Stephan burned through another five souls, black flames knitting bone and muscle as his ribs popped back into place with sickening cracks. His chest still throbbed, every breath searing, and the ache in his spine told him the last impact had been close to crippling.
Asriel tilted her head, her violet eyes gleaming like cruel stars. "It’s amazing how fast you can heal," she purred. "Let me guess... you’re burning your little stockpile of souls to patch yourself up."
Stephan froze mid-breath, pupils tightening. How the hell does she know about burning souls?
"Oh, don’t look so surprised." Asriel’s lips curved into a smile that wasn’t quite human. "I know all about your little tricks. You’re not as special as you think. You’re not even the first one to crawl in here carrying that sort of power."
His grip on the Ossuary Sword tightened, knuckles whitening. Not the first one...?
Her tone turned mocking, almost playful. "Your face tells me you thought you were unique. Poor boy. Did your death god whisper in your ear that you were chosen? That you were one of a kind? No... you’re just another pawn. Another gladiator thrown into the pit."
"What are you talking about?" Stephan snapped, trying to mask the spike of unease in his voice.
She chuckled darkly, her voice echoing against the ruined throne chamber. "I know all about your death gods, their little game, and the fools they resurrect. Players, they call you. Chosen. Puppets." Her smile sharpened into a blade. "And their precious tournaments."
Stephan’s blood ran cold. "No... there’s no way..."
"The Death God Tournament," Asriel said, spreading her arms like a priestess delivering gospel, "has been played out every five hundred years, for longer than your kind has even remembered how to write. I’ve watched it rise and fall... and rise again. For three thousand years, I have walked the ruins it leaves behind."
His mind reeled. Three thousand years? She’s seen... other players? Other champions?
Stephan’s heart hammered in his chest. Does that mean others like me existed? Did they win? Did they fail? And if they failed...
Asriel tilted her head, her smile turning cruel. "You thought you were the first one? That your death god had discovered something new? How charming. No, little player—you’re just the latest in a long chain of sacrifices. And like the rest... you’ll die here, and I’ll feed on what’s left of your soul."
Her aura flared, violet light spilling across the broken chamber like wildfire.
Stephan raised his blade again, but his thoughts wouldn’t settle. If she’s telling the truth... what does that mean for me? For Yennefer, Jack, Rin, Morty? What does it mean for the whole damned tournament?
But there was no time to question further. The witch moved, and the air itself seemed to quake.
Stephan’s body screamed at him to stop, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He tightened his grip on the Ossuary Sword, even as his breathing came ragged and sharp.
Asriel’s aura pulsed again, violet arcs rippling like lightning across her body. "You burn through souls like a child breaking toys," she said, her voice low and almost pitying. "You think that makes you strong? You think that makes you special?"
"Shut up!" Stephan roared, launching forward.
He cloaked himself in speed, blurring across the chamber floor, sword raised for a diagonal strike meant to cleave her shoulder open. For an instant, he thought he had her, until she vanished.
Her presence reappeared behind him.
Stephan barely turned before her palm smashed into his chest with the force of a battering ram. His ribs cracked all over again, his lungs seized, and he was sent tumbling end over end across the stone.
He hit the ground, rolling, coughing up blood as he forced himself onto one knee. She’s fast, faster than me...
"I told you," Asriel said, strolling casually toward him as though this were all a game. "You are not the first."
Stephan pushed off with his heel and slashed upward, hoping to catch her off guard. The blade cut through her image like smoke, striking nothing.
An instant later, pain exploded across his jaw as her elbow connected, snapping his head to the side. He stumbled, black spots clouding his vision.
"Your blade cuts only shadows," she whispered in his ear before driving her knee into his gut. He gagged, more blood spraying from his lips, before her hand gripped the back of his neck and slammed him face-first into the unbroken stone floor.
The impact cratered around him.
[Damage Registered: 74%]
[Status: Severe Trauma | Internal Bleeding | Skull Fracture Detected]
Stephan groaned, barely lifting himself up. His sword had fallen a few feet away.
Asriel didn’t even reach for a weapon. She didn’t need one.
"You cannot even touch me," she said, her voice calm, like a teacher correcting a student. "Your strength is nothing. Your speed is wasted. Your little tricks are amusing, but meaningless. Every player before you thought they were different. Every one of them fell, just like you will."
"Shut... the hell up!" Stephan spat, grabbing his blade and swinging wildly in desperation.
She caught the strike.
