CHAPTER 103: SKELETON KING

The skeletal king stepped forward again, each movement ringing like a funeral bell — heavy, deliberate, ancient. The greatsword scraped across stone, leaving a deep gouge that sparked faint blue ether.

Oliver rolled his shoulders once, knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.

Fast... heavy... but predictable, he thought.

The Undead King’s head tilted, as if hearing his thoughts — twin blue flames flaring brighter beneath its visor.

Then it moved.

FWOOOSH—!

The greatsword came down like a thunderbolt.

Oliver darted aside — stone shattered where he had stood a heartbeat ago.

Before the impact dust even rose, he lunged in — both hands gripping his sword — and slashed across the king’s exposed ribcage.

CLANG—!

The blade struck something harder than steel.

Oliver’s eyes widened.

It’s... reinforced bone? No — enchanted.

The skeletal king twisted its wrist and backhanded him.

BAM—!!

Oliver flew back, skidding across the cracked stone floor, blood spraying from his lips.

"Oliver!" Ariana shouted.

"I’ve got him!" Elisha cried, raising her staff — light magic forming between her palms.

"Don’t!" Oliver coughed, pushing himself up, wiping the blood from his chin. "Save your mana— I’m not done yet."

Isolde glanced over her shoulder, assessing him with a calm, cold eye. She didn’t move to help — but her magic flared beside her like a warning.

She’s watching. If I fall— she’ll act.

Good.

Oliver cracked his neck and stood.

The Undead King slowly lowered its greatsword. The blue flames in its eyes dimmed for a moment — not out of mercy.

Out of recognition.

This opponent was worth killing properly.

Oliver exhaled. His whole body hummed with mana — more than before. Muscles knitting, bones steady. The Rune of Vigor was doing its work. Blood dripped from his lip, but his eyes were clear.

"That all you’ve got, bonehead?"

The skeleton lifted its sword again.

Oliver charged.

—

All around them, the battle raged.

Isolde stood at the center of a swirling inferno — her hands drawing burning sigils in the air.

"Crimson Bind."

Chains of molten light snapped around three skeletal knights — then burst, incinerating them to ash.

More advanced.

She clicked her tongue. "Persistent trash."

Ronald fought like a man possessed — his swordsmanship refined, royal knight training visible in every swing. Ariana stood behind him, staff glowing as she cast:

"High Regen — Restore Vitalis!"

Searing golden light wrapped around Ronald’s bleeding arm — the wound sealed instantly.

He looked back in disbelief.

Ariana smiled. "Keep fighting."

"I owe you one."

"Then don’t die."

—

Elisha stood near the rear, hands clasped around her catalyst, breathing shakily. She wasn’t useless — light shields flickered each time an undead arrow launched toward Ariana.

She watched Oliver’s fight — couldn’t look away.

He was a blur — ducking, rolling, parrying strikes that should have crushed him.

The king swung horizontally.

Oliver jumped — air rushing past his boots as the greatsword screamed beneath him.

Mid-air — he twisted, blade raised.

He brought it down—

CLAAANG—!!

A direct strike to the king’s shoulder.

This time — a crack appeared.

Bone splintering.

Oliver grinned savagely. "Got you."

The King didn’t react. Its hollow jaw bone shifted, almost like a smile.

It abruptly thrust its palm forward.

BOOOOM!

A wave of deathly blue mana exploded point-blank.

Oliver was launched backward— slammed into a broken pillar.

CRASH—!!

Stone crumbled.

Dust surged.

"Oliver!" Ariana screamed.

He groaned. Every rib screamed. But he forced himself out of the rubble — and spat blood.

"Still... alive..."

The king advanced — sword raised for the finishing blow.

Oliver wiped the blood from his chin.

His body felt like fire — but his eyes were burning brighter.

"No more holding back."

He gripped his weapon tighter.

Light flickered along the runes carved into the blade — igniting.

—[Rune Activation: Ember Trace]—

His sword ignited with flowing orange symbols — fire swirling around the edge.

The Undead King raised its sword.

Oliver vanished.

To Elisha’s eyes — he blurred.

To Ronald — he disappeared.

To Isolde — he moved exactly as she expected.

He reappeared in front of the king — sword trailing blazing arcs.

He swung.

A burning crescent tore through the air — striking the skull.

CRACK—!!

The crown shattered.

The blue fire inside the king’s helmet flickered — unstable.

It staggered.

Oliver exhaled — then whispered:

"Fall."

He plunged his flaming sword into its chest.

The runes flared.

WHOOM—!!!

Flame engulfed the ribcage — exploding outward.

The skeletal king trembled once — then collapsed to its knees.

Its sword fell.

The blue flame in its helm dimmed.

Then—

CRACKLE...

It went out.

