CHAPTER 222: EX 222. CORRUPTION

The city of Shantel fell into mourning at the news. The streets that were once filled with laughter and life were muted with grief. Black banners draped from the manor walls, and bells tolled through the day and night. Lord Richard’s death was too sudden, too strange. No poison traced in his veins. No wounds, no sickness. He had gone to bed in good health, and by morning, simply never rose again.

It was a chilling reminder to the people of how fragile life truly was.

None suffered more than Pius. He had only just begun to change, to mend the pieces of himself under the weight of his father’s hand and wisdom. Now, that pillar, the only man who had kept him from falling apart was gone. His elder brother Josiah tried to shoulder the burden with him, their bond tightening through shared grief. But fate was merciless. Within a year, Josiah too was taken, claimed by a sudden illness no healer could cure.

And so Pius’s fragile world, carefully being rebuilt, collapsed once more.

That was when the voices returned.

They no longer whispered; they thundered in his mind, urging him toward unspeakable acts. At first, he resisted, clutching to the memory of his father’s words, the lessons from the garden. But slowly, insidiously, the corruption twisted them. Richard’s voice began to mingle with the others, reshaped into a cruel echo:

Make Shantel great again.

The madness began softly, but corruption had already taken root. Its origin was unknowable, its intent devastating. Yet, strangely, the people of Shantel were spared its wrath. The corruption did not strike at them directly. No, it turned outward, against outsiders, against anyone who threatened Shantel’s existence.

In its own warped logic, Shantel could only be "great" if nothing else remained to rival it.

But corruption alone was weak. It needed time, vessels, and power. Pius, already stained, already broken became the perfect conduit. He learned patience. He hid behind masks, reshaping his life again and again. Each time he grew too old, he shed his identity, returning as his own son, another "Pius," continuing the cycle. Generations rose and fell, yet the tyrant endured, feeding on havoc and weaving his influence deeper into Shantel’s legacy.

The bear became his greatest weapon. What the people of Shantel feared as a beast of destruction was, in truth, his emissary, carrying corruption’s will into surrounding lands. Compared to other cities that fell to its rampage, Shantel was blessed. It remained intact, the corruption protecting its nest, devouring everything else.

And when his plans neared fruition, when the last threads of power were ready to be gathered, another menace stepped into the forest.

Leon.

Now, as Pius’s headless body sprawled lifelessly on the marble floor, his severed head lay staring blankly upward. Black mist seeped from its eyes, ears, and mouth, curling into the air like smoke from a pyre.

Leon narrowed his gaze, tightening his grip on his blade.

"He’s not dead yet."

But before he could move, the floor split with a violent crack. A jagged black rock thrust upward, spearing through Pius’s mouth, pinning the head to the ground.

The mist shrieked like a thousand voices. And in the next instant.

The corruption began.

****

The moment Leon’s hand clasped the City Lord’s, he felt it. A hideousness so foul it clawed beneath the flesh, hidden behind the mask of humanity. The splitting headache that followed wasn’t just pain, it was his body’s rejection of everything the creature was. Instinct screamed. His sword flashed. And before hesitation could take root, the Lord’s head was sent rolling across the marble floor.

But it wasn’t enough.

Because the thing had a backup plan.

The silence that followed broke when the ground shuddered. The guards and James’s squad staggered back in unison, weapons raised but eyes wide with disbelief. From the fissures spreading across the courtyard floor, something crawled free.

James’s face drained of color as he stumbled back, voice breaking, "What... what the hell is that?"

No answer came; only the sound of stone splitting and flesh squirming.

The monstrosity stood tall before the library, wrong in every conceivable way. Its form was golem-like, massive and towering, but not made of stone. No, the creature’s entire body was built from heads. Countless human heads, twisted together, stacked atop one another, each bearing expressions of frozen terror. Their mouths opened and closed, whispering curses, screams, and sobs in one ghastly chorus.

Leon’s eyes narrowed, his grip firm on his blade. "These... are the people he sacrificed."

He watched in cold silence as more faces surfaced across its shifting body, newly awakened as black stone jutted from the creature’s crown, pulsing like a heart. Energy poured from it, feeding the abomination, forcing its body to swell higher, until it loomed like a two-story building.

And then it roared.

Not from a single mouth, but from every face at once. Thousands of voices bellowed in agonized unison, the sound crashing like a tidal wave over Shantel. Windows shattered, walls shook, and every man, woman, and child in the city felt it reverberate in their bones. Those too weak to resist crumpled where they stood, blood spilling from ears and noses, consciousness ripped away. The weakest, unfortunate souls died outright, their hearts ruptured by the force of it.

The guards clutched their weapons, trembling. James’s squad fell to their knees, shielding their ears, unable to look.

But Leon stood unmoving. His white hair whipped backward in the storm of pressure, his expression cold, stripped of all humanity. His sword gleamed under the light as he raised it, aiming the blade directly at the abomination.

The resentment pouring off the creature was suffocating, rage, agony, despair, all coiled into one festering knot. Leon didn’t flinch. He understood it now. This wasn’t just a monster. This was corruption made flesh.

His gaze hardened. His voice was flat, resolute. "You’re corruption itself."

And then, without waiting for the monstrosity to make its move, Leon vanished in a burst of speed. Tier III Force flared across his entire body, lightning dancing along his frame as his aura exploded.

The ground cracked beneath him.

In the next heartbeat, Leon launched himself forward—

and dove straight into the heart of the corruption itself.