The guardian loomed like a nightmare born of ancient fury—its maw dripping with black ichor, eyes glowing like coals in the dark. The cathedral trembled as it emerged fully, tearing through the stone with every movement. Its presence alone bent the air, thick with mana older than the empire itself.
Alex steadied his grip on Vyrakar, the obsidian spear pulsing like a living thing. His breath came slow and steady as the beast roared—shaking the ruins and shattering what remained of the stained glass windows.
"Spread out!" Soren barked, drawing twin blades etched with resistance runes. "Don't let it pin us!"
The team obeyed, each finding cover as the guardian charged. Its limbs smashed through columns like twigs, each step sending tremors through the ground.
Alex dashed forward.
Vyrakar sang in his hands.
He launched himself off a broken platform, twisting mid-air as the spear ignited with elemental fury—flames crackling along its edge, arcs of lightning dancing behind him.
With a roar of his own, he struck the beast's shoulder.
The impact sent a shockwave through the chamber. Black blood splashed across the floor, hissing as it touched stone. The beast screamed—not just in pain, but in rage.
It retaliated, swiping at Alex with a speed no creature of its size should possess.
He barely dodged, the claws grazing his side, tearing into his jacket and drawing blood.
Nyssa was already moving, shadows cloaking her form. She leapt from the rafters, daggers glowing with anti-mana enchantments, striking the beast's other flank. Her blades found flesh—but the creature didn't slow.
"It's regenerating," she growled, dodging another strike.
Alex's vision blurred.
The spear pulsed again—and this time, he let the mana take him.
The Saint blood in him surged forward, igniting his veins like fire. The cathedral around him dimmed. Time seemed to slow. He could hear the spear whisper to him—not in words, but in intention.
Pierce the seal. Break the veil. Destroy the anchor.
He understood now. The beast wasn't just a guardian—it was a lock, bound by ancient magic to keep something hidden beneath the cathedral.
He had to kill it to open the path forward.
"Everyone fall back!" Alex yelled. "I'm ending this!"
Mana spiraled around him in a storm of fire, wind, and stone. The cathedral's runes flickered in recognition as he channeled every ounce of his power—both human and Saint—into one final strike.
He surged forward in a blur, Vyrakar aimed for the beast's core.
The guardian howled, lunged—its claws raised high.
And Alex met it head-on.
The spear pierced its chest. Light exploded through the chamber. The beast convulsed, screaming as cracks spidered across its body.
Then, with a final breath, it collapsed—its body crumbling into ash, mana dispersing into the air like dying stars.
Silence returned.
Only the faint hum of the altar remained.
Soren stepped forward, stunned. "You killed an ancient guardian… solo."
Alex's hands trembled, still holding the spear. "No. I just inherited what was meant to kill it."
Nyssa came to his side, concern etched in her eyes. "What did it unlock?"
Behind the altar, stone ground against stone.
A staircase emerged, descending into darkness lit by flickering blue torches.
Alex took a breath and stepped forward.
"To the heart of Zeta."