Mairo only started losing hope when Wole staggered. It wasn't a big thing, just a stumble really, but in all the time he'd known him, Mairo had never seen Wole be anything less than graceful. His friend was a close combat prodigy and even weakened, should never have been pushed this hard by a glorified machine.

But then, the same could be said for him as well. Mairo watched in trepidation as Wole fought with all his might, his movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated. The once agile warrior was now a mere shadow of his former self, burned and drained by the relentless assault of their opponents. Panic welled up inside Mairo as he realised that they were both at their limits, teetering on the edge of defeat.

And as such things tended to happen, memories flooded his mind, transporting him back in time to the point when they were both at the peak of their strength. Taking care of constructs like this would have been child's play back then and in fact, he had been hunting down the parts for one when he first met Wole. They had crossed paths in An Layan's bustling marketplace, during that time of day when the place came alive with vibrant colours and the air was choked with the intoxicating aroma of exotic spices. He had been on the run, pursued by a band of mercenaries who had taken much offence to his presence in the city and subsequent intent to acquire ancient tech that should have been theirs.

It was then that he spotted Wole, effortlessly taking down another set of mercenaries with a fluidity that left him in awe. The way Wole moved, it was as if the world itself bent to his will. It would take a while for him to admit it, even to himself, but that moment right then was when Mairo fell and fell hard.

Not that anything ever came of it. They had both been fledgling cultivators then, both insignificant blimps in the giant cog that was House Whiterose and though they didn't know it at the time, both also trying to hide their natural born Unique Titles of Elder Reborn. So while their connection had been instantaneous and uncanny and though Mairo would deny it with every fibre of his being, the very thing he needed so badly at the time, there simply wasn't an opportunity to make something more of it.

And their connection wasn't just metaphorical either; it was a documented, well-established thing known as the soulmate bond. Rare and precious, Mairo had only personally witnessed it before with Narai and Luan. Elder Yasmin described it as their souls recognizing each other from a past life, intertwining in a way that went beyond mere friendship or camaraderie. It wasn’t always sexual or romantic–Narai and Luan were proof enough of that–but Mairo would be lying if he said the sight of Wole’s shirtless form didn’t do things to him. Not that any of them had done anything more than hold hands. At the time, it had been enough to just have a best friend after a lifetime of nothing.

But now, as they fought for their lives against these formidable opponents, Mairo couldn't help but doubt the path they had chosen. It had been a moment of confusion that day when they felt their bond expand and latch onto another and their decision not to tell Ayo about it weighed heavily on his conscience. Shouldn't she know? Wouldn't she be feeling the same connection and being completely confused by them? Or had the Curse somehow deprived her… deprived them of that too?

Wole stumbled again, barely dodging the blade aimed at his head and Mairo's heart clenched with fear.

We can't afford to lose this battle, he thought, only just moving out of the way of a fresh assault of lasers. We can't die and leave her alone. He watched as Wole valiantly fought on, despite his dwindling strength. His once agile movements were now sluggish and disjointed, a stark contrast to the fluid grace that had defined Wole's fighting style. Every strike he made was fuelled by sheer determination but his face contorted with pain and fatigue.

Mairo could feel the weight of their imminent defeat pressing down on him, threatening to crush his spirit. He knew they were running out of time, their bodies pushed to limits they had not approached in centuries. But as he glanced towards Ayo, still lying motionless on the ground, a fresh surge of determination coursed through him.

"No," he muttered under his breath. "We won't let them take her from us."

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Mairo lunged forward, using his body as a shield to protect Ayo from an impending strike. His moves were sluggish, his muscles screaming against the exertion, but he refused to give up.

Wole smoothly fell into place alongside him, his movements mirroring Mairo's efforts to defend their fallen comrade. It should have been impossible for something that artificial to manage, but somehow, the big construct was gloating, its avatar gleaming with sadistic pleasure as it slowly drew back its bladed arms, ready to end Mairo and Wole once and for all. It was a chilling sight, the darkness of its intentions contrasting with the fading light of hope within Mairo's heart.

But then, just as despair threatened to consume him, everything changed. A brilliant burst of energy erupted from Ayo's still form and the room was engulfed in light. It was as if the very essence of her being had ignited, a dormant power awakening with a magnificent fury. The constructs recoiled in surprise, momentarily stunned by the sudden explosion of magic and a few even shut down with a confused hum.

Ayo's body left the ground, the boys watching in awe as she was surrounded by a swirling vortex of energy that glowed with an intensity like the sun; Mairo had never seen a rank advancement so powerful.

[Administrator command received! Repairing key modules... Please stand by.]

Except he had, hadn't he? He hadn't witnessed it directly but he and Wole had advanced to Sigil together and Elder Oneshi had described their light as being that bright.

