CHAPTER 20
The Dreadmaw's body twitched again, coarse fur rising with a surge of mana. Its jagged lines pulsed a molten crimson as it began to rise.
Then the mercenary stepped forward, pulling back his hood just enough to reveal sharp eyes.
He glanced at Sorayael. "But we won't."
A heavy silence followed.
Karsen blinked. "Wait, you're saying just the two of you will fight that thing?"
Zarethian stepped forward. "That's suicide."
The mercenary looked amused. "Then consider it a beautiful one."
Sorayael sighed. "He's right. You all stay here. Heal and rest. That thing's mana is unstable. One wrong move, and we lose everyone."
Sorayael turned her head slightly, a dark calm in her voice. "No. I know we can."
Before they could argue further, Sorayael stepped forward, her aura starting to rise slowly at first, then violently.
The ground trembled and the air thickened.
And from behind her, a glow began to burn, subtle at first, then growing sharper, like starlight cutting through shadow. Symbols laced the air, ethereal and unfamiliar. Power radiated from her, ancient and commanding.
But no one could name it.
The mercenary chuckled softly beside her. "Finally decided to stop hiding your tricks?"
He grinned, aura flaring to match hers, his blade gleaming with a sharpened pressure that warped the air.
The Dreadmaw roared, flailing, but it couldn't keep up. Their attacks were a dance; synchronized, swift, lethal.
A blade to distract. A spell to paralyze.
A faint step. A flash of flame.
And then..
A burst of golden light speared through the Dreadmaw's chest.
Sorayael raised her hand as the light burned through the creature's core.
The mercenary's blade pierced its heart from behind.
Together, they landed. Back-to-back. The Dreadmaw collapsed behind them, shuddering once, then finally still.
Everyone became silent.
A blinding glyph appeared near the ceiling, the dungeon exit.
The others gasped, half in relief, half in disbelief.
As they started toward the light, one heir dared to mutter, "What even was that magic?"
Sorayael turned slowly, her golden eyes glowing faintly.
Her voice was low. Calm. Dangerously calm.
No one questioned her after that.
Not even the proudest heir dared to meet her gaze.
Beside her, the mysterious man chuckled again.
She elbowed him in the side. "You talk too much."
He smirked. "And you love it."
They disappeared through the exit together, leaving behind a stunned group of heirs, speechless, humbled, and utterly changed.
.
.
The blinding light of the glyph faded as they stepped out, battered, bruised, but alive.
The heirs stumbled into the fresh air, some collapsing to their knees, others lifting their faces to the sky as if it were the first time they'd seen it.
But when they turned to acknowledge the man who fought beside Sorayael.. he was gone.
Sorayael remained still, her gaze scanning the ground. A flutter of paper caught her eye, nestled near her boots.
She bent down and picked it up. A single piece of parchment with a string of numbers hastily scribbled.
'A contact number?'
She stared at it, blinking once, then muttered under her breath with a half-laugh, "What's the point of this if I don't have a cellphone, idiot."
She slipped the note into her pocket.
Behind her, the heirs were gathering quiet at first. Then one stepped forward.
Another followed. Then another.
Even those older than her bowed their heads with respect, something once unthinkable.
Sorayael simply nodded, arms crossed. "Then don't waste what we've just survived. Be better than before."
At that moment, the gate guards spotted them, eyes wide as they scrambled to relay the news.
Shouts echoed.
Whispers turned into gasps.
Nobles from every house waiting beyond the barriers, stood in stunned silence as the heirs emerged, victorious and united.
Inside the war room of the capital, Marshal Velmion was informed immediately.
Velmion exhaled, slowly crossing his arms.
At the Imperial Palace, a messenger rushed through the doors, bowing deeply.
Emperor Lysander's eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. "So the Grand Duke's little sun didn't disappoint."
He smiled faintly, the pride in his heart impossible to hide.
Back at the gates, Sorayael looked back one last time before the guards parted to let them through.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
Her presence said enough.