Chapter 388: Fragment (1)
He drove forward, shadows screaming like a storm. The Guardian swung wildly, flames roaring higher. But Lindarion was faster. He blurred through fire, his blade a streak of void and lightning.
The strike landed dead center, piercing the black sun.
The Guardian froze. Cracks spidered across its entire frame, ember light bursting through every seam. Then, with a shuddering groan, it collapsed backward into the pit.
Flame whooshed upward, then died. The chamber fell silent once more.
[System Notice: Guardian neutralized.]
[Seal integrity... 0%.]
[Warning: Residual anomalies remain active.]
Ashwing panted in his head, voice shaky. ’You did it. You—Lindarion, you killed it.’
Lindarion exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. "No," he said aloud, voice carrying across the stunned chamber. "It was already dead."
The humans stared at him, awe and fear mingling. Some whispered "savior," others muttered prayers to names that weren’t his. The commander bowed his head, jaw tight. Even Nysha studied him longer than usual, her crimson eyes narrowed, calculating.
But Lindarion didn’t bask. He turned from them, gaze on the pit. Because the system still whispered.
Because the murals still burned faintly.
Because this was only one chamber of six.
And the temple had not yet finished showing its truth.
—
The last chamber was different.
The air grew heavy before they even crossed the threshold, as though the stone itself remembered what it had been built to guard. The humans slowed, their torches stuttering against damp walls covered in scales of old soot. Nysha’s shadows fanned wide, restless, tasting something in the air that did not belong to earth or time.
Lindarion stepped forward first. His boots pressed ash into grooves carved long before human tongues had shaped their first prayers. The chamber opened into a vast hall, the ceiling lost to darkness, though veins of crystal pulsed faintly with their own dull glow. They crawled like arteries across the stone, forming lines that converged toward the far end of the hall.
There stood the altar.
Not gold, not marble. Bone. Entire slabs of dragon-bone, fused together into a throne-like dais. On its face were etched spirals of glyphs that no human eye could follow, curling inward like a snare for the mind.
Ashwing shifted on Lindarion’s shoulder, claws tapping his armor. His little lizard-head tilted toward the altar, eyes narrowing.
’I don’t like it.’
The thought pushed into Lindarion’s mind, boyish and sharp.
’Neither do I.’
’It smells like...’
Ashwing’s tongue flicked, his mental voice uncertain. ’Like burnt eggs. But also like blood.’’That’s not a smell, Ashwing. That’s memory carved into stone.’
The dragonling snorted, unimpressed. Still stinks.
Behind them, the human squad hesitated at the edge of the chamber. One muttered, "This is no place for mortals." Another spat, making a sign with his hand to ward off evil. Only the commander forced himself to step closer, jaw locked tight.
"What is this place?" he asked.
Nysha’s gaze swept across the bone altar, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim. "A temple," she whispered. "But not for gods. For something that wanted to be worshiped."
Her shadows recoiled from the glyphs, twitching like frightened animals.
Lindarion said nothing. He felt it, thick as chains on his chest. A pull. The same way the sword had sung to him, but deeper, older, more patient.
[System Alert: Unknown Resonance Detected.]
[Origin Signature... Fragment present.]
[Warning: System stability compromised. Proceeding may result in permanent vessel damage.]
His teeth clenched. No one else saw the flickering glyphs across his vision, the translucent messages bleeding into the air. To them, it was just another ruin. To him, it was a wound in reality whispering his name.
"Stay here," Lindarion said at last. His voice cut sharp enough that the humans froze. Even Nysha hesitated, but when his gaze flicked to hers, she swallowed whatever protest she had.
He crossed the hall alone.
Each step closer to the altar thickened the pressure. The glyphs writhed faintly, shifting when he wasn’t looking, rearranging themselves to tug at the edges of his comprehension. They whispered, not in sound, but in sensation, like claws scratching bone from the inside.
Ashwing’s tail lashed, agitated. ’Stop walking. Stop. This is bad, Lindarion.’
’Quiet.’
