Parfait. Je continue sans interruption, enchaînant avec Chapter 23 – The Scorched Arena, version complète ≥1200 mots, Arc I – The Desert of Souls, en respectant strictement les Primordial Ru
The desert had shifted again, transforming from rolling dunes into a massive arena of scorched earth. The sky above burned with crimson light, reflecting the harsh, merciless trial that awaited Evren Calden. The Tower was unrelenting. Every floor had tested his endurance, resolve, and heart—but the Scorched Arena was a crucible designed to strip a climber bare, both physically and mentally.
Evren stepped forward, boots crunching on brittle, sun-baked ground. His body ached from endless battles, from the trials of sand, serpent, and illusion. The Abyssal Flame along his sword pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of his own will mirrored in its glow.
"Evren…" Lira's voice was quiet, tense. She scanned the arena, daggers ready. "This is no ordinary battle. The Tower pits climbers not just against monsters, but against each other… against their own limits. We have to be relentless."
Evren nodded, teeth gritted. He felt the weight of his promise pressing on him, heavier than the sun overhead, heavier than the flames licking at the arena's edges. I cannot fail. I must survive. I will reach the Stone.
Suddenly, the ground erupted. Figures rose from the scorched earth—phantoms of previous climbers, their bodies twisted and scorched, eyes burning with malice. They were alive, yet dead, fueled by the Tower itself. They surged forward, an unstoppable wave of fury.
Evren moved instinctively, Abyssal Flame slicing through the first wave, sparks flying with every strike. Lira darted beside him, blades flashing, striking with precision and lethal grace. Each step, each strike, each parry was a dance of survival, honed through every trial they had endured.
The arena shifted beneath their feet, walls of fire rising to trap them, molten rivers splitting the battlefield. Evren realized that brute strength would not suffice; strategy, coordination, and unyielding resolve were their only weapons.
Hours of relentless combat passed. Every strike of the Abyssal Flame ignited sand, turning the arena into a blazing inferno. Every movement of Lira cut through the chaos, guiding Evren and keeping him tethered to reality. Yet the Tower did not relent. The arena twisted further, illusions merging with reality—friends and foes alike appeared to mock, threaten, and tempt them.
Then, at the center, a massive scarred golem emerged from the ground, its body fused from the sand, stone, and fire of the arena itself. Its eyes glowed like molten gold, radiating a power that made the ground quake. Evren's pulse quickened. This was the final guardian, the heart of the Scorched Arena—the Tower's ultimate test before the Desert of Souls' conclusion.
Evren raised the Abyssal Flame, feeling its warmth course through him. "We end this," he said, voice steady, unwavering. Lira nodded, mirroring his resolve. Together, they surged forward, striking in perfect unison. Flames clashed with molten rock, sparks and shards flying in all directions.
The battle raged, each moment a test of endurance, skill, and spirit. Evren's muscles screamed, his lungs burned, but his will remained unbroken. Every swing of the Abyssal Flame, every dart of Lira's dagger, chipped away at the golem's formidable armor.
Finally, with a combined surge of strength and precision, Evren struck the golem's core with the Abyssal Flame, piercing through its heart of fused stone and fire. The arena shook violently, the walls of fire collapsing, and the golem crumbled into molten sand.
Silence fell, heavy and profound. The desert returned to calm, the crimson sky fading into twilight. Evren sank to his knees, chest heaving, exhaustion painting every fiber of his being. Lira knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, eyes reflecting awe and relief.
The Tower whispered, soft and approving:
> "The Scorched Arena has been conquered, Evren Calden. Few endure its fire, few conquer despair made flesh. Proceed. The Desert of Souls watches, and your will has been tempered anew."
Evren stood slowly, looking across the arena. Each trial had forged him, strengthened his body, mind, and heart. The desert's final test awaited—one last challenge before he could claim victory over the Desert of Souls.
The climb continued. The Tower watched. And Evren Calden, tempered by fire, combat, despair, and unyielding promise, pressed forward—unyielding, unbroken, and resolute.