Single Wish: Rise Of The Omniscient Paragon

Outside the ruined Temple of the Old Ones, an extremely strange but extremely bone-chilling scene could be seen.

A thick corrosive black fog surrounded the ruined temple and its surroundings, and in this thick black fog were hundreds of sleeping men and women.

There was nothing wrong or strange in men and women sleeping, but what was strange and terrifying was the fact that these hundreds of men and women were equipped for war but they were all sleeping at the same time, and not a single individual was awake.

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The sound of hooves echoed across the land, sounding like it came from everywhere at the same time. A few moments later, the source of the sound appeared at the center of the sleeping men and women.

It was a massive, nightmarish steed. It was enormous, thrice the size of a normal horse, its sheer size defied what could be considered normal. Its body was sleek but grotesque, covered in dark, scale-like armor that shimmered faintly, as though coated in an oily sheen.

On its head was a jagged helmet which allowed its burning crimson eyes to be seen. Wisps of black mist poured from its nostrils, and it drifted upward and surrounded its rider like a moving shroud. Behind the steed were faint burning cracks that were left behind in its steps.

This nightmarish steed was called a Nyxmare.

On top of the massive, nightmarish Nyxmare was a figure that had a regal yet menacing appearance and aura. Stay updated via My Virtual Library Empire

The man on the horse, if he could still be called a man, carried himself with an unnatural grace. His tall, lean frame was draped in a long, flowing black coat trimmed with crimson and silver.

The coat swayed gently in the wind, and its edges appeared slightly frayed but unnervingly precise, as though it had been burned into that shape. Beneath the coat was a dark leather armor that covered his body, and its surface was etched with intricate runes that flickered faintly in the dim light of the black fog.

A crimson cloak hung loosely from his shoulders, tattered and frayed, but instead of looking unkempt, it added to the aura of dread that surrounded him. His gloves were smooth, and a strange, organic sheen was added to the leather. Even his boots were polished to an unsettling perfection.

The man's face was pale, far too pale, like a porcelain drained of life. And yet, it was disturbingly beautiful. His features were sharp, almost sculpted, with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that were often curled into a faint, knowing smirk.

His eyes were golden irises with slit pupils that glowed faintly in the dark, and in their depths was something incomprehensible. To look into those eyes was to stare into an endless abyss of malice and chaos.

Around his neck hung a chain that was twisted and blackened, and on this chain was a pendant in the shape of a dark crystal. The crystal pulsed faintly, as though it was alive, with a rhythm that felt out of sync with the world around it.

A sword rested across his lap, long and wickedly curved. Its blade was darker than the starless night, devouring every flicker of light that dared to touch it while crimson cracks pulsed along its edges. It seemed to hum with restrained hunger, as though yearning for the next soul to sever.

The weapon's name was Soulcleaver.

Despite his calm, regal posture, there was a terrifying weight to his presence. His aura seemed to press down on the air itself, making every breath feel heavier for those around him. The ground beneath the Nyxmare's hooves showed faint signs of decay, and cracks formed and spread outwardly as though rejecting the very existence of the being atop it.

This man was the Throne, and although he was humanoid, everything about him screamed of something far beyond human. He was a being forged from chaos, power, and an insatiable hunger for domination.

As the Throne sat on top of his steed, his golden slit eyes did not even spare a glance at the temple which was his main reason for coming into this place. Instead, his eyes were on a particular individual, and this individual was Corey.

His golden slits had a tinge of surprise in his eyes as he gazed at Corey, a sight that would stun and cause waves of disbelief to emerge in the hearts of those who knew the personality of the Throne best.

"How surprising. He has a fragment of the Old One in him, and he doesn't seem to be corrupted by it. How is that possible? How did he do it?"

The Throne spoke with an extremely deep voice, and then he hummed. Nyxmare moved slightly and neighed, and the Throne looked at the Nyxmare.

"I know too. His body is extremely special. Even with the immense difference between us, I'm only able to see the surface level of his body. I can't peer deep into his body."

The Throne shifted his gaze from the Nyxmare to Corey, and then his lips curled up.

"I was merely curious as to how the weakest life form among all of them was the person that lasted the longest in our fog of corruption… But now, I'm curious as to what secrets he has."

"Maybe his body contains the secret and method on how to remove the corruption of the fragment of the Old One."

A light of desire flickered in the eyes of the Throne, and then the Nyxmare moved towards Corey's sleeping figure.

With each step that the Nyxmare took, the ground quaked slightly, faint cracks spread from its feet, and scorched marks were left behind on the ground.

Those who were unfortunate to be in the path of the Nyxmare died under its weight and hooves as it stepped on them, crushing their bodies without mercy.

Luckily and strangely, Divine and Melissa were not in the path of the Nyxmare.

The Nyxmare stopped in front of Corey, and the Throne looked at him for a few seconds with the light of intrigue in his eyes.

"I should cripple your legs before that daring pest arrives. I don't want you to suddenly wake up and attempt to escape while we're fighting."

The Throne opened his right palm, and a long spear made out of black flames mixed with a tinge of gold formed in his hands. Space and the air were distorted in the presence of the flaming spear, and the moisture in the air in the surroundings became dry.

He gripped the spear, and then he stabbed at Corey's legs.

However, to the Throne's immense disbelief and shock, Corey disappeared just as the spear was about to touch his legs.

"What?"