The rest of the group appeared a few minutes later, shapes moving swiftly through the branches before landing beside Tunde, weapons drawn. They burned Ethra rapidly, eyes scanning the surroundings.

  “What was that?” Zehra hissed, gripping her frost blade tightly.

  “The vine creature?” Tunde asked as Sera nodded.

  “We were attacked by something similar. Peak tier, nasty things,” Sera replied, her blade glinting in the golden Ethra surrounding Daiki. The monk continued chanting his mantra under his breath, gripping his staff in anticipation of another attack.

  Tunde swallowed softly, noticing Zhu’s antennae standing rigid as it stared into the darkness beyond. “Safe to say we’ve woken up whatever rules this swamp,” he murmured.

  “Either that or this forest is so steeped in evil that it’s bred those… abominations,” Zehra added.

  “I’d take the evil creatures over waking up whatever rules this place,” Sera said with a shudder. Tunde glanced at her, whispering a short prayer to the hegemons under his breath, hoping she was right.

  Daiki shook his head. “No. There’s no doubt about it. We’ve woken something abominable.”

  “Why do you say that?” Zehra asked, her tone hopeful that, for once, the monk might be wrong.

  “Those things were given life. Their essence left them the moment we destroyed their forms. Such creations don’t come from just anyone,” Daiki said with a shudder.

  Tunde nodded grimly. “Then we stick together. We can’t afford to get separated. The only issue now is finding where those people are being held.”

  Daiki produced another talisman, nodding. “The light washes away what is hidden. Reveal what seeks to shroud us!” he chanted, igniting the paper in a ball of fire that shot into the air. The flame hovered briefly, then darted into the darkness, illuminating a path ahead.

  “We follow it,” Daiki said.

  “You could’ve used that when we entered the forest,” Zehra muttered.

  “We were avoiding the swamp’s master. Now that we know it holds those we seek, there’s no point hiding,” Daiki replied, concentrating on keeping the flames lit.

  Tunde activated his Ethra sight, noticing the thin thread of Ethra connecting Daiki to the flame before switching it off and following the monk’s lead.

  The forest was eerily silent, as if holding its breath after the earlier battle. Tunde’s footsteps echoed quietly, despite their careful steps through the foliage. Suddenly, Daiki halted, and the rest froze in place, their gazes locked on the monk as he raised his staff.

  “We’re surrounded,” Daiki whispered hoarsely, trembling.

  “Where?” Tunde asked, activating his Ethra sight—and then cursed.

  All around them, perched high in the branches, were wooden figures emanating the same malevolent aura as the vine creatures. There were at least ten of them. Daiki’s ball of fire exploded, briefly illuminating the figures, each glowing with a dark energy and wielding sharp wooden weapons.

  Without warning, the figures attacked, swinging weapons imbued with aura and Ethra strikes. Tunde sprang into action, separating from the group, his focus locked on one figure that stood back with its arms folded. As he charged, the creature’s face split into an eerie smile, its arms extending to form two wooden blades.

  They danced around each other, the creature sidestepping Zhu’s claw swipe before attempting to strike the Ethralite from behind. Tunde’s blade intercepted it.

  “Go help the others!” he shouted to Zhu, then focused on his opponent, boiling Ethra coiling around him.

  The creature leaped back, creating distance as black energy wafted from its form. “Interesting. Your aura is strange, little worm,” a voice echoed from within the wooden figure.

  “What are you? Why are you doing this?” Tunde asked, gripping his naginata tighter.

  The creature laughed. “You’re too young, and the world too old for you to know what I’ve become, worm,” it mocked darkly. “As for what I want? Isn’t it obvious?” it sneered, spreading its arms wide. “Your flesh, your blood, your soul. I want it all.”

  Its black Ethra exploded outwards, shooting towards Tunde. He swung his naginata, deflecting the attack, and went on the defensive, parrying the creature’s relentless strikes.

  “You use a martial art I am unfamiliar with—interesting!” the creature said with amusement as it pressed the attack. Tunde’s void realm did little more than reduce the pressure as the creature shrugged it off, laughing maniacally.

  In a flash, the creature projected a palm strike, its aura slamming into Tunde’s chest. He spat blood as he was hurled from the branch, crashing to the ground below with a painful thud. The malevolent aura tried to corrode him from within, but his essence flame surged to life, burning it away. His relic shivered in response, adding its power to his.

