The Demon Queen's Royal Consort-Chapter 117 - Dungeon - XXV

** At dawn

The metallic scent of freshly spilled blood still lingered in the air, mingling with the dry breeze descending from the mountain. The chalice pulsed with a dark, almost subtle glow, as if it were waiting.

Beside the artifact, Seraphine stood with a slight cut on the edge of her hand. The translucent barrier protecting our mountain wavered, the acidic liquid from the mire nearly depleted within the chalice.

Seraphine took a step forward, eyes fixed on the artifact. Her expression hardened. She crossed her arms firmly and took a deep breath. When she began to speak, her voice cut through the silence with surgical precision.

"It's obvious. The solution to this dungeon's pattern is connected to this artifact."

We all turned toward her. Dórian frowned. Aeloria just observed, attentive. Dália looked up, still pale.

"What exactly do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Seraphine began walking in a circle around the chalice, her entire body radiating restrained tension.

"Let's analyze this carefully: so far, every challenge has forced us to spend resources, push our affinities to the limit, or pay some kind of price be it time or stamina. And after our last victory, the dungeon itself began to collapse. The destruction isn't collateral—it feels like it's the goal."

She stopped, pointing to the chalice with conviction.

"This artifact appeared before the sixth mountain. That can only mean one thing: this chalice is connected to the destruction of the barrier. It's not symbolic. It's the key."

"So..." murmured Aeloria, his tone reflective, "the chalice triggers the self-destruction of the next dungeon layer?"

"Possibly!" Seraphine nodded, turning back to face us. "And that brings us to the central issue. Apparently, the artifact reacted to blood. But so far, nothing has happened to the sixth mountain's barrier."

She looked me straight in the eyes. Then glanced at the others, as if challenging us to complete the line of thought.

"Some ancient artifacts respond to emotions, memories, keywords, or the presence of someone who has made a specific sacrifice. This chalice didn't react to energy. It reacted to blood."

"We need more tests. See if there are hidden inscriptions. If it reacts to someone else's touch. Or if it requires whoever offered the blood to say or do something specific."

"The chalice is the key. We just need to discover what door it opens—and what price it demands."

We waited in silence as the last drops of the acidic red mire dripped to the bottom of the chalice. Slowly, the liquid was absorbed into the structure, as if it had been drunk by the mountain's depths.

Then, with a dry sound like the crack of ice the barrier around the fifth mountain shattered. Crystals of energy began to fall like broken glass, disintegrating into the air before touching the ground.

The destruction of the barrier filled the air with a strange vibration, like a silent roar that hit us in the chest. The tension was tangible. No one spoke, but I could see the same thought crossing their faces that weighed in my chest:

After a while, Seraphine broke the silence.

"Now, let's confirm the next step."

One by one, we began offering more blood to the chalice. Each of us made a small cut nothing deep just enough to let drops fall from an open palm.

Dórian went first. His thick blood fell with a wet sound and, for a brief moment, seemed to be absorbed. But then, it evaporated without a trace.

Aeloria repeated the gesture. Same result.

Seraphine gave her blood silently, serious, watching every detail. But the chalice remained inert.

Then it was my turn.

I opened a small cut on the tips of my fingers and let the drops fall. They vanished with a faint hiss, but without any glow, without any reaction.

Dália stepped forward and did the same, forcing a cut in her palm. Her blood also vanished like vapor, with no sign of acceptance.

"This makes no sense..." Dórian muttered, wiping his hand with a cloth. "Nothing's happening."

"The chalice accepted it before. Why not now?" Aeloria crossed his arms, visibly irritated.

"Maybe... it needs more than one person's blood at the same time?" I suggested, though not fully convinced.

The idea took form before anyone could contest it. Dórian and I stepped closer. He extended his hand over the chalice at the same moment I did. The instant the first drops of our blood touched inside the chalice—

"BOOOM"

A shockwave exploded from the artifact. Invisible, but brutal.

We were thrown back like dolls me, Dórian, and Aeloria, who had been trying to approach as well. I slammed hard against the stone floor, lungs imploding in search of air.

