The Basalt Stair was not a staircase built by hands. It was a jagged, obsidian spine that spiraled upward into a void of swirling violet mists. Each step was a massive slab of gravity-defying rock, humming with a vibration so powerful it threatened to shake the Star-Iron armor right off Borin's chest.
"The air is dying," Borin wheezed, his glowing lantern flickering wildly. "There's no oxygen left. Only... this."
He pointed to the mist. It wasn't vapor; it was microscopic shards of mana, cutting into their skin like tiny glass razors.
"Stay close to the 'Unmoving Peak'," Jarin commanded. His voice was no longer a human whisper; it was the tectonic grind of the mountain itself.
Kaelan raised his shield. The Star-Iron surface pulsed, creating a small bubble of "Real Space" around the quartet. Inside the bubble, they could breathe; outside, the world was a chaotic soup of unmaking.
As they reached the final plateau, the mist parted.
There, sitting on a throne carved directly into the mountain's primary mana-vein, was the Corrupted King. He was once a man, perhaps the last of the Uton line, but now he was a hollow shell. His crown was fused into his skull, and his chest was a gaping ribcage filled with a pulsing, obsidian sun—the heart of the Magic Rift.
"So," the King spoke, and the sound was like a thousand graves opening at once. "The mountain sends its smallest vermin to sting me."
"We're not here to sting you," Jarin said, stepping out of the shield's protection. His horizontal pupils locked onto the obsidian sun. "We're here to ground you."
The King laughed, a dry, rattling sound. He raised a hand made of solidified shadow, and the Basalt Stair beneath them began to liquefy. "You carry the Void-Breaker, Little Delver. You think it makes you a hero? It makes you a vessel. Every strike you take, every shadow you 'eat', brings you closer to sitting on this throne."
"Don't listen to him, Jarin!" Elara shouted, firing a volley of Star-Sliver arrows.
The King didn't even move. He simply exhaled, and a wave of violet force shattered the arrows mid-air, turning them into harmless sparks.
"I am the inevitable end of the Delver's path," the King continued, his gaze fixed on Jarin. "To know the mountain is to become the mountain. To save the world is to be consumed by it. Give me the pickaxe, and I will let your friends crawl back to their sunlit dirt."
Jarin looked at Borin, who was struggling to hold his hammer. He looked at Kaelan, whose shield was cracking under the pressure. Finally, he looked at the Void-Breaker. The obsidian mist inside the metal was screaming, hungry for the King's heart.
"You're right about one thing," Jarin said, his grip tightening on the dragon-leather handle. "The mountain is my mother. And she's tired of you poisoning her blood."
Jarin didn't rush. He didn't jump. He struck the ground beneath his own feet.
The vibration didn't go outward; it went down. He tapped into the primary mana-vein beneath the throne. Using his body as a lightning rod, he pulled the raw, unrefined power of the mountain through the Basalt Stair and into the Void-Breaker.
The weapon didn't just glow; it ignited. A pillar of white and violet fire erupted from the floor, connecting Jarin to the ceiling of the world.
"Borin! The anchors!" Jarin roared.
"Aye! Planting the Star-Spikes!" Borin hammered three glowing Star-Iron stakes into the corners of the plateau, creating a magical "grounding circuit" that trapped the King in a triangle of pure starlight.
The King shrieked as the starlight began to peel away his shadow-flesh. He lunged at Jarin, his obsidian-clawed hand reaching for the Delver's throat.
Jarin swung.
He didn't aim for the King's head. He aimed for the Obsidian Sun in his chest—the source of the Rift.
The collision was silent. For a heartbeat, the entire Seventh Tier was washed in a light so bright it erased all shadows. Then, the sound returned—the sound of a god-shattering glass.
Author's Note:
The King has been struck, but the Rift is not so easily closed. Jarin has tapped into the mountain's core, a feat that no mortal has survived. As the Season One finale approaches, the question remains: What will be left of Jarin when the light fades?