We left the canyon at dawn.
The sand no longer shimmered gold; it looked grey, faintly cracked, and drained of its color—as if the battle had pulled the life out of the desert itself. The soldiers marched silently behind us, faces pale and eyes haunted.
For the first time since our exile, I carried a weight heavier than duty. The Abyss Source now pulsed faintly against my chest, bound inside my Divine Mark. Every beat echoed through my soul like a drum from another world.
Arina's voice was quiet inside my mind, not commanding now, but almost tender.
"Host, the Source has accepted you. Its darkness doesn't fight anymore—it listens. But it also remembers everything it's seen."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means," she said carefully, "you now carry its history—the pain of an entire age lost to shadow. The mark and the source have become one. You've inherited divinity and destruction in a single breath."
That didn't sound like a gift.
Sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I saw flashes—cities of light turned to ash, screams beneath collapsing skies, and a voice whispering through the ruins: 'All power born to save will one day destroy.'
Lian Xueyin watched me closely as we rode. "Your mark is glowing again," she said softly. "It's… brighter."
"I feel stronger," I admitted. "But also wrong. The deeper I reach for it, the more it reaches back."
Her gaze lingered on me before she looked away. "Then we'll make sure it doesn't reach too far."
For the next two days, we crossed the western edge of the desert. The winds picked up again, carrying whispers that didn't belong to this world. The soldiers were nervous, but something worse approached—a human storm this time.
As we neared the border hills, scouts returned in panic. "Riders—dark banners ahead! The imperial crest under red flame!"
The rebellion had already spread further than I imagined.
Through the swirling heat, shapes appeared—armoured men on black horses, their armour etched with crimson marks. The commander rode in front, face hidden beneath a silver helm. But even from afar, I recognised the black aura flickering around them.
"Zhao Tian's soldiers," Lian said, drawing her frost blade. "So soon."
The soldiers around us wavered, torn between fear and loyalty. I raised the Snowfire Blade, its light cutting across the dunes like a signal. "Stand your ground!"
Arina's tone sharpened. "Host, this is your brother's advance unit. They carry traces of dark resonance—the same energy that taints the Empire. Your powers will clash directly."
"Then let them test it," I said.
The opposing riders halted about fifty paces away. Their commander dismounted, removing his helmet slowly. Beneath it stood a man with familiar eyes.
Not Zhao Tian—but someone close.
"Prince Mukul!" he called. "By decree of the new Emperor Zhao Tian, you are declared a traitor and wielder of forbidden godly energy. Surrender now—or be cleansed!"
I almost laughed. "Cleansed? By corruption itself?"
He gritted his teeth. "You cannot fight the Empire!"
"Then I fight for what the Empire forgot," I said.
Before the soldier could respond, a ripple of shadow spread from his chest—a sign of the Dark System's control. Lian saw it too. "They're possessed," she warned.
And then, they charged.
Dust stormed as the dark riders descended upon us. I felt the mark flare bright, the Snowfire Blade answering like a living thing. "Stay behind me!" I shouted.
The world erupted into heat and frost. Flames burned white-blue; ice curved through the air like wings. Arina's guidance came sharp and perfect.
"Steady! Match their rhythm! The darkness is strong when you panic—weak when you focus!"
I blocked a blow that could've split boulders, my counterstrike slicing through the attacker's black aura. His armour shattered, the dark light bursting out like smoke escaping glass.
Lian moved behind me, her frost spreading over the sand. "Freeze the wind, burn the sky!" she shouted.
Her voice echoed through the battlefield. Together, our powers merged again—a blinding spiral that swept through the advancing riders. The desert roared with an unnatural storm.
When the light cleared, half their numbers were down—some unconscious, others free of the shadow's control. The survivors fled into the dunes without command or courage.
The silence that followed felt heavier than victory.
Lian lowered her sword slowly, her breath shallow. "It's spreading faster than we thought."
I nodded grimly. "Zhao Tian isn't just using the Dark System anymore. It's changing him—and his armies."
Arina's voice hummed within me. "She's right. Your brother's resonance matches nearly eighty per cent of the system's core energy now. Soon, his will and the darkness will be indistinguishable. The Abyss seeks a vessel worthy of its other half—and that half is you."
"So this is what the Source was meant for," I murmured. "Not a weapon. A bridge between chaos and creation."
"Exactly," Arina whispered. "One chosen to build the bridge, the other to break it."
Her tone faded into silence. The truth settled cold in my chest. Zhao Tian and I were no longer just brothers. We were two halves of something older—something destined to collide until only one remained.
By dusk, the wounded were treated, and the living rested. Lian and I set up camp on a ridge overlooking the endless desert. The horizon bled orange, the last light bending into twilight.
She sat across the fire, eyes fixed on me. "You didn't hesitate today," she said quietly. "Not even for the soldiers under your brother's order."
"I couldn't," I replied. "They were already gone."
Her silence lingered, heavy but understanding.
After a while, she said softly, "The Source inside you—it frightens me. It's too calm for how violent it is."
I glanced at the mark, faintly glowing under my shirt. "It frightens me too."
Arina's voice entered gently, almost like comfort. "Do not fear it, host. Fear gives it form. Understanding gives it purpose."
Lian looked at the fire. "Then keep understanding it before it understands you."
Her words made me smile faintly. "You talk like Arina."
"Maybe she's teaching us both," she said, her lips curling ever so slightly.
The wind carried fine grains of sand through the air, whispering like ghosts. Somewhere far away, thunder echoed—not rain, but war drums from the empire.
As I stared toward that sound, the mark on my chest pulsed once, matching the rhythm.
For better or worse, the bridge between light and darkness had begun to build itself.