----Page 18----
The cavern trembled.
Mog growled, the sound low and powerful, vibrating through the walls and floor.
Dust rained from the ceiling, and loose stones clinked a warning of imminent collapse.
Arin flinched as a boulder shattered near him.
"It's coming down!" he shouted, eyes darting between the ceiling and Mog's thrashing form.
Rynveil cursed under his breath, hefting Seville's limp body over his shoulder with one arm and gripping his rune hammer with the other.
"Damn it!! What in hell are you doing, Mog? Stop acting like a spoiled brat and snap out of it!!"
Rynveil shouted, hoping that his voice would reach Mog's consciousness.
Meanwhile, the Slypheeds fluttered anxiously, their pale glow jittering with each tremor, sensing the danger towards Seville, their new Master.
"Damn it all, he's gone!" Rynveil cursed, his voice echoing through the cavern.
"We need to move now before the whole cavern collapses!"
He stomped toward the exit arch, slamming his hammer into the ground. Faint runes lit beneath his boots teleportation sigils, half-formed, unstable.
Arin reached toward him.
"Wait what about Master Kinon? What about Mog?"
Rynveil's glare was sharp enough to cut through the dust.
"You've seen him! That's not something we can save!"
He jabbed the hammer toward Mog, whose body was wracked with convulsions as black veins crawled across his glowing core.
"Huh, how come you can say that, old man? I thought Mog was your friend."
"Oy, twig! Just step inside the circle, will you? He's not the Mog I used to know. Even my voice can't reach him now."
"Then, if your voice can't reach Mog, then I'm sure Master Kinon will do it." Arin smirked confidently.
"Don't worry, Rynveil, I'll definitely save Mog, no matter what," I said, voice resolute.
Then I stepped forward, the Chronicle of Origin warm and humming at my side.
"He's not lost," I declared, but the tremor in my voice was undeniable.
"Not yet."
Rynveil gave a sharp, humorless laugh.
"I give up.."
Rynveil calmly said as he took a deep sigh.
Well, if the Chronicle says to you that there's a way, then I'm sure there is... Well, suit yourself, kid. Save that rock-headed idiot for me, I'm begging you!"
Rynveil added.
---
Before I could respond, the cavern roared again stone splitting in jagged lines above us.
Then, faint and overlapping, soft voices whispered through the dust:
"We will help."
The Slypheeds rose in unison, spiraling through the air. Whorls of wind erupted outward, weaving into a barrier of shimmering light.
The pressure was immense; my cloak snapped behind me as stones crashed into the barrier and shattered into harmless dust.
Arin crouched low, arm shielding his face from the wind.
"They're holding it back!" he yelled, awe mixing with fear.
Rynveil's teleportation circle wavered under the strain, runes flickering wildly.
"Tch. They're draining my charge!" he snarled. Then, quieter, teeth gritted:
"You'd better make this work, or else we're all gonna be crushed in here!"
Rynveil shouted, the words echoing over the strained hum of his hammer, its glow fighting to hold the teleportation circle.
The Chronicle thrummed, the air thick with power. I knelt, pressing my hand against its cover. The sigils etched along its spine pulsed, rearranging into intricate patterns runes that felt alive.
"There's still a chance," I said, voice steady now.
"If the Chronicle recognizes him, it can reforge his essence purge the corruption. But I need to reach him."
Rynveil's brow furrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face before he masked it.
"You're linking with him in this mess?" He barked a dry laugh.
I looked into Rynveil's eyes once more, for him to see that I'm serious and determined to save Mog.
"Fine, do it your way. I'll make sure that twig will pull you out when I sense that you've failed."
I looked to Arin. He didn't speak just swallowed hard and nodded, knuckles white as he gripped his bow.
"Don't worry, Master Kinon, I will watch your back."
The Slypheeds' voices rose again, melodic, determined, hovering above with their green lights, maintaining the barriers around us.
I pressed my palm to the Chronicle.
The world lurched. Cold light erupted, swallowing the chamber whole.
My awareness was torn from my body and hurled into the void where Mog stood, alone amid endless gray.
"You still have a purpose, Mog," I whispered.
"You can start by living by cherishing the life your creators gave you."
Faint memories flickered like distant stars. Then Merion's voice echoed through the void:
"Go on, Mog. You're free to live your life as you see fit."
Mog was just there, standing blankly in the midst of the endless void, waiting.
Then, light burst from Mog's form. The corruption shattered, flaring into sparks that dissolved into nothing. His essence pulsed with blue radiance once more.
Then I screamed at Mog, trying to reach for his golem hand.
"Mog... Reach for it..."
Mog just stared at me; the void was shrinking slowly, like it was all being sucked by a black hole.
Mog hesitated.
"I don't belong anywhere, not anymore."
"No!! That's not true! Rynveil is waiting for you, Mog. Reach it, please!! Reach for my hand..."
"But..."
"You must live on, Mog, that's what Merion last wish, I will help you find your creators. I promised."
Mog's eyes filled with hope and anticipation when the thought of searching for his creators struck his mind.
And then...
Reality slammed back.
