Tunde stared around at the dead bodies littering the rift’s entrance as Ifa shot forward, undoubtedly chasing after the powers that had slipped through. Gritting his teeth, Tunde followed, pushing past the barrier and finding himself in an entirely different realm. They were in a mountainous landscape, with some peaks standing tall and proud while others lay in ruins, their remnants casting jagged shadows. Dark brown clouds, tainted with roiling rift-infused Ethra, hung heavily in the air.

  As more cultivators began appearing through the rift’s entrance, Tunde's team and the rest of the forces spread out, glancing around in mixed awe and shock. The scene was both wondrous and foreboding.

  “This is what happens when a rift is left unchecked for so long,” Daiki murmured beside him. “It begins to take on the nature of the being that calls it home.”

  Tunde nodded. He’d seen it before—how the rift home of that inky, poisonous creature on Shimmersteel had twisted into something nearly unrecognizable. A cacophony of hoots and roars echoed all around as Tunde activated his Ethra sight, peering down to see movement below. His eyes widened.

  “Incoming!” he shouted, leaping off the edge of the mountain and hurtling downward with fierce speed.

  Ethra enveloped his fists as he slammed into the head of one of the apes scaling the mountain, crushing its features completely. From above, techniques rained down on the apes, who seemed to materialize out of the rocks themselves, barely animated and shifting into shape.

  “Empty shells,” he muttered, realizing these creatures weren’t fully sentient.

  It seemed to be a defensive measure—a reaction of the rift or perhaps a technique from the ape king itself. Somewhere in the distance, he felt the powerful aura of a Highlord ape focusing on him, a sudden beam of raw earth Ethra barreling toward him. He dodged, watching the beam slam into the mountainside, scattering debris.

  “Highlord!” he shouted back as he scrambled to the mountain’s peak, destroying the empty husks racing up under the unrelenting hail of attacks from the forces of the Ashen Flame and his friends.

  Tunde’s muscles tensed, his senses sharpening as the Highlord’s presence grew closer, a glow of dense, brown energy shooting toward the mountain.

  Steeling himself, he fortified his body—a step beyond the realm of a typical Lord—and readied the axe the Forgesmith had given him. With a roar, he clashed against the Highlord in an explosive collision. The impact sent tremors through Tunde's body, forcing blood from his mouth as he crashed into the mountain. The Highlord stumbled back, its eyes wide with surprise.

  Recovering, Tunde wiped the blood from his lips and assessed his opponent. The Highlord was an ape, lean and muscular, with pure brown eyes and an aura that continuously seeped from its form—Ethra condensed and sharpened by years within the rift. Despite its sinister aura, Tunde sensed no corruption, only raw, untainted Ethra.

  The ape’s clawed hand extended, and it spoke in a female voice that reverberated with authority, sending chills through the gathered cultivators.

  “Fresh meat for the slaughter?” the Highlady laughed, her voice carrying a mocking edge that shook the mountain.

  Tunde recognized her mastery; she was using her aura to amplify the effect, but many of the Ashen Flame cultivators were unaware. Whispers of “Highlady” and “Ifa” spread as they wondered aloud where their own Highlord was.

  “Go,” Tunde ordered his team. “Find the ape king’s base and avoid the king at all costs. I’ll be right behind you.” Sera and the others nodded, shooting off with the speed of Lords, though Zhu stubbornly refused to leave his side.

  The Highlady grinned, her gaze fixed on the fleeing cultivators. “Impudent humans!” she snarled, gathering earth Ethra into her palms and hurling it toward them.

  Without hesitation, Tunde extended his void realm, absorbing the rift's Ethra greedily until he reined it in, dispelling her attacks with great difficulty before releasing his dominion.

  “Impressive—for a human,” the Highlady taunted, claws outstretched as she lunged at him. Tunde met her mid-air, dodging her strikes with precision, knowing that any single hit could decapitate or shred a Lord.

  His Ethra sight guided him, helping him predict her movements. He fought on the defensive, deflecting her ferocious blows while his own Ethra slowly chipped away at her aura. They clashed between mountains and canyons, Tunde's strength tested against every swing. Zhu joined the fray, burning Ethra and aura alike, distracting the Highlady who swung at him as well, her blows raining down on his crystal-scaled skin.

  Zhu’s bloodline-granted armor held, his exterior unbroken, but Tunde could feel the internal strain on the creature. Gritting his teeth, Tunde drew his focus away from Zhu and turned his full might against the Highlady, whose aura coalesced into the shape of a massive ape, doubling the impact of every strike.

