"The Corruption of Knowledge"
Chapter 8: The Corrupted Priest
Author: Frenames
"This man… he's corrupted. The unknown principles pattern in his mind has deepened… that's why he seems insane. Now, his body and soul are becoming a monster."
The hooded man's face stiffened, trembling with fear and rage. He knew the inevitable fate of one fully corrupted—madness that bursts through the brain, a mind that drains, a soul that melts, until it becomes a monster, a servant to its own power.
Moments after the priest's transformation, a scream erupted from his throat.
A scream from the depths of hell, full of pain, anger, and evil.
The church shook—each pillar seeming to melt under the tremor.
It was as if the air itself had been torn, and the sound cut through Fray and the hooded man's ears—like sharp blades crushing their brains, hearts, and every nerve.
For a moment, they were deaf—inside a hollow, echoing void, like corpses in the middle of hell.
But inside Fray's mind, the tremor was far more intense.
He saw—or thought he saw—the ghosts of the corrupted priest.
They stared at him, eyeless, faces pure void and darkness.
Each one whispered: "Come with us… free from the body… without restraint… forever."
The voices flowed into his mind, wrapping around his consciousness, weaving illusions of his own decay, of his flesh slowly melting, of friends and acquaintances turned into monsters as well.
Cold sweat ran down his face. The world spun, exploding in reds, blacks, and shadows—like the church itself was turning into a bloody nightmare.
As the priest's scream subsided, they both fell to their knees, bones almost breaking.
It was as if countless heavy stones had been placed upon their heads, crushing their minds with unbearable weight. Their knees buckled; invisible hands forced their bodies downward, stronger than their own will.
Fray suffered the most.
Blood slowly flowed from his nose, eyes, and ears.
Each breath burned like fire in his throat.
But the hooded man recovered quickly. He was no ordinary man—the body and mind of him could not be easily broken by such a vicious assault.
When his vision cleared, he saw the monstrous priest approaching. Every movement was brutal, raw, and full of merciless evil.
The priest leapt with his left hand—like an angry storm, each strike crushing the air and hitting the ground like an earthquake.
But in the blink of an eye, the hooded man dodged—turning right, like a shadow avoiding the light.
He immediately countered.
He swung his sword—fast, clean, and lethal, as if it could cut the very air, each motion carrying pressure that seemed to shatter bones with every strike.
But it was blocked.
The priest's sharp claws met the steel.
The sound of metal rattling against bone echoed through the church—like the wail of suffering and a soul's rage, piercing every corner.
Meanwhile, in Fray's mind, the horror intensified.
He saw his own body stretching, bleeding, slowly transforming into a monster—the skin cracking, bones breaking, eyes ablaze.
He could hear the voices of the victims, voices wrapping around his mind: "You cannot escape… you cannot avoid it…"
Yet, despite this, Fray forced himself.
"No… I will not… disappear!" he screamed inside his mind, as if struggling against the forces of hell.
But in reality, the battle was brutal.
The priest screamed again: "ROOOOAR—!"
The roar was louder, like it was exploding in Fray's brain, causing intense pain, almost collapsing his hearing and mind.
The hooded man was hit by the shockwave, thrown against the wall—bleeding from every part of his body, spilling onto the floor.
The ghosts and illusions did not vanish.
He could see the eyes of corpses—staring at him, whispering endless suffering, rage, and evil.
He fell to the floor, almost losing consciousness.
After the chaos, the monstrous priest slowly approached the hooded man.
He was unaware.
The priest raised its sharp hand—glowing, hungry for blood.
And without hesitation, it pierced the hooded man's chest—crushing, cutting, bleeding with every motion.
If anyone had seen it—
They would surely faint from fear.
A demonic smile wrapped around the priest—a grin that shot into Fray's mind, almost awakening every fear he had buried deep in his psyche.
"Boom."
A gunshot echoed through the church.
Fray mustered his remaining strength and pulled the trigger.
The bullet hit the corrupted priest's head dead-on.
It collapsed, along with the hooded man, bleeding from every movement, suspended in the air.
A heavy rumble reverberated.
Silence returned to the church—but in Fray's mind, the whispers, the screams of the ghosts, and the sound of his own fear were still there, enveloping him in endless dread.
To be continue...