[Silthara Palace — The Malik’s Chamber — Continuation]
"...Damn it..."
The words escaped Levin beneath his breath, his blue eyes locked upon the enormous mass of black mist rising behind Slyvarakh. It no longer resembled smoke. It resembled a living demon.
Countless twisted faces emerged and disappeared within its endless darkness, whispering forgotten names in voices that did not belong to the living.
Slyvarakh slowly turned toward the chamber doors as his voice became dangerously quiet.
"...Someone...has entered the Hidden Sanctum. Who dare—"
He paused, and then silence.
Then...very slowly...his silver eyes drifted toward Levin, and everything became still as the realization struck.
The smile upon Slyvarakh’s face slowly widened as his voice almost sounded amused. "So...my beloved consort never surrendered. You came here...to deceive me."
Before Levin could move—
GRAB!!
A hand closed around his throat. Slyvarakh lifted him effortlessly from the floor; the chamber trembled beneath the eruption of corrupted power.
The black mist roared around them. Levin’s fingers gripped Slyvarakh’s wrist, refusing to panic despite the crushing pressure around his neck.
Slyvarakh’s silver eyes narrowed as a cold laugh escaped him. "And here...I believed you had finally chosen your empire over your pride, but it seems...both you and your prime alpha possess far more courage than wisdom."
Levin’s vision blurred; his breathing became shallow. Yet...his eyes never lowered, never pleaded, and never begged. Instead...a small movement. Hidden beneath the folds of his robes, his fingers found the dagger concealed at his lower waist.
His grip tightened and then—
SLASH!!
A silver flash tore through the chamber; the blade swept across Slyvarakh’s neck, and a crimson line appeared. For one heartbeat...nothing happened. Then blood spilled across the marble floor.
Slyvarakh threw him away immediately.
THUD!!
Levin landed hard upon one knee, sliding backward across the polished stone before forcing himself upright once more; his breathing remained uneven. The dagger stayed raised; his eyes never left his enemy.
A single drop of dark blood rolled slowly down Slyvarakh’s neck; he touched it with two fingers, looked at the blood, and then...smiled.
"...Interesting." His voice had become frighteningly calm.
Levin’s gaze briefly flickered toward the enormous black mist. ’Did they fail...? Why is the darkness still here...?’
Before the thought could finish his thought, Slyvarakh laughed, not loudly but softly, like someone discovering an unexpected gift. He slowly wiped the blood from his neck, and his silver eyes gleamed.
"I once imagined...keeping you within this palace. Not as a prisoner, not as a ruler, but as the one treasure no kingdom could ever steal."
Silence, and then...the smile disappeared as his voice echoed through the chamber. "But you chose betrayal. You should never have done that...my dear Consort."
Levin slowly raised the dagger once more, his breathing steadied and his stance lowered. Every movement reflected years of relentless training as his voice remained calm.
"You made one mistake." Slyvarakh tilted his head as his blue eyes sharpened like drawn steel. "You believed a human could become an ornament. You mistook patience for surrender, and that...is the crime that will destroy you."
Silence.
The two rulers stared at one another, and then Slyvarakh smiled.
"So be it."
Darkness exploded.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!
The chamber shook violently. Silver robes vanished beneath an ocean of black mist. Bones shifted. Scales erupted and the sound of twisting flesh echoed throughout the palace.
CRAAAAACK!!
An enormous silver serpent emerged larger than before. Its scales were no longer purely silver. Veins of black corruption crawled across them like living cracks.
Its eyes...burned with a crimson light. The ceiling groaned beneath its immense body. Its monstrous head lowered until its gaze met Levin’s.
"You wished to fight." The serpent’s voice echoed from every corner of the chamber. "Then face the monster your empire created."
Silence.
Levin slowly exhaled; he tightened his grip around the dagger, one human, one blade, and one impossible battle, yet Levin’s voice remained unwavering. "I have never fought because victory was certain. I fight...because someone must stand."
"Then today...with your dead body...I shall end that Prime Alpha too."
The serpent roared.
ROOOOOOOOOOOOOAR!!
The sound shattered every window within the chamber and then—WHOOSH!! Its enormous tail swept across the room.
Levin threw himself aside.
BOOOOOOOOM!!
The marble floor exploded where he had stood only a heartbeat before; stone fragments filled the air before the dust could settle. The serpent struck again, faster and deadlier.
Its jaws crashed downward.
CRAAAAASH!!
Levin rolled beneath the attack, the dagger carving a shallow line across corrupted scales as he passed. Sparks erupted, but the wound...closed almost instantly.
His eyes narrowed.
’Regeneration...Faster than before.’
