Chapter 489: Kael-Drin

He turned slowly on his heel, looking back toward the ceiling.

The crimson orb had drifted downward.

It was now hovering barely four feet off the ground, floating directly in front of him.

The light radiating from its core was pulsing with a strange brightness... an insistent and slightly indignant rhythm that looked remarkably like a small child puffing out its cheeks in a determined pout.

Silas scratched the back of his neck, his brows furrowing in genuine surprise.

’A Higher Spirit?’

The Valoria Academy texts echoed in his mind once more.

Spirits were categorized into rigid evolutionary hierarchies beginning from Lesser Spirits which are mindless formless wisps that could barely sustain a flame or a gust of wind.

After that were the Median Spirits which are semi-conscious entities capable of basic elemental manipulation and following simple commands, Higher Spirits which are fully sentient beings possessing immense elemental purity, distinct personalities, and the capacity to evolve into the higher level which was Great Spirits.

As for Great Spirits, they were very strong spirits whose powers were simply too much to be explained while Primordial Spirits were ancient spirits which had lived for a very long time and could unleash much more power than Great spirits.

The thought of Primordial Spirits sent an involuntary shudder down Silas’s spine.

His mind instantly flashed to Seraphina. That terrifying woman possessed a contracted Primordial Spirit of Fire... an apocalyptic entity whose flames burned so unfathomably hot that even the memories of her battle aura made his skin prickle with phantom heat.

’Seraphina’s fire was that hot because she held a Primordial entity,’ Silas thought, looking down at the fist-sized red orb hovering before him. ’This little thing isn’t at that level, but a Higher Spirit? Born naturally inside our territory’s diamond caverns?’

The crimson orb drifted closer. It didn’t spark, nor did it unleash its scalding heat.

Instead, two thin delicate tendrils of pure, translucent ruby mana slowly extended from the base of the sphere.

The tendrils reached out, hesitating for a fraction of a second, before gently brushing against Silas’s open palm.

Silas braced himself for a burn, but to his shock, the touch was remarkably cool.

It felt like smooth chilled glass, carrying a gentle pulse that hummed harmoniously with his own heartbeat.

A slow genuine smile spread across Silas’s face.

"Well," Silas chuckled, looking into the warm red light. "Why not? You’re certainly bold for a little cave spirit."

He leaned in slightly, his blue eyes locking onto the center of the sphere.

"Are you sure about this? Once you link with a Lord, you’re bound to Blessed Land. You’ll be working for the territory, little one."

The crimson orb bobbed vigorously. It tilted downward twice in rapid succession, executing a clean unmistakable nod.

"Smart little thing," Silas praised softly.

He raised his hand and tapped his finger against the translucent floating interface, selecting [Y].

VUUUUUUUUUUUM!

The instant his finger made contact, a dazzling pillar of pure golden mana detonated outward from Silas’s chest.

The royal radiance of his Mythic Gold Core flooded the entire cavern hollow, washing away every trace of shadow.

WHOOSH!

The crimson spirit didn’t retreat from the blinding light as it surged forward instead...

Like a falling ruby star, the orb slammed directly into the center of Silas’s chest, dissolving into a brilliant flash of liquid crimson fire that sank straight through his leather harness, through his skin, and deep into his internal mana circuits.

THUMP-THUMP!

Silas’s breath hitched.

For three long seconds, he felt a strange, thrilling pressure wrapping around his ribs... not painful, but intensely snug, as if dozens of cool, soothing crimson tendrils were weaving themselves seamlessly around his spiritual core, attuning their elemental frequencies to his own.

The pressure eased, melting into a warm comfortable hum that settled just beneath his heart.

[Ding! Spirit Contract successfully established!]

[Congratulations, Lord Silas Graves! You have formed a Bond with a Higher Elemental Spirit (Fire/Earth Variant)!]

POP!

With a soft, cheerful sound of displaced air, the spirit emerged from Silas’s sternum.

It floated in front of his face, looking largely identical to its previous form... a fist-sized sphere of radiant crimson light but there was an unmistakable shift in its aura.

Microscopic flecks of pure gold now drifted lazily within the ruby sphere which was a permanent mark of Silas’s core.

The spirit spun in a joyful celebratory circle, letting out a series of musical, chiming hums that sounded like tiny silver bells ringing in the wind.

Silas laughed, raising a finger to let the spirit rub its warm surface against his knuckle.

"Alright, if we’re partners now, you need a proper name," Silas mused, tapping his chin with his free hand. "Can’t just call you ’the red orb.’ How about... Cinder?"