It was normal, he'd explained. For new Sigils that managed to unlock a soulblade.

The constructs whined and tried to move, attempting to cast off whatever it was that was holding them down and then, there came a sight he never thought he would see again. A prompt flared to life before them and he could have wept as he read the words scrolling across it.

[Key modules repair successful! Connection re-established. System is now online.]

The pyramid came alive with a roar like thunder and the two boys took great gasps of air as a massive wave of essence exploded from the City Core and raced outwards like a marching army. Instantly, Mairo felt Verdant Blood Body activate and his wounds and hurts melt away like butter under the sun.

His muscles ceased all protests against any movement, and he felt a surge of newfound strength coursing through his veins. The constructs, once towering and intimidating, now seemed small and feeble in comparison to the power radiating from Core.

"She did it," Wole laughed, gazing upon Ayo's levitating form with unmistakable affection. "That crazy, beautiful girl actually did it."

The air crackled with energy as the constructs regained their footing, their metallic bodies trembling with a mix of awe and fear. Mairo could see it in their postures, could see that whatever debased intelligence that was controlling them knew the tables had turned, that their defeat was now inevitable.

With newfound vigour, Mairo looked into his soulspace once again. His art constructs were all glowing, reactivated after centuries of inactivity and the slumbering dragon curled around the largest of the structures stirred, its scales shimmering with an ethereal light as his presence swept past. It had been years since he’d last seen Salatis awake and his familiar’s black and gold form shone with rapidly increasing power as he slept.

With a flare of fresh confidence, Mairo and Wole stood tall, their soulspaces ablaze with radiant light and the corrupted machines hesitated, then surged forward to meet them. Finally allowing himself a small, satisfied smile, he glanced at his beaming mate and turned back to machines with a feral grin.

Let's do this.

"Soulblade Awaken: Daybreaker!"

"Soulblade Awaken: Tidereaver!

***

Amha stood on one of the Tree's branches, her heart pounding in her chest and felt nothing but relief. She had just returned from her house–the wave of returning essence and following System prompts had had her hurrying back–and the sight of her rapidly recovering daughter had nearly reduced her to a sobbing mess. Ayo and the boys, those beautiful children she was going to stuff full of food the moment they returned, had not only restored the city but also, somehow, lifted the curse that had plagued them for so long. Pride swelled within Amha's chest as she watched the vibrant life flowing through the once desolate streets. As the once-dead air filled with cheering cultivators and materialising blue screens.

But there was no time to bask in their success. The enemy was approaching and Amha knew she had much to do if the city was to remain theirs. House Redwood had been caught off guard by the sudden restoration of An Solidan and its people, but now they were regrouping. Fleshfiends and Scarlet Wasps teamed up to harass the cultivators below and by the side, she spotted a Bloodfiend stalking into a house. There were no mortals in the city, thank the old gods as House Whiterose had followed the standard practice of attempting to awaken their natural-born children from the moment they could speak and sending away those that couldn't learn the cultivation art once they were old enough. Their fall had only exacerbated this trend and it was with no small amount of vindictiveness that Amha concluded that there was nothing for the Bloodfiend to possess.

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Even so, letting one of those atrocities wander around freely was always a terrible idea. So, she tightened her grip on her sword, feeling its comforting weight in her hand. It wasn't a soulblade–like most cultivators, she'd never unlocked that quest–but the weapon was Whiterose-made and as such the closest thing to one.

Amha took a deep breath, her mind racing with ideas on how to stop the Bloodfiend. As she stared at the creature, its eyes glowing with an unnatural crimson hue and petals fanning open, she knew that her affinity for Runes held the key to defeating it. Channelling her ability, she focused on the runes etched into her soulspace, the intricate patterns and symbols that danced within her being… and began.

With a flick of her wrist, Amha triggered a push glyph, causing a gust of wind to blow through the trees. The Bloodfiend's attention shifted, its head turning towards the sudden disturbance and in that moment of distraction, Amha saw her opportunity.

She jumped from the tree branch, her body twisting in mid-air as she activated another rune. This time, it was a speed glyph. The world around her seemed to blur as she zipped towards the Bloodfiend with lightning-fast speed. The creature tried to react, but its movements were sluggish compared to Amha's agile grace. As she closed the distance, she triggered yet another glyph, a binding one, causing ethereal chains to materialise from the air and wrap tightly around the Bloodfiend's limbs. It shrieked and struggled, but the chains held it in place, restricting its movements.

With a swift motion, Amha drew her blade and infused it with the power of another rune, enhancing its cutting edge. The sword glowed with a terrible aura as she swung it downward, aiming for the creature's neck and the blade sliced through the air like a comet, leaving behind a trail of shimmering light in its wake.