  The onslaught grew unbearable. Each hit jarred his bones and tore at his soul, the strain overwhelming. He crashed into a mountain, vision blurring as he saw Zhu being flung aside. But then, the Ethralite struck back, ripping through the Highlady’s skin and earning a howl of rage as her ape form flared. She grabbed Zhu by the throat, her grip tightening.

  Tunde moved instantly, summoning Joran’s Wrath and delivering a shattering blow to her back. He felt the snap of his own wrist but bit down the pain. They crashed into the ground, the impact forming a crater. He managed to haul himself up, yanking Zhu from the Highlady’s grip before taking a brutal hit to his chest. For a moment, his heart faltered, his cycling technique and sheer instinct keeping him upright, Joran’s Wrath still gripped firmly in his hand.

  Joran’s strike had left a deep wound in her shoulder, one that refused to heal. She glanced at it in fury before turning her blazing eyes on him.

  “You will p—” she began, only to be cut off as Sera appeared from nowhere, her kick slamming the Highlady back a few steps. In a blur, Sera’s blade bit into the open wound, tearing chunks of flesh.

  The Highlady’s roar echoed, her aura swelling with renewed rage, freezing the air around them. Zehra appeared, encasing the Highlady in ice, while Daiki’s glowing staff struck her frozen form, shattering her defenses further. A barrage of Ashen Flame techniques exploded around her, pushing her to the brink.

  “Why are you back here? What happened to the king’s base?” Tunde asked, glancing at Sera.

  “You’re standing on it,” she replied. Tunde blinked, realizing the “ground” beneath them was not ground at all but a colossal platform—a shorn mountaintop. The scale was dizzying, and more cultivators landed around them, forming a defensive circle.

  “So, it’s happening,” Sera whispered, nodding toward the Lords who had turned their gazes their way.

  “She’s not dead—keep attacking!” Zehra commanded. But before they could continue, the sect cultivators turned on one another, blades flashing as they slaughtered their own comrades. Horrified, Daiki whispered, “Bahataba preserve us.”

  In seconds, it was over, leaving only a few Lords with bloodstained blades. As they removed their flesh masks, pale, ghostly faces emerged underneath, still layered with deception. Tunde recognized them for what they were—phantoms.

  “So, the phantoms make their move,” he said, watching as a barrier flickered to life around them. One of the phantoms placed a crystal on the ground, energizing the barrier with Highlord Ethra as the wounded Highlady staggered from the rubble, a crazed look in her eyes.

  “What is the meaning of this? What do the phantoms want with us?” Zehra shouted.

  “Lady Zehra of the Acacia clan,” one phantom began, “an unfortunate twist of fate ties you to this dark endeavor. But sadly, none can survive to bear witness to what comes.”

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “This is evil, Bahataba,” Daiki muttered, his eyes scanning the array for weaknesses.

  Ignoring the panic around him, Tunde stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the phantom beyond the barrier. “One question, before you send us to our deaths,” he said. “Miria—the one with the shadow Ethra crystal. Is she alive?”

  The phantom chuckled. “She will serve a greater purpose.”

  “Good,” Tunde replied, his voice icy. He smashed his fist into the barrier, shattering it as Joran’s Wrath crushed through a Lord’s chest, sending the body tumbling. The remaining phantoms scrambled back, producing poisoned blades, eyes wide with shock.

  “Watch those blades—they’re Ethra-coated with poison,” he warned. Then, glancing at his team, he ordered, “Handle the phantoms. Leave the Highlady to me.”

  With a final glance, Tunde launched himself at the Highlady, the fight raging anew.

  *******************************************

  Tunde sent the axe back into his void ring, carefully guiding his fang to mimic the axe’s form, glowing with his Ethra. He felt the relic’s satisfaction as it was summoned once more—sometimes, brute and overwhelming force was the only way to put down wild beasts like this one.

  “You will pay for your betrayal, human!” the Highlady roared, her aura flaring against his own. Her words caught his curiosity, but this wasn’t the time to probe for answers. From experience, Tunde knew he faced a wild, barely sane creature—an apex predator teetering on the edge of madness.

  Tunde’s strength had already surpassed that of an ordinary Lord, evidenced by the fact that he still stood against this early-rank Highlady. Yet he took no chances. This was a feral, wrathful beast that would stop at nothing to rend him apart.

