Chapter 152: Viona Part 1

Far from the paved avenues and grand marble basilicas of Solaria, hidden deep beneath the jagged foothills of the interior mountains, lay the ruins of a forgotten sanctuary. Roots of dead ironwood trees broke through cracked basalt flagstones, dripping dark water into murky cisterns below. The air was stagnant, thick with cold dust that had settled over centuries of abandonment.

A sudden, violent tear of spatial magic lit the pitch-black chamber in blinding blue-and-gold fire.

CRACK!

The spatial rift snapped shut like an iron trap. A slender figure tumbled out of the collapsing portal, hitting the hard, broken stone with a sickening thud.

"Aaargh!"

Viona clawed at the wet dirt, coughing violently as bile and dark crimson blood surged up her throat, splashing across the dusty flags.

Her radiant, pristine appearance was completely obliterated. The grand silk gown that had once symbolized divine perfection was scorched into soot-stained rags, clung to by sticky grime and dried salt brine. Her right shoulder hung completely limp and dislocated, the torn white fabric beneath it soaked in dark blood where the shattered joint had pushed against the skin. A deep, jagged shrapnel gouge ran across her left cheek, carving an ugly, bleeding furrow from her temple down to her jawline, ruining the porcelain face she had guarded with vanity for three centuries.

Worse than the physical agony was the hollow, screaming void inside her chest.

Her mana core, pushed to the absolute edge of biological collapse to tear open the emergency spatial corridor from the falling palace, felt like dry, brittle glass. Every breath sent sharp, stabbing spasms through her lungs, tasting of bitter chemical ash and pulverized concrete. Her hands shook uncontrollably, her manicured fingernails snapping against the rough stone as she tried and failed to push herself up.

"Curse them..." she hissed, her voice trembling with raw, humiliated fury. Tears of cold terror carved pale streaks through the thick grime on her face. "Curse that gray-clad dog... curse his iron birds... curse every single one of them!"

"Quite an entrance, Your Divinity."

A rough, dry voice drifted from the deep shadows across the cavern.

Viona’s breath hitched. She froze, her single uninjured eye widening as golden mana flickered weakly across her iris.

"Who’s there?!" she gasped, her voice shrill with sudden panic, her left hand clawing at the dirt to drag herself backward against a fallen pillar. "Show yourself! I am a Goddess! Touch me and your soul will burn for eternity!"

Slow, heavy footsteps echoed through the subterranean silence.

Out from behind a crumbling statue of an ancient paladin stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man. He did not wear the gilded, ornate plate armor of the imperial court. His armor was thick, pitted black iron, scarred by deep claw marks and acid burns, completely devoid of any house crest or holy emblem. Over his shoulders hung a battered travel cloak stained with road dust and dried monster blood. A massive, jagged broadsword was strapped across his broad back, its dark steel wrapped in coarse leather strips.

His face was weathered, hardened by decades of brutal frontier warfare, lined with deep scars. A clean white cloth eyepatch covered his left eye, while his remaining amber eye gleamed with sharp, mocking amusement.

He stopped ten paces away, crossing his massive, calloused arms over his chest, leaning casually against a cracked stone pillar.

"How’s playing goddess in the capital going for you, Viona?" the man asked, a dry, sarcastic smirk curling across his scarred lips. "You look like a drowned barn owl that caught fire."

Viona let out a ragged, shuddering breath, her head slumping against the cold stone behind her as the terror drained away, replaced by bitter exhaustion.

"Leon..." she rasped, her voice cracking into a dry wheeze. "Shut... your miserable mouth."

Leon—once known across the entire continent as the Radiant Sword of the Vanguard, a genuine, native-born hero who had stood at the front lines of the ancient wars—merely chuckled. The deep, gravelly sound bounced off the damp stone walls.

He reached to his hip, unhooked a battered leather waterskin, and tossed it through the air.

It landed with a wet thud on the flagstones beside her trembling hand.

"Drink," Leon said calmly. "It’s diluted spring water mixed with crushed bloodroot. It won’t fix your shattered shoulder, but it will keep your core from collapsing into ash before you finish catching your breath."

Viona reached out with her trembling left hand, grabbed the skin, and pulled the wooden stopper with her teeth. She drank greedily, not caring that half of the dark, bitter liquid spilled over her chin and soaked into her torn collar. The concoction burned like molten lead going down her throat, but within heartbeats, a faint, soothing warmth began trickling through her dried mana circuits, dulling the razor-sharp agony in her nerves.

She wiped her bloody mouth with the back of her wrist, breathing heavily as she glared up at him.

"You’re late," she spat. "You were supposed to meet me at the coastal pass."

"I was at the coastal pass," Leon replied casually, shrugging his massive shoulders. "Until the entire western horizon lit up in orange fire and the sky started screaming with flying gray metal. I saw the palace bluff collapse into the ocean from twenty leagues away. I figured if you were still breathing, you’d use the old spatial beacon under this ruin. Looks like I was right."

He took two slow steps forward, looking down at her ruined dress and bloody face.

"I take it Port Solis is gone?"

"It doesn’t exist anymore," Viona muttered, her teeth clenching until they audibly ground together. "The entire lower city... pulverized. The harbor... shattered. The Aegis collapsed in hours under thousands of heavy iron shells. They didn’t even send foot soldiers to test our walls. They just sat five miles out on the water and erased the province with machines."

Leon’s single amber eye narrowed slightly. "And the kids? The summoned vanguards you bound with the dark iron bands?"

"Neutralized," Viona said coldly, looking away into the shadows. "Miyuki’s core ruptured while trying to hold the blast ward. Kenji’s bones were crushed when his blade snapped. Ayanokoji took a piece of flying iron through his leg. I ordered them to hold the lower quay and draw the naval fire so I could channel the Hearth Stone. They’re either dead beneath the rubble or rotting in foreign chains."

Leon let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly.

"Cold as ever, Viona," he said, his tone dry and devoid of pity. "Three hundred years sitting on a throne of celestial quartz, and you haven’t changed one bit since the day we were left to die in the Black Trench."