NOVEL NEXT Chapter 27 – Blazebinder’s Trial
The stairwell spiraled downward for what felt like forever.
Each step into the depths peeled away the cooler air of the upper floors, replacing it with a dense, smothering heat. It wasn't the sharp, biting kind Kael had felt above—this heat was heavy, slow, oppressive, sinking into his clothes and lungs, weighing down his very thoughts.
Ash drifted through the shaft like a ghostly snowstorm.
Not pure white.
No, here, the ash fell in shades of dirty gray and blood-orange, as if even the dust had been scorched into surrender.
Kael pulled his hood tighter against the rising grit and pressed onward.
Nyaro padded silently at his side, his coat shimmering slightly with heat-haze, muscles tense beneath golden fur.
Rimuru floated just above Kael's shoulder, her glow suppressed to a dim, flickering gold. She vibrated faintly, like a kettle close to boiling—part excitement, part warning.
Kael glanced at her and managed a tight smile.
"Almost there," he muttered.
Rimuru pulsed back a tiny flame emoji—a rare show of humor under the growing pressure.
The stairwell finally flattened out.
Kael paused at the threshold, one hand resting lightly against the scorched stone wall.
Beyond, a cavern opened wider than any he had seen so far.
A volcanic basin.
The roof of the chamber arched high above, lost behind a constant curtain of drifting ash and shimmering heat waves. Lava rivers snaked across the floor like veins of living gold, their light painting the broken stone islands in savage, shifting hues of red and black.
Spikes of obsidian jutted from the ground at violent angles, forming natural barricades and jagged arenas. The very air trembled with the low, relentless roar of molten rock boiling against the earth.
Kael tightened his grip on his mana core instinctively.
He could feel it now—not just the heat, not just the wild ambient magic—
—but a presence.
Waiting.
He scanned the center of the chamber.
There, atop a crumbling dais of blackened stone fused with glowing magma veins, stood the Embercore Warden.
It was huge.
Easily three times Kael's height, its body a fusion of molten rock, scorched metal, and rune-scarred armor plates welded directly into cracked stone skin. Giant gauntlets hung at its sides, each large enough to crush a boulder into dust. Its chest was carved open down the center, exposing a glowing, pulsing core of pure elemental fire. Ancient runes spiraled across its armor, faintly shifting, whispering spells too old for Kael to understand.
The beast stood motionless, as if entombed in its own heat.
But Kael knew better.
The moment he crossed into the heart of this chamber…
It would awaken.
Target identified: Embercore Warden. Classification: Dungeon Guardian – Mid-tier. Primary capabilities: brute force assault, rune-based mana enhancements, environmental manipulation. Recommended strategy: concentrated elemental disruption at core junctions. Avoid prolonged direct engagement.
Kael licked dry lips and squared his shoulders.
He could feel Rimuru hovering tense and alert beside him, ready to react. Nyaro's golden coat bristled, muscles bunching beneath him in readiness.
There was no fear among them.
Only focus.
Kael flexed his hands, drawing in mana—not wild and loose, but sharp and precise, forming small rings of flame that spun lazily around his wrists.
He stepped forward onto the cracked stone floor, boots crunching softly against the ash and grit.
The impact echoed across the chamber.
For a heartbeat, nothing changed.
And then, with a low, grinding roar, the Embercore Warden moved.
The runes along its body flared, casting molten light across the cavern walls. Its head lifted—slow, terrible—and its hollow eyes, twin furnaces of ancient rage, locked onto Kael.
The ground trembled underfoot as it stirred fully, rivers of lava rippling from its sheer presence.
Ash and smoke exploded outward from its back in a suffocating burst, swallowing the high ceiling in swirling clouds.
Kael stood his ground.
His heart raced, but his body was steady.
He raised one hand, gathering a spiraling lance of fire at his palm.
"Come on, then," he whispered.
The Embercore Warden answered.
With a sound like a collapsing mountain, it charged.
Each step cratered the stone, molten veins shattering under the force. Chunks of obsidian pillars flew outward as the Warden barreled forward, flames leaking from its gauntlets like rivers torn loose from their banks.
Kael tightened his focus.
The battle for Blazebinder—and perhaps much more—had begun.
Kael didn't wait for the Warden to close the distance.
The moment the giant lunged, Kael threw his hand forward, releasing a Flame Lance—a searing spear of compressed fire that whistled through the heat-hazed air.
