NOVEL NEXT Chapter 114: Claiming the Sanctum
CRACKKKK!!!
The obsidian gates of the Sanctum exploded.
Shattered black metal flew like shrapnel, embedding deep into the walls and ground. Fires flickered and died. Defensive runes flared red-hot and then blinked out—overwhelmed. And in the center of it all, floating in radiant silence, was Kaeryx.
Its eyes glowed like molten moons. Essence rippled from its body like solar winds, washing over every inch of the Sanctum.
Every drakekin froze.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others collapsed outright, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. Weapons slipped from claws. Wings folded in fear. Those who remained standing clutched at their heads, struggling to keep conscious under the sheer weight of divine ancestry.
Even Ethan, halfway down the ridge, stumbled slightly.
His breath caught.
"…No way…"
He hadn't expected it to be this absolute. He'd counted on Kaeryx's presence throwing them into disarray—but this... this was bloodline dominance at a level he hadn't even imagined.
Every drakekin, no matter how elite or battle-hardened, was now bowing before something their souls recognized.
Not as an enemy.
But as a god.
Ethan clenched his fists, heart racing.
"Guess I was right to bring backup… but damn," he muttered, "I might not even need it."
He steadied himself, eyes locked on the now-vulnerable Sanctum interior. The moment was here.
The Rune Stone waited.
And Ethan was already moving.
****
The shattered gates behind him echoed no alarm.
Kaeryx had seen to that.
As the others stormed the front, causing panic and collapse in the face of the dragon god's oppressive aura, Ethan descended alone along the Sanctum's blackened flank. Every footfall was silent, guided by Kaeryx's hovering presence in his mind. Their bond was faint here—Kaeryx remained above, radiating like a star—but enough to subtly shift Ethan's mana sense.
Smoke drifted upward, caught in eerie spirals by the wind. Flaming braziers lit the outer sanctum halls with orange glow, but none guarded them now. The defenders were too busy groveling before a power they couldn't comprehend.
Ethan didn't run. He walked.
Eyes scanning, breath calm.
The Sanctum pulsed with life. Not the kind of human chaos Ethan was used to—this was older. Regal. A power etched into the stones themselves, as if the entire fortress had been carved from a living dragon's remains. The ceilings arched high with rib-like columns. Statues lined the passageways, many shaped like dragonkin in battle, others in silent worship.
And ahead—
He felt it.
A pulse.
The Rune Stone.
It wasn't visible yet, but it was there—deep in the Sanctum's heart. And whatever guardian spirit remained, it was aware.
Ethan's mana sense tingled with warning.
The air thickened.
He moved past a spiraling corridor, its walls lined with glowing scales embedded like stained glass, and stepped into a vast sanctum chamber where the ceiling disappeared into darkness.
There it stood.
At the center of the hall, atop a circular dais, was the Labyrinth Rune Stone—a jagged crystal the height of two men, black and veined with radiant violet veins, pulsing in time with the Labyrinth's breath.
But Ethan barely took a step toward it before the chamber reacted.
A roar—not of lungs or throat, but soul—shook the room.
From the crystal burst light. A silhouette formed—first blurry, then hardening into the shape of a draconic wraith. It floated, vast and regal, armored in spectral scale, a burning crown of azure flame floating above its horned head. Twin blades of translucent bone formed in its hands as it descended.
The Sanctum Guardian Spirit.
An echo of a drake god. Not alive. Not dead.
Ethan exhaled. "Of course."
The spirit roared again and dove, its weapons trailing fire.
Ethan moved.
Mana surged from within, spiraling around his limbs as his body bent low. He pivoted, dodging the first strike, but the second blade caught his shoulder—only a graze, but enough to burn through cloth and skin with searing, cold fire. He grunted, backflipping onto a nearby pillar and kicking off.
The air warped around his feet.
Break the pattern.
He shot forward, spinning into a low dodge, his palm igniting with Voidflame. With a snarl, he slammed his hand into the spirit's side.
The explosion of cursed energy sent the creature reeling—wailing, writhing—but it reformed almost instantly, its soul-flesh knitting back together. It was bound here. Tethered to the Rune Stone.
Ethan landed, eyes narrowing.
"So you're not going to die easy, huh?"