’No, listen! This place isn’t for you. It’s—’ The dragon’s thought choked, as though something pressed a hand over his voice.
Lindarion ignored it. He reached the dais. His hand brushed the altar’s surface.
The bone was warm.
[Fragment Detected.]
[Do you wish to integrate?]
[Y/N]
The breath in his lungs turned to ice. ’A fragment... of the original system?’
No answer came, save for the pulsing glow of the glyphs.
Behind him, he heard Nysha shift uneasily, shadows hissing. The humans murmured like restless cattle. They didn’t see the choice hanging in the air. They only saw him standing before an altar of bone, his hand pressed against the past.
Lindarion closed his eyes.
’Selene.’
Warmth bloomed instantly, soft, steady, cradling his mind. ’I am here, Master.’
’If I take this—’
’It will not be gentle.’
Her voice carried no hesitation, no attempt to dissuade. ’Only truth. But it is yours. It was always meant to be yours.’
His jaw tightened. ’Then I’ll bleed for it.’
He chose Yes.
The world screamed.
The glyphs burst like veins under pressure, light flooding the chamber. Humans cried out, shields raised against a brilliance that didn’t burn flesh but scorched the soul. Nysha staggered, her shadows flaring wild as if to shield her from a storm.
Lindarion’s body arched, a convulsion tearing through him. His chest cracked open with invisible hands, ribs groaning against the strain.
[Fragment Integration Commencing.]
[Warning: Vessel exceeds stability threshold.]
[Compatibility— 62%... 71%... 84%...]
[Pain Suppression Denied.]
He bit back a scream as fire threaded his veins, molten chains locking into his core. His vision split into layers, the hall, the humans, the altar, and behind it all, a grid of symbols older than language, pressing into his mind like brands.
Ashwing shrieked inside his skull, panicked. ’STOP IT! It’s eating you alive! Spit it out, Lindarion, SPIT IT OUT!’
But Lindarion held. His hands gripped the altar so tight the bone cracked under his fingers. Shadows burst from his body unbidden, writhing against the air as if trying to tear him free.
The system hammered on:
[Integration 93%...]
[Core Resonance— unstable.]
[Warning: System Overlap detected.]
[Existing host-system interference imminent.]
Selene’s warmth surged, her voice sharp for once. ’Hold, Lindarion! I am with you!’
Her presence pressed against the invading torrent, knitting seams that would have split him apart. He felt her arms, not real, but real enough, binding the fragments, forcing them to settle into his core without breaking it open.
[Integration Complete.]
[System Fragment Assimilated.]
The light collapsed.
Lindarion gasped, knees buckling. He caught himself before falling fully, though his chest heaved as if he had just fought ten battles at once.
The altar lay cracked, glyphs dead, nothing but pale bone now. The crystal veins along the chamber walls went dark. Whatever had lingered here for centuries was gone, consumed.
The humans whispered, awed and terrified. To them, he had stood before a dead altar and survived its curse. That was enough.
Nysha’s crimson eyes pinned him, sharp and searching. She saw more. She always did. But she said nothing.
Ashwing quivered on his shoulder, voice trembling in his head. ’Idiot... you nearly tore yourself apart. I thought— I thought you were going to—’ He broke off, curling tight against Lindarion’s neck. ’Don’t do that again.’
Lindarion exhaled slowly, straightening. His hand slid from the altar, faint cracks still spidering across the bone where his grip had been.
[New Functions Available.]
[Fragment Analysis Incomplete.]
[System Integrity— 47%.]
He ignored the cascade of notices. No one else could see them. No one else needed to.
"Prince?" the commander ventured, voice wary. "What... happened?"
Lindarion turned, eyes catching the last glow of dying crystal. His voice was even. "The past is finished."
He walked back toward them, steady despite the throb in his chest. Shadows curled faintly at his heels, restless.
Behind him, the altar lay in ruin, and deep within his veins, something new pulsed, alien and familiar, a shard of the system itself now bound to his soul.
The temple was dead.
But Lindarion was not.
And the fragment whispered promises only he could hear.