The city below was ablaze, entire sections and streets engulfed in flames as cultivators and civilians alike ran for safety, many heading toward the mountains. Tunde pushed past them, flying toward the source of the flames, where loud roars echoed.

  All around him, the cultivators of the Ashen Flame sect surged forward, ash and flame Ethra rising as they began to part the inferno. Tunde’s eyes widened as he finally saw what had attacked the city.

  A massive, grey, matted, ape-like creature with blood-red eyes wielded a large crude weapon—something between stone and metal. It moved with dizzying speed, slamming the weapon down and crushing a nearby cultivator, sending him flying into the side of a building, lost from sight.

  Tunde sprang forward, his naginata in hand, imbued with void Ethra. The creature noticed him a split second later, growling as its reckless aura spilled out, attempting to restrain him. Tunde flexed his presence, breaking through the attack. His naginata came down with Joran’s Wrath, shattering the creature’s weapon in an explosion of Ethra. The blade tore into its reinforced skin, and it roared, one clawed hand swiping at him. Tunde dodged, delivering a crushing blow with Joran’s Wrath to the creature’s skull, reducing it to fine mist.

  Sera appeared at his side, her weapon dripping with dark red blood as she snarled, “What are they?”

  Tunde felt the tremble of Ifa’s Ethra spreading across the area, slowly quenching the flames. “Protect the people. We’ll figure that out later,” he replied, shooting forward. His next target barely had time to turn before Tunde left its upper body a pulpy mess with another strike from Joran’s Wrath.

  A screech from the far left announced Zhu’s presence. The Ethralite was a blur of movement, and Tunde felt its excitement and wrath through their bond. Zhu would be fine. A cultivator of the Ashen Flame, close to death moments before, nodded gratefully at Tunde before his flame Ethra reignited and he shot off to help elsewhere.

  The tinkling of ice drew Tunde’s attention to Zehra, who was battling two of the creatures simultaneously. She was in her element, dodging, parrying, and striking with such relentless fury that Tunde decided to leave her to it—better to let her vent her anger on the enemy.

  Activating Ethra sight, Tunde traced the murky Ethra in the air, like tar, back toward the center of a district. No time to warn the others—he shot toward the source, burning Ethra brightly as a signal for the rest. Through their bond, he felt Zhu acknowledge his intent with a screech.

  The forging district was a scene of chaos. Blood and broken homes littered the area, and at its center, dozens of the creatures were herding people through what Tunde realized was a rift. His naginata flew from his hand before he could even think, ripping through one of the creatures and exploding, distracting the others—particularly the largest one, a monstrous beast with black matted fur and a face that was a grotesque blend of ape and feline. It locked its luminous red eyes on him.

  “Finally, worthy prey,” it said, its raw aura slamming into Tunde, surprising him not only with its speech but also with its power. It was a Highlord. The beast flashed toward him with such dizzying speed that Ethra sight barely saved him from being skewered.

  Tunde broke free with a burst of essence flame, dodging the creature’s strike and crashing into the ground. He took the head of another beast in the same motion. “Run!” he shouted to the dazed civilians, who scattered in terror as the other creatures pursued them.

  The larger creature roared, and Tunde finally noticed the dark crystal embedded in its chest, pulsing with raw rift Ethra. It seemed to feed the beast, amplifying its strength to monstrous levels. It came at him with the fury of a maddened beast. Tunde gripped his naginata, which had embedded itself in the ground, ready for its next move.

  He parried the creature’s claws, keeping them away from his body, but the force of the blow sent him flying. Before he could react, it grabbed his leg and slammed him into the ground. Tunde tasted blood, unsure if he had bitten his tongue or cheek, as he raised the naginata to block the second claw.

  Void Forge manifested as a spear, firing at the beast, which deflected the attack with an aura-covered arm. The void spear tore through the creature’s reinforced limb, leaving it mangled to the bone. The beast roared in pain.

  Tunde was on his feet, charging at the creature, but it dodged him, and they danced across the battlefield at blinding speeds. The beast grabbed the pulverized remains of one of its kin and bit into it. To Tunde’s horror, the beast’s arm rapidly healed, the rift Ethra pumping more power into it, causing the creature to swell in size. Its muscles bulged, and its eyes glowed brighter as it drooled.

  “You will make a fine meal for the king!” it bellowed, the vibrations staggering Tunde. He gathered more void spears, realizing that without his insane physique and capabilities, he would have already fallen to the Highlord beast.

  As it charged, Tunde summoned Joran’s Wrath to his left hand and activated his void realm, feeling it siphon power from the rift crystal lodged in the creature’s chest. The energy flowed into him, pushing his strength to its limits. His blow crashed into the creature’s outstretched arm, obliterating it before his naginata punctured its chest, shattering the crystal.

  The beast’s eyes widened, its mouth opening obscenely wide. Tunde realized with horror that it was about to bite his head off in one final attack.

  Zhu arrived just in time, his serrated claws puncturing the creature’s skull and violently ripping it off. Blood sprayed into the air as Tunde staggered backward, watching the miniature rift nearby vanish, taking with it the people that had been forced through.

