NOVPUB
Chapter 105: Shattered Gate
Zayn stood still for a moment, watching the body of the monster remain lifeless — like a bonfire of a beast had finally run out of fuel.
The stench of rot was still thick in the air, but without the beast’s looming presence, it felt... manageable. Somewhat distant to the nose.
His legs were jelly, his shoulders on fire, and every breath scraped against his ribs like rusted nails.
He limped forward, past Kara and Tobias, past Bran — who was still admiring the shimmering boss core — and toward the twitching remains of the monster.
His sword dragged against the floor behind him with a soft metallic scrape.
"Zayn?" Elisse called gently, voice barely audible. "What are you — "
But he didn’t respond.
He stopped just before the body, its massive form lying in a twisted heap, limbs broken at unnatural angles.
Its face still wore a grimace of pain, one side caved in from his horn, the other riddled with stab wounds.
And then — ding.
A glowing interface blinked into view in front of him. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and focused.
[Would you like to absorb the soul remnants of ’Abominable’?]
[Warning: This soul is highly unstable.]
He exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest replaced with something deeper.
Something he couldn’t name. Maybe it was greed. Maybe curiosity. Maybe just the simple desire not to waste the chance.
"Yes," he said.
The moment the word left his mouth, he felt it.
The soul shot out from the monster’s chest like a spear made of shadow and flame.
It slammed into him — hard enough that he staggered back a step.
He felt it pierce through him like a needle through cloth, cold and hot all at once, and then it was inside him, rooting.
There was no bright flash.
No dramatic swirl of colors. Just an invisible pressure — like a storm brewing in his ribcage.
Zayn dropped to one knee, gritting his teeth as the soul wriggled and thrashed within him.
It clawed at his own, foreign and hateful, trying to take over — trying to corrupt.
But he gritted his teeth, clamped down on it with every ounce of will he had.
It took a minute — maybe more. But eventually, the chaos settled and his breath eased.
A dull pulse of energy spread through him.
[You have unlocked: Soul Siphon (Lv.1)]
The text hung in the air for a moment before vanishing.
Zayn sucked in a deep breath.
He rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
His lips were dry and cracked. His body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. But the soul was his now.
"What... did you just do?" Tobias asked behind him, his voice edged with alarm.
Zayn turned to face them. "I observed my kill."
Tobias didn’t have anything to say to that...
Then the air shifted.
The dungeon trembled beneath their feet, and a familiar humming sound rose all around them — the groan of stone and magic unwinding.
"The dungeon’s collapsing," Tobias said, eyes scanning the walls. "The core must’ve been keeping it stable."
"Wait—" Zayn started, but the words barely left his mouth before everything began to unravel.
The walls crumbled inwards, not like a cave-in, but like illusions being peeled away.
The stone turned to mist, the darkness bled out into light, and the entire dungeon began to disintegrate.
Zayn staggered, the world tilting wildly around him.
He reached out, trying to grab something — anything — but there was nothing left to hold onto.
The last thing he saw was Elisse reaching toward him, eyes wide with panic.
Then — white.
When Zayn opened his eyes, he was lying on grass.
Real, actual, sun-drenched grass.
The air was clean. The wind gentle. The stench of rot and blood was gone.
He sat up with a grunt. His bones popped like a bag of rice crackers.
They were outside.
The forest surrounded them again, birds chirping faintly in the trees.
The dungeon gate they had entered through now stood behind them, shattering into a million pieces of energy.
Kara was the first to speak. "...Did we just get thrown out of the dungeon?"
"Technically, I think we got gently placed outside," Bran said, rubbing his neck. "Like someone carried us out in a big magical basket."
Zayn groaned, leaning back against a tree. "Well, that’s one way to end a dungeon run."
Tobias dusted off his coat and pulled out his soul meter. "Everything’s stable again. No readings. It’s completely dead. That was definitely the core holding everything together."
They sat in silence for a while, the sun filtering down through the canopy above.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of wind and the occasional chirp of a bird.
Zayn finally stood, stretching and wincing as his muscles protested.
"Well," he said, cracking his neck, "anyone else craving something greasy and unhealthy?"
Bran raised a hand. "Oh yes. Preferably fried. With Boondock cheese."
Elisse chuckled. "I can make something when we get back to town. You guys earned it."
Zayn grinned. "You’re a saint, Elisse."
"A very tired saint," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
...
When Zayn handed the core over at the guild, he half expected the clerk behind the counter to squint and ask if it was fake.
Instead, the half elf called over her supervisor, who then called over her supervisor, and ten minutes later, the party was staring at a pouch that had more zeroes than Zayn’s brain could process on a tired day.
Now they were back home, shoes kicked off, exhaustion settling in like a thick blanket over the room.
Zayn and Bran lay sprawled out across the living room floor, limbs heavy and awkward, still wearing the same battered gear from the dungeon.
Their armor clinked lightly as they shifted, like rusty wind chimes having a lazy conversation.
Bran had one leg propped up on a chair and was slowly rotating his ankle. "You ever get so tired your bones feel like pudding?"
Zayn snorted. "You say that like pudding bones are a bad thing."
Bran groaned. "They are if you want to stand up."
Across the house, Elisse was moving about the kitchen, humming a little tune as she pulled ingredients out of their stash.
She had cleaned up first, of course — unlike the two meatheads on the floor.
The smell of something being seared in butter began drifting over, and both men involuntarily turned their heads toward the scent like cats catching a whiff.
"Is that — "
"Meat?" Bran sat up a bit. "Did she find the good stuff?"
Zayn lifted a hand and called out weakly, "Elisse, if you cook like that again we’re gonna have to pay you a chef’s salary!"
"Then maybe you should clean like actual adults!" she called back, the grin in her voice unmistakable.
They both laughed, the sound loose and comfortable, the kind that only came when your life wasn’t actively in danger anymore.
"I still can’t believe that thing almost rotted your sword," Bran said, glancing over at Zayn. "That boss was unreal."
They soon began arguing about how strong the boss was but Kara stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed and eyes trained on Zayn like she’d already made up her mind about something.
"Zayn," she said simply.
"Yeah?"
"Upstairs. Now."
Bran slowly rotated his gaze from Kara to Zayn like he was watching someone get called to the principal’s office.
Zayn blinked. "What for?"
She didn’t answer. She just turned and started walking, confident that he’d follow.
Bran leaned in dramatically. "Bro. What did you do?"
Zayn shrugged helplessly. "I don’t — am I in trouble?"
Bran gave him a thumbs-up. "Only one way to find out. Go, soldier."
Rolling his eyes, Zayn pushed himself off the ground with a long, theatrical groan.
His limbs protested every movement, but he trudged up the stairs like a man marching to his fate.
Kara didn’t look back until they reached her room, where she opened the door, waited for him to step inside, and then shut it behind them.
Zayn opened his mouth, possibly to apologize for whatever he might’ve done wrong.
Kara kissed him.
