The man atop the old throne chuckled as he stirred, his bones creaking as he rose to his feet. Limp white hair floated around his head as if suspended in liquid. His bony chest and upper body were exposed, draped only by a dirty, hanging robe that barely covered his lower half. Yet, despite his frail appearance, the terrifying presence that emanated from him was unmistakable.

  Tunde’s head felt heavy, his Ethra sluggishly resisting his every command. His eyes watered, and a pounding echoed in his skull. He struggled to focus on the figure before him, who gazed at him with dark, inky eyes filled with amusement.

  "It has been a long time since I’ve drawn in prey like you," the man said, his voice dry and raspy. "Tell me, whose offspring are you? Your blood sings with power." He pointed a crooked finger at Tunde, who was immediately forced to his knees by an unseen pressure. Gripping his naginata tighter, Tunde fought to keep himself from collapsing entirely.

  The air around him tasted acrid, thick with an almost ashy bitterness that churned his stomach. The man smiled, his gaze shifting as if seeing something beyond the room. "Ah, your friends have survived," he mused, "no doubt thanks to the monk’s meddling. Annoying insects."

  With a wave of his hand, Tunde felt a nauseating wave of power flood the space, causing him to gag. His gaze then landed on the dark orb protruding from the man’s chest, a sphere of pure darkness embedded within his flesh, pulsating with malevolent energy.

  *****************************

  Sera and the others found themselves cut off from Tunde, battling relentless waves of black vines intent on skewering them. The presence that had drawn them in seemed fixated on separating them from him. It was a desperate fight for survival, and their only relief came when the vines abruptly ceased their attacks, retreating into the shadows.

  Breathing heavily, they paused to regroup. Zehra seethed with frustration, while Zhu tore at the retreating vines, screeching Tunde’s name. Daiki had slipped into a meditative state, producing another talisman of light to guide their way. It was clear that the continuous use of his talismans was taking a toll on him.

  After cutting through corrupted creatures and hacking their way through the dense foliage, Daiki finally noted they were nearing the source of the evil presence. Muttering about another hidden entity, he pressed on, though Sera paid little attention. One enemy was enough; another would push them past the breaking point.

  Zhu surged forward, letting out a screech of victory when they emerged into what appeared to be an abandoned village, lost to time and nature. But the nature here was twisted. Black, thorny vines coiled around crumbling buildings, moving lazily in the light drizzle that began to fall, turning the muddy ground beneath them into a soggy mess.

  "He's close," Daiki whispered, leaning heavily on his staff. His pale face was lined with exhaustion. Zehra moved to steady him, concern etched on her face, but Daiki waved her off with a weak smile. "I’ll manage. Talismans draw on more than just Ethra and aura, Bahataba. They pull from your very soul," he explained, staggering slightly.

  "You should sit. A stiff breeze could knock you over," Sera quipped, though her tone was far from teasing. Zhu, still tense, muttered a single word: "Tunde."

  "We'll find him," Sera promised, her voice firm. "We just need to figure out where that monster took him."

  "No need," Daiki interrupted, raising a trembling hand and pointing toward a large, broken building in the distance. "He knows we’re here. His minions are coming."

  A series of decayed limbs shot from the ground, accompanied by agonized howls that filled the air.

  "Necromancy? Is he part of the Revenants?" Zehra hissed, recalling Tunde's stories of the cult that had once attacked his homeland.

  "No," Daiki said, shaking his head as he downed an elixir, grimacing as it worked through his system. "This is different. These aren’t just the bodies of the dead... These are tortured souls. Their cries call out for release."

  "Great, tortured souls," Zehra muttered, her blade now glowing with frost. "Is there even a difference?"

  "The Revenants reanimate corpses, giving them false life," Daiki explained. "But this... This being has found a way to siphon the very essence of souls, feeding off their torment. It’s pure evil."

  His voice trembled, barely masking the horror on his face. "We are about to face that evil."

  The skeletal figures staggered forward, pieces of dried flesh hanging loosely from their decayed forms. More of them unearthed themselves from the ground, filled with the same malevolent Ethra that had come from the being’s presence. They dragged weapons of all shapes and sizes, their glowing red eyes, sometimes housing decaying eyeballs or crawling with maggots, fixated on them.

