Chapter 80

  A massive, booming crash tore through the unnatural silence that had previously dominated the icy plain. It was no ordinary sound; it wasn't the sharp splintering of ice or the dull bursting of rock. Rather, it sounded like the tearing of an invisible boundary between two realities. My demonic blade, a construct of pulsating flesh and red energy, had been thrust forth with a force born of sheer willpower, hitting the invisible barrier so hard that the massive, deep blue ice arch behind it instantly shattered like overloaded glass.

  Thousands of sharp, glittering shards flew away from the point of impact and plummeted into the pitch-black depths of the now exposed cave entrance. Some of these fragments seemed to hover in the air for a brief moment, trapped in a strange, magical suspension, before silently disappearing—swallowed by the total darkness lurking beyond the threshold.

  I took half a step back, my muscles relaxed, but my mind was surprised. Not from fear, but because my whole body felt the enormous energy of that moment resonating. It was an electrifying blend of unrestrained power, deep resonance, and a fleeting doubt about the ease with which the barrier had fallen.

  "Gravor... what was that just now?" I asked internally, my thoughts focused on the blackened, smoky spot where the magical boundary had just been.

  "What you asked for," he replied casually. His voice in my head sounded sluggish, almost sleepy, as if after a duty fulfilled. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

  "No," I murmured, shaking my head slightly to center my concentration. "The fight is not far off. Probably."

  I felt his nod—not physically, but as a silent movement within me, a subtle agreement. He was awake and alert, but for the moment, content and silent.

  The others were still rooted to the spot behind me. Some rebels held their weapons drawn, most stared with open mouths at the now exposed entrance. Even the more experienced Maira and Vex exchanged a brief, questioning glance before refocusing on me.

  I raised my hand, a simple, unmistakable gesture that gave the sign to proceed. No words were needed. Only movement.

  We set off—a long, disciplined stream of metal and coiled will. About a hundred warriors, rebels, and companions, who were now stepping through a maw of stone and magic. Because that's exactly what it felt like: stepping into the gullet of a gigantic, sleeping monster.

  The cavern inside was not a tunnel in the classic sense. No narrow, artificially dug passage, no cramped breakthrough. It was wide. Grand. Breathtaking. And it bore no traces of natural formation.

  The walls and floor shimmered in an unnatural blue—not like the blue of illumination, but like that of frozen magic. Thick veins of mana ran through the rock, pulsing, almost alive. You couldn't hear their song with your ears, but the body still felt it: a subtle shimmering under the skin, a disturbing tingling in the teeth.

  The air was cold, but strangely sterile and silent, without the expected humidity of ice caves. And something about this place was profoundly wrong. I remembered the area of the Ice Stomper—this cave had the same archaic resonance, but there was more. The hostile presence was deeper, more active.

  I forced myself to maintain the formation: two rows, close enough to react quickly to a surprise, but open enough for everyone to have room to fight. Arik flew ahead, now back in his invisible ash form, just a cold draft that constantly remained a few meters ahead of our spearhead.

  The deeper we penetrated, the heavier my head became. Not physically from exertion, but my mind wanted to turn back. Everything in me screamed that this was a damned bad idea. Every center of instinct in my body twitched with every step. But I kept going. We all kept going.

  Then Arik returned.

  He appeared silently before me, without an explosion, without a blinding light. He was simply there—manifested out of nowhere. His face was tense, his posture quiet, but his eyes sparkled with suppressed energy.

  I immediately lifted my head. "Trap ahead?"

  He shook his head. "No. But our objective."

  The words echoed in the magical silence.

  The group behind me suddenly fell silent. Even the metallic clinking of steps ceased as the warriors slowed. Everyone looked at him.

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  "And?" I asked, my voice lower, calmer, but maximally strained. Maira immediately stepped beside me, Vin positioned herself slightly back. Vex also pushed forward, ready to listen.

  Arik looked at us, his eyes darting across our faces. Then he spoke louder—audible to everyone.

  "It's... gigantic. A facility. Not natural. Hard to describe. The architecture is like... like something from a dream."

  He hesitated, a moment of struggling for the right words. Then he continued.

  "It approaches the inner chamber of the volcano where I was born."

  A low murmur went through the group. I saw Vin frown, Maira slightly open her lips as if to ask something, but then changed her mind. I said nothing myself. I didn't know much about the Ashbloods or volcanic birthing chambers, but I knew that could only mean one thing: Whatever lay ahead of us, it had to be colossal.

