CHAPTER 419: MIRION’S HEART II

Marina stepped forward as the gate of glowing coral sealed shut behind her with a low, resonant hum. The water thickened around her instantly—dense, charged, and somehow ancient. She floated now in a vast, hollowed chamber shaped like a submerged coliseum. The walls pulsed with veins of living coral, glowing softly in alternating hues of deep crimson and ocean blue.

This wasn’t just a test.

It was history.

It was Mirion.

A voice, deep and layered with centuries of presence, echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"First Trial: Blood of the Brave."

"To walk the path of Mirion’s Heart, the challenger must prove their courage with steel and instinct. One who cannot face death has no place among the Heartborn."

The stillness shattered as a monstrous form broke through the upper dome of water like a meteor falling from the heavens.

The Death Stinger.

Marina’s breath caught. Even she had heard of it—an apex predator from the deepest trenches of the Mirion sea, recorded for killing more sentient beings each year than any other creature on the continent.

It loomed above her like a living nightmare.

Black as oil. Eyes a cold, soulless white. Its armor was ridged and organic, covered in runic barnacles that hissed. Its stinger was longer than a carriage, shaped like a needle forged in hell, and pulsed with venom that boiled the surrounding water.

And it was above her rank.

Far above.

"No blessings allowed. No borrowed power. Only you."

The Death Stinger didn’t hesitate—it struck like lightning, water screaming as it lunged. Marina twisted just in time, the edge of its stinger grazing her leg and searing a strip of skin raw. She spun backward, trailing blood, and kicked off the floor into a backflip, avoiding a second strike by inches.

"Tch—so it’s like that," she muttered.

She reached for her inner power—and found the suppression field heavy, nearly absolute. Her soul sense was dulled. Her strength restrained. This was meant to kill, not train.

She gritted her teeth and darted left, grabbing a chunk of broken coral from the wall and hurling it with all her might. It cracked harmlessly off the creature’s hide. The Death Stinger whipped around with unnatural speed, tendrils lashing out, slamming her across the arena like a ragdoll.

She hit the wall hard—ribs cracking, air leaving her lungs in a rush of bubbles.

Her body drifted. Bleeding. Dizzy. Drowning in pressure.

But she moved.

She grabbed a serrated coral dagger embedded in the arena floor, pushed off the wall, and swam low—circling the creature like a shark.

It charged again, maw wide and glowing with venom.

Marina rolled beneath it, flipped mid-spin, and drove the dagger into a thin fold of flesh just behind the left fin. The monster shrieked, bucking violently. The dagger didn’t kill—but it hurt.

That was enough.

She danced around its attacks, bleeding from half a dozen wounds, limbs burning with strain—but her eyes stayed sharp. Watching. Learning.

One opening. One weak spot.

There.

She feinted left—drew the stinger down—and in that flash of vulnerability, swam upward, planting both boots against its underbelly and yanked the blade still lodged in its side.

RIP.

Blood burst from the opening, staining the water with thick ichor. The Death Stinger flailed wildly, thrashing against the coral walls.

She used the recoil to launch herself above it, wrapped both hands around the coral dagger, and with a scream of raw fury—plunged it into the monster’s eye.

Crack.

It stilled. Shuddered. Then went limp.

Silence reclaimed the arena.

The great beast, so feared and legendary, floated like a shadow slain.

The water glowed gold.

The voice returned, calm and absolute.

"Trial One complete. Courage proven. Seal One of Mirion’s Heart: Released."

A warm current lifted Marina upward. Her wounds ached. Her blood painted the water red.

But she rose.

The coral gate ahead unsealed, and light flooded the chamber.

Marina swam forward, her limbs sore and her breath still heavy from the brutal battle with the Death Stinger. The scars of the clash still tingled along her skin, even as the radiant water began to ease the burn. She passed through the open arch of shimmering coral and into a new chamber—only to find a surreal sight.

A vast pool stretched before her, surrounded by smooth, black-stone tiles that shimmered with embedded soul-crystals. Steam curled lazily into the air, perfumed with hints of mint and starlily. And there, soaking as if this were a royal spa retreat rather than a soul-wracking death trial, was Asher.

