The crimson sky above the City of Winds pulsed with a restless energy, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath. Azarel's eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and calculating, but his heart—locked tight for centuries—throbbed with something unfamiliar. Something dangerously close to hope.
But hope was a luxury he could ill afford.
In the crowd, a ripple of whispers stirred like wind through leaves. They spoke of a woman—a figure who moved like a shadow yet shone brighter than any celestial star. She was called the Legendary Wife, and her arrival marked the beginning of an upheaval no clan, no god, could ignore.
Azarel's system hummed softly inside him, a quiet but relentless voice: Target identified. Analyze threat level.
The Supreme Sword's diagnostics blinked with fragmented data. The woman before him was no ordinary warrior—no, she was a living paradox. Her presence distorted space and time, as if reality itself bowed before her.
Yet she carried no memories of him.
Lyana—soft-spoken but fierce, brilliant but veiled in mystery—had become the unintentional key in a cosmic game far older than the multiverses themselves.
And she was walking straight toward him.
**
Azarel's cold exterior masked the tempest raging beneath. Their eyes met across the crowded plaza, a flash of recognition sparking somewhere deep inside him. The world seemed to slow—every heartbeat amplified like a war drum.
Her gaze held a storm of questions, and maybe, if he dared, an unspoken promise.
"Lyana," he whispered, the name like a curse and a prayer. But the woman before him hesitated, eyes narrowing in confusion.
"You know me," Azarel pressed, stepping closer.
She shook her head, the faintest tremor betraying her uncertainty. "I... I don't remember."
Pain struck Azarel like a blade. Centuries of memories—love, betrayal, loss—all wiped clean from her mind. Yet even in that void, her aura was undeniably powerful, as if dormant flames waited to be unleashed.
Suddenly, the air snapped taut as a shadowy figure emerged from the crowd—a guild assassin sent to test Azarel's strength. His dagger gleamed with a venomous curse.
Azarel's hand flashed, the Supreme Sword materializing in an instant—an extension of his will and wrath.
The assassin lunged.
**
The fight was brutal but brief. Azarel's blade sang through the air, severing not just flesh but illusions. Each strike revealed the complex web of conspiracies tangled around him. Guild betrayal was only the beginning.
Lyana watched with wide eyes, the dormant warrior inside her stirred by the clash. Despite her lost memories, instinct surged like electricity through her veins.
Azarel turned to her, panting, eyes burning. "You are not safe here. Not with me... and not without me."
She swallowed hard, the weight of unknown destiny pressing down.
"Why do you protect me?" Lyana asked, voice barely a whisper.
"Because you are the key," he said, voice low but fierce. "To the multiverse, to my past... and to the future we must fight for."
**
That night, the city's neon glow flickered against ancient ruins—a perfect clash of past and present. Azarel led Lyana through hidden paths, revealing fragments of the truth buried beneath layers of deception.
"You once walked among the gods," he said, "bound by a promise older than time itself."
Lyana clenched her fists, the fragmentary memories flooding back—visions of battles fought under stars long dead, a crown she never chose to wear, a love that defied fate.
But before she could ask more, a violent tremor shook the ground. A monstrous roar echoed—a warning from the dark void.
Azarel's system flared: Warning. Unknown entity approaching. Hostile.
From the shadow of a twisted tower emerged an ancient celestial beast—its eyes burning with primordial fury. It was a harbinger of chaos, an emissary of Varion's dark will.
Azarel drew Lyana close, his voice sharp: "Stay behind me. This is only the beginning."
The beast charged.
**
Steel clashed with scale. Azarel's sword radiated blinding light, cutting through the shadowy behemoth. But this was no ordinary foe—each blow fractured the fabric of space around them, distorting reality.
Lyana's power surged instinctively, a radiant shield bursting from her palms to protect them both.
"Who are you?" she demanded, breathless.
Azarel met her gaze, the storm in his eyes unwavering. "The past you've forgotten... and the war you were born to fight."
As the battle raged, a chilling whisper drifted through the chaos—a voice from the void, cold and relentless.
"Your memories are the last line between salvation and destruction. Lose them, and all is lost."
The beast fell back, but only momentarily. The true war was yet to begin.
**
Azarel knelt beside Lyana, heart hammering. "You must remember. Not just for us, but for all worlds."
She looked at him, pain and determination mingling in her gaze.
"But if I do... will I still be your wife? Or just a weapon in your war?"
Azarel's smile was bitter but tender. "You are both. And more."
The night swallowed their words as distant thunder echoed—an ominous herald of the awakening gods.
**
End of Chapter 6
To be continued...
**
Azarel's encounter with Lyana reignites a forgotten bond, but her lost memories and the emerging celestial threat pull them into a battle where love, fate, and multiversal secrets collide.
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