Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

Athena stepped forward, her expression resolute. "We've faced death before. We can face it again."

"Athena…" Cyrus began.

"Yes?"

"Don't say that shit again. You sound like a cringy-ass movie character."

With Athena rolling her bright yellow eyes, the group pressed forward, the twisted dungeon looming ahead, every step a reminder of the corruption that awaited them deeper inside. They had no choice but to confront it, knowing that failure would mean unleashing a nightmare far worse than anything they had ever encountered.

Cyrus followed Sylus through the warped dungeon, his eyes scanning the twisted landscape ahead. A group of knights from the church marched in formation behind them, their gleaming armor clinking softly as they moved. Each knight radiated strength, their physical prowess likely on par with Athena's, though lacking her magical finesse. Cyrus noted their precision and discipline, traits that set them apart from the average adventurer in this miasma-filled ravine, yet still, they didn't impress him. They were formidable, but in his eyes, nothing more than foot soldiers—effective but not exceptional.

The deeper they went, the more the corruption intensified. The jagged vines and foul pools of miasma seemed to pulse with an unnatural life, but the knights pressed on, unfazed by the oppressive atmosphere. Finally, they reached a wide-open chamber where a pack of the mutated monsters loomed ahead. These abominations were larger and more grotesque than the ones they had encountered before, their bloated forms covered in slimy, cracked skin, eyes blinking from every unnatural angle.

The moment they spotted the creatures, the knights snapped into action. With a sharp command from their captain, they moved into a formation like a well-oiled machine. Shields were raised in perfect unison, forming an impenetrable wall of steel. Those at the front held their ground while the knights in the rear readied their aether-infused swords, the blades glowing with a faint blue light.

Cyrus, Athena, and Sylus stood back, observing as the knights prepared to engage the pack. Cyrus crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with mild curiosity. Despite his lack of awe, he couldn't deny the knights' skill. Their coordination was impressive, each one knowing their role as if it had been drilled into them through years of training.

The monsters charged forward, grotesque limbs flailing as they let out guttural, animalistic cries. But the knights didn't falter. As the creatures collided with their shield wall, the front line braced themselves, absorbing the impact with a practiced ease. Their shields barely wavered, the force of the monsters doing little to shake their formation.

Then came the counterattack.

The second row of knights thrust their swords forward in perfect synchronization. Aether crackled along the blades, slicing through the monsters' thick, twisted flesh with precision. The creatures shrieked in pain, their distorted bodies writhing as the knights drove their weapons deeper, targeting weak points with surgical accuracy. Each strike was followed by a swift retreat, the knights in the front line stepping back just enough to allow the next wave of attackers to push forward, keeping the pressure on the pack.

It was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance of war.

One knight swung his sword in a wide arc, his blade crackling with aether as it cleaved through the neck of a bloated monster, sending its head rolling across the corrupted floor. Another knight, noticing a gap in the line, quickly shifted to cover his comrade's position, his shield raised high to block the incoming blow from a second creature's jagged claws. The teamwork was seamless—every movement calculated, every attack planned, and every defense covered.

The monsters, despite their size and mutated strength, were overwhelmed by the sheer efficiency of the knights. Their attacks grew more desperate, but the knights remained unfazed. They moved as one, their swords glowing with the power of their aether as they cut down the abominations one by one.

Cyrus watched with a raised eyebrow, noting the smoothness of their coordination. While the knights lacked the raw, unpredictable power of a mage or a true master of combat, their ability to work together made them a force to be reckoned with. Each knight complemented the other, their movements flowing together like parts of a single entity. It wasn't raw talent that made them formidable—it was their teamwork.

Athena stood beside him, her gaze focused on the battle but her expression unreadable. She could easily overpower any one of these knights in a one-on-one fight, but even she had to acknowledge the strength of their unity.

The last monster let out a final, pitiful scream as one of the knights drove his aether-charged blade into its chest, ending its life in a burst of sickly green miasma. The knights stood tall, their formation still intact, not a single one of them having faltered. As the monsters lay defeated at their feet, they quickly fell back into a defensive stance, awaiting any further orders.

