Unholy Player Chapter 515 Awakening the Unknown (Part 2)

The monitors on the equipment flickered momentarily before dying. Almost immediately, a corrosive rust began to spread across the machinery, eating through the frames, screws, and every bit of exposed metal.

A sudden, total decay seemed to grip every metallic object in the vicinity.

Adyr felt the sensation on his own flesh as well. A light, irritating itch crawled over his skin, making it feel as if the oxygen had become sandpaper.

Even so, he didn't think for a second about fleeing. The intensity wasn't enough to cause him genuine harm, so he remained in place to observe the phenomenon.

Eventually, the entire chamber was consumed by a crimson aura. The room took on a deep, blood-red tint, looking as though the very walls had been dipped in dye.

Fortunately, the energy appeared confined by the room's boundaries, unable to leak out. While it caused the reinforced door to rust at an alarming rate, the structure seemed sturdy enough to hold for the moment.

It was then that Adyr spotted a further transformation occurring on Rhys’s body.

A new ripple caught his eye, one that was distinct from the surrounding red aura. It possessed a different quality, as if it originated from a completely separate source of power.

In the area of Rhys’s abdomen, a peculiar motion began to manifest. A miniature whirlpool started to churn, shoving aside the red aura as it condensed into a rotating mass of concentrated energy.

“Is a dimension appearing there?”

This wasn't his first time encountering such a sight.

Utilizing the unique properties of Sszhar’s eyes—a gift from his previous evolution—he was already familiar with the appearance of a hidden dimension. Now, that very same phenomenon was taking shape in the center of Rhys’s gut, where the swirling energy was at its thickest.

The realization came easily to him. The dimension forming there was a Sanctuary.

Adyr understood then that he was witnessing a live awakening. This wasn't a secondhand report or a rumor; it was happening right in front of him in real time.

From his vantage point, the invisible vortex of energy stabilized in a matter of seconds. It then collapsed inward, vanishing into Rhys’s body as if it had finally settled into its proper place.

Stepping closer, Adyr squinted, attempting to perceive the Sanctuary directly. He failed. Though it remained invisible to his sight, he could sense its weight—an unfamiliar dimensional presence hidden just behind a thin veil.

“I wonder if I can upgrade these eyes and see better,” he whispered with genuine curiosity, his focus sharpening even through his fatigue.

At his current level, he could only detect the gateways to such dimensions. The internal Sanctuaries of Practitioners remained hidden from his gaze.

However, if he found a way to evolve his vision, he might eventually be able to measure the scale of a Sanctuary or even peer at its contents.

As he pondered his future evolutions, a fresh set of changes began to unfold.

This time, the source wasn't Rhys. Strangely, the transformation was occurring within Adyr himself.

“What?” Adyr’s shoulders jerked as he spun around.

In that instant, he felt the skeletal frames of his wings tearing their way out from his shoulder blades, forcing themselves through as if his back was no longer under his command.

The bony tips scraped harshly against the lab walls as the wings expanded and twitched. Rapidly, feathers began to sprout—one wing becoming pure white and the other pitch black, the plumage rushing to cover them from base to tip.

Adyr had lost all control. When he attempted to retract them, his muscles ignored his will. An incomprehensible force seemed to have hijacked his physical form.

Without hesitation, he pulled a sword from his Sanctuary and swung it at his own wing, intending to sever the limb.

Though they were part of his body, he would not tolerate betrayal from his own flesh.

The blade, however, was insufficient. It merely sliced through a few white feathers before striking the bone and stopping cold, sending a jarring vibration up his arm.

He prepared for another strike, this time intending to coat the steel in Malice to increase its cutting power. But a new complication arose immediately.

As he tried to channel Malice, the dark smoke erupted from the wrong location.

His black wing began to vent thick clouds of smoke, seemingly seizing control of his bloodline talent. The darkness poured out in heavy torrents, completely ignoring his commands.

The white wing responded in kind, joining the rebellion. A warm, brilliant white light flooded out, illuminating the other side of the room with a radiance so intense it cast sharp, dark shadows across the floor.

Having lost authority over both his wings and his bloodline talents, Adyr had to make a split-second choice.

He began to prepare his suicide combo to obliterate the wings entirely, but time ran out.

Grace and Malice had painted the room in contrasting shades of light and shadow. Then, the two rival forces seemed to reach a silent agreement. For the first time, they acted in unison, surging toward Rhys’s body as if drawn by an invisible vacuum.

The sudden drain hit Adyr like a physical blow. His stamina evaporated instantly. His grip failed, causing the sword to clatter onto the floor as his knees buckled.

Strength fled from his limbs. He couldn't even muster the energy to activate his Spark skills. Every internal process became sluggish and heavy.

Despite the crushing weakness, he forced his head up to watch, his breathing coming in shallow gasps.

Malice and Grace continued to pour violently from his wings, washing over Rhys. They acted as a unified front, systematically peeling away the layers of the red aura surrounding the boy.

The collision of colors looked like a celestial conflict visible only to the gods. Waves of black and white crashed against the deep crimson in a violent struggle.

With every passing moment, Adyr felt his vitality being siphoned away. The drain had moved past simple exhaustion and was now reaching for his very life force.

Wrinkles etched themselves into his skin. His vibrant red hair turned dull and brittle. His body began to age at a terrifying, surreal pace.

He was powerless to stop the process. Slumped on the floor, he could only be a spectator to his own demise.

He wasn't even sure which side to root for, considering his own talents were the ones killing him.

Finally, the last of his strength vanished. His aged eyelids grew heavy and slid shut. He collapsed face-first onto the ground, losing consciousness before the battle reached its conclusion.

Even after he went still, the colors continued their relentless war. The white and black forces suppressed the dark red. With a final, massive surge, they shattered the crimson presence entirely, scattering it into nothingness.

They did not stop to celebrate, nor did they show any concern for their fallen master. Instead, they surged forward, flooding into Rhys’s body and filling him completely, as if staking a claim on every fiber of his being.

A fundamental transformation began from the inside out. His mind, soul, and flesh were saturated with the Genesis energy of the bloodline talents, rewriting his existential code from the ground up.

And then, the awakening process restarted. This time, it wasn't the Blood Path that answered the call, but something entirely unprecedented.