Chapter 196: The Wreck
He crossed behind Jorren’s shield line, planted one foot on a stable slab, and thrust into the glassmaw’s path. The spear did not pierce deeply; the creature’s hide turned the blade aside more than he liked. But the impact disrupted its leap, knocking it low enough for Liora to shoot it through the side of its jaw.
The transparent bone cracked.
The glassmaw screamed.
That sound did something to the ash.
It vibrated.
Rohan’s teeth clenched as the grey cloud around him shivered, confusing his sense of direction. For one disorienting moment, he saw three versions of the same beast through the drifting particles.
One real.
Two reflections.
He chose wrong.
The glassmaw’s claws raked across his side, tearing through ash-cloth and scraping against the compacted layer he had formed over his ribs. Pain flashed, but the claws did not dig deep. He stumbled backward, caught himself on the spear, and forced more ash across the wound before blood could soak the cloth.
"Rohan!" Liora shouted.
"I am still standing!"
"That was not what I asked!"
"It was the most relevant answer!"
The glassmaw lunged again.
This time, Rohan watched its shoulders rather than the distorted jaw. Liora’s training came back with sharp clarity. Do not trust the first opening. Watch the hips, not the blade. Or in this case, watch the body, not the horrifying transparent teeth.
The creature feinted left.
Rohan did not follow.
It sprang right.
He was already moving.
Hestia’s spear slid under its jaw and punched up through the cracked transparent bone Liora had damaged. The blade entered the glowing throat.
Rohan drove the shaft upward with both hands.
The glassmaw convulsed.
Death essence erupted into him.
It came colder than cinderback essence, sharper than skarn, heavier than stormling. It carried a strange reflective quality, as though for an instant his senses split and rejoined. He felt the Great
System seize it, measure it, and pour it into the rank structure around him.
[Beast Slain: Glassmaw Stalker]
[Death Essence Absorbed]
[Shared Contribution: Liora Esh - Significant]
[Rank Progress Increased]
[Rank Increased: 34 -> 35]
Rohan inhaled sharply.
The world seemed to draw closer.
His muscles tightened, then settled. The pain in his side dulled slightly. His grip on the spear became steadier. Not healed. Not restored. But strengthened.
Rank 35.
He almost lost focus.
Almost.
Maerin’s voice cut through the ash.
"Do not celebrate in the middle of a fight!"
Rohan snapped back just in time to see the second glassmaw crash into Jorren’s shield.
The rest of the battle demanded everything.
The centre glassmaw was heavier than the others and clever enough to attack the shield line while the third tried to circle toward the harvesters. Liora and the archers pinned the third with repeated shots, but it took Maerin and Mavik together to finish it. Jorren held the centre beast through two charges, his boots sliding back across stone, until Rohan came in from the side and used Molten
Assimilation to throw a burst of dead ash into the creature’s open throat.
It coughed, staggered, and Maerin drove her hooked blade deep behind its skull.
When the final glassmaw fell, everyone was breathing hard.
No one had died.
Two shield hands were injured. One harvester had been knocked down and bruised. Rohan’s side bled lightly beneath the ash layer. Liora’s brace had taken a hard twist when she dodged, and she sat on a slab with her jaw clenched while Iri’s apprentice checked it.
Maerin walked over to Rohan.
"Your side."
"It is shallow."
"That was not an answer to whether it needs treatment."
"It needs treatment, but not panic."
"Good. You are learning how to describe injuries."
"I had a strict teacher."
"She sounds wise."
"She sounds terrifying."
Maerin looked at him for another moment, then her sternness eased.
"You reached a new rank."
Rohan blinked.
"You noticed?"
"You nearly smiled while surrounded by ash and glassmaw blood. Either you reached a new rank or you had finally lost your mind."
"Rank 35."
Liora looked over from her slab despite the apprentice fussing with her brace.
"Congratulations."
Her smile was tired but genuine.
Jorren lifted his shield slightly in acknowledgement.
Sen said, "Good. Maybe next time you can kill it before it claws you."
Rohan touched the torn cloth at his side.
"I will add that to the plan."
The Great System displayed the rank again when he focused.
[Rank: 35]
For a moment, standing amid glassmaw corpses, ash haze, and old hull ridges, Rohan allowed himself to feel it.
Progress.
Not enough to escape. Not enough to defeat the merchants, cross the stars, or demand answers from Hestia. But enough that the path beneath his feet felt slightly more solid than before.
They harvested what they could from the glassmaws quickly.
The transparent jawbone was valuable. So were the throat glands, though removing them required careful cutting and several warnings not to touch the glowing fluid inside. Rohan received a share from the beast he had killed with Liora, though he insisted hers be marked significant in the tally.
Bryan would have done it anyway, Maerin said.
Rohan still wanted it spoken.
By late afternoon, they reached the southern edge of the old wreck field.
No one needed to announce it.
The land changed.
Blackstone ridges gave way to vast shapes buried under ash.
At first, Rohan saw only pale curves emerging from the ground, but as the expedition climbed a shallow rise, the field opened before them in fragments of impossible scale. Hull plates the size of buildings lay half-submerged in grey drifts. Twisted beams jutted upward like the bones of a dead god. Sections of old corridor, wide enough for several carts to pass through, had been torn open and fused with stone. In the distance, a broken ring structure rose from the ash, its upper arc missing, its remaining curve catching silver light from the sky.
Horizon’s Mercy.
The Wreck.
The Fall.
Even centuries dead, it was enormous.
Rohan stood at the top of the rise and forgot to breathe.
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