2025-09-02 07:02:15
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Chapter Eighty-Four: The Strategist’s Trap
The cavern was silent. Silent except for Elias’s ragged breathing and the faint rattle of the chains that clung to his wrists and ankles. The corpse of the brute he had slain lay behind him, twisted in the dust, its monstrous form already cooling.The taste of iron coated his tongue. His lungs fought for air. His skin was raw where the chains had cut, sweat mingling with blood, But there was no time to rest.The Keeper’s voice, calm and cold, broke the silence. “You fought with fury, But fury alone cannot keep you alive. It blinds. It makes you predictable.”Elias lifted his head, eyes burning. “And what do you want me to do? Fight like you?”The Keeper didn’t answer with words at first. Instead, he stepped aside, his lantern casting a circle of light into the shadows. From the gloom, another figure emerged.The New ChallengerThe man was tall and lean, clad in dark armor etched with faint runes that shimmered as if alive. His helmet was open-faced, revealing sharp features and calcul
Chapter Eighty-Three: The Strategist’s Trap
The cavern had gone quiet again. The corpse of the husk lay still, but Elias couldn’t take comfort in his victory. The chains still clung to his body, heavy and biting. Every breath burned.The Keeper broke the silence. “You fought with fury. But fury alone cannot keep you alive. It blinds. It makes you predictable.”Elias spat blood to the stone. “And what you want me to fight like you?”The Keeper’s lips curved. “Not like me,Like him.”The New ChallengerFrom the shadows came a figure unlike the brute from before. This one was lean, clad in dark armor etched with runes. His eyes were sharp, calculating, every step deliberate. A curved blade rested in his hand, its edge glinting faintly with poison.“Meet Marrow,” the Keeper said. “Once a general who never lost a campaign. He thrives on patience, on traps. He does not overpower he dismantles.”Elias straightened, his body trembling. “So you’re throwing me to a tactician now?”The Keeper’s gaze was cold. “A storm that cannot be contro
Chapter Eighty-Two: Shackled Duel
The cavern stank of iron and smoke when Elias woke. His wounds had been crudely wrapped in strips of cloth, but his body still throbbed with every heartbeat. Across from him, the Keeper was sharpening a blade that looked older than kingdoms.Sparks lit the darkness with each scrape. “You carried the chains,” the Keeper said without looking up. “Now, let us see if you can fight with them.”Elias pushed himself upright, confusion etched into his bloodshot eyes. “Fight with what?”The Keeper’s only answer was a whistle that echoed through the cavern. From the shadows, a figure emerged.The Opponent AppearsThe man was massive, bare-chested, scars crisscrossing his torso like maps of war. His eyes burned with hollow rage, yet no thought flickered behind them. He dragged a sword that hissed against stone, sparks dancing at each step.“What.....what is he?” Elias whispered.The Keeper stood. “A condemned warrior. Once a great fighter, now a husk bound by runes. He feels no pain, no fear, an
Chapter Eighty-One: The Weight of Two
The cavern air was damp, cold enough to sting the lungs. Elias awoke with every joint aflame, his hands swollen from the chain’s merciless bite. The Keeper stood waiting, a silhouette against the cavern’s glow, his arms folded.“On your feet,” the old warrior barked.Elias staggered upright, body screaming in protest. He expected another lecture, another trial of words. Instead, the Keeper motioned, and the second chain descended from the darkness above, its runes glowing like molten veins.“Today,” the Keeper said, his voice like iron striking stone, “you carry both.”The Crushing TestElias barely managed the first chain yesterday. The thought of bearing two was madness. His chest tightened. The Mark stirred immediately, hungry, offering strength for surrender.Call on me, it whispered, oily and insistent, Shatter his trial, Burn the weight Why resist?Elias clenched his teeth. “No,” he hissed aloud.The Keeper tossed him the first chain. The weight nearly broke him, his knees slamm
Chapter Eighty: The Chains of Control
The cavern was silent except for the rasp of Elias’s breath. His skin still smoked from the ember pit, his body trembling between life and collapse. Yet before his wounds could close, the Keeper returned.“You survived the fire,” the old warrior said, his voice sharp as flint. “Now we test the chain.”Elias lifted his head, his cracked lips forming the question before his mind caught up. “The chain?”The Keeper didn’t answer with words. Instead, he gestured, and from the shadows came the grinding of stone.The Iron ChainsTwo colossal links of black iron slid from the cavern walls, suspended from pulleys that groaned with age. Each link was the size of Elias’s torso, carved with runes that pulsed faintly blue. They radiated weight, not of metal alone, but of something heavier as if gravity itself bowed to them.“These are not ordinary chains,” the Keeper said. “They were forged in the War of Sundering to bind a god-beast. Each weighs more than a mountain to a mortal. To you they will
Chapter Eighty-One: The Keeper’s Crucible
Elias woke to the sound of fire. Not the wild crackle of destruction, but a steady, deliberate burn like a forge being stoked. The cavern was dark, the air heavy with ash and earth, but ahead of him glowed a pit of embers, carved into a perfect circle.The Keeper stood at its edge, bare-chested, his skin lined with scars like maps of war. His voice, when it came, was not loud but it carried the weight of command. “Stand.”Elias pushed himself up, every muscle screaming. His wounds still ached from the storm, his veins still pulsed with the lingering burn of the Mark. But he obeyed. The Keeper’s eyes, glowing faintly gold in the firelight, swept over him like judgment.“You carry death in your blood,” the Keeper said. “Power stolen from the storm. Left unchecked, it will consume you. So we will break you. Then remake you.”Trial by FireWithout warning, the Keeper thrust his hand into the pit of embers. Flesh sizzled, the smell of char rising in the cavern yet the old man did not flin
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