It slammed into the Warden's chest dead center.
For a split second, Kael thought he saw it stagger.
But then the lance disintegrated harmlessly against the Warden's molten armor, scattering into a shower of useless sparks.
Kael's eyes widened.
"No way—"
He threw a second spell without hesitation—Flame Whip. A twisting, cutting lash of fire snapped toward the Warden's exposed leg joints.
The whip coiled perfectly, striking just below the knee—
—but the Warden didn't even flinch.
Its rune-scarred plates absorbed the impact, the ancient carvings across its body glowing brighter as if feeding off Kael's magic.
Flame energy absorption confirmed. Surface rune enchantments at 78% efficiency. Direct attacks ineffective without disruption.
Kael barely had time to process the words before the Warden struck.
It wasn't elegant. It didn't need to be.
The massive gauntlet swung horizontally, a hammerblow of molten stone and rune-forged metal aimed straight for Kael's ribs.
He dove sideways, rolling over broken stone as the Warden's strike shattered the ground where he'd stood a second earlier. Chunks of rock and ash exploded outward, slicing across Kael's exposed arm.
Pain flared—a shallow but deep-burning cut along his bicep.
Kael hissed under his breath, scrambling to his feet.
Stay mobile! Continuous contact will result in immediate incapacitation!
No kidding.
Kael darted left as another blow crashed down behind him, the impact sending shockwaves through the floor.
He caught a glimpse of Rimuru weaving frantically in the air, throwing condensed mana bullets to try and distract the Warden—but they barely slowed it.
Nyaro, faster and lower to the ground, circled the edges of the battlefield, looking for a weak point.
Kael cursed under his breath.
He needed a plan—and fast.
Another spell. Something bigger.
He gathered mana at his fingertips, burning hot and desperate.
Fireball Storm.
Half a dozen miniature fireballs formed and launched toward the Warden's upper body in a rapid, cascading blast.
The chamber filled with overlapping explosions—fire and smoke swallowing the Warden entirely.
Kael landed in a crouch, panting, watching.
For a moment, it looked like he might have done something.
The smoke parted.
The Warden stood untouched, molten runes flashing like a heartbeat, its armor plates gleaming as if Kael's attacks had merely polished them.
Kael's stomach dropped.
Warning. Ambient rune density increasing. The target's defensive enchantments are accelerating self-repair and reinforcement.
In other words:
The longer he fought wrong, the stronger it would get.
Kael clenched his fists, feeling frustration boil in his gut.
Not raw firepower.
Precision.
He narrowed his eyes, studying the Warden more carefully now, past the obvious towering threat.
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The joints.
The seams between armor plates.
The slashes across its chest where the runes connected—the veins of molten light pulsing underneath.
He remembered the advice.
Concentrated elemental disruption at core junctions.
Not brute force.
Surgical strikes.
Kael exhaled slowly, steadying his breathing.
"Adapt," he muttered under his breath. "Or die."
Behind him, Rimuru pulsed urgently—a reminder that he wasn't alone.
Nyaro growled low from the shadows, tense and ready.
Kael smiled grimly and shifted his stance, calling mana not to his palm now—but to his fingertips, threading it tighter, smaller, denser.
Thin threads of living flame danced between his fingers, whisper-thin but razor-sharp.
No more wasting energy.
This wasn't a war.
It was surgery.
He surged forward, slipping low beneath the next thunderous swing of the Warden's gauntlet.
The heat was suffocating. The mana pressure hammered at his senses.
But Kael focused.
He dove in close—dangerously close—and slammed a precise needle of flame directly into the exposed seam beneath the Warden's right shoulder.
The molten rune barrier there flickered. Dimmed.
The Warden staggered—only slightly, but enough to prove the tactic worked.
Kael grinned savagely.
"Got you."
The battle wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
But for the first time since the fight began—
Kael knew he could win.
The Embercore Warden didn't roar.
It didn't bellow or curse.
It simply moved—with terrible, unstoppable force.
Kael darted sideways, narrowly avoiding a molten fist that shattered a nearby boulder into a spray of lava and burning rock shards. The heat slammed into him like a wall. He clenched his jaw, forced himself to keep moving.
The Warden's molten runes shifted rapidly across its body, the light pulsing faster, brighter.
Something was building.
Kael felt it before he saw it.