The serpent lunged again. Its claws tore through pillars older than kingdoms; the chamber collapsed around them. Levin leaped from broken stone to broken stone, refusing to stop moving; every missed strike reduced the palace to ruins.
Then a claw finally reached him.
SLASH!!
Blood scattered across the marble. Levin was thrown violently across the chamber; his shoulder struck a pillar with enough force to crack the ancient stone. Pain surged through his body; warm blood ran down his arm.
His breathing faltered, and yet...he forced himself back onto his feet. The dagger remained in his hand, his knees trembled, and his vision blurred, but his eyes...still burned with defiance.
Across the ruined chamber...the corrupted serpent watched silently. Then another smile spread across its monstrous face.
"You bleed."
Levin wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth; he raised the dagger once more. "And yet...I am still standing."
Silence.
Beyond the shattered walls...the battle beneath Silthara Palace raced toward its conclusion. Above...one wounded warrior and Malika continued facing a monster alone.
Buying time...with every drop of blood he was willing to lose.
***
[Silthara Palace — The Hidden Inner Sanctum — Continuation]
The screams stopped, not because the imprisoned souls had found peace...but because they had sensed something. Something ancient. Something approaching.
The countless strands of black mist slowly retreated toward the far end of the Sanctum, gathering together like frightened creatures fleeing an unseen predator.
Silence swallowed the chamber once again; only the faint sound of Arkhazunn’s ragged breathing remained. Blood continued falling from his lips.
...Drip...
...Drip...
Captain Varesh immediately supported him before he collapsed completely. "High Mage..."
Arkhazunn forced himself to remain conscious. "I am...still alive."
"Barely," Varesh answered quietly.
The High Mage managed a faint smile. "Barely...is enough."
Meanwhile...Zeramet never looked away from the imprisoned souls; his golden eyes slowly swept across the endless chamber, every chain, every seal, every altar, and every ancient scripture. Nothing escaped his gaze.
Zeramet slowly unrolled the crimson scroll once more. Ancient symbols stretched across the parchment like living serpents, twisting and shifting beneath the candlelight.
Sarash stepped beside him. "We must read it exactly as Lady Nyra deciphered."
Zeramet’s eyes remained fixed upon the script. "The order matters."
"It does." Sarash nodded. "Slyvarakh imprisoned them by reciting the ritual in reverse; to release them...we must return every word to its rightful beginning."
Silence.
Zeramet carefully studied each line, each symbol, and each pause.
Then—
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!
The entire Sanctum shook. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. Ancient pillars groaned. Fragments of black stone crashed onto the floor.
Everyone instinctively looked upward; another distant explosion echoed from somewhere far above.
Sarash’s expression darkened as his voice became heavy. "...Malika, he is doing everything he can to keep Slyvarakh away from this place."
Silence.
For a long moment... Zeramet said nothing; his jaw slowly tightened. The image of Levin standing alone inside that palace flashed through his mind.
Every heartbeat...every passing breath...was another moment Levin was buying for them. His golden eyes slowly closed and then opened again, filled not with hesitation but with absolute resolve.
"...Then we do not waste the sacrifice he is making." His voice echoed through the forgotten chamber. "It ends here, tonight."
Zeramet stepped toward the center of the ritual circle; ancient bronze candle stands surrounded the altar. One by one...Varesh ignited them.
The first flame, the second, and the third until twelve pale flames burned around Zeramet like silent guardians. Their light did not warm the chamber. Instead...the darkness seemed to recoil from them.
Arkhazunn steadied himself against the altar; his trembling voice barely remained audible. "Malik, read slowly. Do not force the ritual; the Sanctum will test you."
Zeramet nodded once, and then...he began; the first ancient word rolled from his lips, deep, resonant, older than kingdoms.
The chamber answered.
HUMMMMMMMMM—
Every candle flickered simultaneously; the second verse followed, then the third, but nothing happened.
Only silence, only the whisper of forgotten souls.
Varesh frowned. "...Is it failing?"
"No," Arkhazunn immediately whispered. "...Wait."
Another verse...another...another and then—
CRAAAAAAACK!!
The first black chain shattered; the sound echoed like thunder beneath the earth. Every imprisoned soul stopped moving. The entire Sanctum inhaled.
A wave of darkness erupted from every direction; the candles bent beneath an invisible storm, and the black mist surged violently toward Zeramet, not attacking, not fleeing, gathering, and watching.
Thousands of shadowy forms circled around the Prime Alpha, higher and faster like a colossal cyclone born from endless grief.
Ancient whispers filled the chamber, hundreds, thousands, and countless voices speaking all at once.
"...Release us..."
"...Return us..."
"...Finish what was stolen..."
Varesh instinctively reached for his sword. Sarash drew his own; the temperature plummeted. Ice spread across the ancient floor.
