Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 674 - 320: You Lost Control? (2)

"Maybe you should go through an urgent scan? First exposure to abyssal substances can certainly trigger all sorts of... negative effects."

From the medical kit, he pulled out a compact mental status scanner, its silver metallic shell casting an eerie sheen beneath the crimson illumination:

"Such signs aren't rare for beginners. Early indicators of spiritual corruption involve hearing things that aren't there, seeing illusions, and heightened reactions to imaginary dangers. Without quick intervention..."

Falko left the sentence hanging, though all those around understood the dire outcome implied by that "if."

Within the observation post's "special containment zone," far too many "ex-comrades" lingered, their humanity stripped away by the ravages of spiritual corruption.

Supervisor Wayne was already powering up the handheld erosion scanner in his possession.

The sophisticated device let out a soft drone, while its inner rune formation heated up swiftly, set to perform a full abyssal corruption check on Ron.

"Ralph, work with the scan—it's just routine protocol."

Wayne's words carried a soft edge, but they hid a firm denial of any alternative:

"Should the corruption signs cause sensory distortions, we'll have to launch recovery measures right away. The earlier we spot it, the better the odds of pulling through."

He halted, the stone-like portion of his face giving a faint spasm:

"You're aware of what happens if we put off the treatment."

Amid the skepticism from his fellow workers and the looming mandatory check, Ron held onto a steely, glacier-cold composure deep inside.

Long years of dedicated study and focused contemplation had drilled into him the skill of staying logical amid utter turmoil.

He was certain his senses were spot-on; the menace from the chaotic spirit beasts was hurtling closer at an alarming pace.

The waves from the space warp were strong enough to stir a slight queasiness in him, a clear result of potent spatial interference on the mind.

Yet in this scenario, too much talk would merely serve as more proof of "psychological issues."

"We don't have time for this protocol!"

Urgency sharpened Ron's tone; he felt the space distortion nearing its breaking threshold.

The monstrous power about to rip apart existence set every fiber in his frame into wild alarm:

"Whether you trust me or not, just trigger every defensive measure now! Ten seconds... nine... eight..."

As he ticked off the seconds with precision, he swiftly reviewed his gear setup.

The combat pouch at his side, the quick runes on his sleeve, the charm across his torso... in a flash, he verified each piece's condition and activation sequence.

This almost robotic readiness only heightened the discomfort among his squad mates.

To them, Ron's actions right now fit the classic markers of "abyssal spiritual corruption" to a tee:

Heightened alertness, irrational fears, and rigid habitual responses.

Close by, Copper Ring scout James kept his grip on his armament, set to restrain the "unstable" novice should the need arise.

"Five seconds... four... three..."

Just as Supervisor Wayne let out a heavy breath and geared up to enforce the scan against Ron's will, the whole realm inside the space bubble erupted into a horrifying shift.

Reality twisted at a pace one could see, as though an unseen colossal force was churning it into a thick, syrupy mess.

This warping went beyond ordinary matter effects; it was a core alteration in existence's framework driven by some unfathomable power.

The blood shallow's surface, that sheet of deceptively serene dark-crimson fluid, abruptly rippled in unnatural waves defying natural rules.

Rather than expanding, these waves contracted, birthing several tiny vortices.

Even more disturbing were the alien hues at each vortex's core:

Certain ones gleamed pitch-black, resembling gateways to oblivion;

Others blazed with blinding white radiance, too intense for the eyes;

And some displayed shades beyond mortal description, sparking primal dread upon a mere glance.

"Alert! Space irregularity spotted! Danger rating: Critical!"

At last, the "Watcher-7" alert network kicked in, its shrill siren resounding through the blood shallow like infernal cries.

The automaton's dome whirred frantically, as seventeen sensor varieties blinked furious red, blaring insistent tones.

Yet the response came too late.

"Watcher-7"'s artificial voice rolled out precise readings, each figure shattering normalcy:

"Reality stability: 12%, dropping further!"Power surge level: Exceeds detection limits!"Temporal flow irregularity: Multiple timelines overlapping!"Hazard rating: Unidentified force!"Advice: Evacuate without delay! Advice: Evacuate without delay!"

The instant Ron's timer hit zero, a jagged tear several meters wide split open in the northeast space pocket.

This gash alone mocked the rules of three-dimensional existence, boasting dimensions yet plunging into endless void.

Its borders shimmered with "shades" alien to our world, illuminations not bounced but thrust straight from alternate realms into being.

Out of this tear in the fabric of all, a spectral shape crept forth gradually—the chaotic spirit monster.

While other abyssal entities might cling to faint traces of organic form, chaotic spirit monsters outright rejected the very idea of "being alive."

Lacking any stable shape, its form appeared woven entirely from turbulent ideas.