  “Thanks, Zhu,” Tunde panted, blinking.

  “Safe,” Zhu responded, sending feelings of protection through their bond as Tunde stood straighter.

  “Impressive,” said a deep voice. Tunde looked up to see the entire area surrounded by Ashen Flame cultivators in dark grey robes and hoods. A large figure stood among them, his storm-grey eyes and black and grey-streaked hair reminding Tunde of the Talahan clan.

  Except, unlike Varis, who felt like a leashed storm, this Highlord felt like an inferno barely contained. The man’s gaze shifted between Tunde and Zhu. “To dispatch the mountain apes, including a Highlord of their kind, as a lord? I see now why they sent you,” the man continued, chuckling.

  Tunde wiped the blood from his face as the Highlord snapped his fingers. The other lords produced what appeared to be white crystals, and a loud hum echoed from the mountains surrounding the city. They lit up, Ethra power rippling through the entire area.

  “Now, step aside, child. You’re in my way,” the Highlord said, drawing a massive war axe that burst to life with grey flames, ash literally burning off it. Tunde’s body shuddered at the sheer power radiating from the weapon, his instincts screaming to move. He dove aside just as the Highlord swung the axe, the blow tearing through the district and reducing the area to smoking ruins.

  Tunde shot into the air, heart pounding as he sensed the Ethras of his companions blaze to life. Relief washed over him as he saw a large talisman burning away in the air, Ifa materializing beside him.

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  “What was that?” Ifa asked, nearly snarling as the others gathered around, coughing and covered in ash, their eyes red.

  Tunde turned his raging gaze toward the Highlord, who floated calmly, staring down at them with an air of superiority.

  “That was reckless,” Ifa said.

  The Highlord turned to him, his expression indifferent. “Only to the weak and useless,” he replied, his words rocking Tunde.

  “There were people down there,” Tunde snarled, forgetting momentarily that he was speaking to a Highlord.

  The man strapped his axe to his back, turning away as he began to float off. “The weak will die, and the strong will survive. Welcome to the Shadowscar Peaks,” he said, shooting toward the northern mountain and the base of the sect itself.

  ***********************************

  Mei Talahan watched the chaos unfold across the city from the relative safety of the sect’s home atop the northern mountain. Her blue eyes flickered upward toward the peak where Veyra Talahan, her husband and sect leader, meditated in seclusion, cut off from the rest of the city and the world around him. She frowned.

  He was doing what he knew best—learning and growing—but Mei felt a twinge of frustration. A fleeting irritation passed through her as she considered going down to handle the situation herself. But that was why they had Fen. The Highlord, Veyra’s brother, was a force unto himself, and Mei knew he would soon have things under control. Her main interest lay with the delegation from the imperial clan and how well they would fare. She doubted the mountain apes would reach them in large numbers, so they should have little trouble dealing with the creatures.

  However, her true curiosity was what they would do now that the city was under attack. As she suspected, they were in full force—and she was actually impressed. They were good, very good, especially Tunde, the acolyte of the apparent heir to the line of the main branch. Of course, Varis was a few places removed from inheriting the throne of the Talahan clan—assuming anyone inherited it in the foreseeable future, given that the patriarch had ruled eternally since the dawn of the empire over a thousand years ago.

  Mei’s hands involuntarily clenched around the iron railing she rested on at the mountain’s outcropping, the wind blowing through her hair. She swallowed her frustration, shutting her eyes as she schooled her features into an expression of calm.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked softly, turning her head just enough to acknowledge the hidden figure swathed in black robes, nearly melding with the shadows. Nearly—but darkness couldn’t hide from one of its own kind.

  “Greetings, great daughter of the shadows,” the figure said, dropping to one knee, its features completely hidden from view.

  “You draw too much attention by coming here now. Speak and be done,” Mei said, displeasure evident in her voice.

  “Have no fear, daughter of the great night,” the figure continued. “My arrival, and the attack, is no mere coincidence. Different plans are in motion. I bring a message from the Veiled Shadows.”

  Mei turned fully, extending her hand. A scroll was carefully placed in her palm. The sharp prick of a hidden needle from the scroll’s seal, the seal of the Whispering Phantom Sect, pierced her thumb, tasting her blood. The seal broke, verifying her identity, and Mei began reading through the letter.

  At first, her expression shifted to one of concern, then alarm, and finally, pure astonishment. She mulled over the gravity of what was written. The letter dissolved into dust and shadow, leaving no trace, not even the seal, which had melted away into nothingness.

  “Have the shadows verified this information?” she asked.

  “Apologies, daughter of the great night, but I am a mere tool of the shadows. I do not know what you ask,” the figure replied softly.

  Mei nodded slightly. “Go. Tell the shadows that all is well, and their words have been heard. For the glory of the Veiled Ones.”

  “For the glory of the Veiled Ones,” the shadowy figure echoed before vanishing, as if it had never been there in the first place, leaving Mei alone with her thoughts.

