From Deadbeat noble to Top Rank Swordsman-Chapter 97: The Seeker Below

The descent was slow.

The stairway spiralled into blackness, deeper than it should’ve gone. The walls were lined with scorched murals—fragments of battles lost, faces twisted in agony, cities devoured by flame. But none of them moved. None changed.

They weren’t illusions.

They were warnings.

Each step pressed heavier than the last. Not from exhaustion, but weight. The deeper they went, the tighter the air became. Not from smoke. From pressure. Like the mountain wanted to keep them out—or keep something in.

Leon said nothing. Neither did the others. Even the boy kept silent, his eyes fixed on the darkness below.

Finally, the stairway ended.

The chamber that opened before them wasn’t carved. It was melted. Walls of slag and obsidian formed a dome that pulsed faintly red. In its center lay a circle of jagged stone—a ring scorched deep into the floor. And in that ring knelt a figure.

At first, he looked like a man.

Then he moved.

Chains clinked around his wrists, but they weren’t forged. They had grown from his body—threads of embered bone wrapped into his skin. His eyes glowed faintly. His hair was gone. Burnt away.

But his voice remained.

"Another one," he rasped. "Another who thinks they’re ready."

Leon stepped forward. "Who are you?"

The man didn’t answer at first. He tilted his head. Then, slowly, he looked up.

His face was familiar.

Callen staggered back. "He looks like..."

"Me," the boy whispered. "He was the first."

The chained man gave a crooked smile. "I opened a seal I wasn’t meant to. Took power I didn’t understand."

Leon clenched his fists. "And what happened?"

"It destroyed me."

A wave of heat pulsed from the ring. The ground trembled. Molten cracks formed under the man’s knees. Still, he did not rise.

"They called me the Seeker. Thought I could control what came before. I was wrong."

Elena stepped beside Leon. "Then why are you still here?"

The Seeker’s smile faded. "Because they made me stay. To warn others. To tempt them. To see if they’ll fail like I did."

He raised one hand. Firelight flickered in his palm.

"You could take it. The power I found. It’s still here. You wouldn’t need to struggle anymore. Just take it."

Leon didn’t move.

The boy stepped forward. "Don’t. That power has a cost. It always did. It will take more from you than it gives."

The Seeker’s expression hardened. "So you’re here to judge me, boy? You, who stayed hidden while the world burned?"

The boy didn’t flinch. "I’m here to see if you still understand what you did."

The flames dimmed.

The Seeker looked at Leon. For a moment, his voice softened.

"Don’t let desperation guide you. Don’t grab the first answer just because it’s easier."

Then he bowed his head.

And disappeared.

The chains glowed white-hot. The circle flared. And in a heartbeat, the Seeker was gone—not in pain, but in silence.

A new path opened.

Forward.

Leon stepped into the ring. The fire didn’t resist. It cleared.

The path beyond pulsed with red light. It led through an archway made from melted weapons—swords, spears, shields fused into one wall.

Elena reached out. "Leon...?"

He turned. "We keep going. We’re not done yet."

They walked on.

The ground beyond the archway changed. It wasn’t stone anymore—it was scorched metal, warped and buzzing faintly like it had seen war. The walls were embedded with broken weapons. Not displayed—buried deep, like remnants of a battle long past.

The boy slowed beside Leon. "This is where it first happened," he said. "Where people fought back."

Leon didn’t reply. His jaw tightened as they passed a spear snapped through a rusted breastplate. Bone still clung to it.

They entered a wide hall.

There was no ceiling. Only open sky above, red and swirling. On both sides stood statues—armoured warriors, weapons raised or lowered. But their faces weren’t carved.

They were real.

Preserved in ash.

Tomas looked up. "They fought here?"

"They died here," Mira said quietly.

"No," the boy said. "They chose to die here. So the rest of us could go on."

At the center of the hall stood a brazier made of black glass. No flame. Just smoke. Swirling slowly. It didn’t rise. It hovered.

Elena stepped forward. Her hand hovered above the smoke. It pulled toward her, then stopped.

"Alive," she whispered. "But waiting."

Leon approached. As he did, the smoke thickened. Images appeared.

A burning battlefield.

A king falling.

A mountain erupting.

He blinked. The visions stopped.

One image stayed: a broken crown.

The boy spoke. "That’s what’s left of the Oathfire. You can’t claim it. You have to prove you’re ready to carry what comes with it."

Alden frowned. "How?"

"It doesn’t give you power. It sees if you’re ready to sacrifice."