But the Bloodfiend was not so easily defeated. It jerked its body, flexing its muscles with unnatural strength and only just avoided decapitation. The chains strained against its resistance, threatening to break under the strain and Amha gritted her teeth and channelled her affinity once again.

This time, she triggered an explosion glyph beneath her feet. The force propelled her upward with incredible force, sending her soaring through the air in a graceful arc. As she reached the peak of her ascent, Amha unleashed a cascade of fire glyphs, igniting the sky around her in a brilliant display of pyrotechnics. White, blue and purple flames danced and twisted around her, consuming the air with their scorching heat.

Then Amha fell, descending towards the struggling Bloodfiend like a blazing comet. The creature's crimson eyes widened in terror as it desperately tried to break free from its ethereal chains. But it was too little, too late.

Amha's sword descended with a thunderous crash, cleaving through the Bloodfiend's neck and severing its head from its body and a deafening boom clove the air as the flaming corpse fell to the ground, dissipating into ash and smoke.

For a moment, Amha hovered in mid-air, her body wreathed in flames as she gazed down at the lifeless creature below, panting heavily from the exertion of battle, the sweet song of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Then, she let out a long breath and the fiery aura surrounding her slowly faded away, leaving behind flickering embers that danced in the air like fireflies.

As Amha descended gracefully to the forest floor, she could feel the eyes of her remaining foes upon her. The enemy cultivators had wisely fled the moment she engaged the Bloodfiend but now more of the foul things emerged from the shadows, their feral instincts driving them to avenge their fallen kin. They snarled and bared their vicious fangs, their bodies tensed and ready to lunge at her.

But Amha was no ordinary warrior. Her name, her true name was Amhanosi Grace, a phrase once whispered with awe throughout the five islands. Named for the grace she displayed in battle and her expertise in chaining runes, she was an Icon-ranked cultivator and a force to be reckoned with.

With a calm resolve flickering in her eyes, Amha surveyed her surroundings. The conglomeration of buildings around them provided ample cover for the rapidly approaching Blood and Fleshfiends, but it also offered her an advantage. The latter were not especially known for their agility and dexterity and the former as already proven would be weaker without mortals to possess.

Amha smirked as she observed their wild movements, analysing their patterns and weaknesses with the keen eye of a seasoned veteran. Speed and precision would be her greatest allies in this battle, and she was ready to unleash her full potential.

As the Blood and Fleshfiends closed in on her, their grotesque forms looming in the dim light of the moon, Amha set to work. With a fluid motion, she traced intricate patterns in the air with her fingertips, causing glowing runes to materialise around her.

The glyphs glowed with an intense white light, momentarily blinding the fiends and disorienting them and seizing the opportunity, Amha darted forward with unparalleled speed. Her movements were a blur as she engaged the nearest Fleshfiend, her blade slashing through its putrid flesh with surgical precision.

The creature let out a guttural shriek of pain, its blood spraying in all directions. But before the others could reach her, they suddenly stopped in their tracks, their bodies frozen in mid-motion. The air around them turned cold, a frosty mist stealing into the stillness of the night as their vile forms locked into place.

Amha's eyes widened in both surprise and relief as she watched her husband, Ade, stroll casually forward, one hand in his pocket and the other worrying at his glasses. His presence was a welcome sight amidst the chaos of battle, but she couldn't help feeling a twinge of annoyance at his nonchalant demeanour.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation. "Don't tell me you left our children alone at home!"

Ade shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze filled with mischievous amusement. "Relax, my love," he replied with a smirk. "I left them in the capable hands of Elder Yasmin. They're safe, I promise. Besides, I can't exactly allow you to have all the fun now, can I?"

Amha grumbled under her breath, her frustration momentarily outweighing her relief at his arrival. She knew she should be grateful for his assistance, but Ade had always had an impulsive streak, his thirst for adventure matched only by his unwavering loyalty to their family. However, she couldn't deny the rush of excitement that coursed through her veins at the thought of them fighting side by side once again.

With a shake of her head, Amha dismissed her annoyance and focused on the battle at hand. The frozen fiends began to shatter, their icy forms crumbling into a thousand pieces like fragile glass. And as the last remnants of the frozen mist dissipated, Amhanosi Grace and Adeniran Cold stood together, their forms gleaming in the moonlight.

"We will be continuing this conversation later," she promised darkly before throwing herself at a Scarlet Wasp swarm.

It was time the world was reminded why it had once feared House Whiterose.

***

Narai hurried through the city, her heart pounding in her chest as the fighting worsened. Her failure was like a weight on her shoulders, the shame a burning liquid in her veins. How could she have been so careless? So weak. She had always prided herself on her skill and strength, but a single Scarlet Wasp had nearly been her undoing. It was humiliating.

