The holographic timer hung in the oppressive black, its digits a stark blue against nothingness. `SOUL_CURSE: NILYADRAST` `EXPIRATION_IN:` `00:03:59:58`. Korshan stared, his vision tunneling on the numbers. Four years. Four years until Nilya's life dissolved into system scrap. He reached out, his fingers passing through the shimmering projection. This wasn't just a threat; it was a physical cage. His dread-wyrm, Tenebris, uncoiled slightly from his forearm, its scales momentarily glinting with a faint, abyssal sheen. The air here was colder, denser than any dungeon he’d encountered. He could feel a faint, rhythmic thrumming underfoot, a low pulse that resonated with the gnawing dread in his core. This wasn’t just a prison; it was a drain. A siphon. `[STATUS: ZONE_CORRUPTED_UNDERCROFT_INITIATED. DEBUFF: MANA_DRAIN_CRITICAL. EFFECT_APPLIED: SOUL_SIPHON_ACTIVE. TARGET: NILYADRAST.]` Korshan’s eyes snapped back to the timer. The numbers blurred, then shifted. The `00:03` segment clicked down, then `00:02`. No, not a minute. A *year*. One full year vanished in the span of a single System message. `00:02:59:58`. Academy administration was draining her, siphoning her spiritual density directly into the facility's ward matrix. A faint, almost imperceptible moan reached him through the suffocating darkness. It was Nilya. He dropped low, palms raking the frigid flagstones. His fingers brushed against soft fabric, then skin, cold and clammy. She was here, lying prone, utterly unconscious. He felt her faint, shallow breaths, the fragile pulse beneath his touch. Her slight frame hung limp in his grip, leached of vitality. He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. Her head lolled, resting against his shoulder. He could feel the faint tremor in her limbs, the unnatural cold emanating from her. He had to move. Now. He couldn't fight in this darkness, mana-blocked and blind. But he didn't need to fight. He just needed to *break* it. He activated his System interface, a familiar blue glow illuminating a small sphere around him, revealing the grim reality of his surroundings. He was in a cylindrical shaft, roughly twenty paces across, its walls slick with greenish slime and jagged, protruding stones. Above, the shaft disappeared into more impenetrable darkness. Below, a churning pool of viscous, black ichor pulsed with malevolent light. This was a bottomless pit, a death trap designed to absorb all who fell into it, likely the source of the `MANA_DRAIN_CRITICAL` and `SOUL_SIPHON_ACTIVE` debuffs. This was the Corrupted Undercroft, a forgotten dungeon, infamous in the game’s lore for its instant-kill mechanics and labyrinthine passages. There was no way out, not conventionally. But Korshan wasn't conventional. He shifted her against his collarbone, protecting her neck, and surveyed the stonework. A slight curve, just there, where the rough-hewn stone met a smoother, almost polished section. He pressed himself against it, then, with a sharp intake of breath, began his frantic backward hop. A speedrunner’s technique, `Backwards Long Jump` as it was called in his past life. Each hop, perfectly timed, added infinitesimal bursts of momentum. The system registered it, a faint `[VELOCITY_EXCEEDING_EXPECTED_PARAMETERS]` appearing for a fraction of a second. He could feel the build-up. The air pressure shifted around them. The slick stone wall blurred. One hop. Another. The circular shaft became a tunnel, rushing past him. He focused, his entire being locked onto the rhythm, the precise timing of each jump, his muscles burning with the effort of fighting gravity and the sheer, physical force of acceleration. Nilya remained unconscious, mercifully unaware of the terrifying ascent. With a final, desperate leap, fueled by a terrifying surge of accumulated velocity, Korshan launched himself upwards. His body, Nilya’s weight negligible now, became a projectile. The cylindrical shaft became a blur of green and grey, rushing past at terminal velocity. He aimed for the absolute zenith, a faint glimmer of light far, far above. He wasn't just climbing; he was *clipping*. Through the game’s geometry, through the intended boundaries. His head met something solid, then gave way with a sickening lurch. Not a wall, but a ceiling. A thin layer of programmed reality. He felt the familiar sensation of phase-shifting, a brief disorientation as his atoms defied physics, and then, a sudden, blinding burst of light and sound. He plummeted through the plaster, shielding Nilya as they struck a linen-draped serving trolley. He barely registered the stunned gasps, the clatter of silverware, the sudden hush that fell over the room. His focus was on Nilya, ensuring her safety as he absorbed the impact. He rolled, cradling her, and pushed himself upright, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder. He was in a grand dining hall. Chandeliers glittered overhead, reflecting off polished marble floors. Tables laden with exotic dishes stretched across the room. Directly across the dais sat Verek, a porcelain spoon frozen inches from his parted lips. Korshan didn't waste a second. With his free hand, he reached into his inventory. The `Corrupted Dungeon Core`, shattered but still pulsating with dark energy, materialized in his palm. It was a jagged shard of obsidian, pulsing with sickly green light, the very core that had been siphoning Nilya’s soul. He dropped it dead center into the high rector's bisque. The obsidian shard sank, hissing, instantly turning the golden bisque into a bubbling, black sludge. A single, perfectly formed bubble of green slime rose, then popped, spattering Verek’s pristine ceremonial robes. The silence was absolute, save for the faint, horrified gasps from the assembled nobles. Verek’s face, initially pale with shock, slowly reddened, a dark flush spreading from his neck upwards. He rose, his chair scraping loudly against the marble. Veins stood out along his temples in purple cords. “You… *filth!*” Verek spat, his voice low and trembling with rage. He ripped a soiled napkin from his lap, throwing it to the floor. “Do you have *any* idea what you have done? You have defiled this academy, this *gala*! And dragged your wretched kin into it!” Korshan adjusted Nilya in his arms, her shallow breaths a chilling reminder of the ticking clock. He met Verek’s gaze, a cold, unwavering stare that promised retribution. “You will release her. Now.” Verek let out a guttural laugh, a sound devoid of humor. “Release her? She is *mine* to command, boy. A power source, a tool. And your little stunt has only hastened her demise.” He raised his hand. In his palm, a small, obsidian-black device glowed with a faint, malevolent red light. Korshan knew what it was instantly: a magical detonator, directly linked to Nilya’s soul curse. The ultimate fail-safe. Verek’s finger hovered over a single, jagged rune etched into its surface. “Now,” Verek sneered, his voice laced with venomous triumph. “You have a choice. Surrender that… *thing*,” he gestured to Korshan’s forearm, where Tenebris coiled restlessly, its shadowy form momentarily solidifying, “or watch the girl's soul shatter into scrap. Right here. Right now.”

Frame Perfect