Chapter 98 ‒ Beneath the Ashen Sky
Chapter 98 ‒ Beneath the Ashen Sky
The molten wind continued to howl through Shindo’s broken bones, carrying the scent of scorched stone and lost memories. What had once been a proud city now resembled a battlefield abandoned by the gods — molten veins snaked between shattered pillars, ash drifted in slow spirals, and pools of cooling lava reflected a sky too exhausted to rain.
In the heart of this ruin stood Tyler. His armour was dented and blackened, each plate scarred with reminders of countless blows. The frost sword hung limp in his right hand, its runes flickering weakly like a dying heartbeat. His breath rasped inside the cracked helmet, each exhale sounding like a sigh echoing through a tomb.
Is this victory? Or simply another form of ruin? The question gnawed at the edges of his mind like a persistent insect. He glanced at the city’s distant gate, the place where once laughter and merchants’ calls had echoed. Now there was only the low groan of collapsing spires and the occasional hiss of magma swallowing ancient stones.
A choked sob jolted him from his reverie.
Nellisa knelt in a crater of shattered statues, her slender fingers clawing at the molten-smeared earth as if she could bury herself beneath it. Her once-pristine frost-blue hair clung to her face in dirty clumps. Her eyes — once sharp as icicles — now appeared empty, brimming with unshed tears.
“I… I only wanted to avenge my father…” she whispered, each syllable cracking. “I didn’t… I didn’t want all this… Not like this… I… didn’t want them to die…”
Her voice shrank to a brittle whimper. She pressed her forehead into the scorched stones, her shoulders convulsing with silent sobs. Small flecks of ash clung to her pale skin, almost like funeral markings.
If only… if only I hadn’t let my vengeance blind me… Father, was this truly justice? The unspoken plea trembled through her mind like a final prayer swallowed by the ash.
Tyler watched her for a long moment. His visor hid the faint twitch at the edge of his mouth — not anger, but a deep, tired sadness.
“You let your grief fester into a blade,” he said, his voice low and brittle as frost underfoot. “And when you swung that blade… it cut down everything around you. Innocents, allies, your own future.”
She didn’t respond. Her fingers curled tighter, nails breaking and bleeding against the molten-scarred stone. A strangled, inhuman sound rattled from her throat — the sound of a heart finally shattering.
Nearby, a rattling cough broke the silence.
King Wing struggled upright, his armour half-melted and his once-regal cloak reduced to a rag clinging to his shoulder. His glare cut across the scorched ground, landing on Tyler with all the venom of a dying viper.
“You… dare lecture me…? You, who destroyed my kingdom… my symbol… my throne…” He coughed violently, dark blood staining his cracked lips. “I… am a king… no prison can chain me… no man can judge me…!”
Tyler turned his helmet toward King Wing, then gave a faint, humourless laugh. “A king without a kingdom is just a man with an empty crown.”
King Wing’s eyes twitched, his lips curling into a trembling snarl. But the fire behind that rage had burned out. His knees gave way and he collapsed back to the ground, gasping, his eyes darting around as if searching for the vanished walls of his palace.
Tyler stepped forward, his boots cracking the brittle stone. He knelt by Nellisa, resting a gloved hand lightly on her shaking shoulder.
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“You have a choice now,” he murmured. “Drown in this guilt… or try to make something new from it.”
She flinched at his touch but did not pull away. Her lips trembled as though she wanted to speak but could only sob into the shadows between her fingers.
---
Later, under the faint orange glow of the rising dawn, Tyler trudged into Vitamin Ape’s workshop. Sparks drifted like fireflies around the giant forge, illuminating racks of unfinished weapons and tools gleaming with molten veins.
Tyler dropped the massive dark sword from his inventory, onto the stone floor with a resounding clang that shook the entire workshop. Cracks spider webbed outward, and a few hanging metal masks clattered to the ground.
Vitamin Ape spun around, his monocle almost flying off his face. “Mother of melons! You trying to collapse my workshop?!”
Tyler leaned against a barrel, letting out a harsh, ragged laugh. “It was too big for me to swing anyway. Better you put it to use.”