"Master Kinon!" Arin's voice pierced the ringing in my ears.
"Master, can you hear me?!"
The Chronicle flared with searing light. Runes spiraled out from its center, lifting us off the ground.
A deafening crack split the air as the teleportation surged to life.
Gravity lost meaning. The air thickened until it felt like we were being crushed and pulled apart at once.
The world bent, color bleeding into pure light. For an instant, there was nothing but blue fire and sound the chorus of countless whispers as if the Chronicle itself was speaking.
A flash.
Pressure.
Falling.
Then impact.
The ground solidified under our feet. The echo of the cave was gone.
Mist drifted around us, cold and wet. The massive gates of the Khel Mines loomed ahead, their runes dull but intact. The crisp scent of morning air replaced the choking dust.
Arin stumbled forward, breathless.
"We're outside?" He let out a shaky laugh that cracked halfway through.
Rynveil lowered Seville gently to the ground, his expression unreadable.
"Hells" He exhaled through his nose.
"You actually pulled it off." His eyes flicked to the Chronicle, then to me.
"Guess that Chronicles knew what it was doing."
For the first time in what felt like hours, I smiled.
"We're safe," I murmured just before the sharp pain struck.
It started as a sting, then flared a deep, searing ache that spread across my chest. My breath hitched. I looked down. Thin lines of faintly glowing script crawled up from beneath my collarbone, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
Not blood runes.
They shimmered briefly, the same hue as the Chronicle's light, before fading into my skin. A backlash from the link or something worse.
My knees buckled. The world tilted.
"Kinon!" Arin lunged forward, catching my arm. "Stay with me hey!" His voice broke, sharp and terrified.
I tried to answer, but the strength left my voice. The mist blurred, my vision narrowing to slivers of light and shadow.
Through the haze, I heard Rynveil curse quietly. He knelt beside me, one rough hand pressing against my shoulder.
"Damn fool," he muttered.
"Should've known you wouldn't quit."
His grip tightened, steadying me.
"Don't you die on me, Kinon. Not after all that." Rynveil voice trembled.
Master!! Master!! Arin yelped.
The sound of his hammer grounding against the stone was the last thing I heard before darkness closed in a slow, rhythmic echo like a heartbeat shared between stone, spirit, and man.
A distant wind stirred, cold and thin. Then the sound of paper turning.
I opened my eyes to blinding light. The air was sharp with frost and iron.
The Chronicle's faint hum filled my ears.
"You're alive," Rynveil grumbled nearby.
"Hells, that's inconvenient."
He sat near a small fire built from shattered crates, hammer resting across his knees. Morning light traced the runes under his skin in dull gold.
"You've been out a while," he added.
"Arin nearly tore his throat yelling for you."
Arin appeared almost instantly, relief breaking across his face.
"Master!.. You scared us! You just collapsed and—"
"Easy, Arin," I rasped. My throat was dry, the words scraping out.
The Chronicle of Origin lay beside me, open but dim, its pages shifting faintly as if breathing.
My vision cleared slowly.
"Where is Mog?" I asked.
At that, Rynveil looked up for the first time.
He stood, brushing dust from his gauntlet, and walked toward me.
"Here," he said gruffly, holding out a fist-sized piece of smooth, blue-gray stone.
I blinked, reaching out to take it. "What's this?"
Rynveil's tone softened, just barely.
"It's Mog. His original form, what he becomes when he's dormant."
I stared at the stone. It pulsed faintly in my hand, a slow rhythmic glow like a sleeping heart.
Rynveil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"He said thank you for saving him. And if you ever need him again, just use that stone. He'll answer."
I looked down at it, warmth settling in my chest.
"I see."
For a moment, silence hung between us, the quiet kind that carries meaning without needing words.
Then the Chronicle stirred.
A low hum rose from its pages, golden runes lifting into the air. The warmth deepened, swirling around us.
Rynveil took a cautious step back.
"And there it goes again."
The Codex's light brightened, weaving through the air like threads of dawn. Mog's small dormant stone began to glow in resonance.
His figure, gentle and luminous, etched itself onto one of the Chronicle's pages.
The Slypheeds shimmered, their glow synchronizing, and Seville's faint image appeared next to them.
The Codex recorded their essence, preserving their bonds, immortalizing what had happened in the Khel Mines.
A rush of warmth surged through me. My pulse quickened as light ran beneath my skin, tracing lines of power like flowing ink.
"What's this feeling?" I murmured.
"Master, what's happening?" Arin asked, half in awe, half in worry.
"Don't worry, twig," Rynveil said with a small smirk.
"That's normal. Your Master's syncing with the Codex again. The more people he adds to it, the stronger both of them get. Just part of their mutual bond."
The light pulsed one last time before settling, leaving the Chronicle still and silent once more.
Then a sharp crack split the quiet.
All eyes turned toward the rustling bushes beyond the mist.
Arin was already on guard, bow half-raised. Rynveil's hand tightened on his hammer.
I shifted to my feet slowly, the dormant stone of Mog still warm in my palm.
The bushes rustled again, closer this time.
"What now?" I muttered under my breath.
The leaves parted.