Chapter 106: Stand Beside Me
The chamber pulsed again.
This time, there was no inscription—no riddle.
Just a sensation.
Like gravity shifting.
Like eyes opening.
And then… the gate appeared.
Not elegant.
Not subtle.
A wall of jagged black steel slammed open, revealing a yawning chasm beyond it. Across the threshold: wind, dust, broken stone.
A battlefield.
Isaac and Sylvalen stepped through together, hands on weapons.
The sky was grey and jagged above them, as if the world had cracked open to spill rage into the air. Around them lay the ruins of countless blades—some shattered, some rusted, others glowing faintly with leftover power.
And at the far side of the arena, a presence waited.
Massive. Watching.
Then it stepped forward.
Not a man.
Not a god.
But a construct of memory—a colossus of divine judgment.Fused armor. Twelve arms. Six blades drawn. And where its head should be, a crown of glass, cracked and gleaming.
Its voice was many—echoes layered.
"This is what he faced."
"Not a duel. A judgment."
"Let us see if you can defy fate, together."
Without a countdown, it lunged.
Isaac moved instantly, diving to the left, blade humming with resonance. Sylvalen to the right, magic already crackling across her fingers in chains of moonlight.
The colossus slammed down with one of its great arms, cracking the arena floor.
They rolled apart—then closed in together.
"Flank left!" Isaac called.
"Already on it!"
Sylvalen danced between the sweeping blades, her spells flowing like silk across stone. She chained the construct's left leg briefly—just long enough for Isaac to leap forward and strike deep into the knee joint with the cracked Silverveil blade.
The sword sparked, sang.
The colossus roared.
"Why do you fight?"
"He died alone. You will too."
Sylvalen growled through clenched teeth. "We are not him."
Isaac shouted over the chaos. "But we carry what he left behind."
The construct struck again—two blades from above, one from the side.
Sylvalen conjured a mirror of pure moonlight, deflecting the twin blows. "I can't hold it for long!"
"I don't need long!"
Isaac dove in low, sliding beneath the colossus and stabbing upward into its chest—not with brute strength, but precision.
The blade sank deeper than it should have.
And the colossus staggered.
Because it wasn't testing their power.
It was testing their unity.
Sylvalen dashed forward, casting a glyph into the air that exploded in silver arcs. "Isaac!"
He met her at the center of the battlefield.
Without needing to speak, they both moved—rotating around the construct, one drawing fire, the other striking.
When Isaac faltered—Sylvalen pulled him back with a magnetic thread of light.
When she was cornered—he threw his blade to intercept.
It wasn't planned.
It was trust.
Rhythm.
Understanding without instruction.
Then finally—together—they struck the final blow.
Sylvalen's spell locked the construct's core in place.
Isaac surged forward, the cracked Silverveil blade glowing with burning white resonance.
And he drove it home.
Right through the center of its glass crown.
The colossus didn't scream.
It simply stopped.
Then lowered all twelve of its arms.
And knelt.
From the center of its broken helm, a glowing sword fragment rose—larger than the others, flickering with the memory of every move they'd just made.
Sylvalen caught it in both hands and gently placed it into Isaac's.
"This belongs to both of us," she said quietly.
He nodded. "Then we carry it together."
The fragment melted into his chest.
And in that moment, something changed inside the Silverveil blade.
The crack along its core—
repaired slightly.
Not fully.
But a piece had been made whole.
Isaac turned to her, breathing hard. "You okay?"
Sylvalen wiped sweat from her brow. "I've had better dance partners, but you're improving."
He laughed. "You say that now. Wait until the last trial."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are we flirting or training?"
"Both," he said.
Then added, quieter, "Maybe always."
And the fourth gate faded behind them.
Only one fragment remained.
And with it—the birth of the Spiritforge Blade drew near.