CHAPTER 71: RUINS III

The Warden hurled the sphere.

It tore through the hall like a meteor, stone crumbling in its wake. Aria charged forward instead of retreating, black flames lashing from her body. She swung her sword in a wide arc, her death-fire colliding with the sphere. The impact detonated in a shockwave that split the floor open, slabs of stone tumbling into the abyss below.

The explosion threw her sideways, but she rolled with the force and came up running. The Warden was already on her, claws like scythes cutting through the air. Aria ducked under the first strike, sparks bursting as the claws shredded the wall behind her. She drove her blade upward into its ribcage, black fire surging with the thrust. Bone cracked, but the Warden’s other hand swung around and caught her across the chest.

The hit sent her flying. She slammed into a fallen pillar, coughing blood, flames flickering wildly around her body. Before she could recover, chains lashed from the Warden’s back, spectral hooks snapping toward her. She raised her sword, slashing furiously, sparks and fire scattering as she cut through one after another. Still, a hook grazed her arm, tearing through armor and burning cold against her skin.

Aria gritted her teeth, forced herself up, and sprinted. She met the Warden head-on again. Her sword hammered against its claws in a rapid exchange, each strike throwing bursts of black and white flame across the chamber. The ground shook beneath their blows, stone breaking apart with every impact.

The Warden reared back, opening its chest. Another surge of corpse-fire erupted, a beam that ripped through the hall in a straight line. Aria jumped, flipping over the blast, and landed hard on the Warden’s shoulders. She drove her blade down through its spine, black fire flooding into the wound. The monster roared and twisted violently, throwing her off.

She crashed to the floor, rolled, and barely dodged as a claw slammed down where she had been. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact. She lunged in low, carving through one of the Warden’s legs. Bone splintered, the limb nearly giving way, but the creature caught itself, flames surging to mend the damage.

Chains whipped around her again, dozens this time. She set her feet, black fire bursting outward in a wave. The storm burned through them, hooks shattering before they reached her. She pushed forward in the opening, her sword blazing hotter, every strike heavier. She hacked through the Warden’s arm, severing it at the elbow.

The Warden staggered back, shrieking without voice. But even as it fell, the ghostfire swarmed around the wound, reattaching what had been cut. Its frame twisted, bone reforming, the body refusing to break.

Aria stood with her chest heaving, her blade burning like a torch of night. She glared up at the Warden, steadying her grip.

The Warden’s hollow sockets glowed brighter, green fire bleeding like tears down its skull. Its entire body rattled, bones vibrating as though some unseen choir was screaming through it. The sound was enough to make the ruined hall quiver, dust falling in waves from the cracked ceiling.

Aria steadied her blade, feeling her knuckles whiten around the hilt. Her chest burned where the claw had struck her, ribs throbbing with every breath, but her gaze never wavered. She stepped forward, each footfall echoed by the low thunder of black fire coursing through her veins.

The Warden lunged—its entire frame collapsing into motion, like a skeletal hurricane. Its claws cut the air faster than before, chain-hooks spiraling around like a storm of blades. Aria whirled with it, her sword flashing arcs of shadowfire. Each slash burned apart a hook, each parry flared as her blade met the creature’s claws. Sparks and fire burst with every collision, light and shadow painting the shattered ruins like a storm-lit battlefield.

The Warden pressed harder, bone grinding against steel. Its claws locked with her sword, pushing her back inch by inch. Aria snarled, blood trailing down her chin, and let the black fire consume her arms, her shoulders, her chest. Her whole body ignited as a vessel of deathflame. She shoved back with every ounce of strength, and the deadlock broke—the force hurling the Warden off-balance.

She didn’t hesitate. Aria darted forward, leapt, and carved a vertical strike from its collarbone down to its hip. The black fire roared through the wound, splitting bone apart, tearing the Warden nearly in half.

It howled—soundless yet deafening—and collapsed onto its knees. Ghostfire gushed from the wound like blood, trying to stitch the ruin back together. But this time, the damage resisted. Her flames gnawed at the corpse-light, devouring it where it tried to mend.