  Sera found herself tearing her gaze away from the sight, sickened by the pure agony etched into the faces of the undead. They surrounded the group in a circle, emerging from all angles, then abruptly halted, as if the entity controlling them had pulled their strings taut, freezing them in place, unblinking and unmoving.

  “Your lives are forfeit,” they all intoned together, their loose jaws clacking in eerie unison, dark smoke wafting from their mouths.

  Some of the undead looked bloated, filled with maggots or foul gases, while others were dried and skeletal. Still, Sera gripped her blade tighter.

  “What do you want with us?” Zehra demanded, her voice cold as ice.

  The chorus of voices chuckled, the sound echoing ominously. "I detest his presence," they said, gesturing toward Daiki, who frowned deeply. "Give me the monk, and I may spare your worthless lives."

  "And Tunde?" Sera asked, Zhu, growling menacingly beside her.

  “The one with the peculiar Ethra stays here. But I’m feeling generous,” the voices continued as the ground shifted in the distance. Large pikes shot out of the earth, tied to the forms of the ship’s crew members. Their chests rose and fell with labored, painful breaths.

  "A bit worse for wear, but alive. That should be enough," the being said mockingly through the undead.

  Sera laughed darkly, her Ethra surging as her aura flared. Pointing her blade at the gathered corpses, she snarled, "You must be mad to think we’d leave here without them."

  Zehra spat to the side, ice swirling around her as a blizzard of frost gathered. Zhu took to the air, hovering overhead. Daiki stepped forward; his voice steady as he gripped his staff.

  "You are an abomination, a taint on existence, Bahataba," Daiki began, his conviction unwavering. "Wounds must be cleansed, infections purged. By the strength of the enlightened one, you too shall be cleansed, by the power of justice!"

  The entity laughed cruelly. “So be it, then,” it hissed, the undead figures raising their weapons in response. "Your bodies will serve me well!" it declared as they charged.

  Zhu shot into their midst alongside Sera, her blade cutting through flesh and bone as she moved with deadly precision, weaving between their attacks with ease. The creatures lacked coordination, relying solely on brute strength, but that was futile against her skill.

  Sera restrained herself from using her second affinity—flesh. She could feel the deep corruption in their bodies, and the thought of controlling such tainted flesh revolted her. The undead were marked with bone-deep carvings, binding their souls to their twisted forms.

  Behind her, Daiki fought fiercely, his staff glowing with holy energy. With every strike, the trapped souls were released, glowing white orbs tearing free from the decaying bodies and rising into the air.

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  “You’ve irritated me enough!” the voice of the being boomed as all the undead turned their focus to Daiki, rushing toward him as he chanted.

  Sera, sensing the danger, tapped into her flesh affinity, halting the movements of several nearby creatures by crushing their own bodies from within, despite the revulsion it brought her. She slashed through more undead, making her way back to the circle where Zehra and Zhu held the line.

  Daiki’s left hand glowed as he held another talisman, brighter and more powerful than before. "Hold them off until he’s ready!" Zehra shouted.

  “What do you think I’m doing, ice face?” Sera retorted, frustration in her voice.

  Ignoring their banter, Daiki released the talisman, letting it rise high into the air. As it ascended, it gathered power, the black, inky inscriptions on its surface glowing gold and swirling into a radiant circle above them.

  "Purify! Cleanse this place by all that is good!" Daiki cried out, his voice ringing with pure conviction.

  A massive explosion of power erupted from the talisman, blasting the undead back as both agonized and joyful shrieks filled the air. The bound creatures were reduced to smoldering ash, the glowing white orbs of their freed souls swirling around Daiki before rising skyward.

  “Go to your eternal rest, Bahataba,” he whispered, his voice soft as he collapsed, unconscious.

  Sera turned her gaze to the abandoned temple, gripping her blade tightly before releasing a slash of blood aura at it. The technique slammed ineffectively against a barrier of black miasma, a look of frustration crossing her face. Zhu stepped up beside her, drawing back his arm as a blistering form of Ethra and aura ignited, burning with dark green flames. Sera’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Is that...?” she began, unable to finish the sentence as the Ethralite shot forward, slamming into the barrier with full force. The barrier wobbled for a second. Sera seized the opportunity, unleashing another attack infused with blood Ethra, and aura. This time, the barrier cracked.

