Lysander turned his attention to his newly claimed territory, the weight of Xyl'gotha's ominous words settling heavily in his mind, a cold dread mingling with a burgeoning sense of responsibility. The energetic dome that marked its fragile boundaries shimmered with a faint, ethereal, protective light, a solitary beacon of nascent dominion in the oppressive, all-encompassing gloom of this blighted world. He began to walk the perimeter of his newly established domain, his senses, honed by millennia of keen observation and now further enhanced by his ascension, meticulously taking in the grim details of his nascent holding.
Despite Xyl'gotha's unsettling ritual, the land within the shimmering barrier remained largely blighted, a testament to the deep-seated corruption that permeated this plane of existence. The sickly yellow and stagnant orange hues still dominated the landscape, staining the sluggish stream that meandered through the territory like a festering wound, its sluggish flow carrying the visual testament of the world's decay. The strange, alien flora, twisted into grotesque shapes, pulsed with its unsettling bioluminescence, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to writhe with a malevolent life of their own, mimicking the unseen horrors that lurked beyond his protective dome. The ancient, gnarled trees, their forms contorted in silent agony, though now showing a marginally healthier shade of a sickly green in the immediate vicinity of where Titania had attempted her valiant purification, still bore their menacing thorns and skeletal branches, a constant, visual reminder of the pervasive corruption that clung to every aspect of this reality.
The ground underfoot was a depressing mix of the same sickly grey moss that seemed to choke the life out of the soil and patches of cracked, barren earth, devoid of any visible signs of healthy growth. The air, though mercifully lacking the immediate cloying stench of pure decay thanks to the presence of the Obsidian Scourge Crystal and its dark work, still carried a heavy, stagnant quality, thick and lifeless, utterly devoid of the fresh vitality that Titania had briefly conjured in her selfless act. There was no birdsong to break the unnerving silence, no rustling of small creatures in the undergrowth, only an oppressive stillness punctuated by the distant, guttural calls of unseen horrors echoing from beyond the fragile safety of the territory's edge, a constant reminder of the dangers that lurked just beyond his grasp.
The small cabin, stark and functional in its design, a solitary structure built from the petrified wood that seemed to embody the world's decay, sat near the center of the domain, a lonely sentinel in the desolate landscape. Fifty feet away, the Obsidian Scourge Crystal hovered silently in the stagnant air, radiating its palpable aura of pure, concentrated corruption, a dark heart beating at the center of his claim. Wispy tendrils of a dark, almost smoky substance, the very essence of the blight, continued to snake upwards from the blighted ground, drawn inexorably towards the floating crystal like iron filings to a magnet, which pulsed with a faint, internal darkness, a silent testament to its ongoing work. The area immediately surrounding the crystal, a small sphere of influence, seemed slightly less vibrant in its corruption, the sickly hues muted, replaced by a deeper, lifeless grey, as if the very essence of the blight was being leached away and contained within the obsidian artifact.
Lysander noted the stark and unsettling contrast between the energetic dome, a shimmering symbol of his claim, his first assertion of dominion in this hostile world, and the dead, corrupted land it so precariously enclosed. It was a sanctuary of sorts, offering a degree of protection from immediate external threats, a fragile bubble of safety in a sea of decay, but the very ground beneath his feet was tainted, a constant, visceral reminder of the pervasive and hostile nature of this reality. The 35% reduction in corruption, while a significant first step, a testament to Xyl'gotha's dark magic, had only scratched the surface of the pervasive blight. The land remained barren, devoid of the vibrant life that Titania so effortlessly represented, a silent testament to the ongoing struggle.
As he completed his slow, deliberate circuit of the territory's perimeter, his senses absorbing every minute detail of his blighted domain, a new system message appeared in his vision, its stark text a stark contrast to the oppressive reality around him:
[System Update: The Pure Corruption Crystal created by your subordinate, Xyl'gotha, will passively absorb approximately 5% of the remaining corruption within your territory on a daily basis. This process will also prevent external corruption from encroaching within your domain boundaries.]
[Upon expansion of your territory, the Pure Corruption Crystal will automatically begin absorbing 5% of the newly encompassed corruption daily, continuing until the entire territory is cleansed.]
Lysander considered this new information, his sharp mind analyzing the implications of this slow but steady process. It was a gradual healing, a long-term solution born of dark magic and necessity. The Obsidian Scourge Crystal, a product of necromantic arts and the very essence of corruption, was slowly, inexorably, healing his domain, albeit by drawing the blight into itself, concentrating the darkness in one specific location. It was a solution born of necessity, a twisted and unsettling form of purification, a dark mirror to Titania's natural cleansing. He looked out at the barren landscape, the silent, dead earth stretching out within his fragile boundaries. It was safe, for now, protected from external incursions, but it was not a place where life could easily flourish, especially not the vibrant, untainted life that Titania embodied. His gaze then drifted back towards the small, stark cabin, towards the still, unconscious form of the Fairy Queen, a renewed sense of determination hardening his features, his resolve solidifying like glacial ice. He had a sanctuary, however bleak and tainted. Now, his focus must shift to ensuring its long-term viability, its eventual purification, and, most immediately, the full recovery of his loyal subordinate, the fragile spark of light in his nascent darkness. The weight of his responsibilities as a Lord in this brutal Crucible pressed down on him, a stark and heavy contrast to the desolate, yet strangely compelling, beauty of his newly claimed, yet still profoundly corrupted, domain.