CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51: VOLCANIC ASCENT

The Andes stretched across the sky like the spine of a sleeping god—cold, jagged, and ever-watching. South America’s Shattered Peaks, a series of fractured summits formed by ancient earthquakes and dormant volcanoes, were far from any major city. In times past, few ventured here. Now, a small military base at the foot of the range served as a temporary outpost for S-rank Hunters and research teams investigating dimensional pulse activity.

Evon arrived at dawn by aerial transport. Cold wind snapped his coat at the edges, and thin clouds floated below the base like white rivers. The atmosphere wasn’t welcoming. It was waiting.

"Confirming energy signature," came the voice of the local commander, Alessio Martinez, as he approached with a digital tablet. "Resonance consistent with Sythara’s elemental composition. Mixed domain: fire, earth, storm, and latent celestial threads."

Evon stared toward the largest peak—Mount Del Oro, a dormant volcano that had not erupted in 1,500 years. The mountain’s upper slopes glowed faintly now, not with lava, but with streaks of ethereal energy. Purple lightning flickered across the summit, vanishing before strikes could reach the ground.

"Any signs of instability?" Evon asked.

Martinez shook his head. "Nothing on the surface. But drones have scanned atmospheric readings with short-range spatial distortion. It’s clearly a gate. No visual breach, but the energy field matches."

Evon watched the lightning arc across the clouds again.

"She’s up there," he said softly.

Naia’s voice flowed peacefully into his thoughts. *"I feel Sythara’s pulse clearly—her power is heavy, ancient. Guarded."*

Lyria’s flame whispered firm agreement. *"It is the kind of pressure only born to dragons. She will not be unsealed easily."*

Evon shifted the strap of his blade and nodded at Commander Martinez. "I’ll be taking a direct ascent."

"You want a team?"

"No," Evon said. "Just notify the IHB I’ve gone in. If I’m not back in 48 hours..."

Martinez grimaced. "We’ll assume the mountain took you."

Evon gave him a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he turned and walked toward the foothills.

The climb to Mount Del Oro’s summit was a gauntlet of jagged terrain and churning clouds. The energy field wasn’t visible at first, but after an hour of hiking, the landscape shifted. The warmth of the sun faded. Gravity pressed unevenly, and sounds became distorted—echoes stretched longer than they should have. Evon passed through the gate without realizing it.

Suddenly, the landscape changed.

The real world dimmed.

He stood now inside the gate’s domain: the first level of the dungeon.

The volcanic slopes had transformed into a bubbling labyrinth of fire fields and crumbling stone bridges stretched above rivers of magma. The sky was choked with ash clouds—yet in the far, far distance, above it all, floated something massive.

A floating mountain—hovering, rotating slowly.

Etched into its surface: a gigantic symbol, glowing faintly violet. Sythara’s seal.

Evon stared upward.

"She’s even higher than I thought."

### Level One: Caverns of Molten Will

The path led downward first, into a network of caverns alive with lava veins and stone creatures. The first to greet him was a magma wyrmling, smaller than a horse but glowing with internal heat. It hissed and struck.

Evon dodged its lunge and countered cleanly with the Blade of Fate holding just Lyria’s flame and Naia’s water. The blade hissed into the creature’s neck, instantly turning its molten core into harmless vapor. The Wyrmling crumbled.

Two more emerged from a dripping archway. One spewed a stream of fire. The other twisted into the tunnel wall, merging with the rock.

Evon retaliated by summoning a burst of **cyber lances** from his blade, enhanced with Veyra’s neural feedback. Pinpoint targeting systems allowed two clean hits—one took the creature’s leg, the other its heat gland.

The second lunged from the stone. Evon activated **Destiny Prison**, locking the beast’s movement just long enough for a final strike. The sword lit white-hot and crunched through molten bone.

As he advanced, the air grew hotter. More creatures came—obsidian golems with burning cores, serpents of flowing lava. But none matched the skill or fury Evon had already faced in prior dungeons.

Yet, the pressure on his chest deepened. Not physical pressure. Something deeper.

Sythara’s aura was drawing him.

### Level Two: The Storm Plateau

Emerging from the final cavern, Evon found himself on a high plateau. Lightning cracked overhead. The air shimmered with static. Massive towers of stone—pillars cast from the bedrock—pierced the sky.

Atop each tower perched a storm beast: eagle-like creatures with wings of obsidian and eyes like storms. They didn’t move at first. But as Evon entered the plateau, the storm twisted.

The sky opened.

And they attacked.

Five of them dove at once, wind and lightning pouring from their wings.

Evon inhaled, his blade humming to life with all three seals—Naia’s calm, Lyria’s heat, Veyra’s speed.

Against the first, he moved midair. He met it in flight, parried the sharpened windstrike with a flame shield, and countered by wrapping water-infused tendrils around its wings, grounding it.

The second struck from behind—Evon was ready. Destiny Prison flared for a moment, slowing the creature’s time just enough for his arc-light slash to bifurcate its left wing.

He landed, rolled, then sprinted toward a spire. The third beast loomed above, summoning a cyclone—but Evon found a magnetic pull, and used Veyra’s feedback pulse to speed-boost along the vertical pillar wall.

The two remaining eagles attacked together—but this time, Evon inhaled deeply and spoke aloud:

"Lyria. Your flame."

*"Take it, Evon."*

The blade flared brilliant red.

Evon lifted his glowing weapon. A firewave surged upward—pure True Fire, heatless to spirit, deadly to corrupted material.

Both birds shrieked as the flame washed over them. They dissolved into streaks of starlight.

Lightning faltered overhead.

Silence returned.

He stood alone, atop the highest spire, breathing heavily.

And from above, a voice poured down—not loud, not soft. Just... commanding.

"Well done, Evon Wang."

It was her.

Sythara.

Evon looked up.

The floating mountain had descended slightly—close but out of reach.

A swirling vortex began to form beneath it—glittering with black, violet, and silver. The currents twisted, and a path began to shape, forming an ascending spiral of stone.

He stepped forward onto the path’s first brick.

But he didn’t go further.

Not yet.

He closed his eyes. Felt the weight of three orbs against his chest.

Then, inside his soul world, he opened communion.

His soul body flickered into the realm—vast skies, quiet winds, and the floating crystalline orbs—Naia, Lyria, and Veyra—hovering in formation.

Today, he let his thoughts reach softly toward them.

"I’ve cleared two levels," he said quietly.

The three pulses answered in turn.

Naia: calm and clear. "You move steadily. That is your strength."

Lyria: warm, proud. "You’re almost there. I can feel her."

Veyra: precise, logical. "Her realm is one of unstable energy. Be precise in your strikes, or you will fall from the path."

He paused. "Any of you remember what she was last doing before the seal?"

There was silence.

Then Naia answered softly. "She was preparing to break the world law. She wanted to ascend past suppression."

Lyria added, "That’s why her seal is different. If she wakes wrong, the realm could burn."

Evon breathed out. "Then I’ll make sure it doesn’t. I’ll bring her back with control."

Veyra responded one more time. "I’ll reinforce the Blade. When you strike the seal guardian, I’ll sync with its oscillation."

He nodded. His soul-body faded. His eyes opened in the real world atop the plateau.

The path spiraled upward.

The guardian waited at the summit.

But Evon smiled faintly.

Three seals bound to him.

Two left.

And Sythara was only a few steps away.

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