She weaved through the bustling streets, pushing past a group of confused-looking cultivators and dodging debris as buildings crumbled around her. The city was still under siege, chaos reigning supreme and Narai's mind raced with worry for Luan. He had remained, unmoving by her bedside while she had been down and had only left to help elsewhere when she woke. Narai hoped fervently that he hadn't been too much of a witness to her moment of weakness. She feared that her collapse had shamed him, that he would see her as nothing more than a liability. She didn't want to become a burden to him, not when he was part of the very few people who could tolerate her for long.

Narai's thoughts were interrupted by a series of screams in the distance and she quickened her pace. Rounding a corner, she came face to face with a scene of utter devastation. The once majestic city square lay in ruins, its elegant architecture reduced to rubble. A minor Tree branch lay forlornly on the ground, sad and despoiled and smoke billowed endlessly from the remains of one of the grand pillars, mingling with the acrid scent of burning wood. Ahead of her, a group of Redwoods loomed over a trio of corpses, their blades still wet with their victims' life's blood.

A cold sort of rage took hold of Narai at the sight and the voice that uttered "Soulblade Awaken: Widowmaker" was barely recognizable as hers.

As the words left her lips, the air crackled with a surge of energy, and darkness like a blanket descended upon the scene. The ground trembled beneath her feet like a thing come alive as a vortex of purple-black mist materialised before her.

And then, in a flurry of shadows, the soulblade appeared in Narai's hand. The scythe was a mesmerising thing to behold, its curved blade gleaming with dark radiance. Etched along its ebony surface were intricate patterns that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own and its handle was a bar of night made solid.

The Redwoods by now had turned their attention towards her, their sneers quickly replaced by expressions of fear and uncertainty. Some of them, wiser and more likely to have paid attention to the stories of their Elders recognised the power emanating from the soulblade, but it was too late for them to react. Narai's eyes blazed with fury as she stepped forward, her grip tightening on the handle of her weapon. She could barely hear the whispers of the Redwoods, their hushed voices replaced by a roaring in her ears.

"Soulblade Release," she whispered, her voice carried by an otherworldly echo that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. "Dark Harvest."

And the soulblade responded to her command. Shadows danced along its surface, intertwining with the swirling mist of nothingness that enveloped Narai. With each step she took, cracks formed on the ground beneath her and the air vented and shrieked like heated metal.

Then, with a swift movement of her arm, Narai swung the soulblade in an arc, slicing through the cultivators like a farmer through wheat. The weapon cleaved through the air with lethal precision, leaving behind a trail of ethereal energy in its wake and the very air seemed to recoil from its power as it carved through bodies and armour alike in a grotesque display of violence. The technique, the ultimate expression of the soulblade's power, didn't just kill them. It violently decimated their souls and added their power to Narai.

She had always been wary of her affinity for Void and the capacity for sheer devastation it enabled in her. It was easy, so deceptively easy to simply give in and lose herself to the thrill. The lust for wanton destruction. But now, Narai was so angry she found that she didn't care. With every swing, every strike, she felt a surge of satisfaction coursing through her veins. There was a primal joy in watching her enemies crumble before her, their very essence spirited away by the overwhelming force of the Widowmaker.

The mist that swirled around her became darker and thicker as Narai's fury intensified. It wrapped around her like a cloak, obscuring her features and instilling fear in those who dared to lay eyes on her, friend and foe alike. She knew she no longer resembled anything remotely human. She had become a harbinger of death, a force of nature unleashed upon a helpless and unprepared world.

With each swing of the soulblade, Narai felt a surge of power coursing through her veins. It was intoxicating, addictive even, as she revelled in the destruction she wrought. The Redwoods stood no chance against her might. Their bodies fell like broken marionettes, their life forces absorbed into the swirling abyss of the soulblade.

As Narai continued her merciless onslaught, a twisted grin formed on her lips. She relished in the chaos and the fear that radiated from her enemies. They were at her mercy, just like the people that had once held her captive. But now, she was free, and she would make them pay for every second of suffering they had inflicted upon her and her people.

The echoes of battle rang out through the ruins, drowning out any semblance of reason or remorse. Narai's mind became consumed by a single purpose – to destroy everything in her path, to claim their power as her own, and to let the world crumble beneath her feet. There simply wasn't any space for anything else.

But amidst the chaos and destruction, a small voice within Narai whispered, reminding her of Luan and the others who would be devastated to see her in this state. It pleaded for mercy, for a flicker of compassion in her heart. Yet she ignored it, drowning its pleas with the wails of anguish from her enemies.

It was too late for them, too late for anything other than sheer wanton destruction.

The Reaper was unleashed and woe to anyone who stood in her way.