From Deadbeat noble to Top Rank Swordsman-Chapter 122: The Ashline

They left the hill at dawn.

Or what passed for dawn in a land with no sun.

The sky was still grey, but less sick. The air had stopped humming. The earth no longer whispered names that didn’t belong to them. Only the crunch of ash beneath their boots remained, trailing behind them like footprints carved in soot.

No one spoke for a long time.

Even Tomas stayed quiet.

Leon walked ahead, the spire shrinking behind them. Whatever it had shown him—whatever it had made him fight—it no longer followed. But something new settled in his steps. A weight not born from fear or burden, but from *clarity.*

Mira noticed it first. She studied him sideways when she thought he wasn’t looking.

Kairis noticed too. She didn’t speak of it. She didn’t have to.

The path led down into a gulley of fractured glass and black moss. A former battleground, judging by the scattered blades, melted armour, and rusted spears half-buried in the earth. Every stone had been scorched to the colour of dried blood.

They passed a helmet cracked down the centre.

Then a hand. Still curled around the hilt of a broken standard.

Leon slowed.

The silence here was different than the vault. Not deep. Not sacred.

Just abandoned.

Mira crouched beside a discarded shield. "Old sigil," she murmured. "Silver wolf on green."

Tomas grunted. "That’s House Veilstrath. They vanished near the start of the Third Collapse. Rumour said they tried to storm the Forgotten Vault."

Kairis raised a brow. "They weren’t wrong. Just early."

Leon crouched.

The bones beneath the banner weren’t fresh, but they weren’t ancient either.

Something had preserved them.

Not time.

Magic.

The kind that lingered long after purpose died.

He stood and walked on, more cautious now.

Then, ahead, the path forked—one trail climbing toward a ridge of pale rock, the other dipping into a canyon choked with fog.

Kairis turned to Leon. "We need to pick."

"Which one leads to the next seal?"

She hesitated. "Both."

Leon frowned.

"They converge," she said. "But the ridge is exposed. The canyon is... unpredictable."

Mira looked toward the canyon. "Feels wrong." 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Tomas kicked a stone into it.

They didn’t hear it land.

Leon looked to the ridge. Then back to the canyon.

"Ridge," he decided.

They climbed.

The path narrowed the higher they went, twisting along cliffs thin as rope. Winds tore at them, sudden and sharp, and once, Tomas slipped and nearly tumbled into the ravine—but Mira caught him by the collar, muttering curses that didn’t quite hide the panic in her voice.

They reached the summit as the sky cracked.

Not with thunder. Nor lightning.

But a voice.

Massive.

Distant.

Speaking a name they didn’t understand.

Kairis paled. "That was a call."

"For us?" Tomas asked.

"For it."

Leon looked down the other side of the ridge.

And saw the Ashline.

A border not drawn on any map.

A veil of colourless flame stretching across the horizon.

Beyond it—ruins that still burned, though nothing remained to fuel them.

It was the last frontier before the Fifth Seal.

Mira stepped beside him. "So. This is it?"

Leon didn’t answer.

The flame ahead wasn’t hot.

It didn’t flicker.

But it *dared* them to try.

And somewhere past it...

Something waited.

Watching.

Listening.

He stepped forward.

Just enough for the flames to reflect in his eyes.

"Tomorrow," he said. "We cross it tomorrow."

Because tonight... they would rest.

And they would remember.

Because the Ashline wasn’t just a place.

It was the line between who they were—

And who they’d have to become. They made camp in the shadow of the ridge, using what little shelter the jagged rocks provided. The air here tasted like old smoke, but it wasn’t suffocating. Just... dry. Hollow. As if even the wind refused to carry stories this far. Mira gathered what could barely pass for kindling—splinters of blackened wood, shards of bone that didn’t burn but glowed faintly when struck. It wasn’t much, but it gave light.

Leon sat at the edge of the firelight, away from the others. He wasn’t brooding. He wasn’t lost in some tragic spiral of thought. He was *processing.* Like someone sorting puzzle pieces without a box to tell him what the picture was.

Tomas watched him for a bit, then turned to Mira. "So are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About how he went into a tree, fought his own ghost, and came back looking like he knows when the world ends."

Mira didn’t answer immediately. She tossed another shard into the glow. "He’s still Leon."

"Sure. Just with new scars we can’t see."

Kairis sat down beside them, eyes still half-turned toward the Ashline. "That’s how the old magic works. It changes you if you survive. Especially the judgmental kind."

"Judgmental magic," Tomas muttered. "Sounds like my uncle."

