CHAPTER 137: DEEP CUT 2........

"This ends now, for Valebreach." The ambush transformed the cavern into a battlefield, the wyrm’s roars blended with the wolves’ snarls, the chaos was a whirlwind of fire, sand, and steel.

Kelvin’s focus split between two relentless threats, his resolve was fueled by his parents’ memory, their legacy was a flame that burned brighter than his fear, their absence was a void that he vowed to fill by protecting the town they had loved.

Kelvin wove a water trap, its runes were snapping into place, binding a wolf’s legs, its struggles were futile as Xerion’s fiery vortex engulfed it, forcing it to retreat, its fur were singed and smoking, its dune runes flickered weakly.

The wyrm lashed out, its molten blast was aimed at Kelvin, but he dodged behind a Veil altar, its psychic runes were pulsing as he wove an ice rune to cool the flames, and steam kept rising as the attack dissipated, the altar’s glow stings his mind with psychic echoes, a reminder of the Rift’s horrors.

Vark thrust his spear, its fire rune was flaring, its tip kept grazing Kelvin’s tunic, but he countered with a fire lance, its ice-tempered flames pierced Vark’s armor, forcing him to stagger back, his snarl twisted with frustration, his scar livid in the cavern’s light.

Xerion’s tail smashed a skiff’s hull, its runes were sparking as it collapsed, the crew scattered with their spears thrusting wildly, their wolves charged with dune-enhanced speed and their snarls was a cacophony that echoed the wyrm’s roars.

Kelvin snapped another water trap while binding a second wolf, its claws scraped the stone as Xerion’s flames seared the third, its howl pierced the cavern, the chaos was a whirlwind of fire and fury, the wyrm and Vark’s Crew was a dual threat that tested their synergy and their was bond a seamless dance amidst the turmoil.

The cavern trembled, cracks were widening as the wyrm’s tail struck a wall, debris kept raining down, forcing Kelvin to roll with his gauntlet flaring to shield him.

Xerion’s vortex countered the wyrm’s flames with a blaze of crimson and gold, their movements was a testament to their Sanctum training, their resolve was unyielding despite the overwhelming odds.

The wyrm’s Veil-tainted eyes glowed brighter, as its roars laced with psychic energy that stung Kelvin’s mind, a chilling echo of the Sovereign’s assaults in the Rift, but he pushed through and landed a precise fire lance that pierced the wyrm’s shoulder, drawing a roar of pain while molten ichor seeped from the wound, its violet glow was mirroring the Veil scale in his pack which confirmed the beast’s unnatural origins.

The beast retreated as its wounds were bleeding but its power was unyielding, collapsing a tunnel as it fled deeper into the mines, the crash of stone was drowning Vark’s curses, the cavern’s instability was a mirror of the collapse that took Kelvin’s parents, threatening to bury them all.

Kelvin turned his focus to the crew, weaving a water rune to douse a wolf’s dune-enhanced charge, its snarls were fading as it limped back.

Xerion’s tail smashed another skiff, its crew was leaping clear as it burned, their spears were dimming under the serpent’s onslaught, their faces were twisted with fear and rage.

Vark fought fiercely, his spear was weaving fire arcs, its runes were flaring with stolen essence but Kelvin’s ice runes cooled the attacks, his fire lance pierced Vark’s armor, forcing him to retreat, his eyes were blazing with hatred as he mounted a skiff, his voice was a venomous hiss, "This ain’t over, hero.

The wyrm is ours, and we will bury you with it in these mines!" The crew vanished into the tunnels, their engines faded into the darkness, leaving the cavern scorched and silent, the molten pool rippled with fading flames.

Kelvin was shaken but resolute, Xerion’s hiss was fierce with pride, their victory was a testament to their growth since the Red Wastes bunker, their bond was a flame that burned brighter than Vark’s threats.

Kelvin salvaged a dune-etched spear from the wreckage, its sandy glow was pulsing faintly, a potential tool for the battles ahead, its weight was a reminder of Vark’s lingering threat, their greed was a shadow that deepened the mission’s stakes.