He was half-submerged in the water, arms draped across the edge like a lounging emperor. The rest of the party—Catherine, Veyra, Freya even Valeris—were also reclining, drinks in hand, eyes half-lidded with relaxation. It looked less like a trial and more like an expensive retreat.

Asher blinked when he saw Marina standing at the edge of the pool, dripping and war-worn.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Shouldn’t you still be in the trial chamber?"

Marina hesitated, unsure if this was part of some illusion or another mental trick. But then the voice of the guardian echoed gently within her mind, calm and absolute.

"You have earned rest. Thirty minutes of reprieve after each trial. You may heal, reflect, or simply breathe. Use it wisely."

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"Resting time," she muttered to herself, then nodded as she approached the edge and slid slowly into the water. The heat sank into her bones, soothing the ache from her ribs, her knees, and the venom burn on her side. The tension melted from her shoulders in seconds.

Asher gave a short nod, eyes already drifting shut again. "Told you. These legacy trials aren’t all torture."

Marina leaned her head back against the smooth edge of the spring, letting her hair fan out in the water as she sighed deeply. "If this is the reward, I might actually survive the rest of it."

She closed her eyes—just for a moment. Around her, the warm water glowed faintly, slowly beginning to knit the damage across her body and soul, preparing her for what came next.

After some time..

Marina’s body rose from the serene waters of the spring like a summoned soul, droplets sliding from her skin as if reluctant to let go. A faint hum surged through the air, and before she could fully open her eyes, the warmth of the pool was gone.

She now stood upon a vast platform of blue stone ringed by a spiraling coliseum of coral, shimmering with translucent life. Above, no sky—only an abyss of deep ocean light, and below, a yawning depth veiled in shadows.

The Guardian’s voice echoed inside her mind once more—calm, unyielding.

"The Trial of Hardship begins. This arena knows no mercy. You will face a legion of mirage beasts, each stronger than the last. Use your powers. Every kill draws you closer to the Heartborn Legacy. You must reach one thousand."

The words settled in her chest like iron.

Asher, far away, reclined again in the spring, eyes half-lidded as Catherine asked gently, "Do you think she’ll succeed?"

He didn’t answer right away, his hand trailing the water’s surface. "Don’t know," he murmured. "But this trial isn’t exactly easy, if I say so."

Back in the arena, Marina inhaled sharply—and the first monster emerged.

A spectral Rift Snapper, twice her size, spiraled out from the coral walls, jaws yawning open with ghostfire spilling between rows of jagged teeth. No time to prepare.

She moved instantly.

Mist trailed from her limbs—thick, dark, and reeking of saltrot—as her body shimmered with the eerie sheen of Blackmist. Her heels twisted as she sidestepped the snapper’s lunge, claws already extended with liquified decay. With one precise swipe, her fingertips sliced through the creature’s gill. Rot spread instantly, flesh sloughing off the bone in a froth of dissolving matter. One down.

The ground beneath her pulsed.

Twin Stone Vipers burst out of the coral floor, fangs dripping with venom, their voidglass eyes fixed on her like cursed relics. They struck in tandem. Marina, sharpened by trial-born instinct, slipped between them like a rippling shadow. Her hand lashed upward, and a jet of concentrated Blackmist ejected like a lance, piercing one snake’s eye. With her pivoting heel, she spun and struck the other’s skull—her foot wreathed in misty corrosion. Stone cracked, bone gave way.

Three.

They kept coming.

A pack of Sea Dreadlings slithered from the walls—skeletal quadrupeds with exposed rib cages and tails bristling with hooked spines. Marina’s breath came hot and heavy, her core already blazing with strain. But she grinned, teeth bloodied.

"Come on, then."

She surged into their ranks like the heart of a typhoon.

Mist cloaked her every step, forming whorls of decay around her limbs. Her movements were a lethal current, slashing and rolling with calculated grace. Each strike sent waves of corrupted water crashing into the monsters, causing their shells to blacken, crack, and dissolve in mid-roar. Her body was a phantom of the depths—visible one moment, intangible the next.

Ten. Twenty. Forty.

Still they came.