  ***********************

  Tunde refused to return to their quarters, instead helping the people trudge back to the desolate district. Nothing but burnt homes and ashes greeted them. Sobs filled the air as ash slowly fell, and he stood rooted to the spot, fists clenched so tightly that his bones creaked. The smell of burnt wood, the wailing, the cries—especially the children’s—brought back memories Tunde had hoped to bury, nightmares best kept hidden in the recesses of his mind.

  He faintly noticed Ifa holding Sera and the others back from approaching him, whispering to them as their eyes widened. At some point, Tunde joined the survivors in clearing the debris from their shops and stalls, handing out waterskins from his void ring, and helping with the cleanup efforts. He noticed the cultivators of the sect hesitantly watching him before they slowly joined in, spurred by the people’s response to his help.

  Ifa and the rest assisted, clearing out much of the debris and managing the children, while Tunde watched as large blocks of rock were shaped by earth cultivators, helping to rebuild. Their movements betrayed the fact that this was not the first time something like this had happened in the city. Their resilience had only been tempered by time and determination.

  Gradually, the district began to resemble its former self, recovering from the mountain apes’ attack. Tunde said nothing throughout, covered in soot as the gradual chill of the returning fog settled around him. He gave everything to help the rebuilding effort until he felt Ifa’s firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

  “Enough. Let the sect do their job,” Ifa said softly.

  Tunde shuddered with rage, suppressing the outburst that nearly escaped his lips. He merely nodded, allowing Ifa to lead him and the others back to the building in silence.

  Their home was as they had left it—cold and empty. Daiki started a fire in the large room, removing the wooden floor in the center to place the firewood there. They gathered around the slow-burning fire, and from her void ring, Zehra produced large bowls and aromatic plants, along with a small pot.

  They worked in relative silence, as if waiting for Tunde to break the spell, unwilling to say anything. He preferred it that way, simply watching as Zehra boiled the leaves in water and served the tea. He nodded gratefully, taking a sip and feeling the warmth spread down his chest, soothing the tight knot of anger within him.

  “They took people,” he began, drawing everyone’s attention. “Those creatures—mountain apes or whatever they were called. Adults and children. Herding them through rifts that closed up after them. Rifts—closing up after the damned bastards!” Tunde roared, the bowl slipping from his hand as his breathing grew ragged.

  “Dozens, carted away like livestock. Hegemons know what they’re going through right now,” he continued, his voice breaking as pure, unbridled rage filled him. The others sat silently, watching him.

  “Bahataba—” Daiki started.

  “Don’t!” Tunde thundered, cutting him off, his tone so lethal that Daiki flinched. Tunde winced at his own reaction but couldn’t stop. “Don’t tell me this was some grand plan of fate or for the greater good, because it isn’t! It never was, and it never has been!”

  “Tunde,” Ifa said softly.

  Tunde closed his eyes and shuddered, his mind in turmoil. He had killed before, had advanced at the cost of his enemies’ lives, so why was this affecting him so deeply? Was the memory of his dead people still such an agonizing pain, even months and years later?

  That was how his people had died too, gradually, like a candle struggling against the storm. They fought and fought until all that remained were a few survivors and countless graves.

  “They’re dead,” Ifa said, and Tunde froze, listening. “Those were mountain apes, creatures empowered by the convergence. They’re flesh-eaters.”

  Zehra sucked in a breath, and Tunde clenched his eyes shut tighter.

  “There’s nothing we can do for them now but avenge them—to cleanse these lands of those horrors,” Ifa said.

  Tunde remained silent.

  “That Highlord... we all saw how he treated lives,” Sera snarled. For the first time, Tunde found himself wishing he had advanced to the Highlord realm—event or competition be damned.

  “We still don’t fully understand what’s going on in these mountains,” Ifa continued. “Those rifts were controlled by Tier 5 apes with rift crystals embedded in their chests. Those don’t occur naturally. We’re dealing with sentient beasts—powerful ones.”

  “The sect knows something,” Tunde said quietly.

  “Of course they do,” Ifa replied. “But you won’t get any answers by storming over there right now, as I know you intend to.”

  Tunde clenched his fists, but Ifa pressed on. “You want to help the people? Avenge their deaths? Then keep your head straight and channel that pain and rage into training. Break through the barriers in your fighting arts, because I assure you—we’re not facing just any beasts.”

  “I killed them easily,” Tunde muttered.

  “True. But you and I both know those were the grunts, sent to do the dirty work of more powerful ones. The Wasteland War showed us how animals think,” Ifa countered.

  A knock on the gate halted their discussion. Tunde was the first to rise, swinging it open, his team right behind him. A cultivator in the dark grey robes of the sect stood at the entrance, bowing low at the waist.

  “Greetings, venerable emissaries of the Talahan clan,” he began. “Your presence has been requested by the vice sect leader of the Ashen Flame sect. Your request to help us has been granted. They await you now.”

  Tunde said nothing as he strode past the cultivator, moving down the hill toward the city, completely ignoring the transport that had been brought for them. His team followed in silence.