The Warden’s body convulsed. Chains exploded outward, embedding themselves in the ground and walls like stakes, holding its body upright in some grotesque parody of life. Its ribcage cracked open wider, and deep within, a black core pulsed—a shard of death magic, the anchor of its existence.

Aria froze, her sword still burning at her side. Her eyes narrowed.

"There you are," she whispered, voice low and fierce.

The core throbbed again, and the Warden roared—not with voice, but with the raw detonation of ghostfire erupting through the ruins.

The detonation struck like a tidal wave. Ghostfire poured outward in a dome, the raw essence of death clawing at stone, air, and flesh alike. The ruins screamed as walls shattered and ceiling beams gave way, collapsing into the storm.

Aria hurled herself backward, cloak snapping like torn wings, her body barely clearing the blast. The pressure hit her midair, flinging her across the ruined hall. She rolled hard along broken marble, her ribs stabbing with pain, before planting her sword into the floor to stop herself from sliding further.

When she lifted her gaze, the Warden was no longer just a skeleton bound by chains.

The core had burst its ribcage wide, hovering in the open like a heart of black suns. Every beat cast shockwaves that twisted the air. Bones reassembled around it, but wrong—lengthened, jagged, reforged into an abomination of cage-like ribs and spines. The chains it drove into the walls now pulsed with necrotic veins, siphoning power from the ruins themselves.

The Warden’s form towered, its skull swelling with a mane of ghostfire. It was no longer just a guardian—it was the Ruins of Vakrops themselves, given rage and shape.

Aria spat blood, wiped her mouth, and rose to her feet. Her body ached, her veins screamed under the weight of the black fire still gnawing at her soul, but her eyes burned with clarity.

If the core anchored this nightmare, then her path was clear.

The Warden unleashed another wave. Chains lashed in unison, hundreds of them, weaving into a storm that spun across the chamber like a bladed tempest. Aria charged into it.

Her sword became a streak of black flame, every slash carving arcs through steel and bone. She rolled beneath a hook, vaulted over a rib spear, twisted through a gap as if the storm itself bent around her fury. Sparks and shadows showered in her wake.

One chain caught her ankle, snapping tight like a viper. Pain flared as it burned through skin to bone. The Warden yanked, dragging her off her feet, hurling her toward the gnashing core pulsing within its chest-cage.

Aria roared, spun midair, and drove her blade down through the chain. Black fire surged, severing it in an eruption of sparks. She hit the ground in a crouch, ankle bleeding, but she was already moving again.

The core throbbed louder, like a heartbeat of death.

Aria’s fire rose higher, wrapping her blade in a mantle of annihilation. She sprinted, the ruined hall collapsing around her, the storm of chains tightening to crush her.

And with one final cry, she leapt straight for the Warden’s chest—

Her sword aimed at the black core.

Her blade struck true.

The core cracked.

The core screamed like a star torn in half, a wail that rattled bone and thought alike. Black suns split apart in its depths, shattering the ribcage of bone and fire that shielded it. Aria’s strike pierced through, and for a moment the chamber became nothing but brilliance—black and silver flame colliding, devouring, reshaping.

The Warden convulsed. Its form rippled outward, ghostfire bleeding from every joint as chains snapped loose in a frenzy. Hundreds of links shot outward, not toward Aria but everywhere, thrashing the walls, the floor, the very air, as if the ruins themselves were in agony.

Aria clung to her sword, driving it deeper, her roar drowned beneath the cacophony. The black fire in her veins surged, threatening to devour her flesh from the inside out, but she held on—held tighter than her own heartbeat.

The Warden’s massive skull tilted back, jaw unhinging, releasing a column of flame that split the collapsing hall in two. Statues of forgotten kings melted into slag. Aria’s cloak ignited and burned away to ash, but still she pressed forward, step by brutal step, blade biting deeper.