The slope angled sharper the further they went.
Lucas adjusted the straps of his armor, the Deathfang Carapace creaking faintly with each movement. Though light, the tension it built in his shoulders wasn't physical.
It was the silence.
Lyss walked ahead, her pace steady, almost indifferent to the harsh incline. Her coat fluttered gently with every step, and her boots moved over the uneven rock with practiced precision—barely a misstep in sight.
Lucas followed, jaw clenched, sweat beading under the collar of his shirt.
The wind up here carried dust and cold. It bit at his cheeks, dried his lips, and made every breath taste like stone. The terrain had shifted from jagged outcroppings to long, sloped plates of black rock, fractured by time but strangely smooth—like something had scraped them clean over centuries.
They hadn't spoken since they left the lower ridge.
Not because of tension.
Because neither needed to.
There was nothing around but the wind and the creaking of gear.
Still, the silence itched at Lucas more than the climb.
'She's not even winded…'
His eyes drifted to her back again—upright, unwavering. She hadn't even stopped once.
Meanwhile, he was already fighting the burn in his calves.
It wasn't just the difference in fitness.
It was presence.
'She moves like she's done this a hundred times. And I'm the rookie gasping behind her like an idiot.'
But he didn't complain.
Didn't slow down.
Didn't ask for a break.
He pushed forward, step by grating step, eyes narrowed, jaw set.
Because if she wasn't going to stop, neither was he.
They'd been climbing in silence for what felt like forever when Lyss suddenly lifted her hand.
Lucas stopped mid-step, catching himself before bumping into her.
She didn't look back. Just stood still, her body tense.
"What is it?" he asked quietly.
Lyss tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she scanned the jagged rock formations around them.
"The air just changed," she murmured. "Something's here."
Lucas frowned. He didn't feel anything… at first. But then he noticed the stillness—the kind that didn't belong in nature. The wind had stopped. Even the mist below had gone still.
His fingers twitched.
'She felt it before I did…'
She crouched slightly, shifting her weight like a hunter preparing for a strike.
Then, a faint crack.
The rock wall to their left splintered—slowly, deliberately—as if something was shedding its skin.
From within the stone, a thick-limbed creature emerged.
Short. Broad. Its frame carved from dark granite, with veins of glowing red light pulsing beneath its surface. Its fists were massive, like blunted hammers, and its eyes burned dimly like coals left too long in the fire.
It stepped onto the ledge with a heavy thud.
Lucas immediately summoned his weapon. With a flick of his hand, shadows coiled around his arm and formed into the wicked curve of the Abyssal Reaper, humming with dark resonance.
Lyss reached behind her shoulder and pulled forth a longsword bathed in faint silver gleam—Starlight Fang. Elegant and deadly, it fit into her hand like it belonged there.
The golem let out a low, grinding sound. Then it charged.
Lyss didn't move.
Not at first.
Then, without a single word, her right hand lifted—and in an instant, a blade of pale silver materialized in her grasp, bursting into existence with a soft pulse of radiant light.
The air around it shimmered as the weapon fully formed: a longsword forged in elegance, its surface smooth and graceful, yet clearly deadly.
Starlight Fang.
It didn't just shine—it glowed, as though the weapon itself breathed.
Lucas blinked. She hadn't drawn it from anywhere. It had simply… appeared.
'An Item too, nothing rare coming from a noble'
The golem lunged.
It was faster than it looked. A blur of stone and fury, its fists slamming into the ground where Lyss had just stood, shattering the rock in a small explosion of debris.
She was already behind it, moving like water.
Starlight Fang sliced through the air in a graceful arc, scoring a glowing line across the golem's back. Sparks burst from the impact—stone chipped and cracked, but the creature didn't fall.
Lucas darted sideways, gripping the Abyssal Reaper tight in both hands. As the golem turned, he struck.
"SOULREND!"
His voice rang across the ridge.
The scythe hissed through the air, trailing dark tendrils of energy. It collided with the golem's side—and for a split second, reality twisted. The blade didn't just cut stone—it sliced through the thing's spiritual signature.
The creature stumbled, letting out a low, broken rumble.
But it didn't drop.
Instead, it spun, catching Lucas off guard with a backhanded swing.
He barely managed to raise the shaft of his scythe in time. The impact sent him skidding backward, boots scraping sparks across the ground.
He groaned, his chest tight.
'Shit. That thing hits hard.'
Lyss didn't hesitate.
She charged again, her movements a blur—every step balanced, her grip unshakable. Her blade struck the golem's shoulder, then knee, then side, precise and clean.
Lucas caught his breath and rejoined the fight, flanking the beast.
