Eight months.

  Eight months of travel, of battle, of closing Veil Gates, one after another.

  Eight months where the only voices Roland and Celeste had heard belonged to each other.

  They left Fraella well provisioned and well-rested they had been prepared for the long fight ahead. They had left with a clear purpose: shut down as many Veil Gates as possible, weaken the corruption’s grip, and restore balance.

  And for a time, it had worked.

  They had become unstoppable.

  The normal corrupted had long since ceased to be a challenge. Roland’s Soul Gaze had evolved and allowed him to read their every move and even counter moves he was able to counter them with ruthless efficiency.

  Celeste had developed something new. After slaying so many corrupted, she had come to understand them—the way they moved, the remnants of their instincts, the twisted echoes of what they once were. That understanding had awakened a gift unlike any she’d wielded before.

  Now, when she released a mist from her hands, the low-level corrupted would listen. Would follow.

  She called it Corruption Control.

  Their coordination had sharpened to near perfection. Every battle was a dance, every fight another gate closed, another wound in the world stitched shut.

  But the enemy had adapted.

  The remaining corrupted weren’t mindless. They had begun to consolidate, abandoning weaker gates and fortifying the largest, most powerful ones. What had once been scattered remnants had now become strongholds, with more guards than they could handle.

  And for the first time in months, Roland and Celeste had to admit they couldn’t just walk in and win.

  Their strength had plateaued.

  The gods still granted them divine payments, but the gifts had levelled out they no longer increased as they had before. The challenge had risen, but their power had not.

  And then there was Roland’s Soul Touch.

  Celeste had never let it go. Not once.

  Every time a battle dragged longer than it should, every time an enemy slipped past their guard when a single touch could have ended it, she reminded him.

  "You could have ended that fight in seconds."

  "Do you know how much easier this would be if you just used it?"

  "At this point, you’re making things harder on purpose."

  Roland never argued. Never snapped back. He just refused.

  The tension between them on the subject never became a full-blown fight, but it was the only thing they still disagreed on.

  And then there was the Dragle’s Soul.

  Eight months, and Roland still hadn’t unlocked it.

  The mark remained, on his skin, waiting. He had tried meditating on it, tried channelling his divine energy into it, tried everything. But the soul remained silent, like a door he couldn’t find the key to. At this moment, he wished that he had.

  The fortress loomed ahead, wrapped in layers of barricades and corruption. Twisted banners fluttered in the wind, crude sigils marking the stronghold as one of the last true bastions of the enemy. Corrupted soldiers patrolled the perimeter—far more than any gate they had faced before.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Roland studied them with a practised eye. Too many. Even with their refined skills, charging in would be suicide. But it wasn’t the numbers that put Celeste on edge.

  It was them.

  Two figures stood near the gate, their postures easy, confident. Veil Keepers. And they weren’t hiding it.

  Their badges gleamed under the grey sky, proudly displayed on their cloaks, an open declaration of their authority. Even at a distance, their presence crackled with power.

  Both were female. One Deathborn, One Worldborn.

  The Deathborn red skin shimmered faintly with the telltale glow of divine energy, the deep, endless black of her eyes scanning treeline.

  Celeste exhaled, her fingers curling around the hilt of her dagger. “That’s a problem.”

  Roland didn’t disagree. “That’s an understatement.”

  Roland watched them carefully, noting the way they carried themselves. No tension. No hesitation. These were warriors who knew they were strong. Who knew they were untouchable in a fight.

  He let out a slow breath. “We can’t do this.”

  Celeste turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  He met her stare evenly. “Because I know when a fight is worth taking. And this isn’t.” He gestured toward the fortified outpost. “We’re hitting a wall. The enemy is consolidating, we haven’t gotten any stronger, and we’re still fighting with basic gear.”

  Celeste didn’t argue.

  They had plateaued, and they both knew it.

  Roland continued, “We need to find another labyrinth. Get some real enchanted equipment. Because if we don’t, sooner or later, we will run into a fight we can’t walk away from.”

  Celeste tapped her fingers against her hip, clearly thinking it over. “You’re right.”

  Roland blinked. “I am?”

  Celeste rolled her eyes. “Don’t get too excited.” She turned back toward the Veil Keepers, her sharp gaze lingering on them. “But before we go treasure hunting, I want to know what we’re up against.”

  Roland frowned. “Celeste—”

  “Not a fight,” she cut in. “A test.”

  She smirked. “I just want to see if, I need to know how close we are.”

  Celeste tapped Roland’s arm and nodded toward them. “We need to see how they fight.”

  Roland exhaled. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

  Celeste grinned. “I have a few ideas.”

  Celeste took a slow breath and stretched out her hands, releasing a fine, dark mist that slithered through the air like living smoke. It spread across the encampment, drifting between the barricades and curling around the corrupted soldiers like a whisper only they could hear.

  She closed her eyes, focusing—commanding.

  The weaker ones hesitated. Then, one by one, their glowing eyes shifted, flickering with something new. Their movements stilled, their hunched forms straightening as they turned toward their own ranks.

  And then, without warning—

  They attacked.

  The camp erupted into chaos as the enthralled corrupted turned against their former allies, clawing, biting, cutting through the ranks in a frenzy.

  Celeste smirked, watching from the shadows. “Let’s see how your Veil Keepers handle this.”

  It didn’t take long for the Veil Keepers to react.

  The Deathborn, the taller of the two, turned her head slightly. She didn’t reach for a weapon. She didn’t even move.

  Instead, she simply raised a hand.

  The corrupted that was attacked was frozen in place.

  Roland’s breath caught as a dark shimmer of power wrapped around the creature, its entire body suspended as if caught in invisible chains.

  The corrupted collapsed, its body folding inward like something had been ripped out of it. A second later, its soulless husk hit the dirt.

  Dead. Instantly.

  Roland’s fingers tightened around his sword hilt. “She used Soul Touch.”

  Celeste’s smirk vanished. “And she didn’t even hesitate.”

  The second Veil Keeper moved more traditionally, stepping forward with fluid grace. As the remaining beasts charged, she drew a curved dagger from her hip. With impossible speed, she carved through the creatures, her blade trailing streaks of dark energy that severed their essence as easily as flesh.

  The battle lasted seconds.

  The first Keeper—the Soul Reaper, as Roland was already thinking of her—never moved from her spot. She simply extended her power, crushing the souls of her enemies as easily as exhaling.

  The other was no less deadly, her precise movements showing a level of mastery neither Roland nor Celeste had encountered before.

  Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

  The two Keepers exchanged a glance before returning to their original positions, completely unconcerned. As if what they had just done was nothing.

  Roland let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “We’re not in their league.”

  Celeste didn’t argue.

  She watched as the Keepers resumed their casual stance, unbothered by what had just happened. Her eyes flicked toward the one who had used Soul Touch, the one who had ripped a soul out as if it was as easy as breathing.

  For the first time in months, Celeste didn’t have a smug comeback.

  She just whispered, “We need to get a lot stronger and we something to block that soul touch.”