The tutorial was nearing its end, and every faction that had conquered its trial was now in a frenzy to prepare for the new world awaiting them. Most bore the blessings of gods who sharpened them like weapons, ready for all-out war and conquest. Not all were as fortunate as the humans of Earth, who faced only three other planets. The majority shared their tutorials with five, sometimes even ten worlds.

This did not necessarily mean their path was harder than Earth's. Those massive worlds, compared to the small planet that Earth would soon merge into, were far richer in natural treasures. The power required to fuse such colossal spheres often seeped into the soil and flora, leaving behind relics of creation, plants glowing with hidden essence, stones heavy with condensed life-force, treasures that could hurl a cultivator forward as if caught in a roaring flood. By multiversal standards, these massive planets were worth far more than New Earth.

The early stages of such worlds were usually gentler, especially with fewer incursions to endure, but after a century they would inevitably ignite into endless battlefields, factions clashing over unique treasures like wolves tearing at a single carcass.

While most factions were completing their final preparations, smaller groups lurked in the shadows, ambushing stragglers to weaken their rivals. One such predator in Thalion's tutorial was Thorwald. For days he had preyed on the hunting parties that dared stray from the safety of Thalion's base. He had even dispatched spies to slip into the city, gathering whispers and maps like spiders spinning invisible threads.

He had learned that Thalion had only recently lost his first comrades. The memory of the man's grief painted a wide grin across Thorwald's face. The pain was an appetizer, the true feast would come later. His patron was pleased with how the tutorial had unfolded, and Thorwald would soon march alongside his god's chosen army on New Earth. Officially, his patron had no interest in Thalion, but Thorwald did not care. For safety, he had already planted one of his men inside Thalion's base to mark its location.

Even if the gods had no desire for vengeance, Thorwald would take Thalion's head himself.

Of course, he needed more strength first. He admitted as much. But there was a bright side. He had carefully watched Thalion's duel with the female elf and seen the truth: the man had no technique. Thalion's spells were sloppy, like a drunken painter flinging colors against a wall, and his refusal to wield a weapon left him vulnerable. Thorwald, on the other hand, had honed his axe through endless slaughter, training his reflexes against the weak hunting parties he ambushed. His skill was sharper, his movements more disciplined. With a few more power-ups after the special quest, he would be ready.

Thorwald's path was clear: stay by his patron's chosen, just as he had once stood beside Steven, and reap the rewards that trickled down. His future gleamed before him, bright as a rising star piercing the night sky.

But for now, frustration gnawed at him. He had hoped to slay some of the more valuable members of Thalion's base, yet their hunting parties moved too quickly, or avoided his traps entirely. It was infuriating. Worse still, Thalion did not even react to the disappearances of his weaker followers. The man seemed indifferent, neither hunting Thorwald personally nor sending generals to respond. Thorwald felt like a wolf howling at empty woods, his prey refusing to acknowledge his presence.

The raids yielded little profit. No rare materials, no treasures worth the effort. Thorwald began to feel that his time was being wasted. He could be hunting stronger beasts, but instead he lingered here, hoping to annoy Thalion. Yes, the city brimmed with life, but if too many went missing, sooner or later questions would rise. Why had Thalion not dealt with the murderers at his doorstep?

"Thorwald, you need to see this!"

The voice of Joe, his most loyal follower, snapped him from his thoughts. The man came running, breathless, waving something in his hand. Thorwald's eyes narrowed. One of the spy crystals? Perhaps the Raha scouts had finally found something of value. Greed surged in his chest.

He snatched the crystal from Joe's hand, ignoring the man's confusion, and instantly linked his vision to the other half. These were not ordinary spy stones. They had been painstakingly modified to reveal flows of power and the glow of mana signatures. Their price was astronomical and so far they had brought no worthy discoveries.

Perhaps this time fortune would smile. A hunter carrying some priceless light-infused treasure, the perfect complement to Thorwald's strong light affinity, that would be ideal.

But when his vision opened, it was not turned toward the hunting grounds at all. Instead, it gazed upon the city itself.

The protective dome no longer shimmered above it.

Now the aura within the city was visible to Thorwald. It looked as if a tide of shadow was rising from its heart, like smoke billowing from a burning abyss. Whatever it was, the aura terrified him. It dwarfed even the strongest guards who patrolled the walls; their presence was snuffed out like candles by strong wind.

Thorwald was a warrior, and he refused to let his fear, or the cold sweat running down his spine show on his face.

"What am I supposed to see?" he bluffed, his voice harsh, as if mocking the very fear gnawing at him. Joe looked at him, perplexed. The scout had probably expected something like "That looks terrifying" or at least a grunt of acknowledgment. But not from Thorwald. He would never show weakness.

Yes, whatever creature or force radiated this aura was lucky he couldn't enter the city and fight it. Otherwise, Thorwald told himself, he would cut it down within moments. The monster inside was fortunate, fortunate to be caged away from him.

"That super-powerful, dark, evil aura rising from the middle. Are you not scared?" Joe asked, surprised, uncertain if he had somehow misspoken.