  And we had to stop it. We couldn't turn back. There was no Plan B, no excuse, no way to circumvent the inevitable. So we continued—step by step into what felt inevitably like the lion's den. Just a few dozen meters deeper, and the tunnel opened up. There was no transition, no gradual widening, no warning—just a violent, abrupt switch from the oppressive vastness of the cold corridor into a... Cathedral.

  I involuntarily held my breath, my lungs refusing to take in the sterile, cold air. The cavern was gigantic. Larger than I would have thought possible in my worst nightmares. Perhaps 2,000 feet wide, 4,000 feet long, with a vaulted roof that rose so high above us it simply vanished into darkness. This was no natural grotto—this was a hall, a monumental structure that had been created for something larger than humans, larger than any army.

  Directly in front of us spanned a bridge made of deep black, ominous stone, wide enough for two marching companies to pass unhindered. It led straight to a monumental staircase, which in turn merged into the gigantic base of a pyramid. It wasn't a classic, symmetrical pyramid; this structure was angular, asymmetrical, but of terrifying massiveness. And at the very top, it was enthroned: a platform. Smooth, circular, without any railing, without any embellishment—it seemed to be designed solely to bear something extraordinary. Something that absolutely must not escape.

  But the most unsettling thing was not the structure itself. It was the ground beneath the bridge. Or, more precisely: the missing ground. Below the bridge, there was nothing. No recognizable rocks, no visible abyss—just pure void. A gaping blackness that no light source could contend with. Even lanterns and magical light spells were swallowed there, as if light had no right to exist in this place.

  The walls of the hall—if they could be called that—consisted of a dark, metallic material that lay in dense layers. I did not know it. It looked smooth but not manufactured. Natural, but not of this world. And something vibrated within this material. Not visibly, but perceptibly. It was as if the room itself was afraid.

  What truly made me shudder was the rune pattern. Red Tharnite everywhere. Veins of this glowing, magical ore ran in perfect lines across the bridge, up the massive steps, over the platform, and converged—as far as my eye could see—in the center of the base. The energy flowing through them was not pulsating, but continuous, a steady roar. No spell was being prepared here; a spell had already been active here for days.

  “Well, that’s overkill,” Vin murmured beside me.

  I nodded slowly, my gaze fixed on the apex of the pyramid. “This screams megalomania.”

  “Perhaps,” said Maira, who had also taken a step forward. Her eyes glided over the runes as if she were trying to decipher their language. “But none of it is superfluous. Not a single line, not a single step. Everything has a purpose. Every centimeter is part of a single spell. And one of a scale... that I can't even comprehend.”

  That helped. Sure. Immensely.

  No one spoke anymore. The group held their breath, captivated by the malevolent majesty of this hall.

  Then—

  the voice came. It was immense. Not an echo in the conventional sense. No reverberation thrown back from the walls. It was everywhere. Carried as if by invisible amplifiers, thrown back a thousandfold, every syllable sharp, every tone a blade cutting into the silence.

  “A shame, Luken…”

  I flinched. It was Reyn's voice. Ironic. Calm. But deep beneath it lay a vibrating anger. And... was that a hint of genuine disappointment?

  “I had hoped you would take over some of the work for me,” the voice continued. “That you would recognize how similar we are. How much more we could achieve if you would just... be yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes, my gaze darting over the platform, over the walls. I searched for him.

  Nothing.

  Only the point of light up there on the platform. A crystal. Glowing. As large as a human.

  “I truly thought you would understand. This world—it needs order, yes. But not a false one. No hypocritical justice, no forced harmony. It needs clarity. Structure. Truth.”

  The voice lowered. Became almost soft, intimate.

  “I saw you, Luken. Not just now. A long time ago. When you fell. When everything burned. I saw what Zarkhural took from you. I saw what you lost. When you came to Thulegard, I didn't understand that it was you, but when I looked through our connection, I saw it. And I offered you something. Not as an opponent. Not as an enemy. But as someone who understands.”

  I pressed my lips together. My fingers trembled slightly around the hilt of my sword.

  “But that,” the voice became cool again, hard and metallic again, “is likely not going to happen.”

  Then—

  he stood there.

  Suddenly. No sound. No flash of light. No discernible transition. Simply there. Only a few meters away from our group, at the foot of the bridge.

  Reyn.

  His cloak seemed to float slightly, as if it never touched the ground. His armor—black as ink, crisscrossed with golden lines that converged in his breastplate. And his eyes—those impossible, burning eyes—looked directly into mine. They were gold. Pure. Like the light of a sun that gives no warmth. He smiled. Slightly. Calmly. Perfectly controlled.

  “Let's conclude Phase One.”