Vitamin Ape scuttled forward, running stubby fingers over the jagged dark blade, eyes wide and shimmering. “By the sizzling stars… these shards are humming… alive! And the bone… this is the marrow of titans! You sure you don’t want a cathedral-sized sword for yourself?!”
Tyler snorted softly. “I’ll leave the absurdities to you.”
Vitamin Ape let out a bark of laughter, his tusks flashing. “You got it, boss. I’ll make something real nasty from this. Real nasty!”
---
Tyler left the forge, heading straight for the ghostly spirals of Yandeon’s cave. Cold mist curled around the broken stone steps as if trying to stitch them back together. Wisps of spirit-light drifted past like lost fireflies.
Inside, Yandeon stood waiting, his translucent cloak rippling as if underwater. His gaze pierced Tyler as soon as he entered, and a hint of solemn warmth lit his ghostly features.
“You have done what many believed impossible,” Yandeon said, voice echoing like a distant choir. “Few have ever stood before a Primordial Beast and emerged whole. You carry a flame even I could not foresee.”
Tyler’s armour creaked as he slumped to one knee. “I killed him… but he will return, won’t he?”
Yandeon nodded slowly, his spectral fingers steepled together. “Primordial Beasts are born of the world’s deepest truths — destruction, rebirth, the endless dance of creation and erasure. Their spirits cannot be snuffed out by mortal hands alone.”
Tyler’s helmet lowered. “So it’s an endless cycle… an unending war. Even gods are bound to their own design.”
Yandeon’s eyes turned distant, as though peering through centuries. “For some Primordial Beasts, that cycle is a curse they cannot escape. For others… they are the curse, existing only to scour the world… Shindeon falls into the latter.”
Tyler’s gauntlet curled into a trembling fist. “Is there truly no end to this? No way to break this curse and stop him forever?”
A deep hush filled the chamber. Finally, Yandeon exhaled, the sound like a whisper from a frozen tomb. “Perhaps not an end… but a pause. A seal. Now that you have slain his body, his spirit is weakened — easier to confine than during the Great War, when I had to bind his physical form directly.”
Tyler glanced up sharply. “A seal… how?”
“The Ice Sword you used to strike him down,” Yandeon said. “It has already tasted his essence. Its nature makes it a natural vessel. I lack the strength to perform it alone… especially since I cannot cast the Eternal Winter curse anymore.”
From behind, chains rattled softly. Nellisa stepped forward, her steps hesitant, eyes downcast.
“I… I will help,” she said, voice raw but steady. “I must… help finish what I started.”
Yandeon studied her for a long moment, then gave a faint, spectral nod. “Then let us proceed.”
---
They returned to the molten plaza where the Ice Sword stood embedded, runes glimmering with faint, cold pulses. Smoke rose from fissures around it, curling like the final breaths of a dying dragon.
Nellisa approached first. Her hands hovered over the sword, trembling. Her face twisted with grief — every line a confession of guilt she no longer tried to hide. She began weaving runes in the air, each symbol burning blue, drifting down like snowflakes onto the blade.
Yandeon floated beside her, his ghostly arms sweeping in wide arcs, casting shimmering sigils that spiralled up around the sword. Their combined magic spread through the ground, cracking and then freezing lava flows into black glass. A low, resonant hum filled the plaza — deep enough to vibrate in Tyler’s bones, almost like a subterranean heartbeat waiting to stop.
Tyler watched from behind, every muscle tensed as if expecting Shindeon’s molten claws to burst free at any second. But nothing came; only a deepening hush that swallowed even the sound of falling ash.
Finally, Nellisa fell back, exhausted, eyes wet. Yandeon lowered his arms, his form flickering as though he might vanish entirely.
“It is done,” Yandeon breathed. “Shindeon’s spirit sleeps within this blade now… awaiting a new dawn that may never come.”
Tyler stepped forward, staring at the sword stabbed into the heart of what was once Shindo.
Even now, the city cannot be saved… its bones turned to ash, its breath stolen forever.