Chapter 71: Asriel
Stephan hissed as the familiar burn spread through his veins.
[Soulforged Will Activated]
[Souls Burned: 5]
[Total Expended: 15]
His ribs pulled tight as bone knitted; torn muscle wove itself together in painful, twitching spasms. Breath came easier, but his chest still felt like it was caught in a vice. The price was steep, fifteen souls reduced to ash inside him, gone forever. He had never consumed so much in one battle, not even in the Abyssal Realm where horror lurked in every shadow.
This was different. This fight had carved him raw. It was his greatest trial since clawing his way out of the Abyssal Realm .
He lowered his blade, eyes narrowing at the mountain of rubble that had once been his enemies. He had half-hoped to extract something from them, anything. Even fragments. But the moment he pressed his will into the broken stone, the truth hit him: they were hollow. Empty vessels. No souls, no essence, no reward. Just carved shells powered by borrowed runes.
Stephan spat blood into the dust, disgust curling in his gut. Damn it. All that for nothing.
Slowly, he turned his gaze upward. The woman sat exactly where she had before, bound in those monstrous chains, watching him with unsettling calm. Her pale form shimmered faintly in the torchlight, her beauty as sharp and dangerous as a blade left in frost.
The silence between them stretched. His sword arm trembled faintly from fatigue, though he held it steady with effort.
Come to think of it... I don’t even know her name.
He tilted his head, smirking despite the ache in his body. "You’ve been talking big since I walked in here, but you never introduced yourself. What am I supposed to call you...’lady in chains’? ’Cursed statue queen’? Or do you actually have a name?"
The woman’s lips curled in a smile that was equal parts amusement and warning. The chains around her pulsed. Her eyes, aglow with a light that felt neither mortal nor divine, locked onto his.
"You wish to know my name, mortal?" she asked, her voice velvet laced with venom. "Names have power. My enemies thought binding mine would erase me from memory. Even the gods dared not speak it when they buried me here."
Her tone dipped low, dangerous. "And yet you ask."
Stephan chuckled, rolling his shoulders despite the pain. "If I’m going to decide whether to cut those chains or leave you rotting, I’d at least like to know who I’m dealing with. Seems fair, doesn’t it?"
The chamber grew colder, shadows bending inward as though the mountain itself listened.
Finally, she leaned forward, the faint glow of her soul-form tightening into sharp definition.
"Very well," she whispered. "Since you have earned the right to stand here among the ashes of my wardens... I will tell you."
"I wore a thousand names," she said, the syllables sliding through the hall like a blade through silk. "Witch. Devil. Deceiver. Whore." Her smile was patient, almost fond, as if she were reminiscing over toys long since broken. "My birth-name...what my mother called me before the world learned to spit on us, was Asriel."
She let the name hang there, soft and dangerous. When she spoke of her mother, something like warmth flickered across her face for a heartbeat. "My mother...she practiced the old, dark arts. She taught me everything she had: words, bindings, how to bend the marrow of the world. She used what little power she had to lash out at those who hurt her." Her fingers toyed with the chain at her wrist, a slow, idle motion. "I... I chose otherwise."
"Asriel’s mouth curved. "Where she punished, I wanted to build. I wanted to forge humanity into something that would not bow, to give them strength enough to stand above elves and orcs and gnomes. I tried to teach them, to graft power into their hands so they could seize their place. But mortals fear what they do not understand. They named me witch, then traitor, then enemy."
Her laugh was soft, with no humor in it. "They begged the gods to bind me. They begged for something to save them from what they had become. So the gods, terrified, jealous, petty, took my flesh from me, tore my name from the world and sealed what remained inside this mountain. They thought that by separating spirit from body they had ended me."
She leaned forward, eyes glittering beneath her hair. "They were wrong. I destroyed them. I burned what could not be redeemed. I closed a Chapter of weak, squabbling mortals and left a silence where their cities once stood. And now... now I wait. I grow hungry."
Her voice dropped to a whisper that filled the cavern like frost. "You may call me monster, boy. But I call it justice."
"Everyone’s got their own version of justice," Stephan said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "Everyone thinks they’re the hero of their own story."