  Wiping his mouth, Tunde glanced up to see the creature advancing leisurely, its wooden form distorting as two additional arms appeared—one wielding a wooden axe, the other another blade.

  “I will savor your demise, little worm,” it crooned before launching itself at him.

  In an instant, Tunde switched weapons, his naginata vanishing in favor of his relic. The blade struck true, stabbing into the creature, which released a shriek of pure agony. Dark grey flames consumed its form as the rest of the creatures burst into flames as well, turning to ash.

  Panting, Tunde flicked the ashes from his blade. The oppressive aura retreated deeper into the forest, leaving behind the smoldering remains of their foes. A bright white light tore free of the withered vines, hovering momentarily before shooting into the forest, too fast for Tunde to catch.

  He felt a wave of sorrow and agony from it—raw, unbearable pain.

  Zhu limped over to him; his body battered but still standing. The rest of the group approached, exhausted but alive.

  “What just happened?” Zehra asked, her voice trembling, fear evident in her eyes as the last of her frost Ethra flickered out.

  “My thanks, brother Tunde. Bahataba stands with us still,” Daiki said, sweat glistening on his brow.

  Tunde crouched beside Zhu, gently pouring his Ethra into the Ethralite to hasten its recovery. As Zhu rubbed his head against Tunde in gratitude, Tunde gave a brief smile before turning back to the others.

  "It spoke to me—the entity, whatever controlled those puppets," Tunde said, his voice low. Daiki frowned, muttering a quiet prayer, "Bahataba protect us."

  "What does it want?" Sera asked, her voice tense.

  "Our deaths... and more importantly, our bodies," Tunde replied, causing Zehra to shudder.

  "That’s it. We’re getting out of here," she said, rising to her feet.

  Daiki looked at her in shock. "What about the innocents?" he asked.

  Zehra glanced between them, incredulous. "Are you all mad? Don’t you see we’re in over our heads?" she said, pointing toward the receding dark fog and malevolent energy. "We’re dealing with something that can control all those puppets. Do you have any idea how much power it takes to do that? How much authority?"

  "Authority?" Sera asked, confused.

  "Yes, authority! Something masters and beyond wield," Zehra snapped in frustration. "Even my grandfather rarely uses it. Meaning we’re dealing with a master—a master!" she repeated, trying to hammer in the point.

  Tunde frowned, leaning on his weapon to haul himself to his feet. "No," he said firmly.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "No?" Zehra echoed, confused.

  "Whatever that creature is, it’s no master," he said.

  "Oh? And how would you know that?" Zehra scoffed.

  "Because I’ve seen what masters can do. If it were one, the whole ship—and us—would already be ash," Tunde replied simply, causing Zehra to pause.

  He turned to Daiki. "Brother Daiki, you said saints begin from master rank, right?"

  The monk nodded. "Indeed, but I don’t fully understand what this being is," Daiki said, his brows furrowed.

  "Is it possible to be a Highlord saint?" Tunde asked.

  Daiki paused, considering. "Truthfully, I’ve never heard of such a thing, Bahataba," the monk replied. "But the world is vast, and its seas even vaster. If such a thing exists, it could explain what we’re facing."

  Tunde nodded. "Then we have no choice but to go ahead," he said, with Zhu nodding in agreement beside him.

  "By the hegemons, I’m surrounded by madmen," Zehra muttered, placing a hand on her forehead in frustration. She turned to Daiki, her tone pleading. "This is madness—tell them."

  "Bahataba charges us to protect the weak whenever we can, sister," Daiki replied with a pained smile.

  "We’re walking to our deaths!" Zehra exclaimed.

  "You could always turn back," Sera said with a shrug.

  Zehra whirled to face her. "The world is dangerous and filled with mysteries. I want to experience them all," Sera replied calmly.

  "Even if it means your death?" Zehra asked, her voice rising.

  Sera smiled. "What better way to go out than in battle?" she asked.

  Tunde spoke up. "Have you ever wondered why your grandfather let you come with us? Why he was comfortable with you heading to Talahar alone, without Akero’s protection?"

  Zehra looked at him, unsure.

  "The old man wanted you to grow, ice face," Sera teased with a laugh.

  "Don’t call me that, blood brat," Zehra hissed, as Sera laughed even harder.

