Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 837 - 839

Chapter 837: Chapter 839

The wind around Dyrran’s outer wall was relentless, a shrieking, twisting force that dragged sand and soot in maddening circles. Jude kept low against the ridge, watching the distant torches lining the fortress. From this distance, the stronghold looked like a jagged crown of obsidian hammered into the spine of the land. The Heartstone was beneath it, buried, guarded, and veiled in lies. Nyra knelt beside him, her hand resting on the hilt of her humming blade. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. They had watched four patrols pass, noted the rotations, the gaps. There were no weaknesses. Only patterns. Jude finally exhaled. "It’s suicide." Nyra tilted her head. "That’s what they said about the Crescent War. We won that." "You call what’s left winning?" "We’re still breathing, aren’t we?" Jude scoffed but didn’t argue. They slid down the ridge, cloaked in shadow, moving silently toward the base of the wall. The metal gates towered above, adorned with the twisted sigils of the High Table, etched in the ancient tongue. Words meant to inspire fear. Nyra touched the surface lightly. "This alloy... it’s reactive. If we breach it with force, it’ll alert every Guard inside." Jude pulled a small vial from his pouch. "Not if we melt the latch." She raised an eyebrow. "Acid?" "Close. Something worse. Found it in a broken vault back in Leonork." He poured the black liquid onto the hinges. It hissed, steaming, eating through metal like it was paper. In seconds, the gate creaked open just enough for them to slip inside.

The interior was colder than the night outside. The walls shimmered faintly, infused with crystal veins that pulsed like arteries. As they crept down the corridor, the silence pressed against their ears like wool. No voices. No footsteps. Just the faint thrum of something deep, old, and breathing. Nyra halted, hand out. Ahead, a figure passed across an archway, tall, armored, its face masked in silver. A Vault Sentinel. Jude had heard of them in stories. Not human. Not quite machine. Something between. Weapons bred by the old engineers before they were burned. The Sentinel moved slowly, each step measured. Then it stopped. Turned. For a second, Jude thought it had spotted them. But the thing only tilted its head and continued walking into the shadows.

They waited until the pulse of its steps faded, then moved again. Deeper into the heart of the fortress. Nyra led this time. She seemed to know the layout, her pace steady, eyes scanning every seam and corner. Jude followed closely, his breath shallow. They passed broken murals of forgotten rulers, empty barracks, and training halls stained with centuries of blood. Then came the descent. A stairwell spiraling into the ground, wide enough for only one at a time. Jude went first. Each step felt heavier than the last. The further they went, the thicker the air became. Until finally, they emerged into a chamber unlike any other.

It stretched into darkness, with glowing roots running across the walls and ceiling, converging at a single point in the center. There, suspended in mid-air by chains of light, was the Heartstone. It was not a stone. It was a crystal, shifting colors with every breath, every thought. Jude felt it. Deep in his bones. It wasn’t just power, it was memory. Emotion. The residue of every soul bound by the High Table, fused into one core. "This is it," Nyra whispered. "We destroy this, and their hold collapses." Jude took a step forward, then stopped. "There’s something wrong." Nyra nodded. "I feel it too."

The shadows rippled. Then came the laughter, slow, mocking. From the far side of the chamber emerged a man. Clad in black and silver, a cloak dragging behind him, and his eyes glowing faintly red. "Children of ash," he said. "So brave. So predictable." Nyra drew her blade. "Who are you?" "Doesn’t matter," Jude said. "He’s a Warden." The man smiled. "Not quite. I am what comes after Wardens. I am what they feared becoming." With a flick of his hand, the chamber erupted. Chains of energy lashed out, catching Nyra and flinging her into the wall. Jude barely dodged, rolling behind a pillar of crystal. The man strode forward, conjuring blades of light that danced in the air like serpents. "You think you can undo what millennia have built?" he hissed. "You think a stone holds the key to freedom?" Jude didn’t reply. He tossed a shard of mirrorsteel across the floor, it flashed, creating a burst of light that momentarily blinded the Warden-turned-creature. He used the moment to dash to Nyra, pulling her up. "Can you move?" "Enough," she spat blood, wiping it from her mouth. "Then we finish this."

They didn’t need to kill him. They just needed time. Jude circled wide, drawing the creature’s attacks. Nyra leapt onto a ledge, using her blade to slash through the roots connecting the Heartstone to the walls. Sparks flew. The chamber trembled. The Warden screamed, not in pain, but rage. "You don’t understand!" he shouted. "Without the Heartstone, the world unravels! Chaos will swallow you whole!" Jude fired a bolt from his wrist launcher, grazing the Warden’s shoulder. "Then let it swallow," he yelled.

Nyra made the final strike. Her blade, glowing with heat, cut through the last root. The Heartstone pulsed violently, then shattered into a thousand fragments, each vanishing into mist. A shockwave exploded through the chamber, knocking all three from their feet. When Jude opened his eyes, the Warden was gone. So was the chamber. They were lying in rubble, buried under silence. Nyra groaned, pulling herself free. "We did it," she whispered. "We really did it."

But the silence didn’t last. Above them, horns blared. The High Table knew. The Vault had fallen. War had begun. Jude staggered to his feet. "We have to run." "No," Nyra said, breathing heavily. "We have to fight."

The forest around Dyrran bled with light. Fires burned in spirals, flickering along the valley as the remnants of the Heartstone’s destruction echoed across the land.