Together, they began to wear it down—Lyss with cold precision, Lucas with desperate, raw power.
But it was clear who was leading the fight.
'She's stronger than me. A lot stronger.'
Even if she'd Awakened around the same time… she was already more stable. More refined. Her aura didn't flicker or strain.
His did.
The golem began to falter, cracks spiderwebbing across its core. Lucas struck one final time with Soulrend, and the stone creature finally let out a deep grinding groan—
—and collapsed.
The pieces tumbled down the slope, smoke rising from the shattered core.
Then—
[You have slain: Stonebound Fragment]
[Soul Core Detected]
Lucas dropped his scythe to his side, chest heaving.
Lyss stood over the remains, perfectly composed, sword still glowing faintly in her hand.
Lucas lowered the Abyssal Reaper, its obsidian surface still humming faintly from the last strike. Wisps of shadow coiled along its edge before fading into the air.
He took a shaky breath and rested the shaft on the ground, steadying himself.
Lyss stood over the broken remains of the golem, eyes scanning the rubble. Her blade flickered once—then vanished, dissolving into a soft shimmer of light that disappeared into her palm.
No words. No celebration.
She knelt and reached into the shattered chest of the creature, shifting fragments of cracked stone until her fingers closed around something glowing.
She pulled it free—a Soul Core.
Roughly the size of an apple, dense, and faintly pulsing with dull, golden light.
Lucas approached slowly, rolling his shoulder with a grimace. "We splitting it?"
Lyss glanced at him, then gave a short nod.
"Half each. First one's yours."
He blinked, a little surprised. "Just like that?"
"You're the one who landed the final blow," she said simply, then stood and handed it to him.
The core was warm in his hand. Dense. Alive in a way that made his soul tingle.
Lucas stared at it for a second.
Then, without hesitation, he crushed it in his palm.
The light flared—
—and then vanished, absorbed into his body like mist drawn into a fire.
[Soul Core absorbed. +2 Soul Energy]
[Current Soul Level: 1 (18/1000)]
Lucas exhaled.
'Barely moved the damn needle…'
He looked down at his hands, feeling the faint buzz in his chest.
Then at Lyss.
She was already turning away, scanning the horizon as if the fight had never happened.
'She didn't even break a sweat.'
He was strong. But she was on another level already.
And she wasn't even trying.
He let out a breath and followed.
They walked in silence.
The air remained still, heavy with the weight of the recent fight. Stone cracked under their boots as they moved higher along the ridge, the ledge narrowing slightly as the wind began to pick up again.
Lucas stayed a few paces behind Lyss, eyes focused on the jagged ground, his breathing slowly steadying.
His body ached, and his arms felt heavy from the swing of the scythe. The feedback from using Soulrend always left something behind—like the skill didn't just cut outward, but inward too.
He glanced up at her back, still walking straight, shoulders relaxed.
"How the hell are you not tired?" he muttered.
Lyss didn't look back.
"We got lucky," she said. "That thing was probably the same rank as us."
Lucas scoffed. "Lucky? It hit like a wrecking ball."
"Because you don't know how to avoid being hit."
He rolled his eyes.
'Right. Graceful and smug.'
Still, she wasn't wrong.
If that golem had been a tier above—Kindled Soul or worse—he probably wouldn't be walking right now.
'And she handled it like a warm-up…'
The thought sat uncomfortably in his chest.
Lucas tightened his grip on the Abyssal Reaper, letting it dissipate into mist again. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt smaller walking behind her.
Not weaker, exactly.
Just… behind.
They didn't speak for a while.
Only the wind.
Only the sound of their boots scraping stone.
And the feeling that this place still had more waiting for them.
The slope finally leveled out into a narrow ridge overlooking a sprawling abyss. They paused there for a moment, letting their eyes sweep across the desolation ahead.
Mist rolled along the jagged valley below, curling between stone spires like ghostly fingers. Distant rock formations loomed like broken towers, and farther still, the curve of the mountain continued upward—impossibly high, as if it pierced the sky itself.
Lucas exhaled slowly.
He couldn't tell how much ground they had covered.
Or how much still remained.
Time felt twisted here—like everything had slowed down, stretched thin.
He checked his soul level again. The system displayed it plainly:
[Current Soul Level: 1 (18/1000)]
A long way to go.
He looked at Lyss, who stood ahead, one foot braced on the edge of the ridge, eyes distant and unreadable.
She hadn't said a word since the fight.
Didn't need to.
Lucas let his eyes wander back to the mist below, the trail behind them, and the unknowable sky above.
'If this was just a warm-up… we're screwed.'