  ************************

  Tunde was overwhelmed. His void realm barely helped; the presence of the being scrambled his thoughts. The only brief moments of clarity came when he cycled his Ethra to the fullest, managing to put up a feeble fight against the old man.

  But it was futile.

  On top of being a Highlord, the man's presence distorted Ethra sight. “You think you can peer into the tattered future while I stand here?” he mocked, an aura-infused palm slamming into Tunde’s midsection, forcing blood from his mouth as he crashed into the temple’s already unstable walls. One advantage of his void-forged tempering, which now felt like a disadvantage, was the rapid healing of his body—making him recover from injuries too quickly for his own good.

  “You do not belong to the brat of flames and lightning, nor do you wear the metal forms of those who tamper with their very beings,” the old man mused, his cackle echoing through the ruined temple. “No, you do not belong to this part of Adamath, do you? You reek of something… foreign.”

  He rubbed his long beard as Tunde gripped his naginata harder, resisting the urge to draw his relic. Every enemy he faced lately seemed to sense something was different about him, eager to beat it out of him. But this old man—he set off every alarm in Tunde’s body. His very presence felt wrong.

  “The only reason you're still alive is because I wish to understand where such a fountain of power comes from. And you will tell me,” The elder sneered, stretching his hand as a force seized Tunde, pulling his limbs apart as pain shot through him.

  The old man’s attention shifted, frowning. “Your friends are proving to be quite the disturbance,” he muttered. Tunde's eyes widened in alarm. Desperate, he summoned spears of Ethra, hurling them at the old man. With a dismissive wave, the attack exploded, blinding Tunde for a moment. Using the distraction, Tunde infused his naginata with essence flame and aura, launching it at the elder.

  The weapon struck the orb embedded in the old man’s chest, causing it to crack. The elder roared in fury as black smoke poured from the orb, corroding everything it touched. Tunde retreated, pain lancing through every step as he sprinted toward the exit, firing more Ethra spears behind him.

  He barely made it out of the temple when he crashed into bodies. “Tunde?” Zehra’s startled voice called from beneath him as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Run!” Tunde shouted. The urgency in his voice brokered no argument. They turned and sprinted toward the village exit, Tunde grabbing an unconscious Daiki and hauling the hefty monk over his shoulder as they fled.

  “The crew members!” Sera cried, but a force seized them all before anyone could respond. Tunde’s heart sank.

  “You dare!” the old man’s voice thundered, forcing them to turn toward the temple as he emerged. Vines slithered toward him, drawn like moths to a flame. “Do you even comprehend what you’ve done?” he roared.

  “Who is that?” Sera grunted, struggling against the invisible force.

  “Evil,” Tunde croaked, Zhu screeching in rage beside him.

  “Centuries! I spent centuries gathering it all, and you nearly ruined everything!” the elder snarled, descending the temple steps as black miasma pooled around him. “I will savor tearing you apart.”

  With a snap of his fingers, Tunde’s heart sank even further. Vines sealed the exit, and the crew members, tied to poles, groaned in anguish. Tunde watched in horror as wisps of white light—their very life force—were drained from their bodies and flowed into the old man. Their forms grew gaunt and skeletal, skin hanging like loose cloth.

  “He’s draining them of their life,” Zehra said, her voice trembling with horror. The old man inhaled deeply, his once frail form filling out slightly as he released them from his grasp. Black miasma coated his hands, stretching to his elbows as he smiled, his yellow-stained teeth glinting.

  “It has been far too long since I’ve practiced my battle arts. Come, let me show you what you face,” he chuckled darkly.

  “We can’t fight him,” Tunde growled, dark Ethra spilling from him as the others cycled their Ethras, preparing for the inevitable.

  Sera’s response was immediate. She slashed her blade, sending an aura-infused attack toward the elder. “Blood arts cultivator… I once fought a madman like you,” the old man said casually, swatting her attack away with one hand. In the next second, he was among them.

