Chapter 117 - Dungeon - XXV
** At dawn
The metallic scent of freshly spilled blood still lingered in the air, mingling with the dry breeze descending from the mountain. The chalice pulsed with a dark, almost subtle glow, as if it were waiting.
Beside the artifact, Seraphine stood with a slight cut on the edge of her hand. The translucent barrier protecting our mountain wavered, the acidic liquid from the mire nearly depleted within the chalice.
Seraphine took a step forward, eyes fixed on the artifact. Her expression hardened. She crossed her arms firmly and took a deep breath. When she began to speak, her voice cut through the silence with surgical precision.
"It's obvious. The solution to this dungeon's pattern is connected to this artifact."
We all turned toward her. Dórian frowned. Aeloria just observed, attentive. Dália looked up, still pale.
"What exactly do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Seraphine began walking in a circle around the chalice, her entire body radiating restrained tension.
"Let's analyze this carefully: so far, every challenge has forced us to spend resources, push our affinities to the limit, or pay some kind of price be it time or stamina. And after our last victory, the dungeon itself began to collapse. The destruction isn't collateral—it feels like it's the goal."
She stopped, pointing to the chalice with conviction.
"This artifact appeared before the sixth mountain. That can only mean one thing: this chalice is connected to the destruction of the barrier. It's not symbolic. It's the key."