Transmigrated with my corruption system

A moment of silence descended across the battlefield. Every figure froze as they struggled to process the words, especially the remaining survivors from the coalition of clans.

Beside the shadowy figure of Thunderblade, Lyra’s eyelids fluttered rapidly before a pout formed across her face. She huffed beneath her breath. Even in Ulric’s absence, he still found a way to show off.

At her side, a pearly giggle tore from Amber’s throat as she stared at the shadow. She had already known the truth from the beginning. Still, she couldn’t help but feel happy seeing how rapidly Ulric’s power was growing, so much so that the shadows he summoned now had the ability to speak. Were they sentient? As the thoughts crashed through her mind, they only fueled her laughter.

***

At another edge of the battlefield, Alaric’s lips twitched faintly. Then his eyes lit up in realization.

"I see," he muttered. An unhinged smile spread across his face. The moment the shadow had spoken, everything suddenly fell into place.

This was no clone or phantom... but an undead! He had been pushing that thought aside. After all, only necromancers and very few across the realm could wield such power.

And now the only way the brat could wield it as well was if his dark energy was so pure that it granted him some control over underworld energy itself.

As the thought formed, his head lifted toward the sky as a burst of hysterical laughter tore from his throat. To achieve such a level of dark energy purity, the talent required would far exceed a mere S-rank talent.

"Hahaha!" He chuckled, slowly regaining his breath. The little brat had fooled them all. Him included.

***

At another edge, as she also heard the words, Aelira’s lips twitched faintly.

Watching the shadow easily strike Kaelgor down to death, she wondered: Was there no limit to his power? She had tried to place a ceiling on his monstrosity, but each time he proved his potential was uncontainable.

***

Back at the center, Lyra and Amber stared at Thunderblade’s shadow as they slowly regained their composure. A single thought formed in the back of their minds.

Why did he suddenly stop?

Where tens of thousands of the coalition army had once stood, only a few hundred remained. The strongest of them all, judging by their auras. Including some of the last opposing clan leaders.

Why wasn’t he killing them as well? They were sure another wave of his arm could summon lightning and thunder to wipe them out completely. So why stop now? Had he run out of energy?

Barely a moment after the thought formed, that illusion was shattered as they stared closer.

In the depths of the battlefield, a regal shadow beast moved across the field, swiping its claws among some of the remaining figures and instantly beheading them, reaping their lives.

"Shadow Puff!" Lyra and Amber gasped simultaneously. Reignited excitement flared as they stared at the beast. Its stealth had evaded even their senses. They had a feeling that if it hadn’t wanted to be discovered, they wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

It only dispelled its cloaking spell to clear some of their doubts.

So it was saving some for you? Lyra mused inwardly, her eyes widening slightly as she continued to stare.

As Shadow Puff killed, she could sense its essence growing stronger at a rapid pace. Its speed increased. The dark hue encapsulating it grew brighter. Its claws became sharper. Everything about it was being reforged to make it stronger.

"They have the potential to grow stronger through killing," Amber muttered as the realization dawned on her as well.

Looking back, they could sense that Thunderblade’s shadow had also grown stronger from the moment it arrived.

His already thick, menacing thunderbolts had grown even thicker.

"Woah," Lyra muttered, a glint of genuine awe flashing across her eyes. His ability to summon shadows of the people and beasts he killed was already terrifying.

If they could grow alongside him as well... Before the thought could fully form, her throat dried as her gaze dropped to the ice forming in her palms.

Even with all this power... just as they thought they were growing closer to him, their eyes were opened to new peaks.

But this didn’t discourage them. Quite the opposite. Their fingers clenched in determination. They would only work harder so they wouldn’t be left behind.

Her thoughts were cut short by Amber’s faint murmur as a furrow spread across her face.

"Why did it stop too...?"

"Huh?" Lyra mumbled, turning to stare at Shadow Puff’s frozen figure.

As she looked at those who remained, the few clan leaders and the strongest survivors, was it saving them for last?

Just as they were growing more dumbfounded, the spared figures looked at the shadowy figure in the distance with rising hope.

Was he deciding to spare them? They were the strongest. If the Greyson banner decided to assimilate them, it would mean untold growth and strength to ward off all future threats.

Just as the hope burning in their eyes was about to be fully rekindled, they watched in confusion as Thunderblade’s shadowy figure raised his arm once more.

Only this time, instead of lightning striking down to engulf them all...

A screeching sound, almost similar to a death wraith, echoed in the distance. It rapidly approached, blurring before their eyes into nothing but a blood-red sheen.

It headed straight for Thunderblade’s shadow. When it landed, a shockwave erupted, sending him back a few steps and kicking up dust and rubble around him.

When it settled, the view that came into sight elicited a few gasps. Amber and Lyra’s mouths gaped slightly in confusion.

It was Ulric’s weapon. The blood-red scythe now rested in Thunderblade’s palm.

"This... how," Lyra muttered, finally finding her breath. Unlike most of Ulric’s powers that they could wield to some extent, his scythe only answered to his call. Besides, its power was too great for any of them to handle.

Was Thunderblade’s link to Ulric so strong that he could wield his weapon, even if only temporarily?

They mused, before their eyes widened. They watched his mouth open as he spoke once more.

"Go out and feed... so that Master may awaken once more."

Before they could process the words, the scythe buzzed rapidly, almost as if in exhilaration. Then it shot forward, not waiting to be flicked, unleashing another wave of carnage.

The few D-ranks that many had once looked up to in Tempest watched helplessly as the scythe easily pierced through their necks, beheading them instantly while sucking their essence dry and leaving them as withered husks. There was nothing they could do.

Until it made its way to the last clan leader, a woman strapped in middle-grade armor. Panic filled her eyes as she yelled in surrender.

"Please... mercy... I’ll do anything you—"

She barely got the chance to speak as the scythe sliced her in half in a gory display, draining her essence as Thunderblade’s shadowy voice echoed after it.

"There is no mercy for those who go against the Dark Lord."