Her fingers closed around the edge of the Ossuary Sword, violet light hardening around her palm. She yanked it free from his grip, then spun and whipped the flat of the blade across his face.
The strike hurled him sideways, crashing him through one of the giant’s broken torsos. Stone shattered, dust rising around him.
[Damage Registered: 83%]
[Status: Critical Condition | Motor Functions Declining]
Stephan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, ears ringing. He burned more souls instinctively, black flame searing through his veins as broken tissue knitted together, but slower this time. The burns of exhaustion from overuse were piling up.
"You’re running out of fuel, aren’t you?" Asriel asked, tossing the sword aside like it was worthless scrap. She stepped closer, violet aura trailing behind her like fire. "Every time you regenerate, you burn away a piece of what you’ve stolen. Do you even know what happens when you run dry?"
He rolled to his side, forcing himself up onto shaking legs. "I’ll... figure it out when I get there," he growled, spitting blood.
Her laughter rang out, sharp and cruel. "Oh, how precious. The stubbornness of a dying man."
Then she blurred again.
Before Stephan could react, her fist buried itself in his sternum. The force drove the air from his lungs. She didn’t let him fly this time, her other hand grabbed his arm, holding him in place as she pummeled him, strike after strike. Each blow detonated inside his body like a war drum.
Ribs cracked. Muscles tore. Blood gushed freely from his mouth.
The system alerts came rapid-fire:
[Damage Registered: 91%]
[Status: Heart Stress | Organ Damage Critical | Motor Failure Imminent]
Asriel lifted him by the throat, holding him aloft as though he weighed nothing. Her violet eyes burned into his. "You are broken. And you are only still breathing because I allow it. Do you understand, boy?"
Stephan clawed at her grip, vision dimming, but he managed to rasp through the blood in his throat: "If you think... I’m giving up here... you don’t know me."
Her smile widened. "Oh, I know you. I’ve known hundreds like you."
Then she hurled him across the chamber, his body skidding across the stone until he hit the far wall with a bone-cracking thud.
He didn’t rise this time. Not immediately.
Her footsteps echoed as she approached, slow and deliberate. "You are not my equal. You are prey."
But as his vision swam, as consciousness slipped like sand through his fingers, Stephan’s hand twitched toward the Ossuary Sword lying near him. Prey? he thought bitterly. No... not yet. Not me.
Stephan staggered, blood dripping from his lips, the stone floor sticky beneath his boots. Every breath burned, every muscle screamed, but his grip on the Ossuary Sword did not falter.
She’s not illusions... I can feel the resistance each time I swing. My blade slips through like cutting smoke.
His gaze locked on Asriel as she advanced with that same cruel, effortless poise.
He clenched his jaw. If the blade alone won’t touch her, then it’s time I gamble everything. Check latest chapters at novelꜰire.net
"Burn," he whispered under his breath.
Pain seared through him as regeneration stitched broken bone and torn flesh together, but he ignored it. Instead of feeding all the souls into his body, he shifted focus. His technique, Soul Forging. If he could channel those fragments into his sword, maybe he could breach the veil that protected her.
He inhaled sharply, eyes closing. Black fire spiraled up the Ossuary Sword as he pressed his will into it, feeding not one but two souls directly into the blade. The weapon shuddered in his hands, humming like a living creature, the air around it vibrating with power.
The chamber darkened as the souls bled into the steel. Stephan felt their whispers in his head, fleeting voices, all of them merging into a razor edge of hunger.
Asriel’s shadow fell over him. He could sense her presence looming, her aura pressing down like a storm.
"Don’t tell me you’ve already given up?" she mocked, her voice velvet and venom.
His eyes snapped open, black flames burning in them. "No," he growled, his voice low, dangerous. "I’ll make you shut up."
Something in his tone,or in the pulse of his aura, made Asriel hesitate for the first time. Her eyes narrowed. The boy felt... different. Deadlier.
Stephan rose in one smooth motion, the blade glowing with spectral hunger. He swung.
This time, she didn’t stand still. She tried to phase, her form flickering to smoke, yet too late.
A shallow line cut across her cheek.
Asriel froze, fingers brushing her skin. She stared at the smear of crimson on her hand, her expression shifting from curiosity... to cold fury.
Stephan stood before her, chest heaving, his sword trembling with ghostly fire. A thin grin tugged at his bloodstained lips.
"Well," he rasped, voice shaking but defiant, "looks like I can cut you after all."
Asriel’s violet eyes blazed. Her smile returned,but this time, it was sharp as a knife.
The chamber thrummed with killing intent.