Leon stared at the smoke. "What if I say no?"

"Then the door stays shut."

Leon stepped forward. He reached out—not to take, but to accept.

The smoke recoiled.

Then surged.

A burst of hot air blasted out. The brazier glowed brighter.

Then a voice echoed through the hall.

"Who are you fighting for?"

Leon answered without hesitation. "For the ones who couldn’t fight back."

Another question.

"What do you want?"

"To finish what they started."

"Will you break?"

Leon closed his eyes. "I already have. I kept going."

The smoke vanished.

In its place, a small ember hovered above his hand.

It landed.

It didn’t hurt.

It warmed.

The brazier went dark.

The wall behind them split open, revealing a path made by flame.

Elena exhaled. "That didn’t feel like a test. It felt like it was making sure."

Leon nodded. "It wasn’t power. It was permission."

The boy spoke. "The last seal is close."

They moved forward.

And the hall behind them closed.

They entered a corridor that pulsed with rhythm—like the beat of molten stone. The walls glowed with red-gold veins of old energy.

Callen looked around. "This wasn’t built. It formed."

Alden brushed a wall. "It’s alive."

"No," the boy said. "It remembers."

Leon didn’t speak. His hand stayed on his sword.

The path curved.

Another chamber. Smaller.

A single torch floated upside down.

Below it, a pedestal.

A mask rested there.

Black. Shaped like a man’s face, but missing eyes and mouth.

Mira stepped forward. "That looks wrong."

"It’s not finished," the boy said.

Leon approached. The mask pulsed.

Tomas asked, "What is it?"

"A judgment," the boy said. "One that asks what kind of person you are."

The flame above flared.

Words formed:

What will you become to finish this?

Leon didn’t speak.

What will you not give up?

Images appeared:

His mother’s shaking hands.

His father’s buried blade.

Elena’s body in the snow.

A falling tower.

His own hands covered in blood.

He stepped back.

"Leon," Elena said. "You don’t have to do this now."

"No," the boy said. "This place won’t let us through unless he answers."

Leon looked at the mask.

"I won’t become like the ones who caused this," he said.

The flame dimmed.

"But I won’t walk away from what they left behind."

The mask cracked.

Then floated to Leon’s chest.

It pressed against him.

And disappeared.

The torch went out.

A narrow passage opened.

From the darkness ahead came a sound.

Breathing.

Heavy. Waiting.

Leon turned to the others.

"Whatever’s next knows we’re here."

The boy nodded. "It’s the last thing left from before."

Without waiting, Leon stepped into the dark.

The corridor beyond was tight, almost too narrow for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. The air changed again—drier now. Older. The walls here were neither stone nor metal. They were something else. Hardened roots, petrified and blackened, woven into a tunnel. Not placed by hand. Not shaped by magic.

Grown.

They twisted in strange spirals, like something once alive had withered while trying to escape.

Tomas placed a palm against the wall. "It’s warm."

"Don’t touch anything," Leon said.

The boy didn’t speak. He moved ahead, leading them through one final turn.

And then the chamber opened.

It was wide. Not tall, not grand. Just wide. Flat. Like a mouth waiting to close.

At its centre stood a throne—not carved, not forged. Formed. A mass of scorched roots and broken swords, fused around the figure who sat upon it.

The source of the breathing.

The figure was enormous. Not in height, but weight. Mass. Density. Like the air itself bent around him. His arms rested on the twisted arms of the throne, and his head hung low. No crown. No helmet. Just scorched skin and heavy shoulders.

He was asleep.

But even in sleep, his presence pressed against the room.

Elena whispered, "Is that the last guardian?"

"No," the boy said. "That’s the one who failed."

The figure stirred.

Leon drew his blade. "Then why is he still here?"

"Because we’re the first ones to reach him," the boy replied.

The figure’s head rose.

Eyes opened—dull gold, like dying embers.

He spoke with no emotion. "Who bears the seal?"

Leon stepped forward. "I do."

The figure studied him. His voice came again, dry and deliberate. "You carry fire that does not belong to you."

"I carry what no one else would."

Silence.

Then: "You’ve come to break the final seal. Do you know what that means?"

Leon didn’t answer.

The figure stood.

He was taller than he looked. Not giant, but unnaturally grounded. The floor groaned beneath his weight. And yet, no armour. No weapon.

Only scars. His entire torso was a map of deep, black burns.

He walked toward Leon, slow but unstoppable.

"You think the others failed because they were weak?"