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"Why should I be scared?" Thorwald snorted, shoving the crystal back into Joe's hands. "Call me when you find someone strong actually leaving the base." Without another word, he turned, chest puffed out as if armored in pride, and walked back toward camp.

Only when he passed beyond Joe's line of sight did his hands begin to tremble uncontrollably. He was grateful no one had seen. The aura had struck deeper than he had expected. Why weren't the people inside the city fleeing in terror? Living there must be like breathing in hell itself.

<--

Thalion, meanwhile, had gone all out in his cruelty toward the captured orcs and elves. He had left the council meeting early, gathering every dark-affinity plant from the alchemists. Curiously, they hadn't mentioned these plants earlier when he was working on runes for the Tidecaller Serpent. Now there were so many that even the crippled Eclipsari devoured them without pause, though it would take every remaining day just to consume them all.

Thalion's darkness cultivation surged with each bite, and his Darkness Elemental reveled in the feast. It fed like a starving beast at a banquet, growing stronger with every mouthful.

Once full, he returned to the Fear Pillar. By now even the last mages had abandoned their work, no matter how much they despised the orcs and elves trapped within, the oppressive aura had broken their resolve. Even Thalion had to admit the pillar's power was greater than he had imagined, and there were still victims left to sacrifice.

He knew it was dangerous, yet he would not stop. Shrinking the pillar and fusing it with his Darkness Elemental could be catastrophic, but the reward would be immense.

He didn't bother torturing the captives slowly. Instead, he struck them down with lightning until their screams ended. His bloodline amplified the damage of his spells, making each beam far too devastating. Climbing atop the pillar, he sank his claws into its surface and unleashed Talon Strike. Electricity howled through the stone like a raging river, tearing through the orcs and elves within.

The pillar could not be destroyed by mere skills, but the lightning coursing through Thalion's claws was enough to kill quickly. One batch of victims lasted no longer than an hour. As the first soul perished, the others fell like dominoes, one after another, while the aura spiked ever higher.

Even Thalion began to feel the crushing weight of the pillar's influence, though his mental defenses held firm. His soul recovered swiftly thanks to the Outsider's aid, and so he maintained his grim rhythm. Eat, torture, repeat. For three days, this cycle continued.

Every time his gaze fell upon an orc, the memory of his slain hunting party sharpened his hatred. The orcs and elves begged for mercy, but Thalion granted them only pain and death. Their screams rolled through the city like thunder, and the aura of despair spread like poison in the wind.

The citizens began fleeing the capital, seeking refuge in conquered cities far away from the pillar.

On the first day, Thalion had also considered using Nathaniel's cursed bandages still lying dormant in his spatial ring. Perhaps a decaying curse woven into the crippled Eclipsari would complement his darkness well. Another option was to use the bandages as a foundation for his blood curse, but for now, he lacked the knowledge to make the curse truly his own.

Nathaniel's curse was maddeningly complex, its nature veiled in runes Thalion couldn't decipher. They coiled across the bandages like serpents whispering in a forgotten tongue. Perhaps the system shop held something useful, but Thalion suspected this would be one of his long-term projects, nothing he could unravel in a matter of days.

Still, the curse worked frighteningly well, and he wanted to observe it in action. He wrapped the bandages partly around the necks of several victims bound to the torture pillar. They died quickly, far too quickly for him to gather much data. Of course, he handled the bandages only with metal tongs, he wasn't foolish enough to touch them with bare skin. Yes, he would heal in time, but this curse was no trifling wound. It was a venom that could rot through the soul itself.

What he could discern was fascinating: the curse contained elements familiar to his pillar. Pain and death seemed to be its central axis, the wheel upon which all else turned. It consumed life itself, siphoning the victims' vital energy and turning it into raw strength, like a parasite that bloomed stronger with every heartbeat it stole. In that way, it resembled the Sanguis Impera, which fed when its blood thorns pierced flesh. When the curse was done, nothing but hollow husks remained, empty shells, like cicada skins left clinging to the bark of a tree.

There was an undeniable hint of necromancy in its structure. If Thalion could truly master it, he could weave curses into his own forms. He imagined a blood curse fused with the Sanguis Impera. Every enemy slain would rise again, transformed into a frenzied bloodbeast. A battlefield would become a forest of corpses, each one blooming red with fury at his command.

The potential was intoxicating. Not only would it grant him berserking servants, but the influx of experience would be immense. His blood skills already surpassed those of most blood cultivators, yet with a curse woven into their very core, he would push his danger level even higher.

But this would take time. It was destined to be a long-term project, like ritual magic, or learning to maintain control over his human form after invoking the One Form.

For now, the blood curse and ritual magic would wait until after the tutorial. His priority was feeding and charging the Fear Pillar further. In two or three days, he planned to attempt the fusion, leaving himself at least a day or two to recover if necessary. Risk was inevitable. To climb higher, one had to gamble. A predator who feared the cliff's edge would never see the mountain's peak.

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