I am just an NPC ,but I rewrite the story-Chapter 55: [] The Heart’s Infection

"We stepped into the light of the corrupted shard," I said, my voice echoing flatly against the damp, bioluminescent walls of the root chamber.

But as the words left my mouth, I realized "light" was the wrong word for it. It was more of a heavy, oily radiation. The Life Fragment didn’t glow; it throbbed. Every time the black, crystalline veins on its surface pulsed, a wave of nausea rolled through me, hitting my Level 10 constitution like a physical punch to the gut. It smelled like a basement that had been flooded with stagnant water and then left to rot for a decade—metallic, earthy, and sweet in a way that made your teeth hurt.

"Okay, I’m gonna be real with you guys," Red said, covering her nose with the crook of her elbow. She nudged a piece of blackened, shriveled moss with the toe of her boot. "I’ve seen some nasty stuff in the slums of Silver-Port. I’ve seen sewers that would make a goblin faint. But this? This is actually making me want to retire. Is that... is that thing hissing at us?"

"It’s not hissing, Red," Cian whispered, though he looked just as pale as she did. He was holding his wand out like a dowsing rod, the crystal tip flickering a weak, confused purple. "It’s a localized atmospheric vibration. The fragment is trying to output Life mana, but the Blight is... it’s like a filter. It’s catching the energy and twisting it. It’s a scream, basically. We’re hearing a magical scream."

"Great. A screaming, stinky rock. Fantastic," Tybalt muttered. He was clutching his bag of supplies so tightly I thought he might snap the straps. He looked up at the ceiling of the chamber, where the massive, white roots of the World Tree disappeared into the dark. "Ren, can we just... I don’t know, spray some vinegar on it? Or maybe some of that holy water Lysandra has? I’m serious. My eyes are watering from the stench."

"Vinegar isn’t going to cut it this time, Ty," I said, leaning my weight against Kaelen’s shoulder. My legs were shaking. Every step through this thick, mana-saturated air felt like wading through wet cement. I looked at the fragment.

It sat on a pedestal of living wood that had been completely overtaken by the black rot. The roots supporting it were gnarled and twisted, looking more like charred bones than parts of a tree. The fragment itself was a jagged spike of what should have been brilliant emerald, but now it looked like a piece of coal that had swallowed a star.

"Lysandra," I called out, my voice sounding thin. "You’re the expert on ’Purification.’ Can you do anything for that? Or is it too far gone?"

Lysandra stepped forward, her shield held high. She looked at the corrupted shard with a mixture of professional focus and deep, personal disgust. She reached out a hand, her gauntlet beginning to glow with that steady, warm gold light I’d grown used to.

"I can try," she said, her voice tight. "But Ren, this isn’t a normal curse. Usually, corruption is like... dirt on a window. You scrub it, and the light comes back. This? This feels like the glass itself has been turned into lead. The infection isn’t on the fragment. It’s becoming the fragment."

She placed her hand on the edge of the wooden pedestal.

Sizzle. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

A sharp, acrid smoke rose from where her mana touched the black rot. Lysandra winced, pulling her hand back. Her golden light flickered and died, and for a second, I saw a thin line of black veins crawling up the silver fingers of her gauntlet before they faded.

"It’s hungry," she whispered, her eyes wide. "It tried to eat the light. It didn’t just resist me; it tried to pull me in."

"Okay, so no touching the angry obsidian," Red said, backing away a step. "Check. What now, Guildmaster? You said we ’clean’ it. Do you have a giant bar of magical soap in that bag, or are we just gonna stare at it until Marek brings the house down on us?"

"I’m thinking," I snapped, then immediately felt bad for the tone. I rubbed my temples, trying to ignore the way the "System" was buzzing in my ear like a fly I couldn’t swat. "My head is killing me. Level 10 is a joke. I feel like I’m trying to solve a puzzle while someone is hitting me with a hammer."

"Sit down, Ren," Kaelen said. It wasn’t a suggestion. He grabbed a relatively clean-looking stone—well, clean of rot, anyway—and shoved it behind my knees. I sat. "You’re no use to us if you pass out. Cian, give him some of that water."

Cian fumbled with a waterskin and handed it to me. I drank, the cool liquid helping to clear some of the fog.

"Okay," I said, wiping my mouth. "Logic time. The Blight is an external infection fueled by the Covenant’s void-seeds. It needs a source. In the city, the source was Marek’s staff and the battery Vance was running. But down here... it’s been here longer. The Elders said it was in the stone."