Kairis gave a small smile but didn’t laugh. "It’s not just a test. It’s a reflection. Some vaults show you your failure. Others show you what you’ll become if you don’t break the pattern."

"And his?" Mira asked.

Kairis turned to her. "His showed him what he *could* become. If he gave in."

Silence.

The fire popped.

Then Tomas leaned back and said, "Still think the canyon would’ve been worse."

"No," Mira replied. "The ridge just makes you watch. The canyon makes you listen."

Tomas blinked. "To what?"

"Your regrets," Kairis said. "Until they eat you."

They sat like that for a while.

Watching the Ashline.

It didn’t roar. Didn’t flicker.

But every few minutes, a ripple passed through it—like breath over silk.

Leon finally stood and walked back to the fire. He didn’t sit. He looked at each of them, one by one, then said, "I saw what I’d be if I lost who I am."

"And?" Mira asked.

Leon looked toward the horizon. "He was stronger than me. Faster. Crueller. But not better."

Kairis studied him carefully. "Did you kill him?"

"No," Leon said. "I accepted him. Then left him behind."

The others didn’t respond, but something eased in Mira’s shoulders.

He looked around. "Rest. We take shifts. At dawn, we move."

Kairis nodded. "I’ll take first."

Mira stood. "I’ll take second."

Tomas groaned. "Don’t say third."

Leon smirked. "I wasn’t going to."

Tomas blinked. "Really?"

"You’re taking fourth."

"Dammit."

They slept.

As much as anyone could sleep beneath an ever-staring sky.

Leon stayed awake longer than the others. Watching the flames.

Then watching the Ashline.

Not for movement.

Not for threat.

But for understanding.

He didn’t get any.

But he felt the shift when it came.

Just before sleep claimed him, the flames flickered. The same ripple passed through the Ashline—but slower this time.

It was preparing.

It knew they were coming.

And so did whatever waited beyond.

Leon didn’t sleep.

Not truly.

What passed for rest in this place was more like drifting—half-aware, half-dreaming. He felt the weight of his sword even as it lay beside him. Felt the pull of the shards like coals beneath his ribs. They weren’t restless. They were... alert. As if they, too, waited for dawn.

Hours passed, or maybe minutes. Time was sick here—bent out of shape by whatever truth the Ashline guarded.

At some point during Kairis’s watch, Leon rose and climbed the narrow ridge again. The flame below pulsed gently, quiet and soundless, like the breath of something enormous.

He stood there a long while, eyes fixed on the border.

The Ashline didn’t burn the way fire should. It bent inwards. Collapsing. Consuming. Not heat. Not light. Unmaking. The way stories died when no one remembered them.

It felt... familiar.

"Can’t sleep?" Mira’s voice was soft behind him.

Leon didn’t turn. "Didn’t try."

She walked up beside him, folding her arms as she studied the shimmering line across the land.

"This the part where you tell me something profound?" he asked, glancing at her.

She shook her head. "No. This is the part where I tell you I’m scared."

Leon blinked.

Mira didn’t look away from the Ashline. "We’ve fought monsters. Fought worse things. But this?" She exhaled through her nose. "It’s not something you can stab. Not something you can outrun. It’s a test."

Leon looked at the flame again. "Everything’s been a test lately."

"No," Mira said. "Tests have rules. This... doesn’t."

He didn’t answer.

They stood together in silence. Just the two of them and the veil that separated now from after.

"You think we’ll all make it across?" Mira asked eventually.

Leon hesitated.

Then said, "No."

Mira turned sharply.

"But we’ll try," he added. "And we won’t leave anyone behind."

That softened her again.

She sighed. "You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Say the hard thing, then follow it with something that makes me hate you a little less."

Leon allowed a small smile.

The two stood a while longer.

Then Mira nodded to the slope. "Get some rest. I’ll take your shift."

Leon looked at her.

And saw the faint shake in her hands.

She wasn’t lying when she said she was afraid.

So he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks."

She didn’t say anything.

But she stayed.

And Leon went back down.

Tomas was sprawled half-inside his bedroll, mouth open, snoring softly. Kairis sat near the fire, eyes closed but upright—somewhere between meditation and slumber.

Leon lay down beside his blade, the heat of the fire warming only the surface of his skin.

When his eyes closed, he didn’t just dream.

But he began to remember.

Faces. Fires. The boy in the cradle. The reflection in the vault.

And the feeling in his chest when the Ashline had seen him.

It wasn’t done yet.

None of it was.

Dawn would come—whatever that meant here.

And with it, the crossing.

The flame didn’t want them.

The flame warned them.

But they would walk through anyway.

Because the seal wouldn’t break itself.

And the world wouldn’t save itself.