CHAPTER 133: FRIENDS, SNITCHES AND BETRAYAL 2

Kelvin recognized them instantly, the same crew that had cornered him in the Red Wastes bunker years ago, their taunts ringed as he had unleashed Xerion’s flames, a desperate act that had marked his first true sync, his survival a spark that had led him to the Sanctum.

Now, they sought to exploit the wyrm’s chaos, scavenging loot from the mines’ ruins, their greed was endangering Valebreach’s fragile stability, their presence was a big threat that he could not ignore.

Vark’s voice was a low growl, his scar was twisting as he sneered, his spear tapped the ground with menace. "Back from your fancy school, hero? You abandoned Valebreach, left us to rot while you played with runes and beasts.

That Veilbane Medal won’t save you. Hand over your Sanctum gear, or we will take it from your corpse." Kelvin’s scars tingled, his gauntlet flared with fire runes, its glow was casting sharp shadows across the ash, his voice was steady but sharp, his resolve was unyielding.

"I am here to save this town, Vark, not to feed your greed. You want my gear? Try and take it." Xerion uncoiled, his scales blazed with crimson and gold, his fiery vortex ignited the ash around them, a ring of flames that pulsed with their sync ratio, his hiss was a warning that shook the ground, his amber eyes were fierce with defiance.

The wolves charged, their dune runes flared, their claws tore at the earth, their snarls was a cacophony of hunger, but Kelvin and Xerion moved as one, their bond was a heartbeat that drove their actions.

Kelvin wove a fire lance, its flames was tempered by ice runes, scorching a wolf’s flank and forcing it to back down and retreat, its fur singed and smoking.

Xerion’s tail lashed, shattering a skiff’s hull, its runes was sparking as it collapsed, the crew scattered with curses, their spears thrusted wildly.

Vark lunged, his spear’s fire rune flared, its tip aimed at Kelvin’s chest, but Kelvin countered with a water rune, its glow was dousing the attack, steam kept rising as the spear dimmed, Vark’s snarl twisted with frustration.

The skirmish was intense, the wolves’ snarls overlapped with Xerion’s roars, the ash swirling as Kelvin’s gauntlet snapped traps, their water runes binding a wolf’s legs, its struggles futile as Xerion’s flames seared another, its howl piercing the night.

Kelvin dodged a spear thrust with his scars tingling as he rolled, synchronizing with Xerion to unleash a fiery vortex that engulfed a skiff, its crew leaping clear as it burned, their wolves retreated under the serpent’s onslaught.

Vark fought fiercely, his spear was weaving fire arcs, but Kelvin’s ice runes cooled the attacks, his fire lance pierced Vark’s armor, forcing him to stagger back and his eyes blazed with hatred.

The crew faltered, their beasts were overwhelmed, and Vark retreated, his voice was a venomous hiss as he mounted a skiff. "This is not yet over, hero. The wyrm is ours, and so is its loot.

You will burn in those mines." The skiffs vanished into the dunes, their engines faded leaving Kelvin’s scars tingling, his confidence bolstered, Xerion’s hiss was fierce with pride, their victory was a testament to their growth since the bunker, their bond was a flame that burned brighter than Vark’s threats.

The confrontation revealed Vark’s Crew as a recurring threat, their greed was a danger to Valebreach’s fragile stability, their motives were tied to the wyrm’s chaos, possibly its Veil-linked power, a shadow that deepened the mission’s stakes.

Kelvin’s resolve became hardened by his encounter with Vark, his parents’ absence fueled his determination, their memory was a call to protect the town they had loved, their legacy was a shield against the fear that lingered in his heart.

He returned to the container, the ash was settling outside, and refined his mission plan, spreading Mealin’s tome across the table, its wyrm lore guided his strategy with meticulous detail.

He mapped the mines’ unstable tunnels, their paths were etched with fire essence warnings, their collapsed shafts was a maze of danger and memory, and prepared water and ice runes, their glow was steady in his gauntlet, designed to counter the wyrm’s flames and speed.

He synced with Xerion, practicing fire lances in the container’s small yard, their flames scorching practice targets, their bond steady despite his fear of the mines’ ghosts.

The serpent’s scales flared with crimson and gold, his tail coiled protectively, his amber eyes were fierce with determination, their 82% sync ratio a flame that burned through Kelvin’s doubt, a beacon of their shared strength.

