The scent of scorched stone and blood still lingered in the air days after the battle. Kael stood atop the southern tower of the Black Flame Fortress, the wind rustling his dark cloak, eyes fixed on the horizon. Below, the fortress bustled with activity—healers tending to the wounded, blacksmiths forging replacements for broken weapons, and cultivators meditating to recover their strength.
But Kael's mind was elsewhere.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Behind him, Dalia approached with light steps. "The scouts reported no further movement from the eastern borders. Whatever remnants of the Stonewind Coalition remain have retreated."
Kael shook his head. "They didn't come to win. They came to test us."
Dalia frowned. "Test our strength?"
"No. Test our discipline." Kael turned to face her. "They wanted to know if we could be baited into overextending. But this wasn't their main force."
She crossed her arms. "Then where is the main force?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the inner folds of his robe and drew out a sealed letter with a black wax stamp. He handed it to her.
She read it quickly, her eyes narrowing with each line. "This is from the Shadow Fang Sect?"
He nodded. "They're requesting aid. Something ancient has awakened beneath the Sable Marshes. Cultivators have gone missing. Spiritual energy in the area is fluctuating abnormally."
"Sable Marshes..." Dalia repeated, thinking. "That's far south. Why would the Shadow Fang contact us?"
Kael's gaze darkened. "Because no other empire responded. Either they're afraid... or they already know what's there."
Dalia let the silence hang for a moment, then said, "We'll need the best."
"I already sent word to Rellen," Kael said. "He'll meet us at the western gate by dawn."
——
By the next morning, Kael, Dalia, and Rellen led a small but elite party of cultivators through the Forest of Withered Echoes, the fastest route to the marshes. The trees here twisted unnaturally, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The air was damp, heavy with ancient Qi, and the soil pulsed beneath their feet as if breathing.
A younger cultivator named Tharin, barely in the Transition Stage, asked nervously, "Commander, is it true that the Sable Marshes used to be a thriving kingdom?"
Kael nodded. "Before the Devouring Night. Legends say a forbidden experiment in Spirit Fusion backfired, turning the land into the swamp it is today."
Tharin gulped. "And what about the shadows people talk about?"
Rellen chuckled. "Those aren't just legends."
The group continued in tense silence, the only sounds their footsteps squelching in the wet earth and the soft hum of protective Qi barriers. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the marsh.
Dark waters stretched into the distance, patches of mist clinging to the surface. Strange trees, their roots half-submerged, lined the water's edge. In the distance, low, guttural groans echoed across the landscape.
"Stay sharp," Kael said, drawing his sword.
They moved cautiously, stepping onto the narrow, winding paths of dry ground and makeshift planks laid by the Shadow Fang Sect. Every few meters, they found evidence of struggle—claw marks in tree trunks, discarded weapons, blood trails vanishing into the water.
"Over there," Dalia pointed. A torn black sash bearing the sigil of the Shadow Fang.
Kael approached it and crouched, examining the fabric. "Still warm. They were here recently."
A sudden rustling came from the reeds behind them.
Kael spun around, sword drawn, but what emerged wasn't a beast.
It was a man.
Or what used to be one.
His skin was ashen grey, veins pulsing with black energy. His eyes were pure white, and he moved like a puppet, jerking in unnatural angles. More figures emerged behind him—dozens, all in a similar corrupted state.
"Infected cultivators!" Rellen shouted.
"Form a circle!" Kael commanded.
The enemy lunged.
Kael met them head-on, slicing one clean in half. But instead of blood, black mist poured from the body, coiling and writhing like sentient smoke.
"Don't let it touch you!" Dalia warned, her sabres spinning in deadly arcs, carving through three enemies at once.
Rellen unleashed a barrage of fire arrows, each exploding on impact and vaporizing the black mist. But the enemies kept coming.
Kael's sword began to glow with dark red energy. "Eclipse Fang!" he shouted, releasing a crescent slash that tore through a dozen infected. The energy wave ignited the mist, turning it to ash.
Still, more came. The swamp seemed endless, birthing enemies from every corner.
"We need to find the source!" Kael shouted. "Dalia, Rellen—hold the line!"
Without waiting for a reply, he leapt into the mist, guided by instinct and his core's spiritual perception.
He moved swiftly through the swamp, dodging attacks and countering with precise strikes. His boots splashed in black water, his breaths sharp and steady. Eventually, he reached a clearing with a large black stone altar half-buried in the marsh.
Floating above it was a swirling mass of black mist—denser than any he had seen.
Kael gritted his teeth and charged.
But before he could strike, the mist surged forward, forming into a massive shape—vaguely humanoid, but monstrous. Eyes of glowing crimson and claws made of pure shadow.
"I am Vur'thel," the entity hissed. "Last heir of the Corrupted Flame."
Kael raised his blade. "Then you're the one responsible for this sickness."
Vur'thel's laughter shook the swamp.
"I am merely a whisper of what once was. But with your soul... I will become whole again."
Kael said nothing. He lunged forward, and their battle began.
"The scouts reported no further movement from the Crimson Root Sect," Dalia said, her voice steady but low.
Kael didn't turn. "And yet I can feel it. Like something slithering just beyond our sight."
Dalia stepped beside him, folding her arms. "You trust your instincts over reports?"
"I trust both," he replied, eyes still scanning the plains. "But instincts are what kept me alive in the Deep Wastes."
Dalia nodded silently. Her robes fluttered in the cold wind, revealing the blue mark of a Grade-2 Array Master on her inner sleeve. "Then what are you sensing?"