Leon raised his blade. "No. They failed because they were alone."

The figure stopped.

Then nodded once.

"Good. Then you’ll understand this part."

He lifted his arm.

And the entire floor lit up.

Lines flared to life beneath their feet—runes etched into the stone, circles within circles. Each one old. Cracked. Dormant until now.

Leon felt it in his chest.

A pulse.

The room had a heartbeat.

The figure spoke. "This seal doesn’t test your strength. It tests your limits. Everything you hold close—everything you fear losing—it will drag them here."

Elena flinched. "Drag how?"

He turned to her. "By force. The seal must see what you protect when the cost is real."

Leon’s sword lowered slightly. "You’re saying it will hurt them?"

"No. It will ask them."

He pointed past them.

One by one, the others began to react. Tomas stumbled, grabbing his head. Mira dropped to one knee, eyes wide. Alden stepped back, breathing heavy. Even Callen cursed under his breath.

Elena’s hands shook.

Only the boy stood still.

"What’s happening to them?" Leon demanded.

The figure’s voice deepened. "Their answers decide if you pass. Not yours alone. The seal breaks only if those who follow you do so by choice."

Leon’s jaw clenched. "And if they say no?"

The floor’s glow intensified.

"Then the fire you carry turns on you."

Leon moved to the others. Mira was shaking. Tomas muttering something under his breath. Elena’s eyes flicked back and forth like she was somewhere else.

"No," Leon whispered. "Not like this."

He turned back to the figure.

"There must be another way."

"There isn’t," the figure said. "This is what the seal is. The last one. The one that asks: If they knew everything... would they still follow?"

A wave of heat washed over the room.

The chamber darkened around the edges.

And behind Leon, the others began to speak.

Tomas first.

"I saw it," he said quietly. "What I’ll become. What I’ll lose. But I still chose to walk."

Mira stood. Her voice cracked. "I’m scared. I hate this place. But I believe in him."

Callen gave a bitter laugh. "Don’t look at me. I’m here because someone has to make sure the bastard doesn’t get himself killed."

Alden grunted. "Doesn’t matter if it kills us. We’re already in it."

Elena was last.

She looked at Leon. Her voice didn’t shake.

"I don’t care what it costs. I made my choice when I stepped into that room with you."

The seal beneath them flared.

Light burst from every etched line, crawling to the centre of the chamber.

The figure watched it rise.

"You passed," he said.

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Then move."

The figure didn’t.

"You misunderstand. I said you passed. I didn’t say I would let you go."

And he raised both hands.

The final test had begun.

The figure’s hands dropped. No fire came. No blade. Just a sudden silence, and then a tremor. The walls shook. Cracks split across the dome. From behind the throne, the stone opened like a mouth.

And something crawled out.

It was human-shaped. Barely. Limbs too long, fingers stretched and trailing sparks. Its body flickered—sometimes ash, sometimes flesh. No eyes. Just two smouldering pits where they should’ve been.

Callen cursed. Tomas raised his sword, but the boy stepped forward.

"Don’t fight it," the boy warned. "It’s not here to kill. It’s here to know."

The creature dropped to all fours. Its head snapped toward each of them.

Then it lunged.

Straight for Elena.

Leon moved, blade flashing.

Too slow.

The creature reached her—then stopped. Inches from her chest.

It didn’t attack.

It breathed her in.

Elena gasped, staggering back. "I saw... my brother. His face. The day we buried him."

The creature turned. Tomas next. It crawled toward him, leaned close.

He didn’t resist.

His shoulders slumped. "My sister. I left her behind when the breach opened. I thought she was dead. But she wasn’t."

Next was Mira.

She didn’t speak. She only nodded after it withdrew.

It approached Alden. Then Callen. Each time it touched their fears, their shame, their cost.

Last was Leon.

It stopped before him. Waited.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. freёweɓnovel_com

"I already know what I lost," Leon said. "I don’t need it shown again."

The creature tilted its head.

Then, slowly, it lifted one hand and placed it over Leon’s chest.

No pain.

Only heat.

For a moment, Leon saw a single image.

Not death. Not fire.

A door.

Closed.

Then the creature vanished.

The chamber lit again. The figure by the throne exhaled like he hadn’t breathed in a century.

"You’re ready," he said. "But so were others."

He stepped aside.

Behind the throne, the path opened fully. Not scorched. Not cracked.

Smooth. Straight. Lit from below.

Leon turned to the others. "We finish it together."

No one argued.

They walked toward the light.

To the final seal.

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