"Yeah... that's definitely not the answer," I murmured, coughing.

"It's reacting to mixed blood with total rejection." Seraphine stood, examining the chalice with narrowed eyes.

"So maybe it only accepts one person's blood. But maybe it needs to be filled to the brim." Dália inferred.

All of us turned to look at her.

"You're saying... one of us has to fill the entire chalice alone?" I asked, feeling the weight of the idea settle in my gut like a cold stone.

"That's what makes the most sense now."

Silence.

We all looked at the artifact—now empty, motionless, but with a pulsing aura, as if it were about to wake again.

'Who's going to bleed completely this time?' I thought.

"Okay... how much blood does the chalice need, exactly?" Dórian asked, eyeing the artifact like it was a trap about to snap shut.

Seraphine crouched down, calculating the volume with sharp eyes. "At least three and a half liters. Maybe more, considering earlier absorption."

Everyone turned to Dália.

"Could you handle that? I mean... use your healing magic to keep the person alive?" I asked, straight to the point.

She bit her lower lip and nodded slowly, but her face didn't hide the concern.

"I could, yes, but with limits. Healing magic stabilizes wounds, regenerates tissue, rebuilds muscle—but blood is different. The body has to produce it, understand? My magic just speeds up the process. What would take days, I can do in hours."

She hesitated, then added:

"While the body's focused on regenerating that much blood, internal energy recovery will be practically zero."

Dórian ran a hand down his face, sighing. "So whoever bleeds out will be dead weight for the next eight hours."

"If they can even stand after the ritual," Aeloria added, arms crossed. "Even with healing magic, the body will be in internal collapse. It'll be like fighting after being trampled by a raging golem."

"There's something else bothering me..." Seraphine narrowed her eyes. "What happens when the sixth mountain's barrier breaks?"

"Or worse," Dórian added. "What if the fifth mountain's barrier doesn't rebuild after that?"

A chill ran up my spine.

"Then we'll be forced to attack the sixth mountain immediately!" I said, the words escaping before I could think.

Aeloria shot me a serious look. "With one person down."

The silence that followed was heavier than the air around us. The chalice seemed to mock our hesitation, unmoving, waiting for a sacrifice.

'We're about to take a step with no return. The only question now is—who's going to fill the chalice with blood?'

"Let's think logically," Aeloria began, trying to mask his discomfort. "Who among us would have the least tactical impact in an immediate fight?"

The silence that followed was answer enough. Everyone looked—even if briefly—in Dália's direction.

She didn't look away. She just crossed her arms and waited. She had already thought of this before any of us did.

"I'm the only one who hasn't fully recovered," she said with unsettling calm. "My prana reserves aren't full since the crocodile fight, and my connection to life spells is still unstable."

"You still have internal bruising..." I murmured, more to myself than to the others.

"I'd be in the backline in the next fight anyway," she added. "And even then, I wouldn't be able to offer meaningful support."

"With you stabilized and recovering, at least we'll enter the final mountain with five combatants at full capacity," Dórian considered, though he sounded like he was swallowing shards of glass.

"It's the logical choice," Aeloria agreed, eyes fixed on the chalice. "Cruel... but logical."

"It's not fair," Seraphine muttered, clenching her fists. "But it's the best we can do with what we have."

Dália stepped forward, the sound of her boot echoing like a drum of execution.

"I choose to do this," she said firmly. "I don't want hesitation from anyone. If we falter now, the sixth mountain could swallow all of you. And then my sacrifice will have been for nothing."

'Why does she always seem strongest when she's at her weakest?' I thought, feeling a knot tighten in my throat.

"Then it's settled," I said, taking a deep breath.

"Let's prepare to complete the ritual. As soon as Dália fills the chalice to the brim, we immediately analyze the situation. If the fifth mountain's barrier doesn't rebuild, we strike the sixth mountain!" Aeloria instructed. "If it does get protected, we wait for Dália to recover and attack the sixth mountain then." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Everyone nodded in agreement. We began putting on our armor, cleaning our weapons, and preparing for whatever the guardian of the sixth mountain might be.