The collapsed tunnel revealed a hidden chamber as its entrance was framed by Veil altars that was pulsing with psychic runes, their violet glow was illuminating a riftborn core at its center, its energy was unstable, a beacon of the wyrm’s creation while its surface was shimmering with the same violet hue as the wyrm’s ichor.

Kelvin’s scars burned as he entered with the tome guiding his gauntlet to decipher the runes, their glow was stinging his mind with psychic pulses, revealing logs of Veil tamers who had unleashed the wyrm.

Their failed ritual amplified its fire essence with riftborn power, destabilizing the mines, a mirror of the collapse that killed his parents, their screams were echoing in the chamber’s silence, their loss was a void that threatened to swallow him.

Xerion’s senses detected lingering Veil energy, his hiss was sharp as they navigated traps that were triggered by the core’s pulses, their psychic sting was a reminder of the Rift’s horrors, their bond was a lifeline as Kelvin pocketed the riftborn core.

Its glow was a dangerous asset, its energy a key to countering the wyrm’s power, but a risk that could destabilize his gauntlet if mishandled.

More signs of Vark’s looting littered the chamber with scavenged psychic crystals, broken traps, dune rune shards that were scattered across the floor, suggesting they sought the core, their greed was risking further chaos, their tracks was a warning of their imminent return, their presence a shadow that deepened the mission’s stakes.

Kelvin’s heart pounded as he examined the logs, their words detailed the Veil tamers’ hubris, their attempt was to harness riftborn power, their failure was a curse that had birthed the wyrm, its flames a legacy of their folly.

Its power was a threat to Valebreach’s survival, a tragedy that echoed his parents’ deaths and their memory was a flame that burned through his fear, urging him to stop the wyrm and Vark’s Crew, to protect the town they had loved.

The chamber’s altars pulsed with unstable energy and their runes were triggered by faint tremors, forcing Kelvin to weave ice runes to stabilize the walls, their glow was cooling the stone, preventing a collapse that would mirror his parents’ fate.

He salvaged a psychic shard, its violet glow was a smaller but potent addition to his pack, its energy was a potential enhancer for his gauntlet, its instability a reminder of the Veil’s dangers.

The discovery rekindled Kelvin’s trauma from the Rift, the Sovereign’s psychic assaults was a shadow in his mind, his parents’ deaths were tied to this same essence instability, their absence was a void he vowed to fill by defeating the wyrm and stopping Vark’s Crew, their legacy was a call to action he could not ignore.

Xerion’s hiss was fierce, his scales was flaring as he sensed the wyrm’s trail deeper in the mines, their bond was a flame that burned through the chamber’s oppressive silence, guiding them back to the tunnels, the riftborn core and psychic shard in Kelvin’s pack that was pulsing faintly, their energy was a double-edged asset for the battle ahead, Vark’s threat a storm on the horizon.

Kelvin retreated to a stable tunnel to regroup, the mines’ heat kept pressing against his scars, the wyrm’s roars was echoing in the distance, their vibrations was a reminder of the battle to come and their intensity was a testament to the beast’s unyielding power.

He spread Mealin’s tome across a flat rock, its pages guiding his strategy, detailing the wyrm’s lair deeper still, a crucible of molten flame and Veil energy, its paths were marked with warnings of psychic traps and unstable shafts with their dangers a mirror of the mines’ ghosts.

He etched new water runes into his gauntlet, their glow was enhancing his fire lances, their precision was vital for the lair’s challenges, that fed Xerion wyrm essence, the serpent’s amber eyes was blazing as he devoured it.

His scales was flaring crimson and gold, his honor rune kept pulsing with vitality, his twenty-foot form was coiling tighter, his strength was a testament to their shared trials, their bond a flame that burned through Kelvin’s doubt.

Kelvin tested a fire lance, its flames was scorching a nearby wall and its accuracy was honed by the psychic crystal’s energy that was synchronizing with Xerion in a practice strike.

Their movements was like a fluid, the serpent’s tail kept coiling protectively, his hiss was fierce with determination, their 82% sync ratio a beacon of their shared resolve, a shield against the mines’ oppressive weight.

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