Absolute Cheater
Chapter 334 - 334: Next Gates

Asher stepped forward as the ashes of the Flame Duke settled. The temperature in the dungeon had cooled, the once-burning environment now silent. He crouched near the remains and studied what was left.

"The core is still intact," he said, reaching out with one hand.

His Soul Reaper mark pulsed faintly on the back of his palm. A moment later, three distinct energies separated from the remains—one formed from the soul, one from the blood, and one from the body. The remains of the Flame Duke still held power in all three aspects.

Normally, he could use each one separately to form different types of undead.

But Asher have one more power, the one that can fuse three of them and make one strong guy.

He activated the Infinity Fusion ability.

The three essences glowed—soul, blood, and body—and slowly began to spiral together. Energy whirled in the air, dense and hot. The ash began to lift. The soul flame merged with the blood fire, and the molten body wrapped around them like a cocoon.

Valeris watched silently. Even she could feel the surge in pressure.

The ground cracked beneath them.

The fusion completed with a heavy thud.

Standing there now was a new being—taller than the original Flame Duke, with a body forged from molten soulsteel. His skin radiated searing light from within, and his cloak of fire was now shaped like a burning halo around his shoulders. His eyes were golden pits, and his chest carried the sigil of Asher's Reaper mark.

Asher looked at him and nodded slightly. "Soul Flame King. You're mine now."

The creature knelt instantly, his fiery aura dimming in submission.

He was five times stronger than the original Flame Duke. A true fusion of all aspects of the fire being. Not just a puppet, but a sovereign flame wraith bound by Reaper law.

Asher extended his hand and stored the Soul Flame King inside his seal along with the other two Reapers. All three were now under his command, forming an unholy trinity of soul-bound warriors.

He turned to Valeris and Veyra.

"That's one gate cleared. Nine more to go."

Veyra was still catching her breath, her body recovering from the intense battle, but she smirked slightly. "Good. I could use the warm-up."

Valeris folded her arms. "If every boss is like that, we're going to need more than just warm-ups."

Asher smiled faintly. "Then let's see what the next one brings."

They left the ruins of the burning mansion behind, the core of the dungeon now claimed, and moved toward the next gate in the chain of ten.

***

They soon climbed the second moutain—this one far colder and darker than the last. Snow and ice blanketed the jagged peaks, and a dead wind howled endlessly between the stone ridges.

The dungeon was called Frost Hollow Path.

From the outside, it appeared as nothing more than a buried shrine hidden beneath layers of ancient frost. But as they descended deeper, following the map projected by Asher's spatial scroll, they came upon a broken-down temple half-sunken into a glacial ravine. Cracked statues lined the path—some with shattered halos, others with twisted features too faded to identify.

"This temple belonged to a forgotten god," Asher muttered, brushing frost from a half-buried altar. "No records. No name. Only silence."

Valeris narrowed her eyes. "So who's the boss here?"

Asher pointed toward the inner sanctum—the only part of the temple that remained intact, sealed behind a thick curtain of icy mist. "According to the dungeon's reading, the one guarding this place is known only as the Head Priest. But he's not human. He's some sort of cursed amalgamation."

He brought up a shifting image from the map data—a spectral outline of the creature.

"The Head Priest has the head of a dog, the body of a man, hands shaped like crooked claws, and a long tail that ends in a serpent's head. His legs are like those of a bull, heavy and armored with hoofed feet."

Valeris raised an eyebrow. "A beast god's failed priest?"

"Or a failed god that turned into a beast," Asher said calmly.

Veyra studied the mist-covered sanctum ahead. Her eyes glinted with the faint shimmer of cold blood power. She said nothing.

The Frost Hollow Path stretched before them—an expanse of shattered snow plains, jagged icicle pillars, and a ruined temple carved into the hollow of a dead mountain. Faint howls echoed through the wind, not of beasts, but of memories—frozen screams caught in the permafrost.

They stood at the base of the temple's steps. Cracked ivory pillars loomed, wrapped in chains of blackened ice. On the altar above, something stirred.

Asher studied the projection map, the red dot blinking violently atop the temple ruins. "This is it. The boss is a head priest—something ancient. From the file, his original form was once human... but now he's a chimera of gods and monsters."