The spirit spun violently to the left, letting out a flat dissonant bzzzt sound that clearly indicated disgust.

"Not a fan of Cinder? Fair enough," Silas grinned. "What about Pyro?"

Another sharp dismissive shake and the orb actually dimmed slightly, as if offended by the lack of creativity.

"Picky, aren’t you?" Silas chuckled.

He looked at the deep blood-red core of the spirit, remembering the ancient petrified crystal vines from which it had been born. "How about... Ignis? Or... Rubi?"

The spirit tilted slightly, considering it, but didn’t commit.

"Alright, one more," Silas said, his eyes gleaming. "Kael-Drin... It’s an old word for the sacred heart of the mountain fire."

The crimson orb froze.

Then, it flared with blinding ecstatic brilliance.

The tiny bell-like chiming resonated through the cavern, and the spirit began bouncing rapidly through the air, doing backflips around Silas’s head before settling happily on his right shoulder, nuzzling against his neck with a contented purr.

"Kael-Drin it is," Silas smiled, thoroughly amused. ’Proud little creature... It likes things that sound grand and ancient, huh?’

With the contract settled, Silas turned back toward the narrow passage, his newly bound companion riding securely on his shoulder.

"Come on, Kael-Drin," Silas said. "Let’s introduce you to the rest of the crew."

When Silas stepped back into the sunken depression of the diamond grove, the women were still hard at work with their pickaxes chiming against the rock face.

"Lord Silas is back!" Brenda called out, turning around with a bright smile.

Then, her eyes widened, locking onto the glowing red orb resting comfortably on his shoulder.

"Wait... what is that?!" Sarah gasped, lowering her chisel.

"Is that a spirit?!" Helen asked, taking a step forward with wide, curious eyes.

Silas chuckled, reaching up to gently tap the side of the sphere. "Girls, meet Kael-Drin. It seems our mining operation attracted a little local resident... We just formalized a Spirit Contract."

"A Spirit Contract?!" Thora’s jaw dropped, her soot-stained face cycling through pure shock before morphing into deep dwarven respect. "My Lord, you walked out to dump a load of rocks and came back with a contracted Higher Spirit?! Do you just trip over legendary blessings in your sleep?!"

Thor marched over, her heavy footsteps shaking the limestone, and bent her towering frame down until her face was barely six inches from the floating orb.

"Oho!" Thor boomed, her storm-blue eyes sparkling with delight as she poked a calloused finger toward the spirit. "A fiery little spark, aren’t you! You’ve got good spirit in your core, little one! Serve our Lord well, and I won’t eat you for breakfast!"

Kael-Drin didn’t cower. Instead, it flared its light brightly, letting out an indignant high-pitched chirp right into the thunder god’s face, completely unintimidated.

Thor threw her head back, roaring with boisterous laughter.

"GWAHAHAHA! I like this one! It has the heart of a berserker!"

The recruit maidens quickly gathered around, cooing and admiring the spirit’s radiant ruby glow.

The Princess reached out with delicate tentative fingers, giggling with pure delight as Kael-Drin gently brushed against her palm with its cool smooth tendrils.

"Alright, back to business," Silas announced, stepping into the center of the grove.

He stomped his boot once more, calling upon his earth magic to raise a massive wide stone crate from the bedrock... twice the size of the previous one, easily capable of holding the entirety of the remaining harvest.

"Let’s finish stripping this shelf," Silas ordered, hoisting his pickaxe. "We have daylight burning outside."

The women returned to the rock walls with renewed energized cheer.

Kael-Drin, eager to prove its worth to its new master, floated over to where Thora was working.

"What are you looking at, little spark?" Thora asked, wiping sweat from her brow as she held her heavy runic pickaxe.

Kael-Drin drifted down, extending two translucent red mana tendrils toward the tool.

The spirit gave the wooden handle an insistent tug, chiming softly as if demanding to hold the implement.

Thora’s face softened, a rare motherly grin breaking across her rough dwarven features.

"Oh, aren’t you precious! You want to carry Master Thora’s pickaxe? You’re too small for this, little one, but go on... show me what you’ve got!"

Chuckling, Thora handed the heavy steel tool over.

Kael-Drin didn’t try to lift the heavy iron with physical force.

Instead, it wrapped four thick dense tendrils of solidified ruby mana tightly around the shaft, effortlessly hoisting the twenty-pound pickaxe into the air!

"Well, look at that!" Thora beamed proudly, crossing her arms. "Stronger than you look—"

KRA-WHACK!

