Night folded thick around the trees as Arden and Miran descended the slope, every step sinking into moss and soft earth. The settlement of Hollowmere sprawled below—dark, broken, and flickering with scattered torchlight. Smoke drifted like thin ghosts between collapsed roofs. The air carried a coppery tang, the scent of scorched ground and stressed mana.
"Stay low," Arden whispered.
Miran nodded, adjusting the grip on his steel-headed staff. Even he was quiet now, the usual humor replaced with a steady tension humming under the surface.
They slipped through the last curtain of trees and stepped into what remained of the settlement's northern edge. A charred fence leaned at an angle, half-melted. Beyond it, cages fashioned from scavenged timber held villagers packed close—dozens of hollow faces lit by dying torches.
Arden's jaw tightened.
Miran muttered, "I hate this already."
They moved through shadowed alleys between houses, keeping close to the walls. A patrol crossed ahead—three men in patchwork armor carrying crude spears and mismatched blades. Their steps were uneven, almost jittery, as if their bodies struggled to obey them.
Arden motioned for silence.
The men stopped near a collapsed well.
One grumbled, "they better pay double for this haul. I didn't sign up to mine cursed rocks."
"We're getting paid," another muttered. "That one promised gold and strength. The vials do work, don't they?"
"Yeah? Tell that to Garth. Took too much and couldn't stop shaking. Keldor had to snap his neck before he blew apart."
Miran's fingers whitened around his staff.
Arden's pulse hardened.
The third guard spat. "Doesn't matter. Shipment goes south in two days. They wants raw violet ore and they want it fast. We get the gold. We get the enhancements. Everyone wins."
"You mean Keldor wins," the first man growled. "He's taking more than all of us. Look at him—barely holding together."
"Shut up," the third hissed. "You want him to hear you?"
Footsteps faded as they moved off.
Arden pressed a hand against the wall, grounding himself. "It's worse than we thought."
Miran exhaled sharply. "Church, bandits, unstable stones… they're all tied together."
"They're forcing the villagers to mine it." Arden's gaze drifted toward the cliffs where the violet glow pulsed faintly in the dark. "We need to end this."
Miran nodded. "Then let's go."
...
..
They followed the broken path until the cliffs reared up ahead—jagged and harsh, split by a deep excavation site carved into the stone. Makeshift scaffolds clung to the rock face, and miners—dozens of them—were chained to the wooden supports, chipping at the glowing mineral veins pulsing within the cliff.
Torches cast long shadows. The air shimmered faintly, as if warped by unstable currents.
At the center of the pit stood Ruthan Keldor.
He was tall but gaunt, spine bowed as if carrying invisible weight. His skin pulsed with violet filaments, crawling up his neck and across his jaw like veins carved in light. His eyes burned a dull, unnatural purple, flickering erratically.
A villager swung his pick too slowly. Keldor's arm lashed out, violet light crackling along his hand.
Arden clenched his teeth. "We move now."
But as they crept along the pit's edge, a hand grasped Arden's sleeve.
He turned.
A middle-aged miner—mud-covered, trembling—stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Recognition sparked when he saw Arden's cloak sigil.
"Y-you're Vaelorians… thank the stars," the man whispered hoarsely. "You must stop him. Please."
Arden knelt, keeping low. "Tell me everything. Quickly."
The man swallowed. "The bandits… they were promised gold and power by the Church. They said… they said the Sun's priests want the stones—to study, to refine. Then they gave them vials. Liquid stuff. Purple. They said it would make them stronger."
He shook uncontrollably.
"Keldor… he took more than anyone else. Lost his mind. He thinks he's chosen by the Sun. Thinks the stones want to be inside him."
Miran made a face. "That's not devotion. That's madness."
Arden asked, "Why force you to mine?"
"They want quantity. The Church demanded it. And the bandits… they want their payment." His voice cracked. "Anyone who slows down is killed."
Arden nodded. "Stay here. When we draw them away, get the villagers to cover."
The man clutched Arden's wrist with desperate strength. "Be careful. Keldor... he's not human anymore."
They sneaked down the slope, using the shadows cast by the scaffolds to keep hidden.
But fate was quick tonight.
A loose stone clattered off the ridge.
A guard's head snapped up.
"Who's there?"
Before Arden could react, the torchlight washed across Miran's silhouette. The guard's eyes widened.
"INTRUDERS! Sound the—"
Miran hurled his steel-headed staff.
It hit the man square in the chest, sending him crashing into the dirt.
The alarm erupted instantly.
Torches flared.
Shouts rose.
Dozens of bandits scrambled into formation.
And Keldor's head turned sharply toward them.
A sound slithered out of his throat—half-growl, half-laugh.
"Apostles," he rasped. "Just as the Sun promised."
Arden stepped forward, staff held ready. "Your fight is with us now. Leave the villagers."
Keldor tilted his head, violet light crawling up his arms. "They dig for the Sun's rebirth. For a new dawn. You interfere."