"Which means there’s an anchor," Mia said.

We all looked at her. She was standing near Cerberus, her small hand buried in the dog’s scruff. She wasn’t looking at the fragment. She was looking at the floor, specifically at a spot where a massive root disappeared into a crack in the white stone.

"The tree is trying to push it out," Mia continued, her voice quiet but certain. "I can feel the roots moving. They’re deep. Way deeper than this room. There’s something down there that’s... biting."

"Something biting?" Tybalt asked, his voice hitching an octave. "Like a bug? A big bug? Please don’t tell me it’s a giant, soul-eating termite. I have a very specific phobia of things with more than six legs."

"Not a bug, Ty," I said, a memory from the original game’s lore surfacing. "It’s a siphon. If Valen wanted to corrupt a World Tree, he wouldn’t just throw some sludge at it. He’d plant a Parasite Shard. A corrupted version of the fragments we’re carrying."

"A seventh fragment?" Cian asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. "The lore only mentions six. Soul, Physics, Life, Time, Space, and Thought."

"It’s not a real fragment," I said, leaning forward. "It’s a copy. A hollow one. It acts like a black hole for mana. It sucks the Life out of the tree and stores it for the Covenant to collect later. If we find the anchor and break it, the pressure on the Life Fragment should drop. Then Lysandra can actually do her job."

"And where is this anchor?" Kaelen asked, his hand resting on his sword.

Mia pointed at the crack in the floor. "Down. Through the hollows. The tree has a space inside. A ’marrow’ room."

"A marrow room," Red sighed. "Fantastic. We’re going to go inside the tree’s bones. Why can’t we ever just go to a nice, normal tavern and have a regular fight with some bandits?"

"Because bandits don’t have the fate of the world in their pockets, Red," I said, struggling back to my feet. I felt like I was made of lead, but we didn’t have time to wait for a nap. "Kaelen, can you widen that crack? We need to get the wagon... wait, we left the wagon. Right."

"I’ve got it," Kaelen said.

He didn’t use his sword. He just stepped to the crack, braced his boots, and shoved his hands into the gap. His muscles tensed, the leather of his coat creaking. With a sound like a mountain groaning, he tore the stone apart. The opening widened into a dark, vertical shaft that smelled of old wood and ozone.

"Ladies first," Kaelen grunted, nodding toward the hole.

"In your dreams, Wolf," Red muttered, but she stepped to the edge and looked down. "It’s a drop. About thirty feet. Looks like there’s some softer roots at the bottom."

"I’ll go first," Lysandra said. "If there are husks down there, I’m the best one to clear the landing."

She jumped. A second later, we heard a muffled clank and a "Clear!" echoing up from the dark.

One by one, we followed. Kaelen basically tucked me under one arm and jumped, which was humiliating but efficient. Mia and Cerberus came next, the dog surprisingly nimble on his three legs, and Tybalt and Cian brought up the rear, clutching their bags like they were babies.

The "Marrow Room" wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t a cave. It was a cathedral of white, pulsing fibers. It felt like we were inside a giant, living lung. The walls were soft, glowing with a faint, rhythmic light that matched the tree’s heartbeat. But the black veins were here too, crawling like spiders across the white surfaces.

And in the center of the room, suspended by dozens of black, thorny vines, was the anchor.

It looked like a heart made of obsidian. It was the size of a pumpkin, and it was beating. Every time it contracted, it sent a wave of black sludge through the vines and into the tree’s "marrow."

"That is the grossest thing I have ever seen," Tybalt said, and he sounded like he was actually going to be sick this time. "It’s a heart. A fake, evil heart. Ren, please tell me we just have to stab it."

"We have to stab it," I said. "But look at the floor."

Around the base of the suspended heart, the ground was moving. It wasn’t just roots. It was people. Or things that used to be people.

They were elven guards, but their silver armor was fused to their skin by the black rot. Their eyes were gone, replaced by glowing violet crystals. They were standing perfectly still, like statues, until the first of us stepped onto the floor.

[Target: Blight-Husks (Level 32)]

[Status: Guarding.]

There were dozens of them.

"Okay," Red said, her daggers sliding into her hands with a familiar shing. "Normal fight. Finally. I was getting worried we’d have to talk our way out of this one too."