  Channeling Ethra and a hint of essence flame into his fang-axe, he watched as it glowed, preparing for a decisive strike. His Ethra sight revealed the Highlady’s probable moves, fragments of the future flickering in his vision like shards of shattered glass. She charged, her body cloaked in dense earth and beast Ethra, aura pulsing as her claws extended, aiming to tear him to shreds. Tunde pivoted, channeling his newest technique into the axe as he swung.

  The silence that followed was a terrifying calm, an absolute stillness that shattered the Highlady’s aura and earth armor in an instant, consuming half his core in one mighty blow. The axe embedded itself deep in her chest, slamming her into the ground with resounding force.

  The Highlady could only manage a strangled croak before void Ethra surged through her, violently consuming her aura and breaking down her body from within. Tunde watched as his fang absorbed what remained of her Ethra, reducing her to a lifeless husk. Her core rolled out and clinked to the ground beside her.

  In an instant, Zhu was at his side, snatching up the core and swallowing it before Tunde could react. Tunde staggered back as the fang vanished, retreating with quiet satisfaction. Gasping for breath, he looked on as Zhu’s body began to transform, wondering if the Ethralite was about to ascend to the realm of Highlord.

  As he watched, Zhu’s crystal scales shimmered, raw power pulsing through his form before coalescing in his core. Assured that Zhu was safe, Tunde turned his attention to his companions, who were locked in fierce combat with the phantom assassins. The phantoms used shadow to obscure themselves, but Daiki’s Ethra burned bright, keeping them at bay. Sera, with her blood and flesh affinities, was somehow able to faintly track them, cutting down any who dared come close.

  Already, a significant number of phantoms lay dead, with about a dozen remaining, regrouping to isolate the team. Tunde moved in, this time wielding his naginata, its blade coated with his aura. Ethra sight allowed him to see the phantoms as clearly as day. The first phantom barely had time to react before Tunde’s blade severed his head. Without pausing, Tunde pivoted, slicing off the arm of another and cutting him in two with a fluid motion, dodging incoming attacks and poisoned blades.

  He grabbed the head of one, letting Joran’s Wrath explode through it before skewering another, flicking the body aside as he advanced. As the blood pooled around them, it began to rise, forming into blades that stabbed through the remaining phantoms just as Sera pinpointed them and finished them off.

  The battle ended quickly, and bodies lay scattered around them. Tunde turned back to where Zhu stood—the crystal cocoon around him cracking open as the Ethralite emerged. Tunde halted, taken aback by Zhu’s transformation.

  Zhu had grown taller, now reaching up to Tunde’s shoulders. His form was more human, with patches of scale blending with pale skin, green hair crowning his head, and jade-green eyes. Testing his new limbs, Zhu blinked before glancing at Tunde.

  “Tunde,” Zhu said, his voice clear and unmistakably human.

  “When did this happen?” Zehra asked, startled. Zhu grinned at them.

  Suddenly, a powerful wave of energy washed over them, nearly forcing them to their knees. It radiated from the distance. Zhu’s gaze sharpened.

  “Ifa,” he said solemnly, and Tunde nodded, feeling a surge of worry twist in his chest.

  He turned to the rest of the group. “Go! Loot the king’s domain and head back to the city. Everyone must go to the northern mountain—it’s the only safe place!” he urged.

  “You must be mad if you think we’ll just leave you here!” Sera snapped.

  “This is my fight. There’s no reason for you to get drawn into it,” he argued. “Besides, I have a plan!” He locked eyes with her, his gaze firm. “Trust me.”

  After a tense pause, Sera relented, though she cursed under her breath. “Don’t you dare die out there!” she ordered.

  Tunde nodded and turned to Zhu, who shook his head. “No. You go, I go,” the Ethralite replied, his voice steady.

  “When did you start speaking so clearly?” Tunde asked, surprised.

  “We don’t have time for this!” Zhu insisted, his eyes shining with urgency.

  Tunde nodded, watching as Zehra and Daiki took their leave. They were visibly low on Ethra and unwilling to risk tainting their cores with the rift’s lingering energy. Once they had gone, he focused back on Zhu, who produced his serrated gauntlets, now finally able to wear them. Zhu’s eyes—bright, determined, and full of intent—met Tunde’s.

  “Let’s go save Uncle,” Zhu said, his voice both hopeful and resolved.

  Tunde raised an eyebrow, then gave a nod. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  Together, they shot off in the direction of the looming power.

