Chapter 103: Ash Unbound
—The Veinless Flame Stirs—
Deep beneath the Spirit Tribunal, within the crystalline annexes of the Ashen Vault, the silence cracked.
Not with sound—
But with heat.
A slow rise in pressure.
Invisible to most.
But ancient enough that the Soulsteel bindings began to hum—low, like the death rattle of a buried titan.
Then—
The prism of Harak fractured from within.
The shatter was muted.
No explosion.
Just… surrender.
A wisp of molten soul energy leaked out, curling like smoke.
Then came the voice.
Gravel-coated.
Disinterested.
"It took you long enough."
Harak the Veinless Flame, once known as the Living Pyre, stepped forward from the half-ruined crystal prison.
He didn't look young.
Didn't look old.
He looked… burned.
His flesh was etched with runes seared into skin and soul alike. His chestplate was scorched bone-forged metal. His eyes were twin embers that flickered with contempt and memory.
Mae Olorun stood at a distance with a single Tribunal Warden beside her—spear lowered, but sweating despite the warding runes etched into the walls.
Harak looked around slowly.
"Still smells like bureaucracy down here."
Mae didn't flinch.
"You've been reactivated."
"I figured," he replied, brushing ash from his palm.
"Must be something serious. Last time you woke me, the Ethereal Plane collapsed in three places."
Mae gestured to the screen hovering in the air beside them—an image of the Eastern Wards, now just a field of silent void.
Harak raised an eyebrow.
"That Mirex fellow?"
"Yes."
"Thought we killed him."
Mae's response was dry.
"We didn't. We buried him. Seems he crawled back."
Harak cracked his neck. The air hissed with friction.
"You want him dead or scared?"
"Both."
A faint smirk crossed Harak's cracked lips.
"Good. I'm tired of sleeping."
---
Elsewhere, in the Veil's inner sanctum, as Mirex examined his abyssal war maps, a small pulse caught his attention.
He turned slightly.
"Harak is awake," he said.
Voth, the Hollow Knight, growled.
"The Tribunal dares to release him?"
Mirex's response was calm.
Almost fond.
"Of course. He was always their dragon in the basement."
He stepped closer to the projection, watching flames spiral within a scrying mirror's center.
"Let them bring back their fire."
"We have our shadows."
---
Back in the capital, word moved faster than lightning.
The students didn't hear names.
But rumors spread.
A Vault was opened.
A "Fire Lord" had risen.
And the Spirit Tribunal had officially entered the war.
Instructors at Soul Academy moved swiftly, separating senior classes into tactical squads.
Karen stood beside Cassandra, Jim, Marie, and Leslie in a sealed courtyard lit by Soul Beacons.
Joshua arrived with a briefing scroll in hand, face set.
"This isn't training anymore," he told them.
"The battlefield is coming here."
Marie whispered,
"What kind of person gets locked away by the people who rule everyone?"
Cassandra's eyes were unreadable.
"The kind that doesn't lose. Only burns."
---