"Don’t let them touch you," I warned. "The rot is infectious. If they scratch you, the mana-drain starts."

"Good to know," Kaelen said. He drew The Prototype. The black blade didn’t glow here; it seemed to absorb the dim light of the marrow room, making the shadows around Kaelen deepen. "Lysandra, take the left. Red, stay on the wings. Ren, get Mia to the back."

"Wait," Mia said, her voice sharp. "The heart... it’s not alone."

I followed her gaze to the top of the obsidian heart. A figure was sitting there, legs crossed, watching us with a bored expression.

He looked like an elf, but his skin was a pale, sickly grey, and his hair was made of black, thorny vines. He wore armor made of the same obsidian as the heart.

[Target: The Blight-Walker (Fragment Construct)]

[Level: 45]

"A construct," Cian whispered, his wand trembling. "The fragment created a guardian using the memories of the forest. It’s a sentient manifestation of the rot."

The Blight-Walker stood up. He didn’t have a weapon. He just raised a hand, and the husks in the room began to scream—that same sound Cian had described earlier. A magical, soul-tearing shriek.

"Guests," the construct said. His voice sounded like dry leaves rubbing together. "The Empire told me you would come. They said you would try to steal the Mother’s pain."

"We aren’t stealing it," I said, stepping forward. I felt the weight of my Level 10 status, but I kept my voice steady. "We’re ending it. This tree isn’t yours to eat."

"Everything belongs to the Emperor eventually," the construct said. He gestured with a long, spindly finger. "Kill them. Save the marrow."

The husks charged.

"Go!" I yelled.

The room erupted into chaos. Kaelen was a wall of black steel, his claymore cleaving through three husks at once. Lysandra was a beacon of gold, her shield-bashes sending ripples of holy energy that turned the rot to ash. Red was a blur, darting between the slow-moving husks and severing their hamstrings before they could even turn around.

But the Blight-Walker wasn’t interested in them. He was looking at me. And Mia.

"The Key," the construct whispered.

He vanished.

"Ren! Watch out!" Lysandra screamed.

I didn’t see him move. I just felt a sudden, freezing pressure on my chest. I was thrown backward, sliding across the white, spongy floor.

I looked up. The Blight-Walker was standing where I had been a second ago. He was reaching for Mia.

"Get away from her!" Tybalt roared.

I have never seen Tybalt move that fast. He didn’t throw a muffin. He tackled the girl, rolling her out of the way just as a spike of black obsidian erupted from the floor.

The construct tilted his head. "The baker. Irrelevant."

He raised his hand for another strike.

"Cerberus! Now!" I shouted.

The three-legged dog launched himself. He didn’t bite the construct’s leg; he bit the shadow.

In the previous timeline, Cerberus wasn’t just a dog; he was a Soul-Eater. Even as a "puppy" in this timeline, he had the instinct. His teeth clamped down on the dark mana connecting the construct to the heart.

The Blight-Walker let out a choked sound, his form flickering.

"Cian! The scroll!" I yelled, scrambling to my feet. My chest felt like it had been hit by a carriage, but the adrenaline was keeping the Level 10 fatigue at bay for a few more seconds.

Cian unrolled the scroll we’d been saving since the Sky-Keep. It was a "Purification Circle" scroll, originally meant for cleansing high-level cursed items.

"I need time!" Cian yelled, his hands shaking as he started the chant. "The mana-dampening is fighting me! It’s like trying to light a match in a hurricane!"

"We’ll give you time!" Red shouted, vaulting over a husk and landing a kick on the construct’s face.

The fight moved into a new gear. Kaelen and Lysandra were pinned down by the sheer number of husks, who seemed to be regenerating every time they fell. The obsidian heart was pumping faster, the room turning darker as the Blight-Walker began to draw more power from the tree.

"Ren," Mia whispered. She was sitting on the floor, her eyes wide. "He’s hurting the tree. He’s using the roots to fight back."

The walls of the Marrow Room began to sprout thorns. Long, black spikes that hissed as they grew.

"I can’t hold them all!" Kaelen grunted, his sword glowing with a dark heat as he parried a dozen strikes at once. "Ren! Do something!"

I looked at the obsidian heart. I looked at the rusty knife in my hand.

I checked the ID card.

[Warning: Level 10 Status. Physical overexertion imminent.]

[Note: The Fragment is vulnerable during a Pulse.]