Kael-Drin didn’t measure six inches outside the bleed-line and it didn’t snap its wrists either.

Carried away by pure elemental enthusiasm, the spirit raised the pickaxe high overhead and slammed the steel spike dead-center into a protruding cluster of blood-red crystal vines with the concussive force of an explosive shell.

KRA-BOOOOOOOOM!

A massive chunk of the wall... roughly ten feet wide violently fractured. Slabs of limestone peeled away in a massive cascade, exposing a breathtaking haul of raw diamonds.

...Along with roughly thirty percent of the precious crystal vines, which instantly destabilized and shattered into a cloud of sparkling worthless red powder that rained down over Thora’s boots.

Dead silence descended over the corner.

Kael-Drin hovered proudly in the air, pickaxe still raised, chiming happily as if expecting a gold medal.

Thora stood completely frozen.

Her pale face slowly transitioned from dwarven pride into a shade of volcanic purple that rivaled the deep-earth magma.

Her amber eyes bulged from their sockets, her fists shaking with such violent fury that her leather straps groaned.

"YOU... YOU LITTLE..." Thora’s voice strangled in her throat, her chest heaving as she fought the most agonizing internal battle of her entire life.

Every dwarven instinct screamed at her to roar at the top of her lungs, invoke a generational blood-curse, and punt the spirit across the cavern.

But as her eyes locked onto the innocent happily pulsing orb, she physically bit her lower lip, swallowing the scream until tears of pure, suppressed rage welled in the corners of her eyes.

Vala stepped out from the shadows beside her, reaching out and gently patting the trembling dwarf on the shoulder with a calm, comforting gesture.

"Breathe, Master Thora," Vala murmured soothingly. "It is a child. It knows not what it broke."

"I... I am calm..." Thora wheezed through clenched teeth, her eye twitching uncontrollably. "I am... an ocean of dwarven tranquility... Lord Silas, take your damn spark back before I forge it into a chamber pot!"

Silas quickly whistled, and Kael-Drin obediently floated over, relinquishing the pickaxe and settling contritely on his shoulder, seemingly sensing that it had crossed a very dangerous line.

The rest of the extraction went smoothly.

With everyone working in disciplined unison, the girls salvaged the remaining intact veins, carefully prying the white diamonds and crimson vines free until the entire sunken depression including the high formations clinging to the thirty-foot ceiling was completely stripped clean.

Every single scrap of the harvest was loaded into Silas’s massive stone crate, filling the container to its brim.

Silas wiped his brow, leaning against his pickaxe.

"Alright. That’s the entire grove cleared. Now... we just have to figure out how to haul this two-ton block out to the golem."

Thor stepped forward, cracking her knuckles with a confident, boisterous grin.

"Leave it to me, Lord Silas!" Thor declared. "I shall simply take the crate and teleport aboard the Titan Golem’s back!"

Silas blinked and Thora froze too.

The other women stared at her in stunned silence.

"You... you can teleport?" Silas asked, his voice deadpan.

Thor blinked her storm-blue eyes, looking at him as if he had just asked if the sky was blue.

"Yes?" Thor replied innocently. "I am the God of Thunder. The lightning rides the atmospheric currents... it strikes where it wills. Did you think I merely walked everywhere because I enjoyed the exercise?"

Before anyone could utter a single word of protest, Thor leaned down, hooked her massive muscular arms beneath the two-ton stone crate, and hoisted it effortlessly against her chest.

KRA-FLASH!

A deafening arc of brilliant blue lightning detonated in the center of the depression, smelling of scorched ozone.

When the light cleared, Thor and the two-ton crate had completely vanished from the room.

Silence stretched across the cavern.

"She... she could have just teleported the crates the entire bloody time?" Thora whispered, her voice cracking with existential exhaustion.

From the ranks, young Brenda tentatively raised her hand, breaking the silence with a soft thoughtful question.

"Um... Master Thora?" Brenda asked innocently. "Since we harvested all of these crystals... how long will it take for them to grow back? Can we come back next month?"

A chorus of soft good-natured chuckles rippled through the older veterans.

Thora slowly turned her head, fixing the freckled recruit with a flat unblinking dwarven stare.

"Crystals are not cabbages, lass," Thora stated plainly. "A high-density Mana Diamond vein takes roughly four to six centuries of subterranean tectonic compression and stagnant spiritual pressure to crystallize into physical ore..."

Brenda’s eyes widened. "Four... four hundred years?!"

"Aye," Thora sighed, turning toward the tunnel. "Which means you’re dumb for asking. Now grab your packs and move your boots!"