NOVEL NEXT Chapter 138: Sovereign’s Accord
The world snapped back into focus. One moment, frozen defiance; the next, kinetic ecstasy. My newly unbound [Shadow-Weave Stride] — no, that name felt too simple now, too small — was no longer an act of moving. It was a statement of being. I wasn't just teleporting. I was rewriting my own position in the story of reality.
"Impossible!" Saphirax's thought was a discordant crash of shock and awe. "My Hearth is absolute! Space is anchored!"
"Space is a suggestion," I sent back, the triumphant grin on my face feeling like it was carved from stone. "And your suggestion has been overruled!"
The sixty feet between us was a meaningless concept. I didn't fall. I willed myself next to his massive head. The transition was so instantaneous it left a vacuum, a sharp crack of imploding air where I had been. Before he could react to my new position, my right fist, wreathed in the deepest black-nebula strata of my Soulfire, slammed into the side of his jaw.
The impact was seismic. It was like punching a mountain that punched back. A shockwave erupted from the point of impact, and Saphirax's colossal head, a thing that weighed as much as a siege engine, was brutally snapped to the side. A deep, bell-like gong echoed through the cavern as my knuckles connected with his sapphire scales. A single, plate-sized scale cracked, a web of fissures spreading across its perfect, crystalline surface.
He roared, a sound of pain and outrage, shaking his head to clear it. He swung his massive tail, a hundred-foot-long wrecking ball of muscle and crystal, in a horizontal arc designed to atomize me.
But I was already gone. I didn't dodge. I simply ceased to be in the tail's path and began to be twenty feet above it, watching it scythe through the air where I had been. My [Blink Echo], a lingering afterimage of pure Ashen Flame, was left directly in the tail's path. It detonated on contact in a blinding flash of entropic energy that seared a black scorch mark along the length of his tail.
This was no longer a dance. It was a storm. I was the lightning, and he was the mountain I was determined to break.
I was everywhere at once. One moment, I was driving a Soulfire-forged kris into the softer scales under his wing joint. The next, I was twenty feet away, launching a volley of violet energy bolts that exploded against his back. Before the dust of those impacts had even settled, I was beneath him, my Domain flaring to its absolute peak. "[Ashen Edict: Ground to Glass!]"
The blue crystal floor he had forged turned molten, superheated not by conventional flame but by a conceptual command that stole its very stability. He sank, bellowing, into the incandescent slurry. It wouldn't hold him for long, but I didn't need long. I appeared on his back, my feet finding purchase between two of his great dorsal spines, and drove my hands down.
A torrent of pure, unadulterated Soulfire poured from me, a raw, unfiltered blast of the Primordial Flame that my bloodline carried. I was trying to bypass his scales, his physical form, and directly assault the Essence that gave him life. I felt his immense reserves fighting back, a titanic will of eternal ice pushing against my relentless tide of entropic fire.
For a moment, we were locked in a stalemate, two beings wrestling for the soul of a mountain. But my new movement ability had given me an edge he couldn't counter. I was a ghost he couldn't pin, a phantom throwing lightning from every direction. The thousand tiny cuts, the relentless, disorienting assaults, were taking their toll. He couldn't bring his greatest weapons — his breath, his immense physical strength — to bear on a target that refused to occupy a single point in space for more than a nanosecond.
With a final, desperate roar, he unleashed a 360-degree nova of sapphire frost-fire, a last-ditch effort to annihilate everything within a hundred feet of him.
I was already gone. I reappeared high above the fray, near the cavern ceiling, watching the wave of absolute zero flash-freeze the very air in the chamber. It was a beautiful, terrifying spectacle. And it was the last of his energy.
I landed softly on the ground before him as the nova faded. He stood there, panting, clouds of super-chilled vapor hissing from his nostrils. Scorch marks marred his beautiful hide, cracks spiderwebbed several of his largest scales, and one of his majestic horns had a chip in its tip. He wasn't critically injured, but he was exhausted, his immense well of power drained. And he was beaten.
He slowly lowered his head, a gesture of profound, reluctant submission, touching his snout to the crystal floor.
"Defeated… in my own Hearth…" The telepathic thought was laced with disbelief, weariness, but strangely, no anger. There was only a deep, abiding respect. "The Primordial Flame is truly bright within you, Flame-Bearer. Your Song is strong."
The manic energy of the fight drained out of me, leaving a clean, satisfied exhaustion in its wake. My muscles ached, and my own reserves were scraped dangerously thin, but I was buzzing with the thrill of victory and, more importantly, of growth.
"You fought well, Saphirax," I said, my voice echoing in the sudden silence. I dismissed my Soulfire, the lingering tension in the cavern easing. "You are the strongest being I have ever faced in an equal fight. Had I not broken the anchor of your Domain, the outcome could have been very different."
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He lifted his head, his sapphire eyes meeting mine. "You speak the truth. A sovereign's strength is their Domain. To have one's own fundamental reality... overruled in their own Sanctum…" He seemed to ponder the concept, as if tasting a new and exotic flavor. "It is a humbling experience."
