Chapter 508: Shackles
The proclamation’s echo hadn’t even faded when the air itself caught fire.
Flames bled from the crack in the sky, not wild and untamed, but heavy—like molten iron poured into invisible molds. They shaped themselves into a towering figure, armored from head to toe, its plates glowing with cracks of heat. Chains clattered across his shoulders, dragging behind him like molten anchors.
When his helm tilted, the glow of his eyes was nothing but embers.
Roselia staggered back a step. "...A Herald."
Naval’s grip tightened on his trident. "No. Worse. That’s the Throne’s avatar."
The armored giant’s voice rang out, metallic and deep, carrying both fire’s fury and iron’s finality.
"Flamebreaker. You took the seat of Kar’veth. By decree of Ash and Iron, your claim must be tested."
Leon’s pulse pounded in his ears. His Shell Reverb stirred again, pressing against him like a restless tide. This wasn’t a champion he could wear down, nor a test of skill. This was the weight of a Throne itself bearing down on him.
Milim’s wings snapped open, her aura sparking. "Finally! Someone worth punching!"
Leon raised a hand. "No." His voice was firm. "This one’s mine."
Roman barked a laugh, even as he wiped blood from his mouth. "Heard that tone before. Means we’d just get in the way, huh?"
Leon nodded. "Exactly."
The Herald lifted one molten hand. Chains of ash and iron erupted from the ground, encircling the battlefield. They rose like blackened walls, sealing them in a crucible.
"Then fight, Flamebreaker. Prove your pulse can stand against the weight of a Throne."
The chains rattled like drums. The air grew so hot it warped sight.
Leon exhaled slowly. His Shell layers shimmered around him—Tripart Echo, Absolute Return, Karmic Loop, Origin Pulse—all bending together into a single steady rhythm.
He met the avatar’s burning gaze and spoke with quiet resolve.
"Then I’ll show you why the Tower itself gave me the shard."
And with that, he stepped forward.
The crucible closed.
The first strike came without warning.
The Herald’s arm swept down, a slab of iron wreathed in fire. The ground buckled under the blow, molten cracks spiderwebbing outward. Leon moved just as fast—the echo of his step carried him three times over, Tripart Echo dragging his body in perfect rhythm so the strike hit nothing but fading afterimages.
Chains whipped from the Herald’s back, snapping toward him like iron vipers. Leon extended his hand, Absolute Return flaring—each chain recoiled, slamming back toward its origin, forcing the Herald to catch his own assault with one massive gauntlet.
The clash boomed like mountains colliding.
From behind the barrier, Roselia whispered, "He’s... bending the avatar’s law."
Naval’s jaw clenched. "Not bending. Fighting fire with fire."
Leon didn’t pause. His Shell Pulse deepened, the battlefield’s rhythm shifting again—his heartbeats set the tempo, and the avatar’s chains stumbled, their movements half a breath late. Leon’s gauntlet ignited as he slammed his fist forward. The punch struck with Karmic Loop, each impact folding into the next, rippling through the avatar’s chestplate like a drumbeat that wouldn’t end.
For the first time, the Herald staggered. Flames guttered, iron plates cracking.
But the retaliation came instantly. The avatar thrust both arms down. The entire crucible shook as chains of ash erupted from beneath Leon, coiling like serpents to drag him under. Fire bled through the cracks in the ground, turning the arena into a lake of molten light.
Leon leapt—only for a chain to snare his ankle mid-air. The pull was absolute. The Herald’s voice thundered:
"Ash buries all flame. Iron outlasts all sparks."
The chains yanked him downward. The molten ground surged up to swallow him whole.
"Leon!" Milim screamed, her wings flaring.
But Leon didn’t resist the pull. He let it drag him, eyes closing for a single heartbeat. Inside him, the Shell Fragment trembled—Fracture Requiem stirring, begging release.
Not yet. Not until it counts.
When the molten tide engulfed him, his eyes snapped open. His voice carried through the crucible:
"Origin Pulse—Resonance Ascendant!"
The ground detonated. A shockwave of pure rhythm blasted upward, scattering chains and hurling molten fire into the air. Leon rose with it, not falling but climbing each echo of his pulse, step by step, until he stood level with the avatar’s helm.
He drew his arm back. Every Shell layer sang together—Absolute Return twisting inevitability, Tripart Echo splitting force, Karmic Loop multiplying weight, Origin Pulse tying it all into a single rhythm.
His strike landed.
The avatar’s helm cracked down the center, fire bleeding through the wound.
The Herald roared, molten voice shaking the crucible.
"Then show me the rest of your flame, Flamebreaker! Or be consumed!"
Chains and fire surged again, drowning the sky.
The crucible was chaos.
Flames whirled into spirals, chains screamed through the air, and the Herald’s form blazed brighter with every strike. Each movement carried the weight of inevitability, as though the battle itself bent to his decree: that no flame could endure.
Leon’s body was breaking under it. Every step felt heavier, every fracture inside him rattling as if the world wanted to crush his rhythm flat. His gauntlet steamed, skin burning, yet he didn’t yield.
"Leon!" Roselia’s voice cut through the fire. "You can’t match him blow for blow—"
"I’m not," Leon growled, dragging his fist upward to parry a chain that split into three mid-swing. Absolute Return redirected them, snapping them back like whips, tearing through stone pillars. "I’m writing a rhythm he can’t follow."
The Herald’s helm tilted, a glow of fury burning in its hollow eyes. The giant slammed both fists into the ground, and suddenly the crucible shifted—walls of fire rose high, sealing the battlefield. Chains poured from the ceiling like a storm of swords.
Naval swore under his breath. "He’s turning the whole domain into a cage."
Leon’s pulse quickened. His echoes were faltering—Tripart Echo strained to keep up with the endless storm. Every resonance screamed that his tempo was slipping.
If I lose it now, we all die.
The Shell Fragment inside him writhed, unstable, half-broken. It wanted out—wanted to consume him. Fracture Requiem whispered across his thoughts, promising devastation if he let it run wild.
But Leon clenched his teeth, forcing his will down over it. Not like before. Not suicide. This time, I don’t break to it. I conduct it.
The battlefield pulsed again. His Shell Pulse layers aligned, the rhythm steadying under his command. Tripart Echo doubled, then tripled—Absolute Return coiled inevitability tighter, Karmic Loop wove it into unending repetition.
The fractures didn’t tear outward this time. They folded inward, into himself.
And suddenly, he felt it—another layer, fragile but clear.
The Sixth Pulse.
A low vibration thrummed out from his chest, deeper than resonance, deeper than law. The battlefield itself faltered as if the Tower leaned in to listen. Chains slowed mid-flight, fire guttered against invisible pressure.
Leon’s voice rang out, steady and unyielding:
"Shell Reverb—Pulse Six: Null Vow."
Every chain that touched him unraveled into dust. Every decree of the Herald that said endure or consume simply... failed to exist. His flame did not burn brighter—it burned untouched.
The Herald staggered, molten fury shattering into disbelief.
"Impossible... you silence my law?"
Leon’s eyes burned with white fire as he stepped forward, each pulse erasing the avatar’s commands. "Your vow shackles. Mine unbinds."
Then he launched forward, fist drawn, the Sixth Pulse carrying him through the storm like a silence louder than any roar.