The world of Nara stood as the crown jewel of the Arch Eternal Narakava Clan—a colossal realm forged in the fires of endless conflict, where beauty and madness danced in a bloody embrace. Spanning light-years across interconnected continental masses suspended in a perpetual storm-void, the planet was a living testament to the Asuras' psychotic devotion to battle, blood, and war.
Towering spires of obsidian and crimson adamantine pierced skies roiling with thunderclouds that rained iron-sharp hail, each drop infused with the essence of fallen warriors.
Vast battlefields stretched like scars across the surface, arenas the size of small worlds where Asuras clashed in ritualized frenzy, their laughter echoing as limbs were severed and blood painted the ground in abstract murals of carnage.
The air hummed with the constant clash of weapons—thunderous war drums crafted from the skulls of defeated rivals, and haunting harps strung with the sinews of divine beasts, playing melodies that stirred the soul to violence.
Forests of bone-trees grew from the corpses of the slain, their branches bearing fruits of pure wrath that granted bursts of berserk power. Oceans of boiling blood churned, home to leviathan beasts bred for gladiatorial hunts.
The Asuras themselves were beings of ridiculous beauty—ethereal features, lithe yet powerful forms, skin like polished marble veined with glowing runes—but their eyes burned with unhinged glee, their smiles revealing fangs eager for the taste of war. Here, peace was heresy; every breath was a declaration of dominance, every alliance a prelude to betrayal
Nara was not just a home—it was a forge where the clan hammered itself into weapons of eternal conquest, beautiful psychos reveling in the symphony of slaughter.
Upon this world, a woman could be seen floating above a blood-drenched training field, her long white hair streaked with black flowing like a banner of war in the howling winds. She was petite yet curvy, her form a perfect balance of delicacy and lethal grace, face beyond mortal beauty with skin like flawless porcelain.
When her eyes opened, they were pure black voids with single white dots at their centers, like distant stars in an endless night—eyes that had seen eras of carnage and craved more.
'Tsk, it took long enough, but we're finally back at our peak of power,' a voice echoed inside her mind, nearly identical to hers but edged with a sharper, more impatient bite.
"Long?" she asked, her voice ethereal, like the whisper of wind through a battlefield of bones. "Lysa, it merely took a few decades… Outside, not even a few years have passed."
Sandra floated motionless as the mountains of bodies below—piles of Asura warriors who had fallen in the brutal training ritual—began to dissolve into streams of crimson energy, flowing upward into her form like rivers returning to the sea.
The field cleansed itself, blood soaking into the ground to nourish the bone-trees nearby, leaving the arena pristine and ready for the next slaughter.
'Even still… that cursed artifact nearly killed us along with Shia…' Lysa grumbled, the memory stirring a rare flicker of frustration in their shared soul.
Sandra's expression softened slightly, a faint smile touching her lips as she descended toward her estate—a towering spire of black adamantine crowned with a harp-shaped observatory, where the winds played eternal melodies of war.
"We survived, and we're stronger for it."
Years ago, back on Elaris, after Sandra and Lysa had made their pact in that decrepit old inn—Sandra granted Lysa control of their body—their journey had been one of calculated survival.
Lysa, the more experienced soul from countless cycles, took initial control, guiding them through the artifact's confines. They delved into its hidden depths, looking for anything that related to the place's origin and their escape.
As Sandra recovered, fragments of her past life resurfaced: they had been entangled in the Orb of Origin during a cataclysmic battle that happened nearly 500,000 years ago.
By the time Sandra's memories fully returned, the seal of their power had finally been revealed and weakened. Although it wasn't their peak, it was power exceeding the artifact's limits. They scoured Elaris for an exit, concluding the Wall of Death was the key—a vortex of annihilation that could shatter the seal... and possible give them an exit.
But as they focused inward, the world outside changed.
When they finally turned their gaze outward, shock rippled through them: the Solace Kingdom fallen, Caelum and Draven dead, Aster and Shia missing. And Ash—their youngest son—his feats were etched on steles: a boy who had risen from a weakling to the point of conquering ranked kingdoms.
They searched for him, but by then, he and Nia were gone, vanished into the unknown.
The only lead was Shia.
They found her, alone but not in bad condition at all. She had been training all this while steadily building her strength which had reached an impressive S rank. After spending some time together Sandra helped her increase her power even more to the peak of SS. Then, they escape through the Wall of Death.... a maelstrom of agony and something more, but they emerged via a wormhole into the Venia Galaxy, crashing onto a random world.
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Sandra entered her estate, the doors of forged Asura bone parting silently. Inside, Shia awaited—her eldest daughter, now an Asura like her, black hair cascading to her waist, eyes pure black with single white dots mirroring Sandra's, along with an intricate tattoo of coiling shadows below her left eye.
Petite yet fierce, her form radiated the same monstrous aura—beautiful, deadly, a mirror of her mother.
"Mother," Shia said, rising from a throne of carved bone, voice steady but warm. "You're back early. Are the fields cleared already?"
Sandra pulled her into a hug, their bond now unbreakable...
Shia, once playful and foolish in public to hide her ambitions, now embraced her true self: a monster in humanoid form, desires laid bare. But with Sandra, the facade melted; she was the child who sought approval, the daughter who shared secrets in the dead of night.
"Cleared and absorbed," Sandra replied, ruffling Shia's black hair affectionately. "You should join next time. You must continue to embrace you Asura nature. We are beings who live for battle, carnage... and become stronger because of it."
Shia grinned, fangs peeking. "Alright mother.... over the past year I've grown more used to this change."
After a long moment, Shia pulled back slightly, black eyes with their single white dots searching her mother's face.
"Mother… what about Aster... Nia... and Ash?" she asked quietly, voice steady but laced with longing.
"Is it possible we'll see them again?"
Sandra's expression softened at first, then her eyes narrowed faintly—affection for Ash, still ticking upward over the years, now resting at 60 %, stirred something deep within her.
She often dreamed of him: the boy who had been the outcast of the family.... bullied and spat on... And Nia—her fierce little flame. Memories of Elaris flooded back: the children she loved, the family torn apart due to various egos...
Although she had returned to being an Asura and was no longer human... Those feelings never faded one bit.
She placed a hand on Shia's cheek, thumb brushing the tattoo below her eye.
"I don't know, my love," Sandra admitted, voice gentle but honest. "The universe is vast, and paths diverge. Aster hadn't been seen in decades… Nia followed Ash. But if fate—or will—allows it, we will find them. Or they will find us."
Shia nodded, resolve hardening. "I hope so."
Sandra smiled, pulling her close once more before stepping back.
"But for now… it's time."
Her aura flared subtly—ethereal, monstrous.
"It's time to meet the rest of the Asura Main Clan."
Shia's grin returned—sharp, eager.
"Finally."
Mother and daughter turned toward the estate's grand doors, shadows coiling in anticipation.