  Tunde blinked in shock as the old man’s projected palms slammed into them, scattering their group. Zhu charged, but the elder dodged easily, laughing as the Ethralite screamed in pain. Ice spears rained down on the elder, but he danced through the attacks, using Zhu’s carapace to deflect some of the strikes.

  Rage filled Tunde’s chest. He swung his naginata, sending a line of Ethra-infused flame crashing into the elder’s guard. But the next moment, the old man was upon him, deflecting his blows with ease. The elder’s fists landed on Tunde’s midsection and neck, leaving him reeling. His vision blurred as his legs were swept from beneath him, and he slammed into the ground, ears ringing.

  Zehra and Sera rushed in, swinging their weapons in tandem. Ice and blood Ethra filled the air, trying to lock the elder down. “Good, good. Two powerful affinities,” the old man cackled. “You try to bind me in place, while she seeks to control my blood? Daring, but futile!”

  He grabbed Zehra, slamming her into Sera, sending both tumbling. “Such promising bloods,” the elder crowed, before grabbing Tunde by the neck, lifting him effortlessly.

  “And yet, you above all, suit my purpose,” he said, eyes gleaming with malevolent delight. “A worthy host.” Tunde gripped the elder’s hand tightly, his mind racing as the old man looked puzzled by his resistance.

  Zhu was there in an instant, his reinforced serrated claws aiming to sever the old man’s arm. The Ethralite’s claws scraped against the old man’s arm, but the elder merely chuckled in amusement. “It will take more than that, strange creature,” he said. Tunde quickly formed an aura blade in his hand and brought it down on the old man’s arm just as Daiki appeared out of nowhere, his staff burning with gold and white aura, slamming into the elder’s face.

  Tunde’s blade cut through the man’s arm at the elbow, and the old man grunted as Tunde yanked the severed limb’s grip from his neck, putting some much-needed distance between them. He inhaled deeply, coughing roughly as he watched the dismembered arm turn to black miasma and flow back to the elder, reattaching itself as if nothing had happened.

  Cracking his neck, the old man began to rise on a wave of aura, his arms outstretched. “I have waited far too long to step foot out of this cursed prison of mine. For that, I will grant you all the mercy of a quick death,” he declared ominously.

  Vines shot out from the ground, wrapping around them with far greater strength than before. Tunde struggled, attempting to burn them away with his essence flames, but they held firm. Desperation surged through him as his mind raced through possible solutions, realizing once again he’d have to resort to his relic. But before he could act, a burst of white flames exploded from the village entrance, obliterating the vines blocking their path. The old man snarled in both rage and surprise.

  The flames washed over their bindings, incinerating the vines and freeing them. “You!” the old man screamed, his voice seething with fury as the white flames swirled into a vortex before dissipating, revealing a figure in pure white robes. Flowing snow-white hair framed the man’s face, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto the elder.

  “Tunde,” Sera hissed as she caught sight of the figure.

  “I see him,” Tunde whispered back as Daiki staggered, vomiting blood.

  Tunde grabbed the monk, pulling him along as they all made a desperate push for the exit. “Where do you think you're going?” the old man roared, his rage palpable as Tunde felt the same force attempting to seize them once more, only for it to be abruptly yanked away.

  “Go, follow the flames,” a voice echoed in Tunde's mind.

  Without hesitation, Tunde sprinted toward the village exit, the others close behind. Thunderous clashes erupted behind them as they fled, but a brilliant white flame appeared before them, burning bright and leading the way like a beacon. They followed the flame as it twisted and turned through the dense forest, guiding them through paths Tunde didn’t bother to note in his haste.

  The echoes of battle grew fainter the further they ran, until at last, silence enveloped them. In the distance, they saw the mouth of a huge cave glowing with white inscriptions. They rushed inside, and as soon as they crossed the threshold, the oppressive weight of the swamp seemed to lift, vanishing entirely. Tunde collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily in relief.

  The rest of the group staggered in behind him, just as another wash of white flames poured into the cave, gathering atop a flat rock. From the flames emerged the same white-haired man who had saved them, his expression strained but a small, welcoming smile on his face.

  “Welcome, young ones,” he greeted them.