I took the moment of peace to do a quick internal systems check, and the familiar blue screens of the Prime System blossomed in my mind's eye. The sheer stress and conceptual breakthrough of the battle had triggered an evolution.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[Your understanding of spatial manipulation under extreme conceptual pressure has deepened. Your conviction has refined your control over the very nature of existence and presence.]
[Skill: Shadow-Weave Stride (Rare) has evolved!]
[New Skill Acquired: [Ember's Leap] (Epic)]
[Your soul has been tempered in the crucible of a Sovereign's Domain. Your Essence Manifestations have further increased.]
I quickly pulled up my full status sheet.
NAME: Eren Kai
Stage: 2
CORE ATTRIBUTES:
SOUL STRENGTH: S+
SOUL GATE INTEGRITY: Grade S
ESSENCE MANIFESTATION:
BODY: 573 (Tier 5)
MANA: 578 (Tier 5)
SPIRIT: 585 (Tier 5)
SYSTEM SKILLS (8/10 Slots Available):
[Domain of the Ashen Phoenix] (Mythic)
[Prime Axiom's Nullifying Veil] (Mythic)
[Phoenix Rebirth] (Legendary)
[Predator's Gaze] (Epic)
[Armory of the Ashen Soul] (Epic)
[Mana Sovereign] (Epic)
[Ember's Leap] (Epic - Evolved): An advanced form of teleportation based on conceptual displacement. Rejects one's own spatial coordinates to impose a new set of coordinates within line of sight. Largely ignores conventional spatial-locking and anchor effects.
[Blink Echo] (Rare)
The jump in my stats was significant, a solid, almost ten-point gain across the board from a single, high-stakes fight. But the evolution of my Stride... that was the real prize. [Ember's Leap]. An Epic-grade skill. Combined with the power of my Mythic-grade Domain, it wasn't just a mobility tool anymore. It was a conceptual weapon, a denial of my enemy's control over reality. The synergies between skills, especially high-grade ones, could elevate them far beyond their base descriptions. It was a lesson I took to heart.
"You are not from this kingdom," Saphirax stated, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. "Your scent is… foreign. Wild. You sing of a different world entirely."
"I am," I admitted. "A traveler. A stranger. I know almost nothing of these lands. Your fight taught me much about the nature of power here. But your story... I would hear more of it, if you would share it."
The great dragon settled his bulk back onto the cracked remains of his throne, a gesture of peaceful resignation. "Ask. For one who has bested me in my own Hearth, I will deny no truth I know."
"This world, Aethelgard," I began, "the elves, their kingdoms, the other races... What is the state of things?"
"A shattered mirror," Saphirax rumbled. "For ages, they were distinct people, united under many banners, mostly peaceful. Then the invaders from the stars came — the Kyorians, as you might know them. Everything was different then, especially after they broke the elves' greatest champion, and in doing so, they broke their spirit. Now, the elves are but squabbling children, carving up the remnants of their parents' estate. There are a dozen clans, but three hold true power. The isolationists in the west, the scholars in the south, and the warlords in the east — the Featherleaf Crown, whose foolish prince I sense you have already rendered into dust." He said the last part with a hint of dark amusement. "I know little of their day-to-day politics. I do not care for the scurrying of ants. They learn to leave my mountain alone, or they feed its crystals."
"And other powers?" I pressed. "Beings like you? Other Sanctum Lords?"
"They exist. I can feel them, at times. Distant resonances on the wind. To the far south, there is a consciousness of green and rot, as old as the swamps themselves. In the western ocean, there is a cold, silent, dreaming mind, vast and deep. And deep beneath the earth, a rage of stone and fire sleeps fitfully. We are the old powers. The ones who evolved with the world's waking. Most of us keep to ourselves. We have our domains, our territories. To challenge another in their Sanctum is to risk all. It is an accord born of mutual respect and overwhelming power."
It was a revelation. A hidden political map of god-like beings, all silently co-existing. My arrival, the arrival of our entire group, was a stone tossed into this ancient, still pond.
"Thank you, Saphirax," I said, a genuine feeling of gratitude in my voice. "You've given me much to think about." I began to turn, my thoughts already racing back to Nyx, to the plans we had to make.
"You will not leave empty-handed."
I stopped and turned back. Saphirax was eyeing his vast hoard. "It is the way of my kin. A challenger who proves victorious is owed a prize from the defeated's trove. It is a matter of honor. To refuse would be an insult to us both. Take something. A worthy trophy to commemorate our dance."
My exhaustion vanished, replaced by a surge of boyish excitement. The offer wasn't just about loot; it was an acknowledgment, a symbol of our newfound respect. But also… it was loot. And the hoard of a century-old dragon-lord was a thing to behold.
My eyes swept the cavern, over the glittering mountains of coins, the chests overflowing with radiant gems, the racks of ancient, enchanted armor. "Well," I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. "If you insist."