Kingsland Arc Chapter:31 - Shadowed Resolve
Chou materialized on the second floor in a sudden flash of violet light, his breath caught in a ragged gasp. His body trembled uncontrollably as his eyes fixed on the shattered maw above where Ronin had vanished — a silent, gaping void swallowing the floor.
Yue Xin and Rafaela rushed to his side, their faces pale but determined.
**Yue Xin:** *"Chou… what happened out there?"* Her hand gripped his wrist, clammy and trembling.
**Rafaela:** *"Where's Ronin?"* Her voice cracked beneath the weight of fear.
Chou struggled for words, voice barely more than a whisper. *"Ron… Ronin fell. The dungeon collapsed beneath him. I don't know what to do..."*
The faint tremor of aftershocks rumbled beneath their feet, dust drifting from cracks in the ceiling.
Yue Xin swallowed hard. "We need to *go* — now. The Adventurers Guild in Crownfall. They must send help."
Rafaela's eyes searched his. "Where else? This is our only chance."
Chou's fists clenched, nails biting into his palms. "I'm not coming. I have to find him myself."
Yue Xin met his gaze, fierce and pleading. "If you go alone, it'll cost more than just your life. Please understand."
Rafaela's voice faltered but held steady. "Ronin is stronger than us. He'll survive. Trust that, please."
After a long silence, Chou's shoulders slumped. Wiping tears away, he nodded. "Alright. Let's go."
Together, they rushed through dusty corridors, shadows clutching at their heels, hearts hammering with dread and fragile hope. The stale, cold air above ground never tasted so sharp as they burst into it and sprinted toward Alpine, praying their desperate gambit wasn't too late.
**Deep in the Abyss**
Ronin's eyes fluttered open, pale haze clouding his vision. The metallic tang of blood burned his tongue. He lay atop an unsettling cushion of crushed, rotting monster corpses—their grotesque forms slick with decay. A foul stench mingled with damp earth and sour musk filled the cramped space.
He felt the dull ache of impact radiate through bruised muscles and scraped skin. His mana stone bag flashed faint blue beside him, a fragile beacon. The shattered remnants of an anti-poison potion bottle stained the cracked floor, but the healing vial glimmered intact.
With effort, Ronin rolled off the mound, boots squelching in viscous filth. Walls dripped cold obsidian, slick to the touch, reflecting ethereal glows from bioluminescent fungi clustered like spectral flowers. The thick silence pressed on his ears, broken—then—a low, rattling snarl fractured the gloom.
Blades drawn, he crept forward, senses sharpening beneath the heavy gloom.
Ahead lay a colossal black dragon, its scales marked with fresh wounds—deep cuts bleeding dark crimson that gleamed wet against the jet-black hide. Its body heaved with shallow breaths, one great emerald eye staring out from beneath a jagged white scar.
The dragon's labored breathing sent quivers through the stale air, and faint traces of scorched flesh mixed among the wounds—signs of recent fierce fights with ravenous monsters.
Ronin sheathed his blades carefully, extending his hands in a peaceful offer.
His voice was steady but gentle: *"I won't harm you. Let me help."*
The dragon's eyes shifted, glimmering with wary intelligence. It inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring at the unfamiliar demonic aura emanating from Ronin—a smoky, untamed essence that carried no familiar mark or claim. It did not recognize the name Zorde or his power. Only this raw, molten energy that set Ronin apart.
The creature gave a low, questioning growl, tilting its massive head closer, curiosity and exhaustion etched in every movement.
Ronin carefully uncorked the healing potion, the faint blue liquid shimmering in the dim light as he poured it into the dragon's gaping maw.
Despite the potion's glow, the wounds began to close only partially. Fresh cuts glistened wet and raw under faint fungi light.
The dragon exhaled a long, tormented sigh.
Suddenly, guttural growls erupted behind Ronin. Two shadow wolves emerged from the darkness—their pelts like living shadows, eyes burning green like twin flame ghosts. Their movements were stiff, unnatural.
Ronin barely steadied his breath before a booming voice thundered inside his mind.
"RUN"
It was the dragon's telepathic warning—a desperate plea.
Ronin's grip tightened around his blades. He whispered, *"Not this time."*
The wolves lunged with savage speed. Ronin twisted out of the first's snapping jaws with Shadow Gale, the air around him chilling as he vanished and reappeared just out of reach. Second wolf slashed at him, claws ringing against Sei's blade with sparks. He shoved the beast backward with a powerful kick, sending it crashing into a crumbling pillar.
Then, as if shadows split, the wolves vanished—only to be replaced by ten duplications, glowing eyes lighting the gloom.
Panic flared. Ronin closed his eyes, recalling Master Baelish's teachings.
*"Illusions fool the eye but not the soul. Listen for the heavier steps. Feel the true pulse of mana."*
He opened his eyes, detecting the faintest difference—a heartbeat slightly off-kilter.
Dashing forward, his fist, wrapped tightly around Sei, blasted into the true wolf's ribs with Demonic Fortification fueling the strike.
The wolf yelped, collapsing unconscious as the illusions dissipated like smoke.
Another lunged, but Ronin spun, kicking it hard until it slumped against cold obsidian.
His breath came ragged, relief a breath away—when three kunai, black as starless night, sliced through the air.
Two were parried with ringing clangs, but the third found its mark, a shallow but burning scratch on Ronin's left shoulder.
Pain blossomed fast, ice and fire flooding the wound.
He scanned the shadows, voice tight. *"I know you're there. Show yourself."*
Silence.
A cold presence swept past, vanished like a breath stolen by darkness.
Ronin's jaw clenched, fingers lightly tracing the spreading purple stain of poison.
The dragon's voice whispered again in his mind, still strained but urgent.
"Run, child. They come for me. Leave now, or join me in death."*
Ronin: Who are You ?
There was a pause, then the dragon's voice, ancient and sorrowful, reverberated in his mind:
"I am called Saber. Once, I soared with Julius—Demon Lord of Astinkein. He was wise, proud, a ruler who dreamed of peace beyond the Demon Realms.
His own kin betrayed him. I tried to save him, but even dragons can fall to treachery.
When the old Lord's fire died, Zorde took the throne. His reign is one of fear and iron.
I refused Zorde's summons. For that, hunters come—a squad called Solstice. I fought monsters to escape here, but my strength wanes.
"They have found us. You owe me nothing, young wanderer. But if you stay, you inherit my enemies as well as my story."
Emotion rippled through Saber's telepathic words—ancient grief, defiant pride, and furious weariness.
Ronin breathed deep, swallowing the burning poison. *"I don't run. I stay."*
The distant thud of heavy footsteps rolled through the dungeon floor, shadowed growls weaving between them.
Three dark figures cloaked in menace emerged, each radiating cold so palpable it seemed to suck heat from the air.
A disembodied voice slithered through the gloom.
*"Kid, turn back. Run if you want to see the sun again."*
Ronin's blades rose without hesitation, emerald eyes blazing.
*"Who are you?"*
voice dripping with icy contempt.
*"Hunters. Squad Four — Solstice. We serve Astinkein. And you're in our way."*
The sting of poison pulsed through Ronin's limbs. The scent of blood and ancient magic danced in the stale air.
Yet, unbroken and unyielding, Ronin squared his shoulders, ready to face what came.
A single flicker of determined flame in the bottomless dark.
From the corridor's deepest shadow, three cloaked hunters stepped forth. The ancient feud—the lonely tale of ruined kings and hunted dragons—now became Ronin's own fight beneath the earth's endless dark
**[To Be Continued]**