Chapter 5: The Ashborn's Blade
The two corrupted guardians moved with a speed that belied their hulking forms. Their obsidian claws, sharp as razors, scythed through the air, aiming for Lyraen. He didn't hesitate. Years of solitary training, of honing his instincts against the harsh realities of the wild, kicked in. He was no stranger to fighting for his life, though never against something so monstrous.
He ducked beneath the first swing, the wind of its passage ruffling his hair. The guardian's claw scraped against the obsidian-like floor, sending sparks flying. Lyraen's shortsword, a blur of motion, came up in a defensive parry against the second guardian's attack. The impact sent a jarring shock up his arm, the metal ringing against the creature's hardened ash skin. It was like striking solid rock.
"Their hide is tough, Seeker!" Ignis warned, its mental voice a frantic hum as it zipped around Lyraen's head, a tiny, fiery distraction. "Focus on their eyes! The embers within!"
Lyraen pivoted, his twisted ankle screaming in protest, but he ignored it. He feinted left, drawing the first guardian's attack, then spun right, aiming for the glowing ember eye. His blade connected, but only grazed the surface. The guardian roared, a sound like grinding stone, and swiped at him, forcing Lyraen to leap back.
These were not men. They felt no pain, only a primal, destructive instinct. Their movements were heavy, predictable in their ferocity, but their sheer resilience made them formidable. Lyraen danced around their attacks, his shortsword a silver flash in the golden light of the chamber, deflecting, parrying, searching for an opening. He was fighting defensively, conserving his energy, his mind calculating angles, weaknesses.
One guardian lunged, its massive body a blur. Lyraen slid under its arm, bringing his blade up in an arc, aiming for its exposed side. The steel bit deep, but instead of flesh, it met something like compacted ash and grit. The blade scraped, failing to penetrate deeply, and the guardian merely grunted, turning its glowing eyes on him with renewed fury.
He was outmatched in raw power, but he had speed, agility, and a stubborn refusal to yield. He thought of the Ember Throne, pulsing silently behind him, a symbol of the immense responsibility that had been thrust upon him. He thought of the fading god, the looming apocalypse. He wasn't fighting for himself anymore.
As the two guardians closed in, trapping him between them, Lyraen felt a strange heat building within him, a warmth that had nothing to do with Ignis. It started in his chest, radiating outwards, a sensation like molten gold flowing through his veins. The ancient runes on the chamber walls seemed to pulse in sync with his own accelerating heartbeat.
He raised his shortsword, not in defense, but in a sudden, desperate offensive. As he did, a faint, reddish glow emanated from the blade itself, mirroring the golden veins in the rock. It wasn't a trick of the light. The blade was glowing.
The first guardian swung, its claw coming down in a crushing blow. Instead of parrying, Lyraen met the attack head-on, his glowing blade clashing against the obsidian claw. This time, there was no jarring shock, no mere scrape. A high-pitched shriek tore through the chamber as the guardian's claw, impossibly, began to crack. Fissures of golden light spread across its hardened ash skin, emanating from the point of impact.
The guardian stumbled back, roaring in agony, its glowing eyes wide with what looked like surprise. Its companion hesitated, its predatory gaze flickering between the damaged guardian and Lyraen's now-radiant blade.
Lyraen felt a surge of exhilaration, raw and untamed. This was new. This was power. It wasn't something he sought, but it was here, within him, and it was responding to his will. He didn't understand it, but he knew he had to use it. The Captain's shouts from outside the sanctuary were growing louder, a stark reminder of the time he didn't have. He had to finish this, and quickly.
With a newfound resolve, Lyraen lunged forward, his amber eyes blazing with the same fierce light that now pulsed from his blade. He aimed for the second guardian, no longer just defending, but attacking with a purpose, a quiet defiance burning brighter than ever. The guardian roared, raising its claws, but Lyraen was faster, his glowing blade a harbinger of the ancient power he was just beginning to grasp.