient, but so is the aether that runs through this dungeon. Normally, aether is used to purify or restore. But what if we could reverse its flow, making the spell consume itself?"

Cyrus’s eyes lit up at the idea. "You mean we’d use the dungeon’s own energy against it? Essentially forcing the spell to devour its own power source?"

"Exactly," Sylus said, a grin spreading across his face. "We don’t destroy the spell outright—we manipulate the energy it’s drawing from and turn it inward, creating a feedback loop. Once it collapses in on itself, it will release the hold it has on the dungeon."

Athena was already calculating the risks. "But that kind of manipulation would require extreme precision. A single misstep, and we could trigger a complete collapse of the dungeon."

"We’ll need to be careful," Sylus admitted. "But it’s possible. Especially with the three of us."

Cyrus, sensing the magnitude of the task, extended his hand, conjuring a swirl of aether from his palm. "If we’re going to do this, we need to work in tandem. I’ll guide the aether flow, but you"—he looked at Sylus—"will need to stabilize the dungeon’s energy core while Athena channels the residual magic from the gem."

Athena stepped forward, her fingers brushing against the blue gem’s remnants. "I’ll focus on controlling the remaining spell fragments. With my affinity for illusion magic, I can mold them into something we can use."

Sylus gave a confident nod. "I’ll ensure the dungeon doesn’t destabilize during the process. But we’ll need to synchronize perfectly."

The three took their positions. Cyrus stood at the center, his aether swirling around him like a storm of light, pushing back the miasma that still clung to the walls. Athena, positioned near the shattered gem, began weaving her magic, coaxing the spell’s fractured energy into an illusionary net that would help contain its chaotic power. Sylus, his hands glowing with his own mastery of aether, reached out to the very core of the dungeon, stabilizing the flow of energy that was tied to the ancient spell.

As they worked, the room darkened, the corrupted energy sensing its impending destruction. The air crackled with tension, as if the dungeon itself resisted their efforts. But the three pushed forward, each one in perfect sync with the others. The aether Cyrus controlled spiraled outward, wrapping around the broken remnants of the gem, while Athena’s illusionary net held the chaotic magic in place. Sylus, meanwhile, guided the dungeon’s energy into a controlled stream, forcing it to feed into the spell’s core. Explore more stories at novelbuddy

For a moment, everything stood still.

As the three stood over the shattered fragments, the air in the ruined church hummed with residual magic, thick and tense. But that moment of calm was violently shattered. Without warning, the decayed walls burst apart, the wood and stone exploding inward like brittle paper, and a tidal wave of grotesque monsters flooded the room.

The knights stationed at the perimeter barely had time to react. Twisted creatures—fiends, corrupted beyond recognition—rushed in, their bodies malformed with sinew and bone, dripping with miasma. Their glowing eyes locked onto the knights, and in an instant, the first wave struck. Claws tore through armor, fangs sunk deep into flesh, and blood splattered across the crumbling stone floor.

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Screams filled the air as the knights were ripped apart, their bodies consumed by the fiends. One knight’s arm was torn clean from his body, another was tackled to the ground, his face shredded by a monstrous maw. The beasts devoured them with frenzied hunger, feasting on their broken forms without pause. The few knights who managed to raise their weapons were quickly overwhelmed, their defenses crumbling under the sheer brutality of the onslaught.

Cyrus’ eyes narrowed as he took in the carnage. "There’s too many!" he shouted, already stepping forward, aether swirling around him as he conjured his thin, radiant sword. But the monsters were relentless, pouring in faster than they could be slain.

Sylus, his face set in grim determination, raised his hand, summoning a massive greatsword out of thin air. The blade shimmered with aetheric energy, a weapon far larger than anything he’d wielded before. With a roar, he swung it downward, cleaving through the first group of fiends that lunged toward him. His movements were powerful, almost primal, the greatsword crashing into the ground with enough force to crack the stone beneath their feet.

The fiends, however, were undeterred. They kept coming, surging toward Sylus like a wave of nightmares. He swung again, carving a path through the horde, but for everyone he felled, two more took its place. "Focus!" he bellowed, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of snarls and screams.

Athena fought to hold the line, her magic flaring as she conjured illusions to disorient the monsters. But even with her spells, the creatures were too many, too relentless. Her illusions barely slowed them down, their claws slicing through her barriers with terrifying ease. She flicked her hands, conjuring bolts of arcane energy that slammed into the fiends, but they barely staggered. They were beasts driven by an insatiable hunger—nothing would stop them.

A fiend lunged at her, its jaws wide, ready to tear her apart. Athena sidestepped, but its claws grazed her arm, drawing blood. She gritted her teeth, her eyes glowing with fury as she sent a blast of magic into its chest, obliterating it. But as she turned, another fiend was already upon her.

Cyrus moved faster than he ever had. His sword, made of pure aether, flashed as he cut through the monsters with effortless grace. Each strike was lethal, the blade cutting through flesh without even touching it. He fought like a whirlwind, his movements precise and deadly, but even he was starting to feel the weight of the endless horde.

"They’re not stopping!" he growled, slicing through another fiend, its body crumbling to the ground in pieces. His gaze flicked to the torn bodies of the knights, their remains scattered across the room, and his jaw clenched. "Damn it."

Sylus swung his greatsword in a wide arc, decapitating three fiends in one swing, but even he couldn’t hold them back forever. "We can’t fight them all!" he shouted, his breath labored. "We need to get out of here!"

But there was no escape—the monsters had already surrounded them. The fiends pressed in from all sides, their jaws snapping, their claws reaching. They were trapped in the heart of the ruined church, a battlefield soaked in blood and corruption.

Cyrus gritted his teeth, the glow of his aether sword intensifying. "Then we kill them all!" he snarled, his voice dripping with frustration and determination. He stepped forward, his sword raised high, ready to carve a path through the monsters. But even as he braced himself for the fight ahead, he knew the odds were grim. The fiends weren’t going to stop—they would devour everything in their path, no matter how many of them fell.

The battle had become a desperate struggle for survival.