In the previous chapter, Solomon faced a dire battle deep within the labyrinth against the mysterious assailants. The tension was palpable, as taut as a drawn bowstring. At the centre of it all, he held tightly to the enigmatic crystal orb, a relic radiating power both ancient and immeasurable. In that fleeting instant, an overwhelming surge of energy—vast, boundless, and as though drawn from the depths of an ancient abyss—flooded into his body like a tempestuous tidal wave.
The force roared within him, filling every fibre of his being. Solomon felt as though his very essence was becoming a vessel for this unimaginable power, his body barely able to contain it. He could feel the sacred battle aura within him—already as vigorous as a roaring river—transform into something far greater, like a stormy ocean churning with unrestrained fury. The immense energy coursing through his veins created a palpable, thunderous presence, threatening to break free from him at any moment.
At the same time, his connection to the magical elements around him underwent a staggering transformation. Once, his perception of magic was akin to peering through a thin veil—able to touch it, but never fully grasp it. Now, bolstered by the orb's influence, he found himself intimately intertwined with the elements, as though countless invisible threads extended from his soul, tethering him directly to the magical energies that permeated the air. What once seemed elusive now responded to his will with a newfound eagerness, obeying him as if they were lifelong companions.
Curiosity and excitement surged within Solomon, and he decided to test this newfound connection. With a quiet incantation and a subtle movement of his hands, he attempted a complex and advanced spell—one that had previously pushed him to his limits. Instantly, a dazzling burst of light erupted in his palms, a spell so powerful and pure that its radiance seemed to illuminate the entire labyrinth. What astonished him most was not just the spell's potency—now magnified severalfold—but the sheer ease with which he had summoned it.
"What is the nature of this crystal orb?" he wondered, his mind racing with awe and reverence. "To amplify my powers to such an extent… There must be secrets within this relic that are deeply tied to the origins of the Sacred Magic itself."
To Solomon, the orb felt less like a mere magical tool and more like a key—one that had unlocked a door to a higher plane of magic. It was as though he could now see the intricate threads of magic's essence, his understanding of the Sacred Magic elevated to unprecedented clarity.
But fate, as always, had its own plans.
Just as Solomon prepared to leave the labyrinth, eager to harness this newfound power and complete the arduous trial, the shadowy attackers returned, as if summoned by the orb itself. Cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, their presence radiating a malevolent energy so dense it seemed to warp the very air around them. Their movements were swift and spectral, their intentions clear: the crystal orb was their prize, and they would stop at nothing to claim it.
"So, you think you can escape?" one of the attackers sneered, his voice low and dripping with malice. "Hand over the orb, or face annihilation!"
A spark of fiery defiance ignited in Solomon's eyes as he clutched the orb tightly. "You vile wretches! Do you truly believe I'll let you take it? Over my dead body!"
With no further warning, the assailants launched their attack. They chanted incantations, their voices weaving together an ominous, guttural melody. From the void, massive tendrils of darkness emerged, writhing and twisting as they surged toward Solomon. The air grew colder, thicker, as though the tendrils themselves were sapping the life from the surroundings.
Solomon's instincts roared to life. In a single, fluid motion, he drew the Stellar Blade, the legendary sword strapped at his side. As the blade left its sheath, it shimmered with an ethereal brilliance, its surface vibrating with an energy that resonated with Solomon's will. The sword let out a clear, melodic hum, as though acknowledging its master's resolve.
With a mighty cry, Solomon swung the blade, its gleaming arc slicing through the encroaching tendrils. The darkness recoiled violently as severed tendrils dissolved into wisps of shadowy mist. But more emerged, countless in number, surging toward him like an unrelenting tide.
"Sacred Skybreaker!" Solomon bellowed, channelling his surging energy into the Stellar Blade. The weapon's glow intensified, as though a fragment of the cosmos had been forged into its edge. Raising the blade high, Solomon brought it crashing down with all his might. A colossal wave of energy, brilliant and unyielding, erupted from the blade, tearing through the tendrils and hurtling toward the attackers. The ground beneath him trembled, and the air cracked with the sound of pure magical force.
The wave struck true, forcing the cloaked figures to scatter. Several of them were flung backward, their anguished cries echoing through the labyrinth. Yet, despite the overwhelming power of his attack, the assailants regrouped with unnerving speed. Their dark magic gathered once more, forming a dense, swirling storm of malevolence that loomed over Solomon like a vengeful god.
This time, their assault was fiercer, more coordinated. Black arcs of lightning rained down upon him, each bolt tearing through the air with a deafening roar. A dense curtain of darkness enveloped him, oppressive and suffocating, as though the very fabric of the labyrinth had turned against him.
Solomon felt the weight of the battle pressing down on him. Though the orb's power surged within him, his opponents' strength and coordination pushed him to his limits. Their magic was unlike anything he had faced before—twisting, unpredictable, and horrifyingly effective. And yet, he fought on, his resolve unshaken.
As the chaos raged around him, one question burned brighter than any spell in Solomon's mind: Who were these attackers? Their magic bore the hallmarks of an ancient and forbidden tradition, their movements and tactics suggesting a level of training far beyond mere mercenaries. They were not here by chance. They were organised, determined, and, most chillingly, they were after the same thing he was.
The labyrinth quaked under the intensity of their clash, the air thick with the mingling scents of ozone and burnt stone. Solomon knew the battle was far from over, and the secrets of the crystal orb, along with the identities of his enigmatic foes, remained shrouded in mystery.
Would he manage to escape their clutches? Or would the orb, now his greatest strength, become his undoing? The outcome was uncertain, but one truth was clear: the path ahead would be paved with even greater trials, each more perilous than the last.