The guardian floated high, then unleashed a barrage of soul spears—hundreds of them, streaking down like a storm. Ethan weaved through them, but one sliced through his thigh, another through his side. His boots skidded across stone, blood smearing in his wake.
He knelt.
Then smiled.
"Good. I needed a proper test."
Kaeryx.
The dragon's power flared from afar. Ethan drew from the bond—not in raw power, but in harmony. His bloodline, his soul flame, his Voidflame—they fused with Kaeryx's presence like oil meeting fire.
His body glowed faintly. Hair lifting. His wounds sizzled shut.
Ethan launched.
He didn't dodge this time. He met the spirit midair, catching its twin blades in his gauntleted hands. Mana sparked as the three forces clashed—man, spirit, Labyrinth. With a snarl, Ethan twisted, breaking the spirit's stance, and spun low, his leg sweeping through the spectral waist.
The guardian hissed—its form wavering.
"Let's end this," Ethan muttered.
Voidflame surged into his arms. Twin black blades of condensed mana erupted from his forearms—ghostly scythes. He crossed them and lunged forward.
The guardian met him again. Blades clashed. The floor cracked.
Each hit now carved into the spirit—bits of essence flying off in glowing shards. The Rune Stone pulsed violently, struggling to contain the battle. Ethan darted behind the spirit mid-swing and slashed upward. One of the guardian's arms fell away, bursting into fading mist.
A howl echoed.
But it wasn't fear.
It was desperation.
The spirit shot backward, then thrust its remaining blade toward the Rune Stone. A tether—pure soul essence—connected it to the core.
Ethan's eyes widened.
It was trying to merge. One last fusion. One final stand.
"Too slow."
He hurled a lance of Void flame through the connection. The tether burned, severed in a flash of black and violet fire. The guardian screamed. Its form buckled. Cracks spread across its body, and then—
BOOM.
The spirit exploded.
Soul fragments rained down like falling stars, fading into silence.
Ethan stood alone, panting.
Blood still ran from his side, but he didn't wait. He staggered to the Rune Stone, its glow now erratic, as if uncertain. As if recognizing him.
He reached out.
And with a slow breath, bit down on his thumb.
A drop of crimson.
Then another.
He pressed his blood to the Rune Stone's heart.
There was no grand sound.
Only stillness.
Then, with a deep hum, the stone accepted him.
Violet lines expanded from the center outward like veins, and a sigil bloomed at the core—one that burned with Ethan's essence. A pulse spread outward like a heartbeat.
The Sanctum responded.
Walls shifted. Wards fell. The very air changed.
A voice—metallic and old—spoke within his mind:
"Sanctum Core Bound. Authority Recognized: Ethan Drakethorne."
Ethan closed his eyes.
A new power settled into his soul.
The Sanctum was his.
****"
The oppressive silence that followed Ethan's binding of the Rune Stone was surreal.
The moment the blood was absorbed and the stone pulsed with dim violet light, a subtle shift rippled across the entire Sanctum. It was almost spiritual—like the very foundation of the Labyrinth itself had acknowledged Ethan's authority over this domain. The temperature dropped slightly, the mana in the air felt calmer, more obedient. Like the dungeon itself had... submitted.
A few moments later, Ethan emerged from the heart of the Sanctum, his steps quiet but confident, Kaeryx's presence still looming behind him like a phantom of overwhelming divinity. The others, waiting with weapons drawn behind shattered walls and crumbled towers, could only watch as Ethan gave them a nod.
"It's done," he said simply.
For a moment, no one reacted.
Then, a sudden uproar of disbelief and celebration erupted.
Some stared at Ethan like he wasn't real.
"You're kidding... We didn't even fight," Nelda muttered, her thick brows furrowed in astonishment.
"Was that it?" another scout whispered, glancing around. "Is this... really our Sanctum now?"
A younger orc from the team, brash and loud, let out a laugh, dropping his blade into the ground with relief. "Twelve days marching through hell, almost eaten three times, and we take the Sanctum by standing around? That's insane!"
David chuckled lightly, walking toward Ethan, shaking his head. "I knew your plan was bold, but this... This wasn't a plan. This was a divine act."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Kaeryx did most of the work."
The dragon spirit coiled above them in the sky like a looming specter, its presence still dominating. Every breath of its ethereal form stirred winds, and its gaze scanned the horizon as if challenging anyone foolish enough to try reclaiming the Sanctum.
****
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