Jack hurtled forward, his arms locked in an iron grip around Cael’s grotesque, insectoid form. The swirling, acrid fog loomed ahead, an undulating mass of poison and death. His lungs burned from its corrosive touch, but he pushed forward, refusing to falter.

  As soon as he breached the wall of mist, the air became liquid agony. His exposed skin tingled with a searing burn, and his breath came ragged, each inhale drawing fire into his chest. His vision blurred, the world reduced to a smothering yellow haze. But he gritted his teeth and summoned his Ironsoul Aura Skill.

  A metallic sheen flickered across his skin as the defensive magic surged to life. It was a technique meant to reinforce his body, shielding him against physical harm and dulling pain. He’d relied on it to endure bone-breaking blows, to push through wounds that would have crippled others. But the mist was not a sword or a fist. It was a living poison, and it seeped through the protective Skill as if it were nothing at all.

  His skin still burned. His throat still clenched as acid gnawed at his lungs. Ironsoul Aura wasn’t enough.

  Panic clawed at his mind, but he couldn’t stop. If he hesitated now, if he let doubt slip into his limbs, he would fall. And if he fell, Cael would be lost.

  The mutated goblin thrashed in his grasp, his chitinous limbs jerking with desperate strength. Jack tightened his hold, feeling the jagged plates of Cael’s exoskeleton bite into his arms. His friend’s body was unnaturally cold, a stark contrast to the searing agony of the mist. Even through the transformation, Cael struggled—not as a mindless monster, but as something trapped, something still fighting.

  Jack wouldn’t let him drown in this nightmare.

  Through the fog, he glimpsed flickers of shifting light—the distorted, wavering shimmer of the Pool of Purity. He felt relief as he realized that he was heading in the right direction. He hadn’t been sure he remembered where the Pool was. But it was still too far. He wouldn’t make it in time.

  A choked gasp left his lips as the acid ate deeper into his flesh, the pain threatening to buckle his knees. His vision swam, darkness creeping in at the edges. He needed to act now. There was no more time.

  He clenched his jaw, and with the last shreds of his will, he activated his trump card.

  [Protector of the Realm: You have beaten back an Incursion, a feat few have achieved.

  Effects: As you have protected the Realm, so shall the Realm protect you. Once per month become completely invulnerable to all physical damage for 5 seconds]

  A force unlike anything he’d ever felt surged through him. The agony vanished in an instant, the acid’s bite reduced to nothing. His body, moments ago on the verge of collapse, now felt weightless, unbreakable. The mist could no longer touch him. His skin was whole, untouched by the corrosive air. His clothes, his ragged armor, even the grime and blood on his body—everything was frozen in perfect, untouchable form.

  For five seconds, he was invincible.

  Jack didn’t waste a breath. He threw himself forward with everything he had. The ground blurred beneath his feet as he pushed beyond his limits, beyond exhaustion, beyond pain. His arms locked around Cael, his grip unyielding.

  Four seconds.

  Shapes seemed to move in the mist—lurking figures, slithering forms, twisted things that dwelled in the poisoned air. They reached for him with clawed fingers and gaping maws, but they passed through him like ghosts. Jack wasn’t even sure if they were real or some kind of hallucination.

  Three seconds.

  The light of the Pool of Purity grew brighter. The air began to shift, the noxious yellow haze thinning as he neared the pool’s blessed presence. But he was still not close enough.

  Two seconds.

  Cael’s body jerked violently in his grip, his insectoid limbs flailing with renewed strength. Jack felt the razor edges scraping against his armor, his flesh, but no wound was made. Not yet.

  One second.

  The ground beneath his boots shifted. The damp earth gave way to the smooth, worn stone surrounding the pool. Jack’s final step sent him launching forward, his momentum carrying him and Cael into the radiant waters.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Then the protection shattered.

  The moment his body plunged beneath the shimmering surface, the pain returned with a vengeance. His nerves screamed, his muscles seized. The acid still clinging to his skin flared, but the waters of the pool fought back. A cleansing force swept over him, the burning replaced with an almost painful purity.

  Jack held on, forcing himself to keep Cael submerged, no matter how violently he thrashed. His lungs burned, his vision flickered, but he refused to release his friend.

  Maybe this wouldn’t work. He knew the Pool could have purifying effect on things like clothes but that was far cry from exorcising whatever spirit had possessed Cael. But it was only the course of action that might leave them both alive.

  Cael’s scream tore through the water, muffled by the liquid but somehow still audible, a sound that held not only pain but something deeper—something primal. It was agony, but also transformation. The Pool of Purity responded to his suffering, its glow intensifying, the liquid shifting and swirling as if alive. It clung to him, wrapping around his twisted form, not like ordinary water but like something luminous and sentient. Tendrils of shimmering light lapped at his blackened chitin, pulsing with an eerie radiance, as though the purification effect of the pool itself were fighting against the corruption embedded within him.

