Chương 56: Chapter 48 – Illicit Confluence

Cade sat beside the Stormsap Crucible, his breath shallow in the stillness. Sweat clung to his brow, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the base of the crucible—the place where violet flashed right before the entire crucible lit up and the energy was expended below. He had learned his lesson. The latter phases of the reforging had taught him that the channels in each section were unique.

They were a way for the crucible to transform the energy of the sap as it flowed down to generate the violent burst of lightning below. He learned that he needed to study the crucible's channels, to truly understand them if he wanted to incorporate the energies within himself. So he leaned in now, close enough that he could feel the tingling static coming off of the lowest grooves of the wooden bolt. The amber light from above flickered and shadows danced in the small hollow.

As he studied, it didn't take long to spot the differences. The rest of the crucible—the red through blue segments—looked ancient. Like they had been shaped over years or centuries by natural growth and intelligent design working in tandem. Their channels spiraled and branched like vines, etched by time and purpose. But compared to the sections above, the base felt wrong. The wood here was pale, fresh growth, and the channels weren't like the others. They appeared to be carved into the freshly grown wood.

Each line was unnaturally uniform as if cut with surgical precision. The more he looked, the more the pattern unnerved him. With the light of the amber sap above he traced one with his fingertip. It was too precise. This can't be a natural part of the tree, Cade thought. The difference was even more obvious when the sap cycle began again. Cade removed his hand as the amber light dimmed and the sap hit the bowl above. Red lightning crackled to life, then drained downward. Orange followed, vibrant and pulsing.

Then yellow, green and blue each took their turns. Cade watched it funnel down the crucible, illuminating each of the grown channels in turn. Then the moment arrived and violet flared. But instead of continuing the natural flow, the energy deviated. It was diverted away from natural fractal pathways and forced into the carved sections of the base. The lightning snapped from angle to angle, rigid and jagged, like it was being funneled into an alien language. Cade flinched involuntarily.

There was something wrong about it. The other colors had flowed like living rivers but this felt unnatural, like someone had carved instructions into the wood. The jagged lines absorbed the violet lightning in rapid, repeating pulses that Cade could only detect thanks to the time dilation of [Hyperfocused Meditation]. When the cycle ended, the lightning discharged downward just like every other cycle. Cade stared into the dark, jaw clenched. Unease twisted in his gut as he continued to observe the cycles.

This wasn't like the other phases. It didn't belong. Still, he felt the need to push forward. It was faint, but Cade could feel the hunger inside him, calling out for that final bolt to finish reforging his body by drawing the violet lightning into himself. His fingers curled around the edge of the crucible's base. He could still feel the faint thrum of the blue lattice in his skull but he pushed past that sensation. Cade narrowed his eyes and exhaled once as he readied himself for the sap to fall. Red. Orange.

Yellow. Green. Blue. Then violet. The moment the light shone beneath his hands, he matched the discordant resonance and pulled a trickle into himself. It came easily, too easily. Violet lightning slid beneath his skin like it had been waiting. There was no need to coax or guide it. It wanted entry. The moment it reached his spine, Cade felt the shift. His breath caught and something coiled inside his thoughts. A foreign presence not content to ride along. Instead, it was intent on seizing the reins.

It didn't arrive with a voice. It wasn't a shout or a whisper. It was a raw, overwhelming will imprinted in the lightning itself. His vision doubled and his thoughts cracked down the middle. A tide of emotion surged up from within. Rage. The memory of Professor Sanders' smirk as he handed Cade the severance papers. Betrayal. Sasesh's face twisted in disgust as he looked down on Cade for being weak. Injustice.

The System's cold disregard, dropping him into the wrong Tutorial, forcing him to survive in a place meant for those with Cores. The emotions didn't feel foreign. That was the terrifying part. They felt like amplified echoes of things he had buried deep down but never forgot. His hands trembled against the crucible. Visions blinked across his mind's eye. A version of himself storming Professor Sanders' office, lightning in his veins and fire in his voice.

Another Cade, smiling coldly as Sasesh begged for mercy while his face was under Cade's boot. A third, tearing apart the System itself with his bare hands, laughing as the multiverse crumbled around him. He felt powerful. Righteous. Inevitable. He wanted to act. To punish and destroy. But a distant voice screamed in his head. No! Buried beneath the storm of emotions was the real Cade clawing his way back. He gritted his teeth and forced a breath. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road.

If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. This isn't me. The emotions were real, but they weren't his commands. They were suggestions, insidious ones, nudging him toward violence, toward vengeance. And beneath those compulsions, something else stirred. He saw a shape—half-formed, towering and draped in coils of endless violet. Not a figure, not truly. A presence. A will. One that had been shackled, then repurposed.

A fragment of something vast and ancient, bound to this tree like a parasite wired into sacred veins. Cade's grip on himself buckled as the presence within him surged. He felt his resolve weaken, his thoughts blurred, and his will began to fracture. But then [Hyperfocused Meditation] surged back like a wall of steel. It slammed down, severing the outside will from his own. In an instant the rage shattered and the images inside his mind collapsed.

The invading presence howled and dimmed like a bonfire smothered under snow. Cade tore his hands from the crucible and fell back, gasping. The violet lightning still buzzed in his limbs, but the influence was broken as he disconnected from the crucible. He slammed his back against the curved wall of the hollow and curled his hands into fists. His heart was hammering. Sweat poured from his brow. The violet lightning didn't want to harmonize with him or reinforce his body. It wanted to take over.