  "Through battle, we face adversity. Through adversity, we find enlightenment. And through enlightenment, we may advance on our paths, Bahataba," Daiki said, his tone calm but resolute.

  Zehra glanced between all of them, shaking her head. "Mad, all of you. But I won’t be called a coward," she muttered, gripping her blade tighter.

  Tunde nodded. "Then conserve your Ethra. We move carefully," he instructed.

  With that, they shot deeper into the swampy forest, pressing onward into the unknown.

  *******************************

  The swamp gradually gave way to dry ground as they descended from the branches above, weapons drawn and auras extended outward. Twice they had been attacked by corrupted creatures of the swamp, their bodies decayed and rotting, eyes filled with a malevolent black presence. These dead creatures, reanimated with a semblance of life, assaulted them from all sides.

  They put them down viciously, Tunde watching as the same ball of light left their bodies and drifted deeper into the ever-receding fog. Twice, they had stopped to catch their breath and use Ethra crystals, despite Tunde's reluctance. They dared not cultivate the tainted Ethra within the forest for fear it would harm their cultivation.

  Tunde promised himself he would undergo a purification process, no matter how expensive it was, better than risking corruption in his cultivation. His concept of the void devourer allowed him to consume nearly anything, and yet, he vividly recalled how ineffective his void realm had been against the wooden constructs controlled by the being. It was a stark reminder that, while blessed with a powerful bloodline and path, he was by no means invincible. Whatever ruled this swamp was an existence that sparked both curiosity and dread within him.

  As usual, Daiki led the group, guiding them with a talisman—a glowing ball of golden light that illuminated the path ahead, casting a comforting brightness over their surroundings.

  Tunde glanced at Sera and Zehra, noticing how they gave each other a wide berth while still keeping close enough to assist if needed. Their relationship puzzled him. On one hand, Sera disliked Zehra due to what she’d heard about her from Tunde and the others back at Black Rock. On the other, Tunde could tell that Sera was beginning to realize Zehra wasn’t as bad as they had initially thought.

  He only hoped they survived long enough to become true friends. Such a bond between them would be beneficial, giving Sera a sense of identity and forging an alliance that would help them both. His mind drifted to those he had left behind: Thorne, now captured by the Revenant cult; Elyria, far away in the technocracy; and Miria, taken by the Whispering Phantom Sect. They had been torn from him, snatched by forces beyond his control, and all because of their weakness.

  There was nothing he could have done for Elyria—her path was her own. But Thorne... that was pure cruelty. Wrongly accused by his own people, then taken by the very enemies he had vowed to defeat. Guilt gnawed at Tunde for not fighting harder to help him. Yet, as an adept back then, what could he have done against Highlords?

  Even now, Tunde wasn’t sure he could face the female Revenant Highlord who had appeared. He vividly remembered her face, and the raw power she possessed—a power that had nearly brought Jade Peak to its knees, even with the presence of the patriarch. Tunde knew he still had a long way to go to hold his own in this world, but he was determined. He would reach that point, one foe at a time.

  As they pressed on, the oppressive evil presence of the being settled around them again. This time, they were ready. Daiki produced three talismans, throwing them into the air before crossing his legs and sitting on a branch. “Protect me!” he urged, as the rest formed a protective circle around him. He ignited with golden and white power, the talismans burning up and transforming into dozens of tiny birds that flitted around them.

  A booming voice echoed from the darkness. "You seek me out, little monk of the Temple of Light," it said, the words laced with a sinister amusement.

  “It knows us!” Zehra hissed.

  “Very well, I will open the path for you!” the voice continued, and the darkness parted to reveal a well-trodden path that hadn’t been used in a long time. “But I won’t make it easy for you!” the voice cackled as black vines shot out from all directions, moving with incredible speed.

  Tunde dashed to the side, his naginata slicing through the onslaught of vines. He activated his void realm again, crashing to the ground below as explosions erupted around him. The others fought desperately as well, battling the relentless wave of vines. Tunde’s aggressive Boundless Asura fighting style paired with Joran’s Wrath erupted into dark gray power that burst around him with every swing.

  But the vines kept coming, pressing them apart. “Stay together!” Tunde shouted, trying to force his way back toward his companions, but to no avail. He unleashed more of his Ethra, burning through it with furious swings, his attacks gradually overpowering the vines.

