In the heart of the cursed land, where the sky was stained a sickly red and the air was thick with corrupt energy, the cocoon of black tentacles pulsed like a monstrous heart. Explore stories on freewebnovel
Its presence was not only visible, but perceptible in every way: the sound of pulsating flesh, the stench of decay, and the oppressive feeling of something too large and unnatural growing within.
This cocoon was no simple prison or shell. It was a womb of destruction, incubating the abomination born from the fusion of Purgatory’s leaders, who in their greed had absorbed the fragments of the fallen god.
Now, their bodies and souls were unrecognizable, turned into something new, something beyond human understanding. At first, the cocoon was no larger than a house, but with each passing day, it expanded.
The dark tentacles surrounding it extended like living roots, penetrating the ground and devouring the vitality of everything around them. Ancient trees withered in a matter of hours, reducing to dust.
Animals that came too close were absorbed, their bodies decomposing in seconds as their life energy fueled the creature within. But most terrifying was the death zone that expanded with each heartbeat of the cocoon.
It wasn’t just the earth that died, but the very fabric of reality. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, time seemed to distort, and the air grew so thick that breathing was an act of pain.
The few unfortunate souls who approached the cocoon—whether out of curiosity, madness, or desperation—met a fate far worse than death. Their bodies were absorbed, but their souls were trapped in eternal torment within the creature.
Whispers could be heard on the wind, voices of those who were once human, now reduced to mere echoes of suffering. Around the cocoon, the earth itself began to change. The ground cracked, forming dark veins through which a thick, black liquid flowed as if the beast’s blood was seeping through the world.
The sky above the area stopped showing stars, replaced by absolute blackness that seemed to absorb light. Any living being that crossed the border of the death zone immediately felt its energy drained as if something invisible was stealing the very essence of its existence from it.
Even the strongest warriors noticed how their bodies grew heavy, their thoughts sluggish, as if the presence of the abomination weakened the very will to fight. It didn’t take long for the death zone to begin affecting nearby settlements. Entire villages disappeared in a single night, their inhabitants absorbed into the cocoon without a trace.
The largest cities were still out of reach, but the expansion was unstoppable. It wasn’t a question of if it would reach them, but when. Leaders of the different factions began to worry.
Even those who did not fear war feared the unknown. What was growing in that cocoon was not simply a threat to their enemies but to all life. If someone had the misfortune of being sucked into the cocoon and retaining consciousness for an instant, they would see a nightmare landscape.
Inside there was no defined space, but an abyss of pulsating flesh and constantly moving tentacles. Fragments of still recognizable bodies floated in the black liquid that filled the place, some with their eyes open in an expression of infinite terror. In the center, at the core of the cocoon, something was forming.
Its silhouette was indescribable, its presence impossible to understand. It was not a single being, but the fusion of hundreds of souls and bodies, an organism in which each part pulsed with a purpose: to destroy, to consume, to evolve.
Its thoughts were not human, nor even divine. They were something older, something primitive, something that had no place in this world. The fragments of the fallen god, far from having been mastered by the leaders of Purgatory, had turned them into something else.
The creature that would be born from that cocoon was not a simple monster: it was a mistake in creation itself, a being that should not exist. Every night, the cocoon emitted a sound that made the earth tremble, a vibration so deep that it affected even those who were hundreds of kilometers away.
It was not a roar, but an echo from the abyss, a reminder that something was about to be born. The skies grew darker. The stars flickered with fear. The entire world seemed to hold its breath.
It was not long. One more day. One more night. And then, the cocoon would open… and the real nightmare would begin. Meanwhile, in the underground fortress of Purgatory, the atmosphere was tense.
Since their original leaders sacrificed themselves to absorb the fragments of the fallen god and became the abomination within the black cocoon, a new group of interim leaders took control of the organization.
They were warriors and strategists chosen not for their loyalty, but for their ability to maintain order and discipline within the most feared criminal organization on the continent.
Their goal was not territorial domination or revenge against enemy factions. All of Purgatory’s military movement was a great distraction, a smokescreen to execute a single, accurate strike: stealing the remnants of the fallen god from the dragons’ possession.
Gathered in a large chamber lit only by blue-fire torches, Purgatory’s interim leaders discussed the details of their plan. "The dragons have resisted all infiltration attempts so far," said one of the strategists, leaning over a stone table filled with maps and battle diagrams.
"But they are not prepared for a full-scale attack. If we unleash chaos on their territory, they will be too busy defending their domain to notice our true intention," he added. Another leader, with scars all over his face, nodded, saying, "We cannot underestimate them.
Dragons are not simple beasts. They are ancient, cunning, and some of them have lived since before the fall of the god". A third, with a colder and more calculating tone, spoke up, "That is why we will not confront them directly. Our attack is not a war. It is a distraction."
The plan was clear: Purgatory would mobilize its forces toward the dragons’ domains, unleashing a series of violent and seemingly senseless attacks. They would use their characteristic brutality to spread terror and make the dragons believe they were under an all-out attack.
Meanwhile, a small elite group would infiltrate the depths of the sacred mountain where the dragons guarded the remaining fragments of the fallen god. If they succeeded, they would gain enough power to change the course of history.
In the days that followed, Purgatory’s fortress became a hive of activity. Warriors of all stripes prepared for battle. Silent assassins sharpened their daggers and trained in the shadows, ready to eliminate key targets before they could react.
Berserkers, scarred and lightly armored, prepared to be the vanguard of the attack, those who would charge head-on to unleash the first wave of destruction. Dark summoners performed forbidden rituals, channeling evil energies to bring nightmarish creatures onto the battlefield that could fight even the youngest dragons.
Strategists, with maps and runes, calculated the path of the attack and the points of greatest weakness in the draconic defenses. The day of the assault drew ever closer.
While Purgatory finalized its preparations, the dragons remained oblivious to the true threat. In their sacred mountain realm, they protected the remaining fragments of the fallen god within a hidden chamber, sealed with ancient magic.
The dragons knew that these fragments were dangerous, but they also knew that they could not destroy them. If they fell into the wrong hands, they could unleash a catastrophe even worse than the fall of the original god.
The elders of the dragons watched the movements of the Purgatory troops with caution. They knew that something was about to happen, but they did not imagine that the true objective was not war, but the theft of their most valuable possession.
Finally, the night of the assault arrived. Under the light of a red moon, the Purgatory army descended upon the dragon mountains like a storm of death.
The berserkers charged forward, destroying everything in their path. Entire villages were reduced to ashes in a matter of minutes. The sorcerers released storms of fire and dark lightning, clouding the sky with a thick fog of ash and smoke.
Summoned creatures emerged from shadowy portals, writhing in grotesque shapes, attacking every living thing in their path. The dragons reacted immediately. From their temples in the mountains, they unleashed their fury, descending like meteors of scales and fire.
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The skies became an inferno of blue flames and deafening roars. The fight between the dragons and Purgatory was fiercer than either side had expected.
But while the battle raged on the surface, the real blow was happening in the shadows. Deep within the mountain, an elite group of Purgatory soldiers silently advanced. Their mission: to steal the fragments of the fallen god without being detected.
This area was protected by ancient traps and sealing runes that only the most powerful could penetrate, but these thieves were not just any group: they were the best assassins, spies and strategists of Purgatory, the mere fact of arriving there undetected demonstrated their strength.