NOVEL NEXT Chapter 120: The Labyrinth...
Ethan walked among them, silent but not aloof.
They looked at him not with the caution of soldiers, but the respect of followers. He wasn't one of them—but he was something they needed. Someone who had faced a Sanctum Guardian alone and emerged victorious, his soul beast more divine than anything they had ever known.
He made his way to the far edge of the Sanctum, where the carved wall opened to overlook the endless void beyond. Down below, glowing veins of energy twisted into the deep, where the next sanctum—perhaps even stronger—awaited them.
Kaeryx joined him, wings stretching lazily, casting massive shadows.
"Soon," Ethan whispered.
A pulse answered in his chest. A feeling. Kaeryx's silent agreement.
Morning of the Third Day
The mists had not yet lifted from the obsidian peaks surrounding the Groshla Sanctum when Ethan awoke.
But he wasn't the only one up early.
Down in the central courtyard, some of the scouts were already training alongside the dragonkin youth. Their movements were sharper now, more confident—not just from rest and food, but from belief. For the first time in a long while, they had hope—and they had purpose.
Kaeryx lay coiled atop one of the Sanctum's half-broken watchtowers, wings draped like a cloak of shadow, its head slowly following Ethan as he walked the perimeter. The beast didn't speak—never did—but Ethan could feel its thoughts brushing his own. Wordless. Elemental. Yet perfectly understood.
The dragonkin followed suit.
Ethan's soul had been marked by the Labyrinth now. And to the dragonkin, that mark—combined with Kaeryx's bloodline pressure—made him something more than just a human. A symbol. A threshold between races. The Living Flame of Draconis, as they'd taken to calling him.
He wasn't sure if he liked the name.
But he understood why it was necessary.
---
Meeting in the Hall of Ash
The strategic meeting that morning was held in what had once been the Warlord's personal command room—a vast chamber carved from volcanic glass, its ceiling open to the sky. Maps of the Great Labyrinth had been carefully redrawn across large scrolls, with runes marking sanctums, known tunnels, and the fabled nodes that powered the labyrinth's ecosystem.
David, Leon, and Zaul'tra stood around the largest table, while Ethan leaned forward, studying the runes.
"This next sanctum," Leon said, tracing the paths with a gloved hand, "is rumored to house a soul beast tied to the concept of gravity. A Voidspine Wyrm."
Zaul'tra hissed slightly at the name.
"Few return from that sanctum," she muttered. "The air bends. Time slows. Space folds. It's like walking through the belly of a dying god."
"Exactly," Ethan murmured. "That's why we'll need more than brute strength."
He glanced toward Kaeryx, who had followed them inside but stayed near the arched entrance, eyes half-lidded.
"We don't attack yet," Ethan said firmly. "Not until we understand the layout, the defenses, and the pattern of its guardian."
David grunted. "Recon mission, then?"
Ethan nodded. "And diplomacy."
Zaul'tra's eyes flickered. "The Wyrm… does not speak. It devours."
"Everything speaks," Ethan said, gaze cold, "if you learn how to listen."
---
A Moment with the Flame
Later that day, after the meeting had concluded and the scouts were preparing for their next patrol rotation, Ethan stood alone once more before the Rune Stone at the sanctum's heart.
He watched the swirling patterns of energy beneath the surface—like galaxies trapped inside a crystal.
The blood he had given it still stained the base.
Not dry.
Not absorbed.
Just there.
As if waiting for more.
Ethan placed a hand over the surface and exhaled slowly. His mana stirred, drawn into the stone, and for a split second—he heard something.
A voice. Ancient. Dormant. Distant.
> "One… step… further."
He didn't speak back. Didn't recoil.
Only whispered, "I know."
Then he turned and left.
---
Nightfall
The Sanctum didn't sleep. Not fully.
Molten rivers ran through its veins. Torches of dragonfire lined every corridor. The forges still burned. The warriors still trained.
And yet, a strange peace had fallen over the place. As though Kaeryx's presence alone had tamed even the restless spirits of the walls.
Ethan stood once more at the overlook, where the Sanctum's edge met the horizon of the Labyrinth. The stars above were false—glittering pinpricks from luminescent stones or perhaps unknown constellations drawn by ancient hands.
Leon joined him quietly, arms crossed.
"You think they'll all accept us like the Groshla did?"
Ethan was silent for a moment, then answered: "No."
"Then why keep going?"
