She dashed forward, flickering between footfalls.
Her assault became a blizzard of precise, honed strikes. Slashes turned into spiraling hooks, feints became phantom clones woven from condensed blood essence. She attacked from three sides at once—each illusion carrying just enough force to distract.
The knight finally grunted.
One of her phantom strikes landed deep into his thigh, staggering him a step. But he countered with a cyclone of compressed air—so sharp that it cut her illusions apart and sliced a shallow wound across her temple.
Veyra wiped the blood away and muttered, "You're starting to bleed. Let's deepen the wound."
The knight responded by plunging his blade into the floor.
A ring of electric pressure erupted outward.
Veyra was forced to leap backward—but not fast enough. The ring clipped her right leg, slicing deep into muscle. Her flight faltered. She landed badly and had to roll to dodge a descending overhead slash that shattered the floor.
Her blade met his in a crossed block.
He pushed her down, step by step.
She felt her bones straining.
"You have strength," she hissed, "but you'll break before I do."
She screamed and unleashed her Frostpulse Bloom point-blank—an explosive blast of sub-zero bloodlight. It froze part of his torso instantly, staggering him.
She followed up with a downward cleave of her glaive—severing his right arm at the elbow.
The knight didn't scream. He didn't even falter.
He raised his left hand—and opened it.
Lightning wings burst from his back.
New novel chapters are published on Novel~Fire. (n)et
He launched forward with hurricane speed, slamming into her like a living bolt.
The glaive flew from her hand. Her ribs cracked. The floor cracked beneath them.
He raised his remaining blade.
But Veyra had already shifted tactics.
From her ribs, she formed two smaller Blood Reaver Blades, and slashed at his open side. The twin strikes cut deep—exposing inner arcs of stormsteel. But the knight didn't slow. He headbutted her, dazing her, then drove his blade into her left arm.
The limb went numb—then dead.
She slumped—but in that moment, her blood bloomed from the wound. She roared and detonated it, severing her own arm just above the elbow and blasting both herself and the knight backward.
She crashed into a wall, he into a pillar.
Bleeding. One arm gone.
The Empyrean Bloom pulsed violently. Her glaive—summoned back—hovered behind her, rotating like a wheel of judgment.
She activated her final technique.
Sanguine Petal: Eclipse Descent.
Six petal sigils opened around the knight, each locking him in place with gravity runes. He struggled—then roared, lightning tearing across his form. The chains broke—but too late.
Veyra appeared above him, mid-air.
Her glaive spun once. Twice.
The moment of impact was blinding.
The explosion caved in the entire central platform.
Wind screamed. Lightning shattered across the mirrored chamber. And silence returned like a final breath.
When the dust cleared, Veyra stood—knees trembling.
The Knight of Storm had fallen to one knee, blade broken in half.
He tried to rise again.
She approached slowly. Bleeding. Arm gone. Breathing ragged.
She raised her glaive one last time—and drove it down through his helm.
The guardian collapsed, chains clattering around him like falling rain.
She fell to one knee, panting, one hand clutching the haft of her weapon.
Behind her, Asher and Valeris approached slowly, both silent.
Valeris broke it first. "You… gave up your arm."
Veyra didn't respond right away. Her eyes were locked on the shattered helm of the knight.
Then she whispered, "Better one arm than all of me."
Asher nodded, stepping closer. He gestured toward her with a thoughtful look.
"Right now, your Laws—Blood, Ice, and Moon—are still at a lower level compared to that knight's. That's why your natural regeneration couldn't fully respond. The damage was tied to his higher-tier storm and wind-infused swordsmanship."
He raised his hand, a faint shimmer of gray and black gathering at his fingertips.
"But my Law of Death—especially the aspect of causality—can unravel the residual effects he left in your body. You're a born vampire; your nature isn't red-blooded anymore. Once the foreign law is erased, your regeneration will kick in."
Veyra's body shuddered faintly as her aura adjusted. A soft, dark glow enveloped her severed shoulder—and moments later, fresh muscle and bone began to twist into form. A new arm, slowly regenerating from within.
Asher gave a faint smirk. "That was a good gift you gave—one arm for victory. You've finally met a worthy opponent… and overcame them."
Veyra exhaled softly and smiled, though her body still trembled. "Yeah… he pushed me past the edge."
Asher then turned to look at the fallen knight. With a silent command, the knight's remains began to stir. From its body, three Reapers emerged—one of blood, one of soul, and one of body.
He raised his hand, and using his ability Infinite Fusion, he merged all three into a single Reaper—five times more powerful than the originals. Once the fusion was complete, the new Reaper was stored away, just like the eight before it.
"Now only one dungeon remains," Asher said as they turned away. "And we've done all of this in just five days."
The group didn't linger. With heavy steps and silent understanding, they began their journey to the tenth and final mountain—where the last dungeon awaited them:
The Gate of the Drowned Labyrinth.
The tenth mountain wasn't as tall as the ninth, but it stood out in a different way. Its peak was flat and covered in mist, and the air around it was dense with moisture. Every step they took toward it made the ground softer, damper—until stone gave way to patches of wet moss and mud.
This place was known in the past as a major site of alchemy. Ancient records called it the seat of the "Abyssal Cradle," where powerful alchemists had once experimented with lost arts—especially those related to water manipulation, soul liquefaction, and deep-sea transmutation. It had been abandoned long ago after one of their creations broke free and drowned the entire research sector beneath a rising tide of cursed water.
Valeris walked ahead, her boots splashing slightly as they moved through the shallow pools that now surrounded the area. "This wasn't just a dungeon," she said, glancing around. "This used to be part of a larger alchemy facility."
Veyra looked to the horizon, where broken towers jutted from the flooded ground like the ribs of a dead leviathan. "So, this is what's left of the Abyssal Cradle…"