Absolute Cheater-Chapter 281: Fantasy Dungeon XIX

As Valeris and Asher stood before the ancient chests, the air around them shimmered with the weight of destiny. The letter, sealed with the emblem of the black flame atop a mountain, pulsed faintly in Asher's hand, a tangible link between past and present.

Valeris, bearing the soul of Valeria, felt a surge of memories—not just her own, but those of the sovereign whose essence now intertwined with hers. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the edge of the cuirass within the chest. The soulbound armor responded, its silver veins glowing brighter, resonating with her touch.

"Asher," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe, "these artifacts... they're not mere relics. They're keys—fragments of a legacy waiting to be reclaimed."

Asher nodded, his gaze fixed on the map with shifting landmasses. "This map," he said, "it's alive. It's showing us paths—places that have changed, perhaps even ones that no longer exist."

Suddenly, the chamber trembled, a low hum emanating from the newly formed obsidian throne behind them. The throne's molten silver veins pulsed rhythmically, echoing a heartbeat—steady and resolute.

Valeris turned, her eyes locking onto the throne. "The Sovereign's Seat," she whispered. "It's awakening."

Outside the Vault, the world was already reacting. In the Tower of Ashen Quills, Lady Henera Seridahl's soul-vision revealed the throne's transformation. In the Floating Spire, Archduke Veren Nalore's third eye bled anew, sensing the shift in power. And in the Mimir Palace, the ashes of the old throne coalesced into the new, signaling the return of a force long thought dormant.

Back in the Vault, Asher unfolded the letter, its contents revealing a message penned by Valeria herself—a message meant for her future counterpart and the one who would stand beside her. The words spoke of unity, of challenges to come, and of the strength found in companionship.

Valeris placed a hand over Asher's, her eyes reflecting determination. "Together," she said, "we'll face whatever lies ahead. The world may tremble, but we will stand firm."

As they prepared to leave the Vault, the path before them uncertain yet filled with purpose, the fusion of past and present within Valeris signaled a new era. The Sovereign had returned—not as a relic of history, but as a beacon for the future.

Outside the Vault – The Sky Above Mimir Splits

As the obsidian throne pulsed with sovereign resonance, its call echoed beyond the stone and soulsteel walls of the Vault. It reached skyward, like a silent scream heard only by the gifted, the cursed, and the divine. The ancient wards that once cloaked the Vault in secrecy had collapsed, undone by Valeris' awakening. Now the world knew. Now they moved.

The first to respond was the Watch of the Azure Sun, an elite detachment of soul-knights sworn directly to the High Magisterium. Their arrival was heralded not by drums or horns, but by the thrum of soul-engines overhead—leviathane airships piercing the clouds like silver daggers. Dozens, then hundreds. Each bristled with mounted soul-cannons and rune-forged artillery, all humming with spells designed not to kill—but to contain.

At the center of the fleet flew the flagship Vigilance, its hull carved from living ironwood and plated with sunmetal. Upon its prow stood Marshal Cevan Drax, armored in a mantle of mirrored soulsteel. His eyes gleamed with resolve—and fear.

"The Vault is compromised," he said into the comm-sigil hovering before him. "Engage all containment protocols. I want a full arcane cordon erected within twenty clicks. No one escapes."

Beneath them, legions mobilized. From Mimir's hidden fortresses and the shadowy depths of the Obsidian Accord, battalions of Runebound Sentinels emerged—ten-foot tall constructs of magic and metal, each bound with the distilled essence of a warrior-mage long dead. Their movements were precise, silent, soulless.

Marching alongside them were the Crimson Vow, a secret order of oathsworn assassins led by the enigmatic Lady Kurell, whose veil fluttered despite the still air, her twin blades whispering for blood. She had been alive when Valeria fell the first time. She remembered the screams.

"The Sovereign cannot rise," she whispered to no one. "Not again."

At the Threshold of the Vault

The air grew heavier as Valeris and Asher emerged from the final chamber, the obsidian throne pulsing behind them like a living thing. Asher wore the cuirass now, the silver-veined armor molding to his frame as if it had waited millennia for him. The gauntlets shimmered with layered spell-echoes, and the living map now hovered beside him, following like a loyal familiar.

