The night air was heavy with the smell of blood and gunpowder. Smoke rose from the blackened grass, curling up into the starlit sky. What had once been the border defense site was now a graveyard.
Sbu stood among the survivors, his uniform torn, his body sore, his mind numb. All around him, people cried — not the loud, dramatic kind of crying, but that quiet, broken sound that came from the heart. Soldiers and recruits knelt beside the bodies of their friends, whispering names, prayers, and disbelief.
Even the sergeant, the man who'd killed the first beast and rallied them all, stood silently by a row of fallen troops, his expression unreadable.
Lungelo hovered beside Sbu, for once without a joke. His usually smug grin was gone.
> "This… this is the part I never liked watching," he muttered, his golden mane flickering in the fading light. "Victory always costs too much."
Sbu didn't answer. He just clenched his fists. He could still see the moment the bus was attacked — the screams, the chaos, the blood. He could still feel the hot breath of the beasts, and the strange rush of power that had let him cut through them like paper.
But for what?
He looked down at his trembling hands. "They were just kids… some of them were my age."
> "Welcome to the cultivation world, kid," Lungelo said softly. "It's not all glowing auras and fancy moves. Sometimes it's just… surviving the day."
When the trucks finally came to pick up the wounded, Sbu sat silently in the back, staring out the window as the landscape rolled by. They reached the temporary camp near the river before midnight. No one spoke during dinner. No one laughed.
He ate a bit of dry bread, washed it down with water, and crawled into his tent. His whole body screamed for rest.
He lay there, staring at the dim light of the lantern, trying not to remember the faces.
Then the air in the tent shifted.
A chill swept through the room, and the lantern flickered wildly before dying out completely.
A woman's voice — ancient, annoyed, and sharp — cut through the silence.
> "You have got to be kidding me."
Sbu sat up fast. "Who's there?"
A figure stepped out of the darkness — a woman wrapped in a robe of deep blue flame, eyes glowing silver. Her hair floated as if underwater.
> "Those stubborn old ghosts," she growled, glaring at the empty air. "Drag me out of my meditation just to deal with this brat?!"
Lungelo appeared beside Sbu, suppressing a laugh.
> "You look lovely as ever, Seer."
> "Don't start with me, lion," she snapped. "Do you know how many favors I had to burn to cross realms tonight? Your boy better be worth it."
Sbu blinked, completely lost. "Wait—who are you?"
She turned her sharp gaze on him.
> "I am the one your ancestors yanked from the Spirit Domain because they think you're 'destined.'" She spat the word out like it tasted bitter. "They forced me to come here, boy. So don't waste my time."
> "Forced?" Lungelo snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like them."
The seer ignored him, raising her hand. Blue runes swirled around her palm, filling the tent with a low hum that vibrated through Sbu's bones.
> "Listen carefully, Sibusiso Mthembu," she said, her tone suddenly serious. "Your path is about to twist beyond anything you can imagine. The ancestors have called for you—"
Sbu swallowed hard. "Called for me? Why?"
> "Ask them yourself."
Before he could respond, the runes burst into light. The air rippled, and Sbu felt his body being pulled apart, every atom stretched between two worlds.
Lungelo grinned and gave a lazy salute.
> "See you on the other side, kid."
And then everything went white.
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