Sylus, who had been watching silently beside Cyrus, gave a small nod of approval. "They may not be the strongest individually, but together, they're nearly unstoppable," he said quietly, his golden eyes reflecting the dim, flickering light of the dungeon.

Cyrus uncrossed his arms, glancing back at the defeated creatures. "Impressive," he muttered, though his tone was more contemplative than awed. There was strength in unity, no doubt, but he couldn't help but wonder how these knights would fare when faced with something beyond their control—something that couldn't be overcome with strategy and teamwork alone.

As the group ventured deeper into the corrupted dungeon, another pack of grotesque monsters emerged from the shadows. These abominations, with their bloated bodies and too many limbs, let out hideous shrieks as they advanced toward the party. Without hesitation, the knights moved into formation once more, shields raised and swords at the ready, their coordination flawless.

But before the first creature could even reach them, Cyrus stepped forward, walking through the ranks of knights as if they were nothing more than air. His presence was commanding, parting the armored warriors like the sea as they hesitated, eyes wide with confusion. The knights, who were ready to engage the monsters themselves, found their resolve momentarily faltering in the face of such quiet authority.

"I need to warm up," Cyrus said casually, his voice carrying an edge of impatience.

With a flick of his wrist, a thin blade of pure aether materialized in his hand. The weapon shimmered with an ethereal glow, its edges razor-sharp and perfect. Everyone—save for Athena—stared in stunned silence. Conjuring a weapon from pure aether was a feat few could achieve. Normally, aetheric power was channeled through a physical weapon, a conduit for the elemental energy. But here was Cyrus, summoning a blade made entirely of aether, a mark of true mastery over the element of good and vitality. Only a rare few, masters of aether itself, could perform such an act.

The knights gaped, awe and disbelief written across their faces. Even Sylus, who stood at the front, raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He, too, had not expected this level of skill.

Without even a pause, Cyrus swung the aether blade in a single, swift arc. The movement was fluid, elegant, and seemingly effortless. The monsters didn't even have time to react. Before the blade could physically touch them, the energy it exuded sliced through their grotesque forms with precision. In one perfect strike, every one of the beasts was cleaved in half, their bodies falling to the ground in two neatly divided pieces, lifeless.
Explore stories at My Virtual Library Empire

There wasn't a sound, not from the monsters, not from the knights, and certainly not from Cyrus, who stood before the pile of mutilated corpses with a look of mild annoyance.

"Too weak," he muttered under his breath, glancing down at the dismembered creatures. He had barely exerted himself, and yet the battle had already ended in less than a heartbeat. His frustration wasn't aimed at the creatures themselves, but at the lack of challenge they provided.

He turned back toward the group, his gaze meeting theirs. The expressions on the knights' faces ranged from shock to reverence, their eyes fixed on Cyrus and his shimmering blade. It was clear that they had never seen such power wielded in this way. To them, aether was an incredible force, but it always required a conduit—a sword, a staff, something tangible to channel its energy. The idea of someone summoning a weapon purely from aether itself was unfathomable to them.

Athena stood silently at his side, unsurprised, her eyes calm as she observed the reactions around them. To her, this was nothing new; she had seen Cyrus do far more than this before.

Sylus, however, was perhaps the only one who wasn't completely shocked. Though impressed, he wasn't caught off guard like the others. He knew Cyrus wasn't ordinary, and this display only further confirmed that. He gave a small, knowing smile but said nothing, allowing the moment to hang in the air.

The knights remained speechless, some of them whispering amongst themselves in disbelief. None dared to speak aloud, but it was clear they were beginning to realize just how outmatched they truly were.

Cyrus, for his part, seemed unaware of their amazement, or at least unconcerned by it. To him, this was a routine display of his abilities. He had long mastered the art of aether, and the need for a physical conduit seemed almost laughable.