"You're using unstable mana," Arden growled. "You're tearing yourself apart."
Keldor smiled—a broken, stretched thing. "Ascension… demands sacrifice."
He raised his arm.
The cliffside trembled.
A pulse of violet mana exploded outward, distorting the air with a shrieking hum.
Arden braced his staff, anchoring the shield.
Miran grabbed his shoulder. "Arden! He'll level the whole pit!"
"We need to pull him away from the villagers."
Miran gritted his teeth. "Then make him chase us."
They broke into a sprint, moving across the pit, dodging debris and torchlight.
Keldor howled and followed, every step cracking the earth beneath him.
Bandits tried to intercept.
Arden swung his staff in controlled arcs—mana lashing out in direct, surgical bursts that sent limbs flying with lethal force. Miran followed like a storm, his massive staff smashing weapons, knocking aside attackers, and breaking lines with pure momentum.
They reached the open clearing beyond the miners' zone.
Arden skidded to a stop, turning to face Keldor.
"Here!" he shouted.
Keldor descended the slope like a falling star, violet light bleeding from his limbs, his body twitching violently.
"Sun… take me!" he screamed.
The ground shuddered.
His skin began to tear.
Violet fissures split along his arms, across his chest, his neck—light spilling through the cracks like molten glass struggling to escape a failing container.
Miran swallowed. "Arden… that's not a man anymore."
Arden lifted his staff, breath steadying. "Get ready."
Keldor staggered forward—
—and then lunged with terrifying speed.
Arden barely had a heartbeat to react. He swept his staff upward, deflecting the wild, clawed strike that would've torn open his throat. The impact rattled his bones; Keldor's strength was far beyond human, the blow like being hit by a boulder.
Miran was already moving.
"LEFT!" Arden barked.
Miran slid in low, using the weight of his steel-headed staff like a battering ram. It smashed into Keldor's knee with a brutal, echoing crack.
Keldor roared.
The violet veins crawling up his leg pulsed violently, holding the bone together even as it shattered.
"He's not breaking!" Miran shouted.
"He will," Arden gritted, stepping forward.
Keldor struck again, wide and feral. Arden redirected the blow, sliding his staff along Keldor's arm in a precise, trained deflection—technique against raw force. But even redirected, the sheer power of the swing sent Arden stumbling.
Keldor twisted, grabbing Miran by the front of his tunic and hurling him like a rag doll.
"MIRAN!" Arden shouted—
" Aaaaaa... " Miran crashed into a tree with a sickening thud, the air blasting out of him. He fell to one knee, coughing.
Keldor turned back, violet cracks spiderwebbing further across his chest, illuminating the forest like a pulsing heart of lightning.
He charged Arden again.
Arden met him head-on, planting his staff in the ground and pivoting around it to avoid the brunt of the rush—but Keldor still clipped him with a backhanded swing. Pain exploded across Arden's ribs as he tumbled across the dirt.
Everything hurt.
He forced himself to his feet.
Keldor lunged again—but this time Miran intercepted, slamming his staff down from above with the full force of his body.
The metal head crashed into Keldor's shoulder, crushing it inward. Something snapped—bone? Stone? Both?
Keldor screamed, flinging an arm out wildly and sending Miran sprawling again.
Arden used the opening.
He swept low, striking behind Keldor's ankle, buckling him to one knee. Then he drove the butt of his staff into Keldor's spine—once, twice—precise blows targeting nerve centers.
Technique over strength.
Keldor convulsed, violet sparks crackling violently.
"NOW!" Arden shouted.
Miran was already charging.
He gripped his heavy staff like a war hammer, the veins in his arms bulging, breath ragged. Keldor turned, eyes wild, maw splitting open as if to scream—
But Miran moved first.
With a guttural roar, he swung the staff in a full, brutal arc.
The steel head connected with Keldor's skull.
Once.
Twice.
The third strike collapsed Keldor's head entirely—bone, flesh, and violet liquid splattered, bursting outward as the unstable mana energy inside him ruptured with a dull, wet explosion.
Keldor's body went slack and toppled like a felled tree.
Silence.
Miran fell to one knee, chest heaving. Blood trickled down his temple. His knuckles were torn and bleeding from gripping the staff too tightly.
Arden stumbled over, clutching his ribs, breath sharp and shallow. "You… alright?"
"No," Miran grunted. "You?"
"Also no."
They both let out shaky laughter—half relief, half disbelief.
The scorched clearing stank of ozone, blood, and pulverized stone.
But Keldor—
Keldor was dead.
Both of them stood there heaving for breath—bruised, bloodied, propped against their weapons as the last of the adrenaline bled out of their limbs.
Arden wiped the blood from his lip and forced himself upright.
"Come on," he said, voice rough. "We finish off the remaining bandits and get the villagers out. This place is done for—those violet ores will draw… things before long."