Chapter 29 – Those Who Dare

The air still sizzled from the last battle.

Even after we had left the ruins behind, the weight of what had happened clung to us like smoke. None of us spoke. Not for a while. Freya was nursing a deep gash across her shoulder, silent and brooding. Lyssira walked ahead of us, tense, her staff pulsing gently at her side. And I… I was trying to understand this new version of myself.

There was something different in the way the world looked now. Brighter. Clearer. Sharper. I could hear the heartbeat of the forest. I could smell the fear that clung to the earth after the fight. It wasn't just Seraphine's bloodline coursing through me—it was the change in my soul. I wasn't human anymore.

Not completely.

And I wasn't just Zavier King, the kid from Florida who loved Takis and anime.

I was Zavier Von Drakaryn.

Son of Seraphine. Chosen of the Tree. Born again through fire and blood.

And now the whole multiverse wanted a piece of me.

"We need to move faster," Lyssira said after a while, glancing back. "That Netherkin wasn't lying. Word about the new prospects will spread. Every faction will be hunting now."

"I know," I muttered.

"And we don't know how many there are," Freya added, her voice strained. "One? Three? Ten? And what if they're already stronger than us?"

I clenched my fists. "Then we get stronger."

She narrowed her eyes. "That's not a strategy, Zavier. That's just a nice thought."

"It's all we've got," I said. "Unless you want to go back to hiding in caves."

Freya grunted, not bothering to reply.

We moved through the Spring Quadrant's deeper regions now, where the trees grew taller and the light filtered down in golden beams. Birds with shimmering feathers chirped overhead, and the flowers seemed to hum when brushed. This place was full of life—but that life also meant predators. And not just beasts.

We crossed an open glade by midday, only to feel it again.

That hum.

Not from the trees.

But from magic—teleportation magic.

A shimmer in the air caught Freya's attention. She raised her arm in warning.

Then five portals opened across the glade, one after the other, like slashes through reality.

From each portal, a figure stepped out. All of them bore different markings, armor from distant worlds, weapons humming with ancient enchantments. Some looked humanoid, others grotesque.

Another hunting faction.

The lead figure stepped forward, a tall woman with lavender skin and four arms. Her armor was engraved with golden runes, and her eyes gleamed with predatory amusement.

"Zavier Von Drakaryn," she said smoothly. "So good to meet you before you die."

"Name?" I asked flatly.

"Cynthia El'Vaarn. Scion of the Endless Vale. And future prospect of the multiverse."

"You can try."

"Oh, I will."

The battle that followed was chaos.

Freya launched herself into the sky, shifting mid-leap into a wyvern, spraying frost across the battlefield.

Lyssira summoned a forest of phantom vines that moved like snakes, biting and whipping at their foes.

I focused on Cynthia.

She was fast—faster than the Starforged from before. She wielded dual scimitars that blurred with each swing. But I was faster now, too. Stronger.

I blocked her blades with my forearm, watching the metal shatter against scaled skin I hadn't even noticed forming. My hand burned with silver flame as I struck her in the chest, sending her flying.

But she laughed as she landed. "You're still new at this," she said. "Too soft."

She stabbed the ground—and the battlefield shifted.

A spell activated. Reality bent, warping the terrain into jagged glass plains that reflected us in every direction. The environment itself became a weapon, disorienting and dangerous.

Lyssira's vines struggled to find purchase. Freya's wings caught a gust of redirected magic, throwing her off balance.

I fought harder.

Blades nicked my ribs. My shoulder screamed in pain.

But I didn't stop.

Not when Cynthia drove a dagger into my leg. Not when I felt blood pooling in my mouth. Not even when I staggered, gasping.

Because deep in my chest, I felt it again.

That burning.

That drive.

The evolution didn't come this time. Not fully.

But something else stirred.

A presence—calm, cold, and watching.

Seraphine? I whispered in my mind.

But there was no reply.

Only heat.

When the glade finally fell quiet, only three of them still stood.

Me, Lyssira, and Freya—barely.

Cynthia lay unconscious, pinned beneath a spiral of Lyssira's thorns.

Two others had fled through portals the moment the tide turned.

Freya collapsed beside me. "They're getting stronger."

Lyssira nodded, breathing heavily. "And more desperate."

I looked at the Tree on the horizon.

So far.

And still so many trials to come.

"We keep going," I said.

"But for how long?" Lyssira whispered.

"As long as it takes."