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Chapter 72: The Test
Last Updated:
2025-04-04 02:22:29
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The Howling Throne Chapter 73: The Descent Continues
The tunnel beyond the massive door stretched on endlessly, its walls etched with ancient symbols that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of history, pressing against their chests with every step forward. Unlike the stairway above, which had been suffocating in its silence, the passageway hummed with a distant resonance, like whispers trapped beneath the stone.Elior took the lead, his fingers brushing against the wall as they walked, feeling the hum of energy coursing through the stone. Myrra followed closely behind, her eyes darting to the shifting patterns in the walls, muttering under her breath as she tried to decipher their meaning. Rael moved with calculated ease, his senses on high alert, while Bram kept a hand on his greatsword, scanning the darkness warily.The deeper they ventured, the more the tunnel began to change. The air warmed, the symbols brightened, and a scent, something metallic, something old, began to fill the space aroun
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The descent stretched on, a journey through a world untouched by time, where the past bled into the present, and the air itself seemed to watch them. Elior led the way, his boots scuffing against the uneven stone, his breath steady despite the weight pressing against his chest. Behind him, Myrra walked in quiet contemplation, her fingers trailing along the walls, tracing the flickering symbols as though they might whisper their secrets to her. Rael moved like a shadow, always alert, always ready, while Bram grumbled under his breath, his hand never straying far from his greatsword.The tunnel had changed. Where once it had been uniform stone, carved by careful hands, now the walls twisted and curved unnaturally, the carvings becoming erratic, chaotic. The pulse of the runes had settled into an irregular rhythm, like a dying heartbeat.Myrra stopped abruptly. "This isn’t right."Elior turned. "What do you see?"She gestured to the wall. "Look. These symbols, they were guiding us before
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The air in the chamber was heavier than before, thick with an unseen presence that pressed against their senses. Elior led the group through the passage, but this time his steps were slower, more cautious. The whispering from the last chamber had faded, but its words still lingered in his mind.Rael walked beside him, unusually quiet, his brows furrowed in thought. Myrra, as always, trailed her fingers along the ancient walls, tracing the sigils carved into the stone. Bram’s grip on his greatsword was tight, his posture rigid with unease.As they stepped forward, the passage widened into another chamber, this one illuminated by a deep crimson glow. The walls shimmered with pulsating veins of energy, branching out from a single point at the room’s center. There, resting on a raised pedestal of carved obsidian, lay a sword unlike any they had ever seen.It was long and sleek, its blade a deep shade of silver with veins of glowing red coursing through it, as if the weapon itself pulsed w
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The tunnel beyond the chamber stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the darkness pressing against them like an unseen force. The only light came from the faint glow of the two enchanted blades they carried—Elior’s Veliblade and Rael’s newly claimed sword. The crimson veins along its length pulsed with an eerie rhythm, as if responding to Rael’s very heartbeat.For a while, no one spoke. The tension of the battle still lingered in the air, and the presence of Rael’s weapon was undeniable. It was not just a blade, it was something more, something aware.Bram finally broke the silence with a dry chuckle. “Well, Rael, you’ve officially joined the ‘wielders of unsettling weapons’ club. Congratulations.”Rael rolled his shoulders, glancing at the sword in his grip. “Feels different,” he admitted. “Lighter than I expected, but... heavy in another way.”Myrra gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”Rael frowned, searching for the right words. “It’s like it’s not just metal and mag
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The cavern stretched before them, vast and ominous, the glow of Elior’s Veliblade and Rael’s crimson-veined sword casting long, flickering shadows against the towering statues. The stone warriors, their faceless visages concealed beneath heavy hoods, loomed like silent sentinels, watching, waiting.The air felt different here. Thicker, charged. Each breath carried the weight of something unseen, a presence pressing against their skin. Myrra, ever perceptive, ran her fingers along the carvings of one statue, her lips pursed in concentration.“These aren’t just decorations,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “They’re part of something.”Bram exhaled sharply, shifting his grip on his greatsword. “Yeah, let’s just hope that ‘something’ doesn’t wake up.”Rael studied the nearest statue, its black stone surface impossibly smooth despite the passage of time. His new blade pulsed in his grip, faint but undeniable. It had responded to the shadow-beast in the previous chamber, was
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The air remained heavy with lingering energy from the battle. The shattered remnants of the statues lay scattered around them, the eerie silence pressing against their ears. Though the entity was gone, its presence still felt etched into the very walls of the cavern, as if the darkness itself had not fully relinquished its grasp.Rael stood motionless, gripping the sword that had just devoured the shadowy foe. His heart pounded against his ribs, his breath steadying as the glow along the blade’s veins dimmed into a quiet, pulsing thrum. It felt as if the weapon had become an extension of him, bound in some unseen way beyond mere steel and wielding hands.Elior stepped closer, eyes scanning Rael’s blade. “It reacted to them,” he murmured. “Not just the statues, but that thing, too. Like it was meant for this.”Bram scoffed, shouldering his greatsword. “Meant for it or not, that thing made it clear, it doesn’t just cut, it devours. I don’t like that.”Myrra, ever the observant one, tilt