Kael's brow furrowed. "That we've only seen the surface. There's something moving underground—below the ruined grove. Something powerful. The energy is faint, old… but awake now."
Dalia's eyes widened. "You're thinking it's… a dungeon?"
"No," Kael said, his voice grim. "Worse. An ancient tomb."
Suddenly, the ground trembled slightly underfoot.
"Just like that," Kael whispered. "It pulses in intervals. Something is waking."
Down in the inner courtyard, Elder Toran marched toward the tower with haste. His long grey beard swayed with every step. Two messengers followed, both breathless. When he reached the top, his expression confirmed Kael's fears.
"We found it," Toran said without preamble. "A subterranean entrance beneath the old Arkon tree."
Kael exhaled. "How deep?"
"Hard to say," Toran replied, his tone cautious. "The spiritual energy is warped—like it's been compressed for centuries. But it's definitely not natural."
Dalia's fingers twitched nervously. "Could it be a sealed Spatial Kingdom?"
"No," Kael said. "If it were, we'd be dead the moment it opened. This… feels more like a burial site."
Toran nodded. "And it bears an inscription in ancient script—'Let the blood of traitors bind the gate.'"
Dalia stiffened. "That's a forbidden dialect. Pre-Empire era."
Kael turned. "We're going down there."
Toran frowned. "We're not ready. We've just finished one battle. You need rest."
"There's no time," Kael replied firmly. "Whatever is stirring will not wait for our recovery. And if we don't act, it may come out on its own terms."
He began descending the tower steps. "Prepare a team. Five cultivators, each above Level 30. One Array Master. One alchemist. We move at first light."
---
The following morning, the descent began.
Kael led the group—a mix of hardened cultivators and specialists. Dalia walked just behind him, a glowing spiritual compass in her palm. Toran stayed behind, overseeing the fortress, but his warnings echoed in Kael's mind.
The entrance was narrow and steep, forcing them into single file as they descended into darkness. The spiritual lightstones flickered weakly, as though the very air resisted illumination.
Their boots splashed in stagnant water as they stepped into the first chamber—a wide hall with cracked murals depicting battles between celestial beings and shadowy titans. The energy here was thick and sluggish, clinging to their skin like oil.
Kael signalled a halt.
"Activate a detection array," he ordered.
Dalia placed five small talismans on the ground in a pentagonal formation, then chanted softly. A thin net of golden threads spread out, shimmering as it pulsed.
"There's movement," she whispered. "Northwest tunnel. Something large."
Kael drew his twin sabres. "Beasts?"
"No…" Dalia's eyes narrowed. "Something dead… but moving."
"Corpse puppets," Kael spat.
As if summoned by his words, a low groaning echoed through the hall. A cluster of figures shambled into view—armoured corpses, eyes glowing with dark spiritual fire. Their bodies were covered in blackened runes, leaking cursed energy into the air.
"Form up!" Kael commanded.
The team moved like seasoned warriors, forming a half-circle. The first corpse leapt forward unnaturally fast, its sword swinging downward. Kael met it mid-strike, his sabre igniting with deep crimson flames.
The impact sent spiritual shockwaves through the chamber, shattering loose stones from the ceiling. Sparks danced as Kael twisted his blade, slicing through the puppet's torso in a burst of heat.
Behind him, Dalia unleashed a series of binding arrays, locking two corpses in place. A third charged her, but a tall cultivator named Rhys intercepted it with a thunder-infused spear, piercing its skull in one clean motion.
Another corpse clashed with a fire-element cultivator, whose fists exploded with flame. The undead creature resisted the heat momentarily, then crumbled to ash.
Kael dashed forward, spinning through the remaining puppets in a blur of red and silver. Every movement of his sabres was efficient—deadly. He slashed the final puppet across the neck, its cursed eyes dimming as the body slumped.
Silence returned.
Kael stood in the middle of the carnage, his breathing steady.
Dalia approached, examining the runes on the corpses. "These are binding scripts. The souls were forcibly anchored. Whoever sealed this tomb didn't want the dead to rest."
Kael looked ahead, deeper into the tunnel. "Then let's find out why."
They continued.
---
An hour later, they reached the heart of the tomb—a massive circular chamber with a dais at its centre. Upon it sat a sealed stone sarcophagus, covered in more of the forbidden script.
Around it, twelve massive chains radiated outwards, glowing faintly with spiritual fire. At the base of each chain, bones—thousands of them—piled high.
Dalia gasped. "These… these are sacrifices. Human cultivators."
Kael knelt near one of the chains, running his hand along its surface. "They forged these with life essence. To hold something back."
Suddenly, the ground trembled violently.
One of the chains snapped.
A wave of dark spiritual energy erupted from the sarcophagus, washing over them like a tidal wave. The team staggered, but Kael gritted his teeth and activated his body reinforcement technique—Crimson Vein Flow. His muscles bulged as red light coursed through him, anchoring his stance.
Dalia shouted, "The seal's breaking! We need to reinforce the chains!"
Kael pointed to the array master. "Now!"
The cultivator rushed forward, throwing down several talismans while chanting. Golden scripts flared to life, intertwining with the broken seal.
The chain shuddered—then stopped.
Silence returned once more.
Kael stepped forward, eyes locked on the sarcophagus. "Whatever lies here is still bound… for now."
He turned to the group. "We're sealing this chamber and collapsing the tunnel behind us. No one else gets in until we know exactly what we're dealing with."
Dalia asked softly, "What if the other chains start breaking?"
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Then we better be ready."