The ground beneath his feet vibrated with growing power.
New enchantment detected! Rune Shield deployment imminent!
Kael threw himself into a sprint, trying to find higher ground amid the broken, crumbling battlefield.
The Warden planted its massive feet into the lava-scarred stone. The runes on its body ignited—deep crimson lines flaring outward in spirals. From its chest, a shield of molten mana erupted, wrapping the Warden in a semi-transparent barrier that warped the air around it into a blinding shimmer.
Kael skidded to a halt behind a fallen pillar, shielding his eyes.
The Rune Shield radiated an intense heat field—
any spell cast too close would detonate back on the caster.
Warning. Direct mana attacks will now rebound. Recommend environmental manipulation or precision disruption.
Kael ground his teeth together.
He couldn't blast through it.
He had to outthink it.
But the Warden wasn't done.
The ground trembled again—harder this time.
The runes along the floor of the volcanic chamber flared to life in sudden bursts, forming a lattice of fiery symbols.
Kael's eyes widened.
"New signature—" he started.
RUNE PULSE INCOMING.
The Warden slammed both fists into the earth.
A seismic shockwave exploded outward, tracing along the rune lines—
a violent blast of force and fire that tore through the battlefield like a living storm.
The first pulse hit Kael squarely.
He barely managed to throw up a half-formed Flame Barrier—but the impact lifted him off his feet and slammed him into a crumbling rock spire.
Pain blossomed across his ribs.
Not broken, but close.
"Kael!" Rimuru chirped desperately in his mind, her light flickering anxiously.
"I'm—!" he wheezed, rolling to his side just in time to avoid a second Rune Pulse as it sheared the ground where he had lain.
Rimuru darted forward, positioning herself between Kael and the next incoming blast. Her body rippled, absorbing ambient mana like a sponge, siphoning off the worst of the magical turbulence.
Nyaro, moving in a zig-zagging pattern across the ruins, barely avoided being swallowed by a lava fissure that split open under the pressure. His paws danced nimbly across loose rocks, golden fur scorched but determination burning in his eyes.
The battlefield was collapsing.
Chunks of stone sank into molten rivers. Ashstorms spiraled across the air, blinding and choking. Every Rune Pulse shattered another piece of the chamber, leaving less and less safe ground to fight on.
Kael staggered upright, grimacing.
He couldn't win like this.
He couldn't even survive if he kept playing by the Warden's rules.
Environmental analysis complete. Lava mana saturation exceeds 73%. Recommendation: weaponize ambient molten mana to destabilize Rune Shield.
Kael's mind clicked instantly.
The lava rivers.
They weren't just obstacles.
They were ammunition.
He glanced toward a glowing trench of molten rock seeping along the chamber's edge.
If he could pull from it—
Control it—
He could overload the Warden's defenses from inside its own shield.
Kael grinned, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Then let's turn the battlefield against him," he rasped.
Behind him, Rimuru pulsed brightly—ready.
Nyaro slunk through the smoke, circling wide to distract the Warden.
Kael gathered what remained of his mana carefully, focusing it not into a weapon—
but into tethers.
Living threads of Flame Manipulation that slithered through the broken ground, reaching hungrily toward the molten river.
The Warden turned slowly, sensing the shift.
Its hollow gaze locked onto Kael—and for the first time, it hesitated.
Kael smirked fiercely.
"Not so invincible after all," he whispered.
The threads of molten mana responded to his call.
The air around him shimmered and cracked.
The final phase of the battle was about to begin.
Kael spread his fingers wide, channeling mana outward in thin, deliberate streams.
The air between him and the molten river shimmered violently, distorting like a mirage. The molten mana responded—threads of liquid fire stretching toward him, writhing through the cracks like living serpents.
Kael gritted his teeth, pulling gently but firmly.
Control.
Not brute force.
The molten streams rose from the river, swirling into a slow spiral around him—close enough to burn, but contained by sheer will and Flame Manipulation.
Stabilization at 84%. Current mana draw sustainable for fifteen seconds. Recommend immediate deployment.
Kael nodded once, sweat dripping into his eyes.
Fifteen seconds to break through an ancient guardian's defenses.
No problem.
The Embercore Warden reacted to the shift. Its molten runes flared again, brighter and faster, reinforcing the Rune Shield with an extra layer of hardened flame magic.
Kael didn't panic.
He didn't attack yet.
