A jagged crystalline wall pressed against Lyra’s back. Each breath hitched, a rasping whisper against her dry throat. Her limbs felt like brine-soaked rags, heavy and unresponsive. The raw power that had decimated the Stalker brood was gone, leaving only a hollow ache. Every mineral in her being felt depleted, every drop of moisture wrung dry. Utterly spent, she lay curled in the nursery’s aftermath, the metallic tang of Stalker ichor sharp in the still air.
Kaelen moved among the fractured salt pillars, his strides unwavering. No tremor shook his frame, no heavy exhalation broke his steady rhythm. He was a force of the Salt Wastes, impervious to fatigue, almost inhuman in his relentless focus.
Lyra had shattered the immediate threats, a storm of salt shards born of desperation. But compared to Kaelen’s quiet, methodical slaughter of the remaining swarm, her efforts felt like a mere flicker against a raging inferno.
He continued to tear at the crystallized floor of the nursery. His movements were precise, efficient, leaving no loose rock untouched. Lyra watched, a distant curiosity replacing her recent terror. What elusive prize did he seek amidst the carnage?
Kaelen located the deep, iridescent crystal formation where the Matriarch had rested. With a grunt, he wrenched it from the ground. The massive pillar snapped free like brittle candy, revealing a hidden chamber.
Nestled within was a pulsating orb, the size of an adult’s fist. It shimmered with an inner, pale light. A Matriarch pupa, Lyra realized with a start. The very heart of a new brood.
Kaelen lifted the orb. Its light pulsed faintly in his palm.
He tossed it to Lyra. Her exhausted fingers fumbled, but she caught it, the warmth a strange contrast to her chilled skin.
“What… is this?” Her voice was a dry croak.
“Matriarch Essence Orb,” Kaelen replied, his gaze already returning to the Matriarch’s colossal carcass.
“Why give it to me?”
“Not just any core. The Matriarch’s final, concentrated essence. It holds the seed of its power.” His words were clipped, devoid of explanation.
“Like a Brinewyrm’s venom-sac?” Lyra remembered the searing pain from an earlier encounter, a crude, desperate attempt to boost her resilience.
“Better. Consume it.”
Lyra stared at the orb in her hands. Its faint glow seemed to mock her hesitation. She closed her eyes, the familiar taste of her own fear rising. Then, she brought the orb to her lips.
The crystalline shell fractured with a soft pop. A viscous, warm liquid flooded her mouth, thick and strangely sweet at first, then intensely bitter. It slid down her throat, burning a path as it descended.
An inferno ignited within her belly. It was not a physical fire, but a searing internal desiccation, as if every last atom of moisture, every mineral compound in her body, was being violently re-arranged. The pain of the Brinewyrm’s venom-sac was a gentle sting compared to this.
Her body arched, a silent scream tearing through her. The nursery floor became a blur of sharp crystals as she writhed, muscles spasming uncontrollably. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat a hammer blow against her ribs. Sharp daggers of heat pierced her gut, twisting and turning, threatening to rip her apart from the inside.
Kaelen watched her. His expression remained unreadable, his stance impassive. He offered no comfort, no word of encouragement.
“If you wish to survive Aethel, grow accustomed to agony,” he stated, his voice flat. “This pain barely qualifies.”
Leaving Lyra to her suffering, Kaelen moved to the Matriarch Stalker’s enormous form. With a single, fluid motion of his blade, *Saltscythe*, he severed its head from its carapaced torso. The cut was impossibly clean, leaving no ragged wound. Acquiring such an intact Matriarch carcass was a rare feat.
Nothing went to waste. Its segmented sensory tendrils could detect distant seismic tremors, its six massive legs crafted into powerful siege weapons. Kaelen plunged a hand into the Matriarch’s torso, past layers of glistening internal organs.
He retrieved a fist-sized, obsidian-black stone, pulsing with a faint, cold light. A core crystal, remarkably pure. Matriarchs, as queens of their kind, always possessed one.
Core crystals weren’t just found in deep mines. Sometimes, rare beasts manifested them, often holding an unprecedented purity and the creature’s distilled essence. Kaelen’s gaze swept over the remaining parts – the titanium-hard carapace for armor, the internal organs for potent tinctures.
He opened a shimmering tear in the air, a spatial void. The entire Matriarch carcass vanished into its depths, swallowed whole.
Lyra’s agony showed no signs of abating. She whimpered, her body contorted like a dried root, strength to even scream long gone. The raw power of the Essence Orb was overwhelming, an internal storm that would take time to quell.
Kaelen drove *Saltscythe* into the crystalline floor. Its blade, imbued with the heart of a Cinder Drake, pulsed with a faint crimson glow. Such external changes meant little to him. What mattered was the blade’s intrinsic spirit.
As if in response, *Saltscythe* hummed, a low, resonant thrum. Kaelen listened intently, his head slightly cocked.
After a long silence, Kaelen spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper.
“I know. There is no other path.”
“Weakness brings oblivion. That is the truth of this world.”
“We lack time. She… Lyra… is vital.”
“Indeed. But…”
The strange conversation between Kaelen and his blade continued, a silent exchange of understanding, for a long while.
---
Lyra opened her eyes, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. Every inch of her body ached, as if pounded by a hundred salt hammers. The profound weakness in her limbs was a direct consequence of consuming the Matriarch Essence Orb. The piercing internal pain had lasted through the night, leaving her utterly drained, yet strangely whole. At least her limbs still functioned.
