The air in the Shattered Crown was no longer calm; it tasted of ozone and blood. Varga's laughter echoed off the crystal walls as her Highland Mercenaries charged, their jagged axes shattering the blue gems into razor-sharp shards.
"Shield the Living Core!" Kael roared, his crossbow barking as he dropped a mercenary leaping from the upper ledges.
Soren didn't need the order. He was a whirlwind of black steel, his sword shearing through iron and bone alike. He stayed positioned like a stone monolith between Mika and the onslaught. But the mercenaries weren't fighting like soldiers; they were fighting like animals, ignoring their own wounds to get closer to the Omega.
Mika felt the vibration of the mountain screaming in his veins. Every time a crystal was shattered, a jolt of raw energy slammed into his chest. He looked at Varga, who was casually twirling a chain-mace, watching the carnage with bored eyes.
"You think your Alpha can save you?" Varga called out, her voice cutting through the clash of steel. "The Highland doesn't fear Kings. We eat them."
The Heartwarming Shield
In a split second of silence between waves, Soren spun back to Mika. His armor was slick with dark blood, and his breathing was heavy, but his eyes were clear gold. He grabbed Mika's shoulder, pulling him into a brief, fierce proximity.
"The tunnel behind the spire leads to the lower vents," Soren rasped, his voice a low command. "Kael will take you. Go, now."
"I'm not leaving you to fight Varga alone," Mika argued, his hand tightening on the blue crystal dagger Kael had given him.
Soren leaned in, his forehead dropping against Mika's for a fraction of a second—a silent, heartbeat-long vow of survival. "You aren't leaving. You're surviving. If they get you, they get the North. I'll find you at the base of the peaks. Go!"
The Power of the Core
Mika didn't run. As Varga lunged forward, her mace swinging for Soren's head, Mika slammed his palm against the central crystal spire. He didn't just touch it; he opened his soul to it.
A shockwave of pure, azure light exploded from the spire, blinding the mercenaries and sending a physical pulse through the cavern that knocked even Soren to his knees. The sound was like a thousand bells ringing at once—the frequency Kael had mentioned.
Varga snarled, shielding her eyes as her mercenaries tumbled back, their ears bleeding from the resonance.
"The little bird has claws," Varga hissed, her face contorting with a new, dangerous respect. "But you can't hold that light forever. Eventually, you'll burn out, and I'll be there to catch the ashes."
Mika stood his ground, the blue light reflecting in his eyes, his silhouette looking less like a tragic captive and more like a God of the Mountain. The battle was far from over, but the rules had just changed.