Asriel tilted her head at him, the faintest curve tugging at her lips. "I’m glad you are not so quick to judge me, mortal. Perhaps you understand, then. My only regret is that I was too far ahead of my time. Humanity was not ready to follow where I led." Her purple eyes glowed brighter, burning with strange anticipation. "I trust your intentions in setting me free have not changed either?"
Stephan closed his eyes for a moment. The silence hung heavy between them, broken only by the faint rattle of the chains that bound her. He breathed deeply, as if weighing the entire mountain’s worth of risk in that single exhale.
When he opened his eyes again, resolve burned in them. He stepped forward, boots ringing against the stone floor, and mounted the stairs toward her throne. "My intentions," he said slowly, deliberately, "are still the same. I’m going to set you free."
The words made her smile widen, a predator’s grin hiding behind a mask of regal poise. The chains trembled as though sensing their end.
Stephan raised his ossuary sword. The blade thrummed with dark fire, its edge whispering in a tongue only he could hear. He pressed its burning edge against the thickest shackle, channeling his soul energy into the runes carved across its surface.
The glyphs along the chains flared and split. The first link shattered with a deafening crack, fragments of molten iron scattering like sparks from a forge. The shockwave rippled through the chamber, knocking dust loose from the ceiling.
Asriel inhaled sharply, her chest rising as though the air itself had been denied to her until this very moment.
Stephan didn’t stop. One by one he pressed his blade to the glowing links, pouring power into each strike. Every chain that fell shrieked like a wounded god. Every shackle broken sent ripples of purple energy pulsing outward, rattling the colossal statues that had already been reduced to rubble.
Finally, the last restraint exploded in a flare of blinding light. The chains fell slack around the throne, their weight ringing against the stone floor.
Asriel rose to her feet. Freed from her prison, her form solidified, her beauty sharpened to something almost divine. Her hair cascaded in waves of silk, her horns gleamed like polished onyx, and the purple light in her eyes deepened into something more dangerous, something eternal. She stretched her arms wide, savoring freedom like a starving predator tasting blood again.
"Mortal," she whispered, her voice resonating through the chamber. "You have done what none before you dared. You have given me back the sky."
She stepped past him, down the cracked steps of her throne, her aura rolling off her in waves that made the torches flare higher. She didn’t look back as she moved toward the edge of the chamber, toward the passage that led out of her prison.
"Now," she said lightly, as though it were already decided, "you will help me find my body. It lies sealed in another place, hidden by the coward gods who feared me. Reunite me with it, and I will reward you with more power than your mortal frame can imagine."
Stephan chuckled under his breath. The sound made her pause mid-stride.
"Something amusing?" she asked, her tone still sweet but her eyes narrowing.
He smiled, the dark kind that carried no warmth. "You misunderstood me."
Her brows arched.
"I said I’d set you free," Stephan clarified, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. "I never promised I’d help you find your body."
Her eyes flashed dangerously.
"And more importantly," Stephan continued, his voice dropping into something sharper, colder, "I never said I’d let you walk out of this prison alive."
The room seemed to freeze. The purple flames guttered, shadows stretched across the walls, and the air thickened with raw tension.
For the first time, Asriel’s smile faltered. "You... intend to stop me?"
Stephan drew his sword in a fluid motion, black fire roaring along its edge. His grin widened, savage and confident. "Stop you? No." He raised the blade and pointed it at her. "I intend to extract you. Your soul is worth more to me than your freedom ever was."
Asriel’s expression hardened, the regal mask peeling away to reveal the fury beneath. Her voice dropped, low and venomous. "You dare betray me?"
Stephan’s grip tightened, his aura flaring to meet hers. "Not betrayal," he said. "Strategy. You’re not walking out of here, Asriel. You’re mine now."
Her laugh this time was bitter, sharp as broken glass. "Very well, mortal. If you wish to claim me, then you’ll suffer as the gods did when they tried. Come and burn in the fire you’ve unleashed."
Their auras collided, her violet fury against his black inferno. The mountain shook, the torches screamed, and the chamber itself seemed to recoil as predator and predator prepared to clash.