Silence.

One by one — the other undead slowed.

Their swords dropped.

They crumbled — lifeless once more.

Ariana sagged to her knees in exhaustion.

Ronald lowered his blade.

Elisha let out a breath she didn’t know she’d held.

Isolde watched Oliver.

He stood there — panting, covered in blood and soot.

His grip loosened.

Sword tip touched the ground.

He didn’t fall.

But his knees shook.

She walked toward him.

"...Show-off," she said quietly.

He grinned through the blood. "You’re welcome."

***

The echo of bone collapsing still lingered in the chamber as silence finally fell.

Only the crackle of dying flames from Oliver’s sword and the faint drip of water from the ceiling remained. The oppressive aura that had weighed on the ruin dissipated like smoke — replaced by cold, stale air and an unsettling calm.

Oliver let out a slow exhale. His sword tip scraped the stone floor as he lowered it. Sweat, soot, dried blood — all clung to his skin. But he was standing.

Barely.

Isolde stepped toward him, arms folded, face unreadable. "Still alive?"

He forced a grin. "Sorry to disappoint."

"That was reckless," she said, but her tone softened. "Good work."

Ariana finally allowed herself to breathe, shoulders slumping as she sat back against a broken pillar. Ronald sheathed his sword, expression shifting from disbelief to quiet respect.

Princess Elisha — her mask gone, dirt streaked across her face — took a hesitant step toward Oliver. She opened her mouth, but instead of words, only relief escaped in a trembling breath.

****

A few meters away, bones lay scattered like broken porcelain. The remains of the Undead King’s throne glowed with faint blue veins of mana.

Ronald approached cautiously.

"What now?" he asked.

Isolde’s gaze swept across the darkened hall. "We move. This thing was only guarding something."

Oliver wiped blood from his chin. "A treasure vault? A relic? Or another monster?"

Elisha stepped forward, clutching her staff. "The records mentioned... an inner chamber. Where the expedition leader hid the royal legacy."

"Then that’s where we’re going," Oliver said.

Isolde glanced at him. "You’re in no shape to keep swinging that sword."

"I’m fine," he lied.

She rolled her eyes. "You’re terrible at lying."

"But... you’re not stopping me," he smirked.

She didn’t deny it.

*****

They advanced past the throne — deeper, where the stonework changed.

Walls once smooth turned jagged. Ancient carvings twisted into unknown runes. Some glowed with faint mana, others bled darkness like ink.

"Wait," Ariana whispered, raising a hand.

She touched her staff to a rune-etched stone. The floor ahead shimmered — revealing chains of light weaving across the hallway.

"A trap," she breathed. "Pressure-inscribed runes. Step there and... well, you won’t like the result."

Isolde crouched beside her. "Can you disable it?"

Ariana nodded. "Give me a moment."

While Ariana dispersed the trap’s mana web, Elisha watched Oliver out of the corner of her eye. He rolled his shoulder, testing his body. His wounds had closed — thanks to the Rune of Vigor — but the ache remained.

"You’re injured," she said quietly.

"I’ve been worse," he shrugged.

She hesitated — then offered a small smile. "Still... thank you. For earlier."

Oliver blinked. "Don’t mention it."

Their conversation faded as Ariana stood.

"It’s clear."

⟡ The Hidden Gate ⟡

They moved further until the corridor opened into a circular chamber.

In the center — a stone door stood, split into four segments, each carved with symbols.

A sword.

A crown.

A flame.

A blooming tree.

Oliver frowned. "A lock?"

Elisha stepped forward, brushing dust from the carvings. "No... it’s a test."

"Of what?" Isolde asked.

"Blood," she answered quietly. "Hestia royal blood."

Ronald immediately stepped in front of her. "Your Highness—"

"It’s fine, Ronald," she said, voice calm but firm.

She pressed her palm against the center sigil.

The stone drank her blood as though it were water.

—WHUMMM...

The door glowed.

Dust fell.

Stone cracked.

The ancient mechanism groaned to life.

And the chamber beyond slowly revealed itself.

⟡ What Lies Beyond ⟡

Cold mist rolled out.

Inside — silver pillars glittered faintly, broken statues lay in pieces, and at the far end stood a massive stone altar, covered in vines of glowing blue runes.

Oliver exhaled softly. "Well... guess we found it."

Isolde’s eyes narrowed. "Or something found us."

Because the air... shifted.

A sound like distant breathing echoed.

Then—

THUD.

THUD.

Something stirred deeper inside the chamber — heavy, rhythmic, alive.

Elisha sounding exhausted. "When will this end?"

Oliver lifted his sword again.

Isolde smiled faintly — the kind of smile that came only when danger excited her.

"Oh?" she whispered. "Finally. Something fun."

**********************

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