Arkhazunn suddenly staggered, his vision blurred again. "...It’s beginning...the ritual has awakened."
The cyclone of darkness descended. Its countless tendrils stretched toward Zeramet, wrapping around his shoulders, his arms, and his chest.
Not like chains...but like desperate hands reaching toward the only light they had seen in centuries, years, or months.
Zeramet never stopped chanting...another verse and then another. His voice grew stronger with each sacred word; the chamber answered, the altar trembled, and the ancient runes carved into the floor ignited with brilliant gold.
A violent shockwave burst through the Sanctum; the imprisoned darkness shrieked. Some voices cried in agony.
Others...for the very first time... Sounded hopeful and far above them...
Within the ruined palace...another deafening impact shook the foundations of Silthara. The race against time had reached its final moments. Either the ritual would free the imprisoned souls...or the darkness would claim them all before the final verse could ever be spoken.
Zeramet’s voice continued echoing throughout the chamber; each sacred word became brighter, stronger, and older. The forgotten language itself seemed to awaken; the candles exploded into towering pillars of golden fire.
The altar cracked, the walls trembled, and the very foundations of Silthara Palace groaned beneath the weight of an ancient curse breaking apart.
Then the final verse.
Zeramet slowly opened his golden eyes; his voice thundered throughout the Sanctum. "Return...to the embrace that was stolen from you."
Silence.
One heartbeat and then—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
Golden light erupted from the scroll; the chamber disappeared beneath blinding radiance. Every imprisoned soul stopped moving. Every whisper vanished and then...one by one...the black mist surrounding them slowly changed.
Darkness faded; black became silver. Silver became gold. The twisted faces no longer screamed, and then the first soul ascended. A single stream of golden light rose toward the heavens.
Another followed and then another. Soon...the entire Sanctum shimmered with countless stars rising into the darkness above like a forgotten night sky finally remembering its light.
Thousands...upon thousands...of imprisoned souls...were finally free. The oppressive darkness that had poisoned the chamber for years began disappearing.
The air became lighter, the whispers ceased, and the curse...had begun breaking.
Sarash stared upward in disbelief. "They’re...they’re finally free..."
Varesh slowly lowered his sword; his eyes reflected countless streams of golden light ascending beyond the palace itself. Even Arkhazunn forgot his pain. "So many...so many lives...we were too late to save them but not too late to set them free."
Then far above...something changed.
***
[Silthara Palace — The Malik’s Chamber]
SLAM!!!!
Levin was thrown violently at the pillar, and his head was bumped violently, making him bleed and his vision blurry.
Slyvarakh smirked, saying, "Goodbye my dear consor—"
His smile vanished because his body suddenly froze. "...What..."
His silver eyes widened; the enormous black mist surrounding him convulsed violently. It no longer obeyed him. Instead...it began leaving.
One strand, then another, then hundreds, and the darkness abandoned its master. The corrupted mist was being torn upward through the palace itself.
"No..."
Slyvarakh staggered; his breathing became uneven. The crimson veins spreading beneath his scales slowly faded; his overwhelming pressure weakened.
CRACK!!
The corrupted scales covering parts of his enormous body shattered and fell upon the floor like broken glass, and his pupils contracted as his voice trembled for the first time.
"Impossible...my souls...my power...no..."
Another violent tremor shook the palace. The darkness continued abandoning him. Every imprisoned soul released from the Sanctum tore another fragment of corruption away from his body.
His regeneration slowed, and his breathing became heavier. Blood began flowing freely from the wound Levin had carved across his neck and his head now.
The wound...did not heal. Levin slowly rose, despite the blood staining his robes...despite the pain burning through every muscle...he saw it, the change.
"He worked..." Levin whispered. "They succeeded..."
For the first time since entering this palace...hope returned to his eyes. Slyvarakh slowly turned toward him, his expression...no longer carried absolute certainty.
Only fury, pure...unrestrained...fury.
***
[The Hidden Inner Sanctum]
The last stream of golden light disappeared into the heavens. Silence settled over the ancient chamber; the corruption that had lingered for ages...was gone. Only broken chains remained upon the floor; the forgotten prison had finally become...a tomb.
Zeramet slowly lowered the crimson scroll, his golden eyes turned toward the passage leading back to the palace, and his expression held neither joy...nor relief, only judgment.
He stepped forward, silver scales slowly spread across his arms, and ancient power gathered around him once more. His golden eyes burned like twin suns beneath the darkness.
Then...his voice echoed throughout the now-liberated Sanctum, cold and absolute, filled with the authority of a king.
"It’s time...to send you back...to your grave, Brother."
Silence.
And above them...the palace itself seemed to hold its breath because the final battle...had truly begun.