"The Corruption of Knowledge"
Chapter 11: The Strange Person
Author: Frenames
"Holy sh*t!"
"What is this? What kind of bad luck is this? Why is something speeding toward me? I'm going to get caught in this too!" the man cursed, his eyes darting around in shock as chaos unfolded before him. The heat from the distant explosion slowly crept onto his skin, while the scent of smoke and burning filled the air like a suffocating blanket.
"It's getting closer… what should I do? Should I dodge, or just stand here and wait for it to hit me?" he thought anxiously, his mind racing faster than his body could react. The roaring explosion echoed like thunder, and the massive cloud of smoke spread wider and wider, swallowing everything in its path.
He hesitated.
And in moments like this, hesitation was like standing in front of death with open arms.
But before he could decide—
The object was already in front of him.
Yet, instead of crashing into him, it suddenly stopped.
A bright purple light radiated from it, illuminating his face, almost as if it was shielding him from the horrifying destruction behind him.
"My God… I thought I was going to die. What is this?" he muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.
The object floated in front of him, strange and unfamiliar. Symbols were etched across its surface—symbols he could not understand, yet somehow felt disturbingly familiar.
"What is this…? A floating object with symbols?" he whispered, unable to take his eyes off it.
As he stared, a strange pull gripped his chest.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, even knowing it could burn him.
"I… want to touch it…"
Without realizing it, he slowly raised his left hand—the same hand holding the book. His fingers trembled as he reached out toward the glowing object.
Then—
A powerful gust of wind slammed into him.
Not just wind—
But a scorching blast filled with dust and debris, as if the explosion itself had decided to reach out and drag him back into its destruction.
Before his hand could touch it—
A red light suddenly expanded.
Brighter.
Wider.
More violent.
It surged forward like a raging inferno—
Devouring everything in its path.
---
Fray suddenly woke up from his dream.
His left hand was raised, as if trying to reach something in the air. His breathing was rapid, and sweat streamed down from his forehead—like an unstoppable rain.
The light from the window slowly entered the room, accompanied by the cold breeze.
Fray was sitting on a soft bed.
But—
This was not his room.
"Why do I dream about my final moments before death…?"
He whispered weakly to himself, as if the shadow of his dream was still chasing him.
"Well, you're awake now."
Fray turned toward the source of the voice.
A muscular man sitting there—aged, yet his posture remained strong. His face was unforgettable, especially the scar running from his eyebrow down under his eye.
And even though he had been wounded before—
It did not steal his presence.
He was wearing a well-fitted vest that hugged his frame, dark fabric subtly patterned under the light. A line of buttons ran down its front, the last left undone, and the pointed hem gave his silhouette a sharp edge over a high-collared shirt.
His high-waisted trousers were tailored at the top and draped smoothly down, with fine pinstripes matching the vest. Every step he took carried a quiet, effortless elegance.
Fray's face immediately turned serious.
He tried to stand up quickly—but collapsed back onto the bed, his body not ready for sudden movement.
And without realizing it—
Something had escaped from him.
An unseen presence.
Yet heavy.
Like weighted air.
Like a shadow with its own will.
It directly targeted the muscular man—a force that attacked the mind, creating immense pressure.
The man was surprised by the sudden event.
Yet he calmed immediately, as if accustomed to such things.
"Child… just calm down. I won't hurt you."
He spoke gently, yet there was a strange barrier around him—a thin wall shielding him from the invisible force.
Fray slowly calmed down.
But his mind grew even more confused.
He could feel it—
Something had come out of his body.
And he himself had released it.
His heartbeat accelerated.
Like the drums of war.
"Could… the priest have infected me? Will I become a monster… like him?"
Thinking of the priest—whose form had become a monster—made him even more nervous.
He did not want to become like that.
He would rather die than lose his humanity.
"Better to die than become a monster," whispered his mind—a thought like poison slowly spreading.
When the muscular man saw his expression, pity filled his face.
It was as if he saw a child broken by nightmares.
"Don't be afraid," he said, his voice a warm embrace in the cold. "It will pass. Nightmares are like rain—they may fall hard, but eventually, they stop."
Fray gradually returned to clarity.
Yet the question remained.
"Will I become a monster?"
He asked softly, full of fear and regret.
The man was silent for a moment before answering.
"Not really… but it's possible."
That answer struck like lightning.
The first word—hope.
The second—crushed hope.
Fray's chest suddenly felt heavy.
His expression seemed like the end of the world—as if the light in his path had vanished.
The man scrutinized him.
Observed.
Examined.
And after a few moments, he spoke again.
"I see no signs of corruption in you. So don't worry."
Fray felt as if a thorn had been removed.
Yet—
The fear did not completely vanish.
Because sometimes, fear is like a shadow—
Even with light, it does not disappear easily.
As the room fell silent, Fray recalled the events of yesterday.
It was like a nightmare that refused to let him go.
And in that moment—
The muscular man did not speak.
He simply watched Fray.
Observing.
Waiting.
For any change—at any moment.
The muscular man broke the silence.
"Aren't you going to ask where you are now?"
Like a stone dropped into a still lake, his voice created tiny ripples in Fray's mind.
Fray partially regained focus, as if pulled back from a deep well of his thoughts.
He looked at the man.
"Where… am I?"
His voice was weak, tinged with hesitation—like someone afraid to hear the answer.
The man smiled.
But the smile was not entirely light—it carried traces of experience and hidden weight.
"That's what I want from a true man," he said. "Someone who can face the truth… and not run away from it."
Fray was silent for a moment.
Yet those words struck him—not like a punch, but like a mirror showing his own weakness.
Fray smiled.
But his smile was bitter—like unsweetened coffee, forced down even though it stung the tongue.
He didn't know whether to laugh—
Or cry.
Because truly, those words were like the saying: "The brave are not those without fear, but those who know how to face it."
"We're in the Beta camp now," said the muscular man, smiling broadly.
Fray was shocked by the statement because the Beta military were a mysterious organization, along with the Alpha Knights.
Seeing Fray's reaction, the man smiled even more, pride clearly visible in himself.
"Why am I here in the Beta military camp?"
Fray asked, curiosity etched on his face.
"Because you are under observation and a criminal."
Fray's heart raced at the words.
"Why am I a criminal?" he wondered.
He asked the man again, "Why am I a criminal? I haven't done anything wrong."
The man answered, "Because it is a crime to be strong."
Fray was confused.
He asked again, "What crime is it to be strong? I'm just an ordinary person."
The man said sadly, "You are no longer ordinary, because you now walk the path of the Ascendant."
Fray was confused by this—why was he no longer ordinary, and why had he become an Ascendant?
To Be Continue...