  **********************************************

  The Ape King and Veyra clashed once more in a storm of Ethra and aura as Ifa arrived, shielding himself from the worst of their attacks with a controlled leak of his master Ethra, enough to make his presence known. The two Highlords accompanying the sect leader—Mei and Fen—turned, astonishment flashing across their faces before Mei’s expression settled back into irritation.

  Ifa’s gaze flickered briefly to the Masters’ battle, their near-domain-level dominions distorting the space around them, before he turned his attention back to the Highlords. Mei was the first to speak.

  “Emissary Ifa, shouldn’t you be protecting the lesser cultivators? Surely your presence would be missed,” she said with an edge, while Fen’s sharp gaze never left him.

  Ifa waved off her concern with a genial smile. “Don’t worry, Tunde and his companions are more capable than you give them credit for,” he replied, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. “I’m more concerned about the sect leader, isolated as he is against the Ape King.”

  Fen gave a short laugh. “He’s not isolated—he has us,” he replied confidently.

  Ifa raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “Does he?”

  “Ah, so you know,” Mei said, her tone colder now. Ifa chuckled, nodding.

  “Planting phantoms within the Lords’ ranks was a bit of a giveaway,” he replied just as Mei struck, her movements fast and precise.

  Where Ifa expected a technique of ash and flame, shadow and fire merged instead, shaping into a blade infused with aura that crashed into the defensive shield he had prepared. He watched the strike dissipate, then clapped lightly.

  “I must applaud you, Highlady, for keeping your shadow affinity concealed. No doubt it took quite a bit of core cleansing,” Ifa commented, just as Fen appeared, his sword wreathed in aura and essence flames, slashing down toward him.

  In response, Ifa manifested a spear imbued with his own aura and flames, meeting Fen’s strike with an explosive clash. Ifa twisted smoothly, his aura repelling the fiery rings Mei attempted to ensnare him with, a smile playing on his lips as he dodged her relentless attacks. It had been too long since he’d relished a fight like this.

  Rage flared in Mei’s eyes as she and Fen closed in, combining their domains of ashen flames and shadows to trap him. Ifa snorted, pulling a talisman from his robes. The moment he activated it, an array appeared beneath them, draining the Ethra from their techniques as quickly as they materialized.

  Even so, Mei’s skill shone through; her aura-honed blade sliced through the talisman. Ifa clicked his tongue in annoyance—hours of intricate inscription work, destroyed in seconds. Just as he considered revealing more of his core’s power, another presence joined the fray, one that genuinely surprised him.

  Rui Talahan appeared at his side, her aura crackling. Ifa eyed her appraisingly. “Peak Lord? Impressive!” he said, noting how her gaze fixed on her mother and uncle.

  “Rui, what is the meaning of this?” Mei snarled, her eyes narrowing as Rui summoned a smooth, single-edged gray blade to her hand.

  “Father knew, Mother,” Rui replied earnestly. “It’s not too late to stop whatever it is you’re planning.”

  For a moment, Mei seemed stunned, then burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking as another tremor of power rippled from the Masters’ clash, forcing the Highlords and Lords nearby to shield themselves. Ifa tapped his fingers idly, wondering if he should ask them to talk faster. It had been too long since he had fought at full strength, and his body itched for release.

  “You miserable waste,” Mei sneered, her face twisted with contempt. “To think you were meant to inherit my place with the Phantoms. Your father’s weakness has rubbed off on you.”

  Rui recoiled, pain flashing across her face. Ifa frowned.

  “That’s harsh, even for you,” he chided Mei, whose aura flared with renewed fury. The distraction allowed Fen to lunge at Rui, but Ifa deflected his blade, another tremor shaking the ground beneath them.

  A familiar surge of power rose behind him as Tunde arrived, and Ifa turned to see the changed form of Zhu at his side. The almost-human Ethralite grinned at him before turning his gaze to the two Highlords of the Ashen Flame Sect.

  “Did we come late?” Tunde asked, surveying the scene.

  “No, just in time for the betrayal,” Ifa replied with a wry grin.

  “Good. Leave the General to Rui and me—we have some matters to settle,” Tunde said, as Zhu chuckled, his voice tinged with a battle lust Ifa hadn’t heard before.

  “Agreed. I believe Highlady Mei and I have something to discuss, don’t we?” Ifa said, allowing his core to fully unshroud, his power unfurling to reveal the true strength of a Master.