  And then the cracking began.

  Thin, jagged fissures spread across Cael’s dark exoskeleton, spiderwebbing outward with an almost organic rhythm. His body shuddered violently with each crack, each fracture deepening as though something within him was trying—desperately—to break free. The chitin splintered, peeling away in brittle shards that dissolved into the water as soon as they fell. The process was excruciating to watch, the air thick with an unnatural tension, the very atmosphere pressing down as if the world itself was holding its breath.

  Then, without warning, the mist came.

  A thick, curling vapor seeped from Cael’s body, rolling outward in unnatural tendrils. It was yellow-tinged, sickly, and thick as smoke, though it did not dissipate like ordinary mist. It moved as if it had purpose, as if it were alive, twisting and writhing like a living thing unwilling to be exorcized. The very sight of it sent an instinctive chill down Jack’s spine. It was the corruption—the evil spirit that had latched onto Cael for so long—being forced from his body, wrung out by the power of the pool.

  Jack watched, transfixed, as the mist spiraled upward, writhing and twisting, fighting its inevitable fate. It rose higher and higher, its edges thinning, losing substance, stretching toward the unseen heavens above. With each passing second, it drifted further and further away.

  Then finally, it was gone.

  Jack gasped, the breath rushing from his lungs as if he had been holding it the entire time. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his vision swimming, his body suddenly feeling the weight of everything they had just endured. His limbs were heavy, his mind sluggish, but he forced himself to move, to focus. The fight was over. The corruption had been purged.

  But Cael wasn’t moving.

  Jack’s heart clenched in his chest, panic rising like bile in his throat. He turned sharply, eyes locking onto the small, limp form floating in the Pool of Purity. The goblin’s body was utterly still, his arms drifting weightlessly in the water, his eyes shut.

  “No…” The word barely made it past Jack’s lips, weak and trembling, but then he was moving, the weight of exhaustion forgotten in an instant. “No, no, no—come on, Cael!”

  He surged forward, wading through the shimmering water with frantic urgency. His hands grasped Cael’s small frame, hauling him from the pool’s embrace and onto the damp cavern floor. The goblin felt far too light in his arms, his body motionless, his skin cold. Jack barely had the presence of mind to register the way Cael looked different—the twisted, chitin-covered exterior had vanished, replaced with something softer, something more… natural. But none of it mattered if he wasn’t breathing.

  Jack pressed his fingers against Cael’s throat, feeling for a pulse. His breath caught. There—it was faint, but it was there.

  But Cael’s chest wasn’t rising.

  Jack swore under his breath, tilting his head down close to Cael’s mouth. He listened, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, straining to hear or feel any breath against his skin.

  Nothing.

  Jack’s mind snapped into focus. He needs air.

  Without hesitation, he tipped Cael’s head back, pinched the goblin’s nose shut, and sealed his mouth over Cael’s. He took a breath and then gave two slow, steady rescue breaths, watching closely as Cael’s chest rose slightly beneath his hands.

  He pulled back, barely pausing before repositioning his hands over Cael’s chest. His fingers found the center, his arms locking into place. He pressed down—one, two, three, four— counting in his head, keeping the rhythm steady and firm.

  Thirty compressions. Then two more breaths.

  His movements were mechanical, driven by sheer determination. He didn’t think about the exhaustion weighing him down or the icy dread clawing at his chest. He just kept going.

  “Come on, Cael,” he muttered between compressions. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

  Another two breaths. Another round of compressions.

  Water dribbled from Cael’s lips, but still, he did not move.

  Jack grit his teeth, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. “Breathe, damn it!”

  Two breaths.

  Thirty compressions.

  He kept going. He wouldn’t stop. He refused.

  And then—

  Cael gasped.

  A ragged, sputtering inhale that shattered the awful silence. His tiny body convulsed, a violent shudder ripping through him as more water spilled from his mouth. His lungs sucked in air like a drowning man saved from the abyss, his chest rising and falling in frantic, uneven bursts.

  Jack exhaled shakily, his entire body sagging as relief crashed into him like a tidal wave. He let out a breathless, almost delirious laugh, raking a trembling hand through his damp hair. His heart was still pounding, his hands still shaking, but he didn’t care. Cael was breathing. He was alive.

  Jack leaned back, pressing a hand over his face as his breathing evened out. “Welcome back, buddy,” he muttered, a crooked, exhausted grin breaking across his face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  Cael groaned weakly, his eyelids fluttering as he blearily took in his surroundings. He looked dazed, his expression slightly unfocused, but there was recognition there—understanding. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward Jack, blinking sluggishly.

  Then, in a voice hoarse and laced with exhaustion, he muttered, “That… sucked.”