"Tybalt!" I yelled. "The last two muffins! Give them to me!"

"Ren, you’re going to blow us up!" Tybalt cried, but he reached into his bag and tossed the foil-wrapped bundles.

I caught them. They were warm. They smelled like cinnamon and potential death.

"Everyone! Get behind Kaelen!" I screamed.

"Ren, what are you doing?" Lysandra yelled, her shield glowing as she pushed back a wave of husks.

"Amputating!"

I ran. I didn’t head for the construct. I headed for the heart.

The Blight-Walker saw me. "Foolish human. You cannot break the Empire’s anchor."

He sent a wave of black thorns toward me.

I didn’t dodge. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder as a thorn grazed me, but I didn’t stop. I reached the base of the obsidian heart.

The heart pulsed.

Now.

I shoved both muffins—fire-salt and mana-reactive yeast—into the central crack of the obsidian heart.

And then I stabbed them with the rusty knife.

"Get down!"

I dove for the floor.

WHUMP.

It wasn’t a loud explosion. It was a pressure wave. A sudden, intense burst of heat that turned the black rot into white steam. The obsidian heart didn’t shatter; it melted.

The connection to the tree snapped.

The Blight-Walker let out a sound that wasn’t human. It was the sound of a falling mountain. His body began to dissolve, the black thorns turning into harmless grey ash.

The husks fell where they stood, the violet light in their eyes fading.

Silence returned to the Marrow Room. But it wasn’t the heavy, oily silence from before. It was a quiet, resting silence.

I lay on the floor, my chest heaving. I could feel my level dropping in my head—not literally, but the fatigue was finally winning.

"Is everyone... alive?" I asked, my face pressed against the soft, white fibers of the floor.

"I think I’ve lost a year of my life from stress," Tybalt’s voice said from somewhere nearby. "But yeah. I’m here."

"That was... remarkably stupid, Ren," Red said. I felt her hand on my back. "Do it again, and I’m charging you extra for the funeral."

"Noted," I mumbled.

I looked up.

The obsidian heart was gone. In its place, sitting on the floor, was a small, perfectly clear emerald. It wasn’t pulsing with black light anymore. It was glowing with a soft, steady green.

The Life Fragment. Cleaned.

"The tree," Mia whispered.

I looked at the walls. The black veins were receding. The white fibers were glowing brighter, the "marrow" of the World Tree beginning to heal.

We had done it.

We had stopped the rot.

But as I reached out to grab the fragment, the room shook again. Not from the tree.

From above.

"Ren," Kaelen said, his voice grim as he looked at the ceiling. "The Covenant isn’t leaving. I think they’re trying to pull the tree down."

"Pull it down?" Cian asked. "It’s a mile high! You can’t just—"

"They have the fleet," I said, remembering Marek’s plan. "They aren’t mining anymore. They’re harvesting. If they can’t have the Life mana, they’ll take the timber. All of it."

I grabbed the Life Fragment. It was warm in my hand, full of a vibrating energy that felt like a summer afternoon.

"We need to get to the surface," I said, struggling to my feet. "If the Covenant pulls this tree down, they kill the whole forest. And half the continent with it."

"Ren, look at you," Lysandra said, stepping forward. "You can barely stand. You can’t fight a fleet like this."

"I’m not fighting a fleet," I said, looking at Mia.

"We’re giving the tree its voice back."

I looked at the ID card.

[Fragment #3 Integrated.]

[New Skill Unlocked: Nature’s Resonance (Passive).]

[Note: The World Tree is listening.]

"Let’s go," I said. "We have a city to save. Again."

We headed for the stairs.

As we climbed, I looked at the dog. Cerberus was trotting along, his tail wagging. He looked happy.

"Hey, dog," I whispered. "You did good."

The dog nudged my hand with his cold nose.

We were Eclipse. We were the bakers, the thieves, the knights, and the mages.

And we were about to show the Empire what happens when you try to cut down our house.

[Arc Objective Update: Repel the Covenant Fleet.]

[Next Target: The Aethelgard Battlements.]

"Chapter twenty-three," I muttered as we hit the first level of the city. "The heart is beating. Now let’s see if the lungs can roar."

"Was that a poem, Ren?" Red asked.

"Shut up, Red."

"Yeah, that was definitely a poem."

The doors to the city opened, and the smell of smoke and war rushed in to meet us.

The real fight was just starting. Again.