The Abyss Guardian rose like a mountain waking from a long nightmare.
Its body shimmered with shards of black glass, each reflecting a distorted sky. The sand around it boiled, turning red under its weight. When it roared, the air itself cracked.
Lian Xueyin and I stood side by side, the weight of heat and shadow pushing against us. The soldiers behind us could hardly breathe, frozen by the pressure.
Arina's voice echoed sharply inside my mind.
"Host, this creature feeds on imbalance—each surge of emotion strengthens it. You must fight with pure equilibrium, or its chaos will consume your power."
"Understood," I whispered.
The creature lunged first, faster than its size should allow. The ground beneath us shattered as it came crashing forward, mouth glowing with darkness.
I raised the Snowfire Blade, meeting its strike mid‑air. Ice and flame exploded out in shockwaves that sent dust spiralling into the sky.
Lian moved fluidly beside me, her frost forming a towering wall that slowed the creature's advance. She glanced back quickly. "Its core—inside the chest, behind the shadowlight!"
The blade pulsed in my hands, glowing brighter as the temperature around us swung violently between searing heat and cold. My qi burned through every vein.
I charged.
The Guardian met me head‑on. Its clawed arm collided with my strike, sparks scattering like falling stars. The force hurled me back, but Lian was already there, her ice chains lashing forward to bind its limbs. The creature howled, thrashing violently.
"Mukul! Now—before it breaks free!"
I took a breath and closed my eyes. The world fell away into soundless light.
Crimson Frost Flow. Heavenlight Resonance. Dual Core Equinox.
The words weren't spells—they were memory, written into my very being.
My sword rose, blazing with both flame and frost, and I swung with everything that I was. The blade cut through the creature's shadowy chest, piercing straight into the glowing core buried deep within.
The explosion wasn't fire or ice—it was silence, absolute and total. Then the light burst outward, pure and white, washing across the entire valley.
When the glare faded, the Guardian was gone—reduced to drifting motes of shadow melting back into the sand.
Only one thing remained: a stone sphere, half buried in the ground, covered in ancient runes, burning faintly red and blue. It pulsed gently, like a sleeping heart.
Lian knelt beside it, awe flickering on her calm face. "The Abyss Source," she whispered. "We found it."
Before I could touch it, Arina's tone sharpened again. "Careful, Mukul. This core of darkness remembers the gods who made it. Its energy could split your soul if you reach unprepared."
"Then guide me," I said.
"Synchronise your mark," she ordered. "Let the light absorb darkness without hate."
As my hand touched the sphere, energy rushed through me. My mark blazed so bright I could see the bones in my hand through the glow. I felt the shadow push against me—cold, cruel, and endless. But in that same instant, Arina's warmth enveloped my heart, anchoring me.
Slowly, painfully, the Sphere's tremors subsided. The runes turned white, then faded into calm.
Lian reached out, steadying me. "You did it," she said softly.
I shook my head. "No. We only woke it. It's watching—waiting for the real war."
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Whatever this darkness is," I said quietly, standing again, "this is only a piece. The system itself lies far deeper."
Arina's voice broke the silence.
"The core no longer belongs to the Dark System. Through your soul link, it now binds to you. But its awakening… has called to every force born of shadow. The Empire will feel this within days."
And it did.
Far away, the Empire burned.
The city streets, once echoing with commerce, now rang with clashing steel. Fires devoured temples that bore the old emperor's banners. In the chaos, armoured soldiers with red‑painted sigils of the Frost Flame Rebellion marched through the avenues shouting my name.
But their war was not mine.
Zhao Tian stood above it all from the palace tower, his once‑golden eyes now dimmed into crimson. The air around him shimmered with darkness. He watched the rebellion spread through the capital like wildfire, but he didn't try to stop it. He smiled.
"The world breaks itself for me," he murmured, his voice layered with something that wasn't entirely human.
Below him, his generals shouted orders, tearing down the Emperor's seal and replacing it with his. None dared question the new ruler whose presence carried the scent of both god and monster.
The Emperor lay sick in his chambers, trapped in a half‑dream. Sometimes, when the servants entered, they swore they saw shadows coiled around his bed, whispering in tongues no mortal could speak.
"Balance must die for rebirth," a voice somewhere whispered—a voice that wasn't Zhao Tian's, though it spoke through his lips.
He turned toward the dark mirror standing in his chamber. The reflection showed not a man, but a formless figure of smoke—tall, cold, smiling.
"Yes, my master," Zhao Tian said calmly. "I understand. My brother must never return."
In the desert, the heat had fallen quiet.
The soldiers stood weary but alive, their faith shaken and rebuilt all in one breath. I looked out across the dunes where faint lines of black still traced the sand—marks of the vanished guardian.
Lian's voice broke the stillness. "What now?"
Arina answered softly for me. "Return, host. The energy wave from the Source links directly to the throne. Zhao Tian's corruption will now spill into the world faster than prophecy foresaw. You must prepare before the darkness outpaces you."
I tightened my grip on the Snowfire Blade. "He's no longer just my brother, is he?"
"No," Arina whispered. "He's becoming the Dark Vessel—the mirror to your Divinity."
I turned toward the horizon, where the dunes burned orange under sunset light. "Then we'll meet sooner than fate intended."
Lian nodded softly. "And when we do, may the frost protect what fire cannot."
We stood there as the sun sank below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched toward the empire we once called home.
And far away, in the heart of that empire, my brother smiled again—his laugh echoing with another's voice:
"Let light come. Darkness has waited long enough."