Instead, he stepped forward, dragging the swirling spiral of molten mana with him, letting it build mass and momentum like a compressed storm.
Rimuru floated closer, synchronizing her mana field with Kael's—boosting stability, siphoning away dangerous fluctuations.
Her glow flickered white-blue for an instant: I'm with you.
Nyaro, sensing the moment, shifted his path—sprinting around the far edge of the battlefield. The panther's claws dug into the shattered stone as he circled behind the Warden, flanking silently, waiting for the opening.
The Warden charged again, Rune Shield blazing, molten fists raised high.
Kael exhaled sharply, heart hammering.
"Now."
He snapped his hands forward, casting the gathered molten mana outward in a focused arc.
The spiral exploded—
not a wild blast—
but a controlled torrent, slamming directly into the Rune Shield's left side, where the seams were weakest.
The impact was instant and violent.
The shield buckled, rippling like water hit by a hammer. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface—flickering, straining.
The Warden roared—not with sound, but with mana pressure so intense the lava rivers heaved outward in response.
Kael stumbled from the backlash, but Rimuru zipped around him, reinforcing his tethers, anchoring the molten storm even tighter.
Seismic feedback destabilizing Rune Shield integrity. Disruption threshold reached. Target vulnerability window: fourteen seconds.
Fourteen seconds.
That's all he had.
Nyaro struck first.
The panther leapt from a broken ledge, twisting in midair with impossible grace. His claws, sharpened and reinforced by Kael's lingering flame mana, slashed across the exposed back seam of the Warden's leg.
The armor split with a deafening crack.
The Warden staggered forward, trying to turn.
Kael moved faster.
He called what was left of the molten spiral inward, focusing it into a spear of living fire.
Every ounce of precision Flame Manipulation he had learned so far poured into this one moment—this one shot.
The spear formed in a heartbeat.
Kael launched it.
It tore through the superheated air like a meteor, striking the Warden's exposed chest seam dead-on.
The Rune Shield shattered with a sound like breaking mountains.
The Warden reeled, molten blood gushing from the cracked runes along its core.
For the first time, it looked vulnerable.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He sprinted forward, weaving between collapsing stones and bubbling fissures.
Rimuru surged beside him, channeling mana stabilizers into his body to keep his circuits from overloading.
Nyaro snarled and harried the Warden's legs, forcing it to stagger left—exposing the heart seam further.
Kael gathered the last of his strength.
The final spell.
Firelance: Core Break.
A pure, condensed lance of burning, cutting flame erupted from Kael's palm.
He drove it forward—no hesitation, no fear—
—and punched it straight into the Embercore Warden's heart.
The Warden convulsed.
A shockwave blasted outward, scattering ash and rubble across the chamber.
The molten rivers howled, pulled inward toward the dying guardian.
Kael shielded his face, barely managing to stay upright.
When the light finally faded—
The Warden stood frozen for a long heartbeat, cracked from head to toe.
Then, with a slow, final groan—
It collapsed into a smoldering heap of stone, magma, and broken runes.
The chamber went silent except for the distant hiss of cooling lava.
Kael stood in the center of the battlefield, shoulders heaving, chest burning with every breath.
He was alive.
They had won.
The battlefield still crackled with dying magic.
Chunks of molten stone lay scattered across the chamber floor, glowing like fallen stars. Thin rivers of lava hissed as they cooled, releasing thick steam that drifted through the broken, cavernous air.
Kael stood still for a long moment, feeling the aftermath settle into his bones.
Every muscle ached.
His mana core throbbed dully, like a drum after a battle cry.
But they were alive.
They had won.
He turned slowly, eyes scanning the ruins where the Embercore Warden had fallen.
At the center of the collapsed dais—half-buried in cracked stone and flickering embers—something shone.
Kael approached cautiously, his boots crunching over blackened gravel.
There, resting atop a bed of cooling ash, lay a katana.
Its blade was slender, curved, and forged of metal that shimmered between crimson and black, as if flames still danced just beneath its surface. The guard was shaped like a coiled dragon, and faint, ancient runes spiraled up the length of the blade.
The sword pulsed softly—not threatening, but alive, resonating with Kael's own magic like a second heartbeat.
Kael knelt beside it, reaching out.
The moment his fingers brushed the hilt, a pulse of warmth rushed up his arm—not burning, not searing, but claiming.