Valeris was changed. Not in body—her form was still hers—but her presence was unmistakable. She no longer stepped through the world; she moved through it like a truth no lie could defy. Her hair shimmered with flecks of soulfire, her voice, when she spoke, rang with two tones—hers and the Sovereign's.

They paused at the Vault's great gate, an arch of ancient dragonbone and rune-glass now split in twain. The wind that met them beyond it tasted of fire and static.

Asher raised a hand, sensing them. "They're here."

Valeris tilted her head skyward. "Many. Ready for war."

The horizon was painted with shadows—armies descending, weapons drawn, magic primed. Circles of containment magic began to glow across the landscape like brands upon wounded skin. The sky above churned as more airships darkened the light.

She turned to him.

"We cannot fight them all," she said calmly. "Not here. Not now."

"We could run," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

She smiled faintly. "We could. But we won't."

Then she raised her hands—and the Vault responded.

The very stones trembled, and from its heart came a pulse of raw Sovereign power. A wave of soul-pressure swept outward like a storm wind, staggering the first line of approaching sentinels. The constructs paused, their runes flickering as if uncertain.

Above, Vigilance shook in place as power readings overloaded their scrying arrays.

"Marshal Drax!" a technician screamed. "The Vault—it's responding to her! She's commanding it like it's—like it's hers!"

"She is the Vault," Drax muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Sovereign Protocol… God help us."

On the Battlefield

From the front line, Lady Kurell moved first.

She blurred through the air, soul-blades singing, her shadow splitting into six mirror selves. She crossed half the field in a breath, aiming for Valeris' throat—silent, perfect, deadly.

She never reached it.

A black-silver barrier snapped into existence mid-flight, fractal symbols rippling across its surface. Her blades struck, screamed, and rebounded, throwing her backward in a spiral of shocked motion.

Valeris hadn't moved.

Asher stepped forward instead, one gauntlet raised. freewёbnoνel.com

His voice, steady. "You don't touch her."

The world shuddered again.

And then—

The ground beneath them split.

A massive sigil blazed into life beneath their feet—no mere glyph, but a Waymark of Sovereign Transit, one that hadn't been seen since the time of Valeria's last reign.

The air screamed as dimensional space twisted.

"What is she doing?" shouted Drax.

"She's leaving," someone gasped.

And then—

Light.

Blinding, roaring, searing light.

The sigil exploded upward, a column of soulfire erupting into the sky. Asher and Valeris vanished into its heart, borne not through space, but through Sovereign authority.

They were not fleeing.

They were moving to claim.

Because the Queen That Was had risen again.

And she would not wait for permission.

Beyond the Vault – The World Cracks Open

As the column of soulfire collapsed inward with a thunderclap that shattered clouds and thought alike, silence fell across the battlefield outside the Vault. Dust settled on stunned faces—mages, soldiers, constructs, all paralyzed by the same question beating behind their eyes:

Where did they go?

Marshal Cevan Drax gripped the edge of the Vigilance's railing, his voice trembling as he gave the order.

"Trace the Waymark. I don't care what it takes—find them."

But the arcaneists gave no answers. Only stammers. The path they'd taken hadn't pierced space in any way known to mages or machines.

They hadn't teleported.

They had departed—through Sovereign means, to Sovereign places.

Somewhere Between Realms – The Sovereign Path

Asher blinked.

One moment, they stood amid war. The next, they were elsewhere—yet not anywhere. A place outside the lattice of realms, where even Heaven's Rift could not see.

They stood upon a path of dark crystal and molten runes, suspended in a void where stars bled and time wept. Around them floated fragments of dead worlds and unspoken truths: a city carved into a whale's bones, a battlefield frozen mid-explosion, a temple where the gods had drowned in silence.

Valeris walked forward, serene.

"This is the Path of the Sovereign," she said softly. "Only one of true claim can walk it. Only one with an anchor can survive."

Asher followed. "You mean me."

"Yes."

She turned to him, pausing atop a crystal platform veined in gold.

"The others think we escaped. They're wrong." Her eyes glowed faintly—no longer just Valeris, not just Valeria. Something else bloomed behind her gaze. "We're beginning."

From the void rose a structure—a gate of midnight iron, shaped like a blade plunged through a crown. At its base, an altar of mirrorstone waited, reflecting not their faces, but their souls.

"This is where I reclaim what was lost," she whispered. "The Sovereign Keys. The fragments of my true dominion."

She stepped toward the altar—and the void responded.