Valeris nodded. "His mind's probably long gone. Expect ritual magic."

Asher turned to Veyra. "You take this one."

Veyra said nothing, already stepping forward, blood mist trailing in fine coils behind her boots. Her eyes were half-lidded, calm, precise—like a predator who'd already studied her prey.

She walked the stairs alone.

And at the top, the thing moved.

It rose from the shadows behind the altar. Nearly eight feet tall. Head of a hound, with jaws of silver bone and teeth black as pitch. Its body was that of a corpse-pale man, skin stretched thin over ribbed muscle, chest marked with burning godscript. Its arms were crooked like a crow's wing, clawed and feathered, while its tail writhed—serpentine and twitching. Its hooves cracked the altar with every step.

It raised its clawed hand and pointed.

"You who step into sacred frost... do you kneel or defy?" Its voice was multiple at once—some echoing like thunder, others whispering like a priest behind a curtain.

Veyra didn't answer. Her body blurred.

The blood she had left floating behind her formed a wall of serrated vines—and then lashed forward.

The priest's staff slammed down. A frost sigil erupted beneath his hooves, sending out a circular blast of cryo-divine force that shattered the vines midair. Ice climbed the stairs in tendrils, reaching for Veyra's ankles.

She didn't retreat.

Her next movement was a spin—three blood blades orbiting around her like petals. With a flick of her fingers, one of them zipped forward.

The priest raised a claw—caught it—and grinned.

"Faithless children must be taught pain."

He bit the blade with his jaws—crunched it—and spat molten ice. His staff lit up, projecting a triangle of divine geometry above his head. Snowflakes with unnatural sharp edges rained from it like divine razors.

Veyra vanished again—this time emerging beside him.

Her hand was already halfway through a strike.

The priest swiveled, countering with a lash of his serpentine tail. She ducked, sliding beneath it as blood mist pooled around her feet. With a twist of her wrist, a wave of ice-blood vines erupted, latching onto the priest's right leg and arm.

He didn't roar.

He prayed.

"O, deity of lost light, grant thine flame to this unworthy body!"

Fire and frost coalesced—his limbs igniting in pale blue fire as he broke the vines with divine backlash. He moved like a beast now, clawing forward, each swipe tearing chunks from the temple floor.

Veyra dodged sideways, arm sweeping back as her blood mist sharpened.

She activated her evolving technique.

"Ice Bloom."

A blooming flower formed midair behind her—each petal a crystal of blood-frozen frost. It shimmered, absorbing surrounding divine elements, then launched forward. It wasn't a direct attack—it created a freezing field that slowed time slightly in a radius.

The priest faltered.

She appeared right above him, leg outstretched in a drop-kick.

Boom!

He crashed into the stairs, spine cracking against the stone.

But he laughed.

"You have no faith. No god. No scripture. Only blood and rage."

He thrust his claw into his own chest, tearing open a wound—and from it, divine flame poured.

A curse circle formed in the sky.

"By my name—Tyrarak, Herald of Frost Flame—I brand you, unclean soul!"

A mark burned into Veyra's back.

She staggered. Her blood flow staggered too—responding slower, reacting with slight delay.

Curse of Godfire Binding.

Asher narrowed his eyes from below. "So he's branded her with divine delay. She has to adapt now."

Valeris whispered, "Can she?"

Asher smiled faintly. "She'll learn."

Above, Veyra didn't slow down for long.

She dug into her own arm with a claw—bled intentionally—and from that blood, a chain of icy thorns formed.

She wrapped it around her own torso and twisted.

A pulse spread from her.

The curse mark burned again.

She endured.

Then struck.

The Ice Bloom activated a second time—this time fusing with her blood vines to form Thorn Cage. The priest found himself bound by a growing dome of ice and blood-laced briars.

"Blasphemer! You dare entrap a priest of the godflame?!"

He summoned his godflame again—this time to burn away the dome.

But it reacted differently.

The blood in the cage drank the godflame.

It turned colder.

"You're not just fire," Veyra murmured. "You're frostfire. And that means I can eat it."

She pointed.

The Moon Bloom shimmered over her shoulder—light and cold becoming a single blossom. Then fired.

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