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The air in the chamber remained thick with tension even after the last of the shadowy figures had dissolved. Rael’s fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, his heart still pounding from the words that echoed in his mind.You wield what should not be wielded.The weight of the statement pressed on him, but he pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time for doubts.Elior exhaled, stepping toward the now unsealed pedestal. The violet cloth that wrapped the book remained undisturbed, but the golden clasp flickered slightly, as if sensing their presence. The group gathered around it, wary but undeniably drawn to what lay before them.Myrra was the first to break the silence. “That barrier shattered as soon as Rael’s sword absorbed the last shadow. It was tied to them.”Bram scowled. “Which means whatever’s in that book, they were guarding it. And that never means anything good.”Elior carefully reached forward and undid the clasp, pulling back the cloth to reveal the book’s cover. The leat
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The silence in the chamber felt heavier than before, settling around them like an unseen force. The only sound was the quiet crackling of Elior’s Veliblade and the distant rumble of shifting stone. The shadows were gone, their essence now bound within Rael’s sword, but the tension had not lifted. If anything, it had deepened.Rael exhaled, his grip loosening slightly on his blade. He could still feel the pulsing energy beneath his fingers, the hunger that had stirred each time he struck down an enemy. It wasn’t just a weapon, it was something more, something alive in a way that unsettled him.Elior looked at him with a mix of concern and curiosity. “You felt it, didn’t you?”Rael met his gaze. “Yeah.”Myrra crossed her arms, her eyes flicking between Rael and the sword. “That whisper… It’s not just in your head, is it?”Rael hesitated, then shook his head. “No. It’s real.”Bram let out a long breath. “Great. Just what we need, a sword that talks and probably wants to eat us.”Myrra ig
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The morning was quiet.For the first time in centuries, the world stood untouched by magic. No whispers of power hummed in the air, no lingering remnants of the forces that had once shaped destiny. The battle had ended, but the silence it left behind felt heavier than war.Elior stood at the heart of the ruins, his sword planted in the shattered ground. The bodies of those who had fought and fallen lay scattered around him, the echoes of their final moments still fresh in his mind.Myrra, who had been with him since the beginning. Bram, whose laughter had once made the darkest nights bearable. Freya, who had returned only to be taken once more.And Sienna.The wind moved through the ruins, stirring the dust. It carried no magic, no voice of the gods—only the weight of what had been lost.A faint groan pulled Elior from his thoughts. He turned to find Velora slumped against a broken pillar, her face pale, her body barely holding on.He knelt beside her. "Velora."She opened her eyes, s
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The sky above the ruins bled shadow and light, twisting in a chaos that defied reality. Where the veil had once held firm, now only a gaping wound remained, spilling its horrors into the world.Elior stood at the edge of the abyss, his sword trembling in his grasp, his breath ragged. Across from him, Sienna hovered above the cracked earth, her form wreathed in shifting darkness. Her golden eyes, once fierce with ambition, now pulsed with something else, something vast and unknowable.She had become its vessel.The force that had slumbered beyond the veil now coiled within her, filling the hollow spaces left by her lost magic, binding itself to her very soul. The entity did not speak in words, nor did it rage like the gods of old. It did not need to. It simply was, and it would remake the world in its image.A consuming will. An endless hunger.And Sienna had let it in."Elior," she said, her voice layered, as though more than one presence spoke through her. "You don’t have to fight me
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The moment Sienna’s fingers brushed against the unseen force, the world trembled. It was not a simple shift in the earth, not the groan of stone settling after centuries of silence—this was something else. A deep, resonating shudder rippled outward from the ruins, traveling through the bones of the world itself.Elior felt it as a pulse beneath his feet, a vibration in his chest that made his breath hitch. The air thickened, weighted with something ancient and wrong. The torches lining the ruined temple flickered violently, their flames bending toward Sienna as if drawn by an unseen tide."Sienna, stop!" Elior lunged forward, seizing her wrist and yanking her back. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, her golden eyes wide with shock."I… I didn’t mean to.." she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.The stone beneath them cracked. A fissure split through the floor, black mist hissing out like breath from a slumbering beast. The world itself seemed to recoil, and then—A shoc
The Howling Throne Chapter 122: The Unseen Threshold