He gripped it fully and lifted the blade from the ash.
It felt perfect in his hand. Balanced. Responsive. As if it had been waiting for him.
Artifact identified: Blazebinder. Origin: Pre-Cataclysmic Era.
Primary attributes: Fire elemental amplification, core resonance enhancement.
Status: Dormant. Secondary form locked. Requirements for evolution: Core synchronization at greater depth—estimated trigger threshold, Floor 50.
Kael stared at the blade, awe prickling along his skin.
Dormant.
Which meant…
This was only the beginning.
He tightened his grip, feeling the sword hum faintly against his palm.
Beside the ashes, something else glinted.
Kael bent down and retrieved it carefully.
A Sealed Scroll, wrapped in blackened silk and bound by ancient rune-threads.
He held it up, studying the faint glow that pulsed along its surface.
Unreadable script detected. Pre-Cataclysmic Relic Language. Translation: 28% complete.
Primary keyword analysis: 'Flame Mirror… Heir… Legacy.' Further decoding in progress.
Kael tucked the scroll carefully into his pack.
Answers.
Pieces of a story so much older than he was.
He sheathed Blazebinder at his side, the katana locking into an invisible groove along his hip as if it belonged there.
Footsteps crunched nearby.
Nyaro padded into view, favoring one leg slightly but alive, golden eyes gleaming fiercely. He growled low—approval—before settling at Kael's flank.
Rimuru floated down, her surface dulled to a soft silver-blue from exhaustion, but pulsing steadily with pride. She spun once above Kael's head before settling gently onto his shoulder like a living scarf.
Kael chuckled quietly, warmth blooming in his chest despite the wreckage all around them.
They had survived.
They had conquered.
And they had claimed something far greater than victory.
They had claimed a future.
Kael looked once more at the sword resting against his hip.
A whisper of thought brushed his mind—faint, almost lost among the swirling ash:
You are not finished yet.
He smiled grimly.
"Not even close," he whispered.
The chamber rumbled softly underfoot—a final warning, or perhaps a farewell.
Kael rose to his feet, Rimuru and Nyaro at his side, Blazebinder's hilt warm against his palm.
The dungeon wasn't beaten yet.
But it had just lost one of its greatest guardians.
And Kael Drayke was just getting started.
The volcanic chamber fell into a deep, simmering silence.
No more shockwaves. No more rumbling attacks. Just the low, tired hiss of cooling magma and the distant drip of molten stone hardening back into earth.
Kael found a flat section of scorched rock and lowered himself down slowly, feeling every scrape and bruise along the way. He planted Blazebinder across his lap, resting his hands lightly on the blade's still-warm hilt.
Rimuru floated nearby, dim but content, her color a soft sky-blue. Nyaro curled up close, his flank rising and falling with steady, even breaths.
For a while, Kael said nothing.
He just sat there, breathing.
Alive.
Whole.
Different.
The fight against the Embercore Warden had changed something inside him—not just his skill, not just his mana flow. Something deeper.
Strength wasn't just power. It was control. Adaptation. Patience when needed—and fury when unleashed at the right time.
He glanced down at Blazebinder.
The blade didn't glow dramatically or vibrate with wild magic like in fairy tales.
It simply existed.
Solid.
Patient.
Waiting to be worthy of its true potential.
Kael ran one finger along the edge, feeling the slight vibration of restrained fire beneath the surface.
"Floor 50," he thought. "That's when you'll show me what you really are."
He wasn't afraid of how far he still had to go.
He was excited.
For the first time, he felt it with certainty:
This dungeon…
This world…
It wasn't a punishment for being reborn.
It was a challenge.
A forge.
And he was being tempered into something far greater than he had ever been before.
Kael rose slowly, feeling the exhaustion clinging to him like mist—but also a strange, quiet energy beneath it all.
He slung his pack over one shoulder.
Blazebinder fit naturally against his hip.
Rimuru settled onto his other shoulder, humming faintly.
Nyaro stretched once, muscles rippling, then fell into an easy stride beside him.
Kael looked back once at the ruined battlefield.
At the shattered remains of the Warden.
At the rivers of cooling lava.
At the burned sky painted with drifting ash.
A battlefield that would have killed him just months ago.
He smiled—a small, real smile.
Then he turned away, leading his team toward the dark passage ahead.
Toward deeper challenges.
Toward a future worth fighting for.
Because this wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.