  Then, something shifted, a nauseating sensation overwhelming him. He staggered, one of the vines skewering his leg. Gritting his teeth, he gathered another Joran’s Touch in his left hand, releasing spears of Ethra into the surrounding vines. He fought his way toward the clearing he had glimpsed earlier, the vines slicing apart more easily now.

  At last, Tunde found himself alone on the path the being had revealed earlier. Bloodied and bruised, his void-forged body rapidly healed his wounds while expelling the taint within. He collapsed to his knees, coughing up black blood, his eyes watering from the strain.

  Behind him, the path sealed off, the black vines hardening into an impenetrable barrier. Glancing at the blocked path darkly, Tunde rose to his feet, using his naginata for support. His breathing steadied as he began walking the leaf-covered path, each step bringing him closer to the malevolent presence he could feel waiting for him.

  Tunde's skin crawled as he walked carefully through the road, his core cycling continuously to ensure his Ethra lines remained clean. Every step brought him closer to the overwhelming sense of doom he felt, the air thick with an oppressive stillness. The entire area was unnervingly quiet, devoid of life. No animals stirred, no insects buzzed, and even the tall, dark trees towering above him seemed lifeless. Through Ethra sight, all Tunde could see was the black miasmic energy swirling around him. His own aura pushed back the worst of it, but it felt like walking through a graveyard.

  He passed by two skeletal figures mounted on pikes, their dead, rotten bodies standing as mock sentinels to the settlement he could just make out ahead. Tunde kept a wary eye on them, half-expecting them to spring to life, given the malevolent power that seemed capable of animating the dead—a power reminiscent of the revenant cults.

  His mind churned with questions. Was this being somehow connected to those cults? Could it be some ancient power who had secluded itself in this forsaken swamp? Tunde had read about cultivators who cut themselves off from the world, entering long periods of meditation to seek enlightenment and advance their cultivation. Some even remained in meditation for centuries, becoming little more than myths. Could this creature be one of them? If so, why hadn’t it simply wiped them out? Was it playing with them, savoring some sadistic pleasure before delivering the final blow?

  Tunde shook his head, dismissing the fear-laden thoughts. He couldn't afford to jump to conclusions, not when so much was uncertain. He could only pray that the others were safe.

  The village he entered was nothing more than a broken ruin—an abandoned settlement overtaken by nature, yet even nature had been twisted here. The same black vines he had seen earlier crept along the walls and crumbling buildings, moving lazily as if oblivious to his presence. Tunde stepped cautiously, scanning his surroundings for any sign of danger.

  He soon found himself at the foot of what once must have been a grand temple. The dilapidated building stood as a shadow of its former self, its white marble now a cracked, dirty brown. The roof had caved in at one point, and a statue of a man wielding a sword lay broken at its base. The aura of the malevolent being emanated from deep within the temple, stronger and more oppressive here than anywhere else. The sky outside had lightened—it was morning, though Tunde couldn’t say how long they had spent in the swamp.

  Steeling himself, Tunde cast a glance back at the path that had led him here, gripping his naginata tighter as he stepped into the temple. He passed through the black shroud that seemed to hang at the entrance, a wave of disgust rolling over him as his body rebelled against the foulness in the air. His core cycled faster in response, fighting to keep him stable.

  Inside, the temple was in ruin, with black vines stretching from the outside, creeping over the walls and floor like veins of decay. At the far end of the hall stood a marble throne, and on it sat a figure. It took a moment for Tunde’s eyes to adjust to the sight—a frail, ancient being, barely more than skin and bones. Its white beard hung in tangled strands, and its chest rose and fell slowly, almost imperceptibly, the only sign that it was still alive.

  Tunde moved cautiously, inching closer as the weight of the being’s presence bore down on him. The air felt heavy, charged with raw power, yet oddly empty of Ethra. It was as though the creature had consumed all the Ethra in the area, leaving a void in its place. For the first time, Tunde couldn’t sense a level of strength in his opponent, the creature’s power beyond anything he could comprehend.

  Then, the being's eyes opened—two pits of endless blackness. Tunde staggered, overwhelmed by a pressure that crushed the air from his lungs. His knees buckled beneath him as the weight of the creature’s gaze pinned him down, his body trembling under the immense force.

  "Welcome, worm," the being’s voice echoed through the temple, sending chills down Tunde’s spine as he dropped to his knees, unable to stand against the crushing presence before him.