I Ascend Alone-Chapter 152: Everdeep Bastion Part IV

Another forge—this one abandoned.

Cold anvils. Extinguished braziers. It felt like the aftermath of war. Craters pockmarked the terrain, and broken Pyronaught corpses lay discarded around the arena.

But new enemies waited.

[ System Notice ]

➤ Enemies Detected:

— Scoria Phantoms – Burned Souls of the Forge (Rare-Class)

— Brimwyrm Serpents – Lava-Dwelling Ambushers (Elite-Class)

— Thar'Zhalek, the Blacksmoke Ascendant (Mini-Boss-Class)

They were more cunning now—faster, less brute-force. The Phantoms phased between reality, launching molten chains and screams that could rupture thought. The Brimwyrms erupted from lava pits without warning, jaws gaping and full of needle-like teeth.

Thar'Zhalek hovered—half-man, half-shadow-smoke, crowned with horns of obsidian and eyes like dying coals. He wielded flame as if it were silk.

We fought harder. Longer.

Even with perfect execution, the enemies had learned.

Adapting.

And when the final phantom died and the portal to Floor 6 opened, I paused.

Something tugged at me.

I opened the Status Interface.

—

[ System Notice ]

➤ You have gained 0 Levels.

➤ Your experience gain is now heavily reduced.

➤ Reason: Current level exceeds standard growth curve.

➤ Progression Requirement: Challenge Tier must escalate to gain meaningful growth.

—

I stared at it for a moment.

So that's how it was.

"No more free progress," I murmured.

I turned to Fenrir. "It's getting slower."

'From this point forward, only Sovereign-class threats or higher. I need real resistance.'

Behind me, the six Abyssal Orcs stood ready, steam rising from their skin.

The portal to Floor 6 burned ahead—hotter than ever.

I stepped into it.

[ Everdeep Bastion – Floor 6 / 1000 ]

The portal spat me out into silence.

No heat, no lava, no smoke, just a vast cavern of black crystal—tall jagged formations jutting out like serrated teeth from the ground and ceiling. Each one hummed softly, resonating with a dull, mind-numbing frequency. The air was thick, not with heat—but pressure.

Then the system spoke.

[ System Notice ]

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➤ Enemies Detected:

— Velgros the Shard-Tyrant – Mini-Boss-Class

— Sirrakiel the Crystal Warden – Mini-Boss-Class

— Drovak, Howler of the Depths – Mini-Boss-Class

— Myrrhal, Queen of Splintered Light – Mini-Boss-Class

➤ Combat Class: All designated enemies possess Sovereign-Bound Attributes➤ Estimated Threat: High-Difficulty Mini-Boss Coordination Class

From the far side of the cavern, the enemies emerged.

Velgros, a colossal armored creature made of obsidian crystal, his limbs jagged with blade-like protrusions. His chest held a glowing core that pulsed with kinetic energy. Every step he took sent out shockwaves, causing crystal spikes to jut randomly from the floor.

Sirrakiel, a massive six-legged construct, hovered inches above the ground, her crystalline wings extending like blades of light. She moved with calculated grace, launching lances of pure resonance from her tail with each flutter.

Drovak, a beast crouched low—half-lupine, half-insect, covered in deep violet carapace. He never stopped moving, crawling along walls, vanishing into the shadows, then howling a piercing scream that shattered weaker crystal formations on contact.

And then Myrrhal.

She floated.

A humanoid entity made of broken shards bound by pure will. A fractured crown hovered above her head, and light bled from her eyes like refracted sunlight. She raised her hand—and the arena responded. The crystal structures obeyed her.

The moment froze, then I raised my hand.

"Go."

The summons surged forth.

-

Dusk Reaver was the first to clash—his greatsword singing as it collided with Velgros's arm-blades in a burst of abyssal sparks. The Tyrant responded with a massive two-handed slam meant to shatter him outright, but Reaver twisted mid-air, landing a counter-blow to the crystalline knee joint. The clash echoed like thunder.

To his side, the Abyssal Orcs split into two coordinated teams. Three intercepted Drovak, encircling the skittering creature with brutal efficiency, slamming their weapons into the walls to box him in. One orc took a glancing blow from the beast's scythe-like tail but held his ground—grunting blood and rage.

The remaining three faced off against Sirrakiel, who launched crystal javelins at them mid-air. The orcs roared and deflected them with brute force, creating a temporary defensive wall of summoned abyssal metal. They charged forward, leaping in sync to bring her down.

Fenrir had already closed in on Myrrhal. His growl shook the cavern.

Myrrhal raised her hand, causing dozens of crystal blades to form midair. They flew toward Fenrir like homing shards of glass.

He moved like a storm.

Dodging. Weaving. Devouring the distance.

Abyssal aura surged as he struck the air with his paw—sending out a howling shockwave that disintegrated half the blades.

He lunged.

Their collision sent Myrrhal flying back, crashing into a spire. She reformed midair—but now she bled light.

-

And yet... as I watched from a distance, unmoving, and their momentum slowed.

Velgros began retaliating with layered armor shifts, his body literally reshaping to resist Reaver's patterns.

Drovak took to the ceiling, dragging one orc up with him, biting down hard enough to pierce the armor before another orc hurled a spear through the monster's mouth to force it to drop him.

Sirrakiel's wings cut like razors, and one orc's shoulder was nearly severed—he switched arms and kept fighting.

Myrrhal began floating higher, pulling radiant energy into her body—preparing something big.

It wasn't hopeless, but I saw the strain.

They were still elite. Still effective.

But this floor wasn't like the last.

And it was only Floor 6.

That's when I heard Vorathos and Umbraezer's voice. But it's within my shadow, deep and resonant.

"...They fight well, My Liege" Vorathos murmured, his voice like steel being drawn across stone.

"...But they will not hold forever," Umbraezar added, his tone laced with low flame and caution. "Fenrir is sovereign-born. I'm afrad others... they will soon meet their ceiling, Master."

Their words echoed with restrained weight.

"You knew this would come," Umbraezar continued. "The Everdeep was made to strain even monarchs. Not all of them can ascend with you, My Liege."

I watched as one orc finally fell to his knees, injured but still glaring at Sirrakiel with defiance.

Dusk Reaver deflected another strike but was knocked back.

Fenrir was biting into Myrrhal's arm, abyssal energy pouring from his mouth, but she detonated another shardburst and forced him to retreat several steps.

I clenched my fist, glancing toward my shadow. "I know."

"I'll push them as far as they can go..."

"...And when the ceiling comes, I'll break through it myself."

I looked toward the battlefield again, and raised my hand. "Let them finish this."