"Because this place…" Ethan nodded toward the chasm, "...it's not just a test. It's a puzzle. And I want to solve it before anyone else gets the wrong idea about how."
Leon looked over at him, surprised.
"You're not doing it just for Mia anymore, are you?"
Ethan's expression didn't change.
"No," he said quietly. "Now I'm doing it for everyone who's going to get caught in this war if I don't get there first."
Kaeryx growled low in the distance, sensing the conviction.
Ethan stepped away from the edge.
"Tell the scouts," he said, already walking toward the barracks. "We move at dawn."
The dawning glow of the Sanctum's artificial sky—runes glowing golden along the stone-vaulted ceiling—slowly crept into every corner of the Groshla Sanctum. The place, once ruled by brute strength and dragonblood pride, now moved with a more disciplined rhythm.
Ethan had wasted no time.
By the second day after the claim, he had formed proper units: scouts, guards, engineers, and support casters. The Sanctum was now a forward base, and not just a shelter. The entire territory had shifted from chaos into coordination—and the dragonkin followed him without resistance.
Not because they feared him.
But because Kaeryx did.
And Kaeryx, the Eternal Shadowflame, submitted only to Ethan.
---
Briefing at Dawn
A soft murmuring spread through the courtyard as dozens of figures lined up, facing the raised obsidian platform. The sanctum's drake-scribes had begun painting Ethan's symbol into flags—twin arcs of flame circling a dragon's eye. That same symbol now hung behind him as he stepped forward, the wind gently tugging his coat.
Behind him stood Kaeryx, perched like a god of ruin, tail coiled, breath faintly glowing.
Ethan raised a hand, and silence fell immediately.
"We took this Sanctum without war," he said. "And that's not weakness. That's strategy."
Eyes narrowed with resolve met his gaze—human, demi-human, dragonkin alike.
"But it won't be the same for the next."
He pointed to the newly unfurled map beside him. A large section of the labyrinth's southern territory was marked in crimson runes, with a single obsidian tower—Vorsha's Spire—etched at its heart.
"Our scouts will move first, led by Leon and Zaul'tra. Your goal isn't just to observe. Speak to the locals. Uncover their myths. Look for clues to the sanctum's power structure. If a guardian exists, I want to know what it is."
Zaul'tra nodded solemnly. "And if it attacks?"
"Then hold position. Don't engage unless absolutely necessary." Ethan turned, his eyes glowing faintly with mana. "I'll come to you."
---
The Path to Vorsha
By noon, the scouting team had already departed. Ethan, meanwhile, made use of the growing Sanctum archives. Dozens of tomes had been uncovered deep beneath the Groshla library—many of them written in old Draconic or even something older. A language Kaeryx knew.
And through the beast's silent knowledge-sharing, Ethan began to piece together more than maps.
He began to understand why these sanctums existed.
Each of them housed a fragment of the Labyrinth's original law—a Rune Stone tied not just to physical mastery of the domain, but to the metaphysical structure of the world itself. The one in Groshla had been linked to Flame Dominion. The next, Vorsha, according to the fragments... had ties to space and weight. Perhaps even gravity manipulation.
He frowned at that.
That kind of power… wasn't just for guarding dungeons.
That was civilization-ending.
---
Two Days Later – Contact
The scouting party returned faster than expected.
Leon and Zaul'tra stood before Ethan once more, winded, armor scratched—but alive.
"The Vorsha Sanctum floats," Leon said immediately. "Not metaphorically. The whole damn spire is suspended in the air—over a chasm that doesn't have a bottom."
Zaul'tra added, "The guardian never showed itself, but something watched us. Every step. The moment we tried to climb the spire, the gravity around us twisted. Like walking underwater, but worse. Our healers almost blacked out."
Ethan's brow furrowed. "Did you speak with anyone?"
Zaul'tra nodded. "There are survivors in the lower canyons. Refugees, mostly. They say the original guardian, a Wyrm named Vorthal'nax, hasn't been seen in generations."
Leon leaned forward, voice low. "But they also say... a new one has taken its place. A soul construct, born from the collapse of the old Wyrm's body."
Ethan's eyes narrowed. "A soul-born guardian?"
Leon nodded grimly. "And they call it… The Mawless Weight."
---
Midnight Strategy
That night, Ethan stood before the Rune Stone again, blood still subtly flickering within it. He could feel it—something stirring deeper in the Labyrinth.
He was drawing attention.
But not from the other sanctums.
From the Labyrinth itself.
Its laws. Its soul.