Cade sat motionless in the hollow, his breath shallow, every muscle in his body drawn tight beneath the aftershocks of contact. His fingers still twitched from residual static, the fine hairs along his arms standing upright. The violet lightning hadn't rampaged through his body this time. It had forced itself into his very identity, trying to take over his body with a will of its own. His focus narrowed on the Stormsap Crucible.

The lowest segment of new growth, the place where the etchings pulsed with unnatural light, and he used [Identify]. Stormsap Crucible — Final Confluence Node (Corrupted). A heartwood construct that collects volatile sap. Its channels align the sap, transmuting it into volatile lightning. Warning: Unknown corruption detected.

"Final Confluence Node," he murmured, eyes narrowing. His [Identify] didn't specify this before. Was it because he focused on one specific section this time? Whatever the reason, Cade had a new hypothesis. This violet section wasn't the culmination of this trial—it was part of the corruption in Cynthia's Legacy. The wood here didn't match. Where the upper bolt was fibrous, swollen with the weight of age and layered growth, this base was smooth, too smooth, like something grafted into place.

Even the bark texture had changed to unnaturally uniform where it should have been wild and jagged. And the channels— No. They weren't channels at all. Not like the red through blue sections. They were definitely scripts in some alien language he didn't understand. Cade pulled up his dungeon quest to refresh his memory of what it had said. Dungeon Quest: Cleanse Cynthia's Legacy Cynthia's Legacy was forged as a sanctum for her brood.

It contains trials to temper the Monarch's descendants, accelerate their growth, and instruct the paths of ascent. However, a corrupting presence has taken root, distorting the dungeon and its legacies. Purge the taint from its creatures, sever its conduits, and restore the sanctum to its intended purpose. Objective: Find and Cleanse the Corruption within Cynthia's Legacy. Progress: Corruption Cleansed: 6/?? Reward: Performance-based; rewards scale with the depth and thoroughness of cleansing.

He had previously gained some progress towards this quest by killing the bloated leeches on his way here with Pearl. If he wanted to complete this quest, he would have to cleanse the corruption here as well. Cade scooted closer again, this time keeping his hands back. He brought his head low, eyes level with the section he had just touched. He traced the sharp angles and etched lines with his gaze, watching as the next cycle began. Red flared. Orange pulsed. Yellow flickered. Green glowed. Blue sparked.

Then, violet. Where the other channels twisted and flowed naturally, the violet energy took a different route entirely. It didn't curve or spiral. It slammed directly into a natural looking node and then shifted direction, forced through the short, harsh etchings of the script pattern. Over and over, the energy moved the exact same way. Rigid and repetitive. Each flicker of light echoing a command instead of flowing naturally.

"This definitely isn't part of the tree," he muttered, voice low. It was something else entirely. A foreign layer, imposed like chains on something once wild and alive. And Cade—when he reached for it—had almost become another link in the chain. He pulled away from the base, heart still thudding in his chest. If he wanted to finish this, if he wanted to cleanse the corruption in Cynthia's legacy and truly complete what had begun at the Ashen Baptism, he would have to go back in.

This lightning had a will that demanded subjugation but he was confident he could guide it to a different path. That he could smooth out the jagged lines and shape it to be more natural to fit within the crucible's previous sections. Cade clenched his jaw. He'd faced death. He'd faced pain. Now, he would face against a foreign will and somehow cleanse the corruption inside. In the dark of the chamber he placed his palms back against the lower section of the crucible. He focused instead on the idea of correction.

The crucible wasn't evil. The tree wasn't hostile. Something had been done to it. Something had corrupted the Great Tree. And he would guide it back to its original purpose. The next cycle began and the previous five colors passed without incident. Then violet bloomed and he harmonized with its discordant screeching as he drew the lightning inward. Instantly, the pressure returned. This time it was not the overwhelming flood of emotions from before but the presence was still there. Cade ignored it.

He focused inward, shaping his will the way he had during the previous trials—like a steady hand guiding a flowing stream. He imagined the violet lightning smoothing out, abandoning the harsh angles of the script and flowing into gentler, organic paths. This is wrong, he projected calmly. This isn't what the crucible was meant to be. The response was immediate. Dismissal. The violet lightning didn't fight him. It didn't rebel. It simply did not listen. His thoughts slid sideways.

The sense of righteousness returned, sharper this time. A silent assertion that Cade's will was irrelevant. That guidance was a weakness and order must be enforced. His fingers twitched. Cade felt his posture straighten without meaning to. Felt his thoughts begin to align along paths he hadn't chosen. The lightning didn't surge violently. Instead it settled deep into him, pressing into his mind like a crown being lowered onto an unwilling head. No.

Cade snapped his eyes open and severed the connection, ripping his hands free from the crucible. He staggered backward, breath coming hard.

"That's not how this should work," he growled. The violet lightning didn't want to be corrected. It didn't understand harmony. It only responded to hierarchy. Guidance failed because guidance implied choice. And given a choice, the violet lightning would never obey. It had to be conquered. Cade pressed a hand against his chest, grounding himself, feeling the reinforced rhythm of his heart, the lattice of his nerves, the ordered complexity of his reforged mind. This wasn't like the others.

The violet lightning wasn't energy waiting to be utilized and shaped. It was authority. And authority didn't respond to suggestions or guidance. Cade slowly straightened.

"…So that's how you want to play it." The realization settled heavily in his gut. If he wanted to cleanse the corruption, if he wanted to restore the crucible to what it was meant to be, then he would have to do something he had avoided at every step until now. He would have to command. He would have to impose his will and conquer the violet lightning—utterly and completely.