Letters from Lyra and Darius arrived which were carried by rune-etched birds, their parchment glowed faintly with Sanctum magic, their words were a lifeline across the distance that separated the Tide’s Crest.

Lyra wrote of Duskfall’s shadowed groves, her shadow traps pinning rogue tamers’ beasts, their screeches echoing in the darkness, but her sister’s memory was heavy, Salaris’s screeches guiding her through the traps, her gauntlet flaring with determination, her resolve was unyielding despite the emotional weight.

Darius described Ironholt’s ruins, his rift-sealing gems binded spectral energies, their glow was stabilizing his soulstone, but the remnant’s presence kept haunting, while Rhoam’s growls was anchoring his courage, his grin sharp in his words, his determination a mirror of Kelvin’s own.

The letters strengthened Kelvin’s resolve, their words was a reminder of their unity, their missions were parallel struggles to reclaim their pasts, their bonds a flame that burned across the land.

He penned replies, promising updates from Valebreach, detailing the wyrm’s threat and Vark’s ambush, his hand steady as he wrote, Xerion’s warmth beside him, the container’s quiet a stark contrast to the mines’ looming threat, the portrait of his parents watching over him, their smiles a quiet encouragement.

The monitoring device hummed, its runes were flickering with a message: "The wyrm’s fire tests your heart. Reclaim Valebreach for those lost."

The words underscored the mission’s stakes, the wyrm’s ferocity was a trial of Kelvin’s courage, its possible Veil ties a shadow that deepened the challenge, a warning of the fire and fury awaiting in the mines.

He clutched his amulet, its drake essence was warm, his parents’ memory was a flame that burned brighter than his fear, their absence was a void he vowed to fill by saving Valebreach, their legacy a call to action he could not ignore.

With Kelvin standing at the container’s door, Xerion coiled beside him, his scales gleaming in the moonlight, the mines’ glow a fiery beacon on the horizon, their tunnels a labyrinth of danger and memory, their fire essence a pulse that echoed his father’s final moments.

His Veilbane Medal gleamed, its violet and gold surface was a symbol of his triumph and his burden, his resolve burning like the fire essence he had faced, ready to confront the wyrm and reclaim his past, his bond with Xerion a flame that would guide him through the shadows of Valebreach’s mines.

The dawn broke over Valebreach, with its jagged cliffs bathed in a crimson glow, the mines’ entrance was a yawning abyss carved into the earth, its edges pulsed with fire essence veins that snaked through the rock like the arteries of a slumbering beast, their light casting eerie shadows across the scorched ground.

Kelvin stood at the threshold, his pack was heavy with Master Mealin’s fire-sealed tome, fire-resistant ores, wyrm essence, water runes, ice runes, and the rune-etched pick that was gifted by the town’s elderly smith, each item was a vital tool for the mission to confront the rogue fire-wyrm threatening Valebreach’s heart.

Xerion slithered beside him, his twenty-foot serpentine form was a cascade of crimson and gold scales, their faint scars were shimmering with restored vitality, the honor rune etched in the Sanctum’s infirmary glowing softly, his amber eyes scanning the dark entrance with unyielding vigilance, their 82% sync ratio pulsing warmly in Kelvin’s chest, a steady anchor against the memories that surged with every step.

Kelvin’s parents’ deaths in these mines, their screams were swallowed by a collapse triggered by unstable fire essence, his father’s burning form a shadow etched in his nightmares.

The drake-essence amulet at his chest, was warm with Mealin’s encouragement which glowed faintly, echoing his mentor’s words: "Honor their legacy, Kelvin. You are stronger than your fear and always bear this in your mind."

The wyrm’s roars echoed from the depths, a deep rumble that shook loose pebbles at his feet, their clatter was a prelude to the danger within, but Xerion’s hiss was fierce, his scales flared briefly, which was a promise of strength as they descended into the mines’ scorched labyrinth.

The upper tunnels were a maze of blackened stone, their walls were etched with ancient runes that flickered with unstable energy.

Their surfaces were scarred by molten flows that had hardened into jagged ridges which were littered with the remnants of miners’ lives that were rusted picks, shattered lanterns, charred crates and their wood were splintered by the wyrm’s fiery passage.