The ruins were breathing.Elior could not see it, but he could feel it, the slow, rhythmic pulse of something ancient beneath the stone. It was not the heartbeat of a slumbering god, nor the distant echo of Erythos' severed power. It was older. Deeper. A presence that did not simply exist but had always been.The whispers were everywhere now, slithering between the cracks in the walls, curling through the air like smoke. They were not words in any language Elior knew, but he understood them nonetheless.This was not a place of worship. It was a tomb.And the dead were stirring.Sienna stood at the edge of the ruins, staring into the yawning darkness beyond the shattered archway. The pull was stronger here, an invisible tether wrapping around her ribs, drawing her forward.She should have been afraid.She wasn't.Far behind them, the capital was unraveling.Rael sat in the royal chambers, hands clenched around the arms of his chair as voices clashed around him. The council was in chaos
The Howling Throne Chapter 121: The Stirring Dark
The wind howled through the fractured streets of the capital, carrying with it the scent of ash and the echoes of whispered fears. Elior stood at the palace balcony, watching the uneasy city below. Torches burned like scattered stars in the night, illuminating gathering crowds, desperate, restless, searching.They had fought for this world, yet standing here now, he wondered if they had merely unchained something far worse.Behind him, the council chamber erupted into another round of arguments.“We need action,” a noble snapped, his voice edged with panic. “If magic is failing, we must restore it—by any means necessary.”“And how do you propose we do that?” another countered. “Rituals? Blood sacrifices? We do not even know what is causing the unraveling.”Rael stood at the center of the storm, jaw clenched as he faced the gathered lords and scholars. “I understand your fear,” he said, voice steady despite the chaos. “But we will not turn to desperation. We need answers, not reckless
The Howling Throne Chapter 120: The Awakening Veil
The first signs of unraveling came in silence.Not the quiet of peace, but an unnatural stillness, a void where the hum of magic should have been.Elior felt it first as they rode through the city, making their way back to the palace. The air itself seemed thinner, as if the breath of the world had been stolen. He glanced toward Myrra, who clutched the remnants of the First King’s records in her hands, her expression tense.The streets were shifting. The capital, usually filled with merchants, performers, and spellcasters weaving their craft, had grown eerily subdued. Those who once relied on magic to shape their daily lives, the street magicians conjuring flames, the scribes who penned glowing runes, now stood idle, their gifts failing them.And then there was the whispering.It came in the wind, barely discernible, like voices speaking in forgotten tongues. Elior stiffened as a cold breath swept past his ear, the words twisting in ways his mind could not fully grasp."It is waking…"
The Howling Throne Chapter 119: Echoes of the Hollow Age
The capital was unraveling.Elior had known it from the moment they passed through the gates.The sky hung heavy and gray, as if the heavens themselves hesitated to move forward into a new day. The streets, once bustling with life, were thick with uneasy silence, broken only by hurried whispers and the occasional sharp cry of panic. Mages clustered in groups, their robes in disarray, their hands twitching as they attempted and failed to summon even the simplest of spells. Merchants and nobles alike watched with growing dread, their power, both political and literal, slipping through their fingers like sand.Magic was fading. And the world did not know how to survive without it.Rael strode ahead of the group, his expression unreadable, but Elior could see the tension in his shoulders. He was returning not as a warrior, not as a wandering hunter, but as the late king’s son, one who would have to answer for the chaos left in their wake.The palace loomed before them, its towers once gle
The Howling Throne Chapter 118: A Fractured Dawn
The battle was over.But dawn did not break with celebration.A pale light stretched across the sky, hesitant and thin, casting its glow over a ruined battlefield that still reeked of celestial fire and scorched stone. The remnants of divine fury clung to the air, unseen but heavy, pressing down on the weary figures that stood amidst the wreckage.Elior ran a hand over his face, his fingers coming away stained with blood, his or someone else’s, he wasn’t sure. His sword, the weapon that had struck the final blow, felt heavier than ever at his side. The world should have felt lighter, freer, but something was wrong. The victory felt hollow, the silence too deep.Myrra knelt among the shattered remnants of the ancient tome, her fingers tracing the fading ink of the First King’s records. The final words were barely legible now, as though the knowledge itself had begun to wither.She exhaled sharply, gripping the pages. “The seal worked.” A tremor ran through her voice. “But something....
The Howling Throne Chapter 117: Ashes of the Divine
Silence.Not the peaceful kind that follows a battle well won, nor the stillness of an early dawn. This was the silence of something broken, something vast and incomprehensible that had been ripped away, leaving only a hollow absence behind.The battlefield was unrecognizable. The ruins, once ancient and imposing, were reduced to charred fragments, their sacred stones blackened by the celestial fire that had consumed Erythos. The air was thick with the scent of ash and the lingering echoes of divine fury. Even the sky, once torn open by the god’s awakening, hung heavy with dark, unmoving clouds, as if the heavens themselves had yet to understand what had just transpired.Elior stood in the center of it all, his sword still clenched in his shaking hand. His body was battered, his limbs aching from wounds he had no memory of receiving. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a crushing tide, but he could not move, not yet.Erythos was gone. Severed. Banished from the world foreve
