In the current year, as the war rages onward, the three archmages delve deep into research and humanitarian support toward civilians and war-torn refugees. Pneuma researches self-sufficient resources through magic and accompanies Omega in humanitarian efforts and medical support. Omega was charged with the topic of self-perpetuating magic and, in the off time, assisted refugees and civilians with food, clothes, and shelter. Alpha, deviated compared to his other peers; his research was on the element of Wither taken from an expedition to the hell-like Nether.
He was deep into his research, forsaking his relation and his charge bearing the title. Alpha got so obsessed with his research that each day that passed, the vicinity around his tower slowly changed, darkened, and decayed. The smell of ashes lingered in the air, a sensation of dread creeping behind anyone’s spine if they got close, echoes of distant cries reverberated inside a person’s mind. It was bad enough, in an excursion to observe and log changes in the world, Omega has found the environment not in the vicinity of Alpha changed and corrupted.
Omega once has enough, storms into the councils who have been inactive as the surrounding environment morphed and changed, takes matters into his own hands, and proceeds to issue a command toward any mages who research adjacent research and are involved with the element of Wither. Ceasing all activities or being stripped of their capabilities to command the weave. Yet as he arrived toward Alpha’s chamber, it was too late. Alpha was already too enamored with his own masterpiece as everything around him decayed.
This orb of Wither crackles with darkened energies as it slowly draws in matter more and more as each second passes. Omega, applying his knowledge and skill, tries to mitigate and disintegrate the orb of Wither, yet fails to do so as Alpha prevents it through his own magecraft. A fight breaks out as destruction slowly encroaches onto the world, both mages giving their all for purpose untold. Chaos reigns as Pneuma witnesses the event from the sideline as they try to evacuate every mage, civilian, and refugee. With each strike and imbalance of mana rippling through the weave, the enchantment around the orb of Wither slowly breaks, changes, and morphs into something new, something horrible.
Alpha was past the point of no return, fusing himself with the orb, corrupting everything around him. Alpha has turned into a horror that slowly eats away the world, corrupting and changing the very earth that he once existed on. It turns and grows, grotesque and decaying, collapsing into a bright star before exploding into a gargantuan storm. The last thing anyone saw was a large Ω symbol and numerous magic circles brightening the skies in the despairing night.