NOVEL NEXT Chapter 122: Vorshka Sanctum
"I knew it wouldn't be easy," Ethan muttered, mana flickering into his veins as his sword slid into his palm with a low hum. "Let's get this over with."
The guardian moved first.
In an instant, three lances of solidified crystal mana tore through the air. Ethan dodged to the left, feet gliding across the platform as Kaeryx's energy fed into him through their link.
He twisted mid-air, redirected with a pulse of wind affinity, and launched a sharp mana slash aimed directly at the guardian's core.
The blow struck—
And passed through.
"An illusion?"
But no—he felt the impact, just not on a body. On presence.
The guardian shimmered and reformed, appearing beside him like a wraith. Its hand swung once—and the air warped.
Ethan blocked, but the impact still flung him backward across the platform, slamming him into the crystal pillar behind him. A crack split the pillar's side.
"Fast," Ethan hissed, wiping blood from his lip. "But not fast enough."
He stood again.
This time, Kaeryx's power surged into him fully—just enough to stabilize his footing. Not overwhelm the platform. Not draw attention from whatever deeper wards lay sleeping within the tower.
Ethan charged.
Mana surged into his blade, and with a roar, he clashed with the guardian midair. Blade against light. Will against history.
They battled above the platform like shadows made real—sparks and crystal fragments flying in every direction.
And finally—
A perfect opening.
Ethan vanished with a burst of compressed air and reappeared behind the guardian, his blade slicing upward at the gemstone heart.
The spirit turned—but too late.
A single strike carved through its core.
A blinding flash followed. The creature let out a high-pitched wail, not of pain, but of release. Its body fractured—like a mirror shattering from within—and it dissolved into mana dust, leaving behind nothing but silence.
Ethan floated downward, landing gently.
His chest heaved once. Then stilled.
The Rune Stone pulsed in the heart of the Sanctum Tower, rising from the ground, shaped like a lotus of mirrored crystal—awaiting him.
He stepped forward and pricked his thumb.
Blood ran down his hand, dropping onto the crystalline stone.
It glowed.
Bright.
Blinding.
<Ding>[You have claimed the Vorsha Sanctum.]
[Sanctum Authority established.]
[Teleportation rights granted.]
Ethan stepped back, hand still throbbing. The tower stilled, and the aura of the Sanctum shifted.
It was no longer hostile.
Now, it obeyed.
And below, on the edge of the canyon, the group watched as the light spread across the floating monolith—runes aligning, bridges stabilizing.
David exhaled.
"He did it again."
And above, Kaeryx let out a thunderous cry.
Victory echoed across the sky.
---
The mana-runes of the Vorsha Sanctum burned bright.
From the canyon floor to the sky above, the once-flickering bridges were now solid—mana-anchored and humming with orderly pulses, like a heartbeat newly stabilized. Crystal towers rotated slowly around the central sanctum as if awakening from a centuries-long slumber.
And in its heart, atop the high platform etched with ancient glyphs, stood Ethan—blood still drying on his palm, eyes scanning the horizon.
He turned toward the stairwell behind the Rune Stone.
"Kaeryx," Ethan said softly.
The great dragon appeared moments later, gliding down from above with wings like starlight. It landed beside its master, crouched with reverence. Its voice echoed in his mind.
"This place is not like Grosh'ka. It is older. Wilder. There are secrets buried in the mana here. I can feel them."
"So can I," Ethan murmured.
Down below, the scouting party and defenders began to climb the bridges. David led the group, eyes wide at the unshaken majesty of the sanctum.
By the time they reached the inner plaza, Ethan was already standing near the sanctum's central altar, waiting.
"Well?" he asked as David approached. "Still think we should have gone in quietly?"
David blinked. "We did go in quietly. You just happened to tame a floating fortress without us lifting a finger."
"I prefer efficiency."
"Of course you do," David muttered, smirking.
Behind him, the other scouts—orc, minotaur, human, even a few beastfolk—stood gaping. None of them had ever seen a Sanctum this cleanly overtaken, much less one of this size and pedigree.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
From the far crystal corridor, the remaining Dragonkin inhabitants began to approach.
They came in waves—some armored, some robed, others appearing more tribal or wild. But none were hostile. In fact, they all carried the same expression:
Awe.
Kaeryx stood proud beside Ethan, its aura subtle but undeniable. And to the Dragonkin—beasts descended from the dragons themselves—it was like watching a god walk beside a mortal.
