Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

Without warning, the crystal shattered.

A deafening crack rang through the church, followed by a surge of dark energy. From the remnants of the crystal, a torrent of miasma burst forth, swirling and writhing like a living entity. The thick, black fog twisted and spread with alarming speed, engulfing the entire church in moments.

The miasma flowed outward, spilling through the cracks in the walls, creeping like a shadow through the dungeon's twisting corridors. It moved with purpose, seeking, searching, until it found the newborn Autumn Toads, freshly spawned in the dungeon's lower layers.

The first of the toads to encounter the miasma froze in place, their large, bulbous eyes widening as the dark fog enveloped them. They croaked in confusion, but it was too late. The miasma seeped into their flesh, twisting and warping their bodies. Their once vibrant colors dulled to a sickly greenish-black, their eyes glowing with an unnatural, malevolent light.

The new generation of Autumn Toads had been infected, their forms were now bloated and grotesque, their power warped by the dark essence that coursed through their veins. The dungeon had changed once again, corrupted by the release of the crystal's long-contained power.

The next day, the air in the infirmary was thick with tension and disbelief. Nurses and healers bustled around the room, their expressions growing more and more horrified as they examined Cyrus. The adventurer, who had been on the brink of death just the night before, was now sitting up in bed, almost fully healed. His body, which had been riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones, seemed almost entirely restored. The only remnants of the battle were a few sharp pains in his muscles, likely due to cramping from malnutrition, and his mana reserves, which were still sluggish to regenerate.

Cyrus, though clearly recovering, looked drained, his skin pale and taut over his frame. He hadn't been eating much recently, and it was beginning to take its toll. But as soon as he woke up, the hunger hit him like a wave, and he wasted no time. The guild provided him with plates of food, and he devoured them without restraint. One after the other, the plates were cleared, leaving the kitchen staff scrambling to keep up with his ravenous appetite. It was as though his body was demanding fuel to catch up with the immense strain he had placed on it.

The healers exchanged stunned glances. They had expected his recovery to take days if not weeks. And yet, here he was, devouring plates upon plates of food like nothing had happened.

But if Cyrus' rapid recovery had left the staff in shock, Athena's condition had utterly flabbergasted them. The nurses had been bracing for the worst with her, given the extent of her injuries. Her body had been mangled, practically torn apart during the battle, yet now…

She looked as though she had never even been injured.

Athena, sitting on the opposite side of the infirmary, was also busy demolishing plate after plate of food. Her appetite matched Cyrus', her body ravenous for sustenance to fuel her rapid regeneration. The healers stared at her, speechless. There was not a scratch on her skin, no sign of the terrible damage that had nearly ended her life the day before. It was as though her body had healed itself overnight, leaving no trace of the horrors she had endured.

One of the nurses shook her head in disbelief, muttering to her colleagues, "I've never seen anything like this… it's like she wasn't even hurt in the first place."

Cyrus glanced over at Athena between bites of food. She caught his eye, offering a slight nod in acknowledgment. Though still clearly recovering, they both shared an unspoken understanding—whatever had happened in that dungeon, whatever power they had tapped into, it had changed them both in ways even they couldn't fully comprehend.

By the next day, Cyrus had fully recovered, his body no longer showing any signs of the intense battle he had endured. His mana had returned to normal, and his energy surged through him once more. Athena, too, was in peak condition, her incredible regenerative abilities having worked their magic overnight. Both of them were ready to return to the dungeon, but before diving back into the depths, they decided to make a pitstop at a nearby café for breakfast.

The café, tucked away in a quiet corner of the bustling city, exuded an inviting coziness as they stepped inside. The warmth of the place was immediately apparent, from the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods that hung in the air to the soft golden light filtering through the large, arched windows. The gentle murmur of conversation mixed with the occasional clink of porcelain cups and plates, created an atmosphere of calm that stood in stark contrast to the harsh, chaotic world of the dungeon.

Plush armchairs and wooden tables dotted the room, each one adorned with small vases of fresh flowers. The walls were lined with shelves holding books and trinkets, while paintings of serene landscapes hung in between. A low fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a gentle warmth that made the entire café feel like a peaceful retreat from the outside world.

As they found a table by the window, Cyrus allowed himself to relax, the tension of the past few days slowly melting away. Athena seemed equally at ease, her usually sharp demeanor softened in the cozy surroundings. They ordered a hearty breakfast, the promise of warm pastries and rich coffee already making the morning feel a little brighter.

The café was small but bustling with life, each patron seeming to savor the tranquil space. The soft hum of activity blended perfectly with the soothing ambiance, making it the perfect spot for a brief respite before they embarked on another dangerous venture into the unknown.

Cyrus and Athena sat down at a small, wooden table by the window, the warm light of the morning spilling in as they settled into the plush chairs. They ordered coffee and a few light treats—a couple of warm pastries and some fresh fruit. As the server walked away to prepare their order, the familiar awkward silence once again crept between them, lingering like a heavy fog that neither of them could quite shake.

Cyrus fidgeted slightly, feeling the weight of the quiet grow uncomfortable. His thoughts churned, thinking of everything they had just gone through and the strange connection that seemed to hang between them—one that neither had fully explored. Unable to take the silence any longer, he finally spoke up.

"I want to know more about you," Cyrus said, his voice cutting through the air with an earnest tone. He leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers across the table. "If you're willing to share. I'll tell you about myself too, but… I feel like there's so much about you I don't know. And after everything we've been through, I think we should start somewhere."

Athena looked at him for a moment, the quiet stretching between them once more. Her eyes softened, and she mulled over his request for a few seconds. Then, surprisingly, she smiled—a light, almost wistful smile that made her usual stoic demeanor soften even more. It was a small gesture, but it carried a weight of vulnerability that Cyrus hadn't seen from her before.

She took a slow breath, her gaze drifting away from Cyrus as if she was staring into a past only she could see.

"Uh, well…" Athena began, her voice low but clear. "It's not an easy one to talk about. It's filled with blood and violence—constant fighting, survival in a place that never gave me a moment of peace."

Her expression grew distant, her eyes darkening as she spoke. "I was born in a ravine, far from here. A harsh place, where the strong ruled, and the weak were forgotten. My earliest memories are of battles—endless battles, fighting not for glory, but for survival. Every day was a struggle, and I learned quickly that hesitation meant death. My hands were soaked in blood before I even knew what it meant to take a life."

Cyrus listened intently, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He could sense the pain behind them, the violence that had shaped her into the warrior sitting across from him now.

"The ravine was merciless," Athena continued, her voice steady despite the grim memories. "But I survived. I fought, killed, and kept moving forward. I had no choice. It was the only life I knew. The only way to live."

Her eyes flicked back to Cyrus, a faint glimmer of something unspoken in them—perhaps a hint of the burden she carried with her from that brutal past.

"But that's all in the past now," Athena added, her smile returning, though it was tinged with sadness. "I left that life behind when I escaped the ravine. I've tried to make a new path for myself, but… the bloodshed is something that never quite leaves you."

Cyrus remained quiet for a moment, processing the depth of what Athena had shared. He could feel the rawness of her story, the harshness of the world she had come from. But there was a strength in her as well—a resilience that had carried her through it all. Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire

"I didn't expect that," Cyrus admitted softly, "but I'm glad you told me."

Their coffee and breakfast arrived, but the atmosphere between them had shifted. The awkwardness had dissolved, replaced by a quiet understanding. It wasn't just about small talk anymore; it was about two people who had shared their pain, and their pasts, and found a strange, unspoken bond in the process.

"Now, what about you?" Athena grinned, leaning forward intently.