The group spread out through the cave. Boots scraped against the stone as they searched the fallen, lifting bits of armor and brushing aside debris. Slowly, small piles of glowing shards began to gather.
The light from the crystals grew brighter with each one they found, painting their tired faces in shades of blue and silver. The sight stirred something inside them—hope mixed with wonder.
As Veyra lifted another shard, her eyes widened again. "My Lord… there's something else."
Karl stepped toward her. She held out a small fragment—jagged, black at the edges, with faint runes pulsing across its surface. The glow wasn't steady like the essence crystals. It shifted, alive and strange.
The moment Karl's fingers brushed it; a surge of information rushed into his mind.
[Skill Shard: A condensed essence containing potential power.]
Consuming this shard grants a random new skill or enhances an existing one.
A hush fell over the group. Even amid exhaustion and injury, this discovery sparked a fragile sense of hope. For a moment, the terror of the rival lord's numbers faded. They were battered and bruised, but they had power in their hands now—tools and treasures that could tip the scales in the battles yet to come.
Karl stood, holding the skill shard and a fistful of essence crystals, his gaze steady. "This… this is why we fight. Not just to survive, but to grow stronger."
The others exchanged looks—tired, bruised, but now with a flicker of excitement behind their eyes. For the first time since the battle, they felt it again—momentum.
He decided immediately—Ember would receive the shard.
She had fought fiercely, shielding them when the battle had turned grim. Her instincts were sharp, her courage unshaken. Karl trusted her completely. Their bond wasn't formed by ritual or contract, but by true feeligs—something far stronger.
He moved toward her. Ember perched high on a jagged crystal spire, her wings drooping from exhaustion. The faint glow of her feathers pulsed weakly in the dim light. Karl knelt beside her, resting a hand gently atop her head. Warm essence flowed through his palms, golden light spreading across her feathers. Her breathing steadied. The tremble in her wings eased. When her eyes opened, they shone with clear, steady focus once again.
"Good," Karl murmured. He reached into his pack and withdrew a Bronze II crystal from the spoils, along with a vial of vitality tonic. "You're close to evolving. Take these."
Ember tilted her head, studying him for a heartbeat, then took the offerings. The crystal shattered into shimmering dust as she absorbed it, the energy spreading through her body like ripples across water. A pulse of power rushed through the cave, making Karl's hair lift from the force. Her aura brightened—wild, radiant, alive—but not yet stable. It would take time for the energy to settle.
Satisfied, Karl turned to his people.
Dren sat slumped against a wall, pale but conscious. Drael stood beside him, his shield cracked down the center, smoke still curling from its edge. Tarran leaned on his spear, one hand pressed over his bandaged side. Veyra and Thorn were checking weapons, while Liora tended to Renn's burned arm. Each face carried exhaustion—but also relief.
Karl moved among them one by one, his hands glowing softly as he and Liora worked together. He closed wounds, steadied breathing, and shared small words of encouragement. The air was filled with faint murmurs, the quiet crackle of torches, and the rhythmic hum of healing essence.
When the last wound was sealed, Karl finally relax. His limbs ached and his mind was heavy, but his voice remained steady.
"We'll rest here," he said, looking over the weary faces. "Once everyone recovers enough strength, we'll mine the crystals."
A quiet nod passed through the group. Weapons were set aside. Someone exhaled in tired relief. For the first time since the fight began, the cave felt still again.
But even as Karl watched over his people, a thought pressed at the edge of his mind—cold and certain.
Veythar would return. And next time, he wouldn't come with ten.
Karl's gaze moved to the glittering veins of essence crystal that ran along the cavern wall. Their light reflected in his silver eyes, steady and determined.
They had survived the first strike.
But even in victory, Karl could feel the storm gathering again—the promise of Lord Veythar's returns, stronger and angrier than before. The enemy would not rest, and neither could they.
Yet for the first time since the battle began, Karl felt a spark of confidence. They now had the crystal mine, a rare skill shard, their wounded healed—and Ember, who had reached the threshold of evolution.
Karl's gaze shifted upward—and his breath caught. Ember had finished her evolution. Ember stood before him, no longer the small fledgling who once perched on his shoulder. Her wings, now broad and radiant, stretched wide enough to brush the cavern walls.
The soft glow of molten gold shimmered beneath her feathers, and her golden eyes burned with calm, intelligent fire. She looked powerful—yet every movement carried the same quiet grace that had always marked her.
Karl stepped forward, his hand resting gently against the feathers on her back. The warmth beneath his palm pulsed like a heartbeat—steady, alive and strong.
Ember leaned into the touch, releasing a low, melodic trill that echoed softly through the cave. The sound carried not only affection but also understanding.
"You've grown again," Karl murmured, a faint smile breaking through his fatigue. Pride and gratitude mixed in his voice. For a moment, there was only silence between them, a shared calm after the storm.
Then Karl reached into his pouch and drew out the rare shard—its runes glowing faintly, pulsing like trapped lightning. "This belongs to you," he said.
Ember tilted her head, eyes glinting with instinctive awareness. Without hesitation, Karl pressed the shard toward her beak. While she accepted it gently, swallowing it whole.
Light flared once more—pure and blinding.
The cavern shook as her aura erupted. Winds whipped violently around her, whipping dust and shards of stone into a swirling storm. Karl shielded his eyes, feeling the raw surge of power ripple through the cave.
After communicating for a while with Ember and thorn as a middleman, Karl realized the truth: Ember had not merely gained a new skill. She had transformed something she already possessed. Her Cyclone had evolved—becoming Wrath of the Storm.
The effects were immediately clear.
A devastating area-of-effect strike centered on Ember herself.
• A massive cyclone of slashing wind and raw energy tore outward, striking every foe within range.
• Enemies caught within the storm suffered immense damage, slowed movements, and weakened defenses.
• Allies moved with heightened speed and sharper reflexes, flowing with the storm as Ember commanded the battlefield.
• The ability could be combined with other attacks for amplified, devastating effects.
But power demanded balance. For now, Wrath of the Storm could only last twenty seconds and only once per battle. Its intensity drained Ember's energy
requiring careful recovery before it could be used again.
As the winds died down, Karl lowered his arms, his chest heaving. Ember's eyes glimmered with fierce, unshakable power, her feathers tinged with crackling energy. He smiled, both in awe and in relief.
"She's stronger than ever," Liora breathed, her voice soft with awe. "And with her… so are we."
For a moment, no one spoke. The cave hummed with quiet life—the soft echo of wind through the tunnels, the faint crackle of torchlight, and the rhythmic clang of metal on stone.
Tarran and Grok worked near the glowing walls, their tools striking in a steady rhythm. With each careful swing, shards of essence crystal fell into their hands, glowing like tiny stars in the dark.
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