Chapter 17: Ash Lord Awake and Slimzy's Snark

The rhythmic pulse of the Primordial Resonance, now amplified at Level 2, was the first sign. A steady, strengthening thrum, no longer the faint heartbeat beneath rubble, but a drumbeat slowly regaining its tempo. Donarstraza felt it resonate deep within her own core as she pored over fragmented maps of the demon continent in a less-ruined antechamber near the Void Arena. Lilith, perched precariously on an obsidian table, her inky black slime shifting like restless shadows on her fair skin, was outlining potential sites from the Forgotten Archives that might hold "resonant echoes" of her legendary power.

Suddenly, the Resonance flared – a surge of awareness, sharp and clear. Not pain, not distress, but… wakefulness. A focused, familiar presence snapping back into alignment.

"He's awake," Donarstraza breathed, dropping the map fragment. She was moving before Lilith could respond, her Level 10 speed (Dex 19!) making her a purple-red blur through the corridors.

She burst into the makeshift infirmary – a smaller, less cavernous chamber Lilith had commandeered. Karnazul lay propped slightly on a slab covered in thick hides, the intricate lattice of black slime still pulsing gently over his chest and the horrifically clean stump of his left forearm. His ash-grey skin was still pale, but life burned fiercely in his crimson eyes, wide open and alert, scanning the room with ingrained warrior vigilance. They snapped to her as she entered.

"My Liege—" His voice was a rasp, rough from disuse and injury, but the core of it, the deep resonance, was unmistakable.

Donarstraza didn't let him finish. She crossed the distance in two strides and, ignoring Lilith's raised eyebrow from a shadowed corner, threw her arms around his broad shoulders. It was awkward, given his position and her horns, but fierce. She buried her face against the cool metal of his pauldron, the tears she'd shed before flowing freely again, hot and fast.

"You idiot!" The words were muffled against his armor, thick with relief and lingering fear. "You reckless, stubborn, magnificent idiot! Don't you ever do that again! Don't you ever throw yourself at a hurricane like that for me!"

Karnazul stiffened momentarily, surprise flickering across his battered features. Then, slowly, carefully, his remaining arm – the powerful limb that had regenerated in a burst of oath-fueled fury – came up, his gauntleted hand resting gently, almost awkwardly, on her back. The Primordial Resonance hummed with a complex wave: profound gratitude, bone-deep loyalty, lingering pain, and a fierce, protective warmth that enveloped her.

"My oath stands, Donarstraza," he rumbled, his voice gaining strength. "My life is the shield for yours. Against hurricanes, dragons... or impertinent humans." A ghost of his usual grim humor touched the words. "Seeing you... whole... is worth any price." He paused, his crimson gaze intense. "You feel... stronger. Different."

She pulled back slightly, wiping her tears, leaving shimmering tracks on her cheeks. "I am. And I will be stronger still. Strong enough that you won't need to be a shield, but a blade beside me." Her golden eyes held his, fierce and sincere. "But promise me, Karnazul. Promise me you won't be reckless around Theodric again. He's not just a knight; he's... history walking. We face him together, with strategy, or not at all. Swear it."

Karnazul met her gaze, the memory of the golden fury, the effortless power that shattered him twice, stark in his eyes. He saw the resolve in hers, the hard-won strength. He nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement. "On the Void and the Nine Hells within it, My Liege. I swear. No more solitary charges. The next time the Dragon Knight comes... we face him as Storm and Shield." The Resonance pulsed with the weight of the oath, strengthening the bond further.

"Touching," Lilith's voice cut through the moment, dripping with theatrical sweetness. She glided forward from the shadows, her glowing purple eyes sparkling with amusement. "Really, it warms the slime around my heart. The mighty Ash Lord, reduced to cuddles and promises, swearing off glorious, suicidal charges. What is the demon continent coming to?"

Karnazul's crimson eyes snapped to her, narrowing instantly. The warmth vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated irritation. "Slimzy," he growled, the name like a curse. "Still dressing like an indecent shadow-stain, I see. And still lurking in corners. Some things never change."

"While other things," Lilith retorted, gesturing pointedly at his missing forearm with a tendril of slime, "change rather dramatically. Lost a little something in your last tantrum, did we? Worry not! I'm sure we can fashion you a nice hook. Or perhaps a spoon, for all that broth you'll be sipping during your extended convalescence." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, the black slime rippling. "Though, judging by your usual temperament, a spork might be more versatile. Useful for both eating and poking things that annoy you."

Karnazul tried to push himself up, wincing violently. "I need no spoon, you insufferable goo-blob! And I'll be back on my feet long before you finish preening in whatever primordial puddle you crawled from!"

"Preening? Darling Ash Lord, this is minimalist tactical attire," Lilith scoffed, striking a pose that made the slime shimmer precariously. "Allows for maximum agility and mana flow. Unlike your clanking relic collection. Tell me, does all that rusted metal help with the phantom itch?" She wiggled her fingers towards his stump.

"The only itch is the one to wipe that smug look off your face, Slimzy!" Karnazul snarled, struggling against Lilith's still-present healing slime restraints.

"Now, now, children," Donarstraza interjected, though a small, relieved smile touched her lips. The bickering was familiar, almost comforting. A sign of Karnazul returning to himself. "Karnazul, conserve your strength. Slimzy... ease off. His near-death experience buys him some leeway. Even from you."

Lilith pouted dramatically. "Spoilsport, My Storm. I was just ensuring his cognitive functions were intact. Seems the brain survived the beating, at least. Mostly." She gave Karnazul a final, dazzlingly sharp smile. "Rest well, Rust Bucket. Try not to break anything else. The Archives await your Goddess, and unlike some, I have work to do." With a swirl of inky slime and a flutter of small wings, she glided out of the chamber.

Karnazul slumped back, breathing heavily, glaring at the doorway. "Abyss take that woman and her sentient laundry..." he muttered.

Donarstraza placed a hand back on his shoulder. "She saved your life, Karnazul. Or patched it back together, at least."

"A temporary inconvenience she'll never let me forget," he grumbled, but the fierce edge was gone, replaced by weary acceptance. He looked up at her, his crimson gaze serious again. "The Dragon Knight... he got away?"

"He did," Donarstraza confirmed, her own expression hardening. "But not before I learned the cost of weakness. And started paying it back." She squeezed his shoulder. "Rest. Recover. We have orcs to prepare for, a continent to solidify... and a legend to reclaim. Storm and Shield, remember?"

A grim, determined smile touched Karnazul's lips. "Storm and Shield, My Liege." He closed his eyes, the Resonance settling into a steady, strong rhythm of shared purpose. The Ash Lord was back. Bruised, battered, missing an arm, but unbroken. And the demon continent, for all its whispers and lurking threats, now had its Goddess focused, its Shield reforged, and its infuriatingly slimy High Minister plotting their path to power. The real work was just beginning.