The Baphomet's molten eyes locked on Eliakim.Steam hissed from the cracks in its bronze hide, each breath a furnace blast. The arena trembled under its weight.
Eliakim's shadow veil clung loosely to him now, singed by the heat. His breath was ragged, his coat scorched, his blade trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer force needed to keep up.
The beast lowered its horns.
It charged.
The obsidian blades blurred, cleaving the air where Eliakim stood—except he wasn't there. His form flickered into smoke, reappearing to the monster's flank. The Corrosion Blade slashed deep into the joint of its leg, the venom biting through just enough to slow its pivot.
The Baphomet swung its horns like scythes. Eliakim ducked under, sparks raining as horn met stone. He drove forward, aiming for its chest—but the molten plates slammed shut like a fortress gate.
Too well-protected.
The Codex of Imreth's voice hissed in the back of his mind."Strike where the flame bleeds slowest."
Eliakim's gaze snapped to the faint, steady pulse beneath the armor—its heart.
He flicked his wrist. The chain wrapped around his Thumb finger—the relic of the Collar of Veyrun—slid down like a serpent, clinking as it lengthened. Shadows coiled along the links, merging with steel.
The Baphomet lunged again. Eliakim ran toward it.
The impact was thunder. He slid low beneath its guard, the chain unfurling in a blur, winding around the monster's torso. The links glowed faintly, feeding on his will, wrapping again and again until they dug into molten bronze, pinning its arms to its sides.
The beast roared, straining, molten cracks bursting along its chest. The chains held.
Eliakim's boots scraped against the scorched stone as he pulled himself up the taut links, climbing the raging titan like a siege ladder. He reached the sternum, where the chains formed a cross—where the heart's pulse was strongest.
"End of the labyrinth for you."
The Corrosion Blade turned pitch black as all his remaining strength, all his shadowcraft, surged into its edge. He drove it down.
The chains tightened. The steel pierced deep.
The Baphomet's scream was so loud the air itself seemed to ripple—then its body convulsed, and its molten heat dimmed. It fell to its knees, then forward, the impact shaking the ground.
When the dust cleared, its chest was open, the heart split. From the wound, its blood spilled—not red, but silver-blue, flowing across the floor. Where it touched stone, roots sprouted, curling and twisting upward in seconds.
A small, luminous sapling took form—its leaves shimmering like glass, its trunk carved with glowing runes.
The Yggdrasil Plant.
Eliakim knelt, brushing ash from the leaves before carefully cutting the stem at its base. The Codex of Imreth pulsed in his mind, whispering the plant's true nature, yet withholding the method of its use. He slipped it into the Ring of Galveryn for safekeeping.
"Ezra's going to need this," he murmured.
Nearby, the Baphomet's broken horn still steamed, its obsidian edge unscathed."Good material for Gideon's gear," Eliakim noted, detaching it with a sharp strike and stowing it alongside the plant.
He turned to Ezra, who lay pale but breathing. The Aetherwell Bloom chain glimmered faintly on his ring finger. He wrapped it gently around her wrist. Light pulsed once—pure, white—and her breath steadied.
The effect faded quickly. The relic could heal only once before needing long recovery—and his skill in mending wounds was far from complete.
Ezra stirred, eyes fluttering open. "...You look like hell," she rasped.
"You should see the other guy," Eliakim said with a faint grin.
Ezra, still weak, pulled vials from her satchel. Her hands moved with practiced precision as she brewed a quick-healing draught, giving one each to Eliakim, Gideon, and the bird Skyling. The bitter concoction burned down their throats but warmed their limbs almost instantly.
The labyrinth's air felt still now. Too still.
"Time to leave," Gideon muttered, adjusting his grip on his weapon.
Eliakim glanced once more at the fallen titan. Then he turned toward the labyrinth's winding halls, the Ring of Galveryn heavy with new treasures, the weight of victory balanced by the shadows still lingering in his mind.
They walked toward the exit—together.