She focused inward, assessing her Essence reserves. Her breath hitched. Her capacity for mineral manipulation, for drawing brine, for commanding the very salt around her, had tripled. The raw, internal power was breathtaking.
“Your essence manipulation and control should be vastly improved,” Kaelen’s voice cut through the silence. He was rising, storing *Saltscythe* with a practiced motion.
“The orb… it did this?” Lyra asked, her voice still hoarse.
“Correct. Certain creature essences, especially from a Matriarch, amplify a Brineheart’s innate connection. Not every core has this effect; only specific, potent ones.”
“If you’ve rested, get up. We move.” Kaelen’s gaze was already scanning the exit of the nursery. “No time for idleness.”
“Yes. Alright.” Lyra grit her teeth. Complaining to Kaelen was futile; it was always better to simply act. She pushed herself upright, muscles protesting every movement.
Following Kaelen out of the shattered nursery felt like stepping into a new world. The pale, morning light of the Salt Wastes had never seemed so welcoming, the crisp, saline air so pure. Lyra breathed deeply, filling her lungs.
Kaelen was already striding across the plains, his silhouette growing smaller with each step. Lyra called upon her newfound Essence, focusing on the mineral composition beneath her boots. Her body slid forward, a whisper of grit and compressed salt accompanying her movement. She didn’t need to lift her feet, the very ground propelling her.
Keeping pace with Kaelen, once a grueling effort, was now almost effortless. Her salt-spun cloak, tattered and torn from the Stalker assault, shimmered. The damage from the battle slowly mended itself, threads of salt recrystallizing, wounds sealing. It was the inherent regeneration of the Brineheart’s woven garments, now accelerated by her heightened power.
The cloak's innate salt-striding ability, combined with her vastly increased Essence, made traversing the desolate plains feel like gliding. Lyra pulled a strip of dried Brinekelp from her pouch, chewing it slowly. Its salty, mineral taste filled her mouth.
Where was Kaelen’s ultimate destination? In this endless, shimmering expanse, she couldn’t help but wonder what he sought, what grand purpose drove him. Had they not shared this brutal journey, she might have remained indifferent. Now, a profound need to know, to understand, compelled her to follow.
Then, the plains shifted. A fierce crystalline blizzard swept in, a sudden, blinding wall of stinging salt and wind. Intense gusts carried a deluge of razor-sharp ice crystals that enveloped the entire landscape.
Lyra pressed her mending cloak tight around her, squinting against the assault. An ordinary wanderer would be lost, their vision obliterated, their skin flayed. For Lyra, it was only a slight discomfort.
Her enhanced Essence extended her perception range dramatically. She could sense Kaelen, meters ahead, each measured step he took resonating within her heightened awareness. It was as if the very salt grains, the very crystalline structures of the plain, were relaying information about him.
*This is what growth feels like,* Lyra thought, the concept blossoming in her mind. She considered her own evolving abilities. Fighting with only predetermined skills was a fool’s game. Even with the same powers, the ingenuity of their application made all the difference.
To imagine endlessly, to bend the stark reality of the Salt Wastes to her will—this, Lyra now understood, was the true essence of strength. She might never have grasped this truth without Kaelen’s relentless, brutal pushes.
*Still, he’s a formidable, unyielding enigma,* she mused. He always pushed her to her breaking point, expecting her to survive, to overcome. If she failed, he would mercilessly discard her. Though the thought of being discarded held less terror now, Lyra still wanted to prove herself.
She believed that by staying with Kaelen, by enduring his harsh tutelage, she could achieve a strength akin to his. She never wanted to struggle, to be hunted, to be weak again. She didn’t know where this path led, but following Kaelen, she felt, was the only way to reach such power.
Lost in thought, she walked. The crystalline blizzard abruptly passed, the air clearing as swiftly as it had arrived. Kaelen’s back was visible in the distance, resolute. He remained focused on the horizon, salt dust clinging to his hair and shoulders, unbrushed.
Abruptly, Kaelen stopped. It was still hours before dusk. Too early for him to rest.
Lyra approached, coming to a halt beside him. Kaelen didn’t react, his gaze fixed on something far ahead. Lyra followed his line of sight.
Her eyes widened. Something massive moved on the horizon, where the sky met the shimmering salt. A deep, thudding rhythm pulsed through the ground.
The moment Lyra recognized the colossal entity approaching, she almost gasped. It was a gigantic Saltback Colossus. Unlike its common kin, this one was thousands of times larger, its colossal shell shaped like a multi-tiered fortress. Moreover, it shimmered with the deep sapphire hue of a B-rank or higher creature.
“What… is that?” Lyra whispered, awe in her voice.
“The Crystalline Fortress, Aethel’s Heart,” Kaelen stated, his voice flat. “It’s a nomadic beast, an ancient Saltback. Only a B-rank, true, but its defensive capabilities rival A-rank creatures. Nomadic tribes, even entire settlements, have carved their homes into its shell.”
“Humans… tame and ride a monster that size?” Disbelief warred with the undeniable sight before her. It seemed an utterly impossible story. Yet, the fortress on the Colossus’s back was real, undeniable.
Aethel’s Heart was heading directly for them. Though its movements were slow, its sheer size meant it closed the distance rapidly. Up close, the Saltback Colossus was even more overwhelming, easily the size of a small village.
Finally, Aethel’s Heart halted directly in front of them. A massive gate within the fortress shell slowly rumbled open. An old man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, emerged.
He pushed spectacles up his nose, his eyes fixing on Kaelen. “From a distance, I had my doubts. But it is truly you, Kaelen.”