The first to kneel was a broad-chested drake warrior in battle-scarred armor. He fell to one knee, lowered his head.
"Your beast…" he rasped, voice thick with restrained power. "It bears the blood of the Origin Flame. We cannot defy that which made us."
One by one, the others followed.
Minotaurs shifted uncomfortably.
Humans stared.
Even orcs, not known for reverence, kept their heads low.
Ethan watched in silence as the mighty Dragonkin—known across the Labyrinth as some of the most ferocious and territorial—prostrated themselves.
"They've submitted," David whispered.
"No," Ethan corrected. "They've recognized their place."
Kaeryx's presence had done the heavy lifting. But Ethan would not make the mistake of assuming loyalty followed submission. Power demanded respect, but it didn't guarantee obedience.
That had to be earned—or enforced.
He stepped forward.
"From this moment on, the Vorsha Sanctum falls under my dominion. I don't care who ruled before. I don't care what traditions held sway. This Sanctum answers to me now."
The words rolled like thunder through the glassy towers.
The Dragonkin remained silent.
Ethan's eyes scanned the crowd.
"I do not need followers," he said. "I need builders. Scouts. Fighters. Strategists. You want to cower beneath dragonblood and chant about lineage? Do it elsewhere. If you stay here, you work for the Sanctum. You work for me."
A pause.
A few raised their heads, uncertain.
"I don't reward loyalty blindly. But if you serve well, if you prove yourselves—there will be food, shelter, and power for all. Fail me? You'll wish the Labyrinth beasts had eaten you first."
Silence.
Then, slowly, one of the robed Dragonkin stepped forward. He was old, his scales dulled to grey-blue, but his eyes burned with sharp intellect.
"I… am Elder Varesh," he said. "Keeper of the Flame Archives. We will serve."
Ethan nodded once. "Good. I'll be calling on your knowledge soon."
Then he turned to his own people.
"David. Get the scouting group assigned to defensive mapping. Establish patrol rotations through the bridges and halls. Prioritize any hidden chambers or vaults. I want full knowledge of this sanctum's layout within the next two days."
"On it."
"Nelda," Ethan called to the minotaur. "Pick ten of your strongest. You'll oversee supply inventory and control. I want everything counted—from dried mana roots to spare gear."
Nelda grunted. "Understood."
Ethan pointed next to a beastkin girl with sharp ears and glowing claws. "And you—what's your name?"
"Thesha."
"You're quick?"
"Yes, Lord."
"You're my new runner. I'll send orders through you."
Kaeryx let out a low growl of approval as the crowd dispersed.
Ethan took a deep breath, casting his gaze toward the sky. The Sanctum hovered as though defying the world itself.
Two Sanctums down. Dozens more to go.
But Vorsha… Vorsha was a real step forward.
It was strong.
It had history.
And now it was his.
Vorsha Sanctum may have bent the knee—but Ethan wasn't fooled.
Loyalty built on fear was fickle.
He stood in the observatory chamber atop one of the Sanctum's crystal spires, gazing through the arcane lens embedded into the glass floor. The lens was a relic of Vorsha's old Flame Archive—it allowed a complete view of the Sanctum's inner workings: patrol routes, hidden tunnels, even mana pulse readings. It hummed faintly with ancient magic, reacting to Ethan's presence.
Kaeryx lay curled around the edge of the dome, massive wings folded, golden eyes half-lidded but watchful.
"They will not betray you yet," Kaeryx rumbled. "Your claim is too fresh. Your power… too absolute."
Ethan didn't respond right away.
His mind was elsewhere.
Below, the Sanctum had come alive. Minotaurs repaired damaged columns. Human scribes documented the rune layout. Orcish scouts mapped the bridges that extended into the mists. Dragonkin patrolled with tense discipline, now wearing new insignias marked with Ethan's sigil—three vertical claw slashes surrounded by a spiral.
Even the former Warlord of the Sanctum, a hulking Drake named Korvax, now stood under light house arrest, guarded by two of David's most trusted men.
"You're right," Ethan finally said. "But fear fades. I don't want a sanctum that survives because of terror. I want one that thrives."
He tapped a panel on the lens, zooming in on a sealed door beneath the Sanctum's central tower.
The Flame Archives.
"That's where I'll start," he muttered.
**
A/N:
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