Tunde and Ujin found their path across the skies of the realm hampered by the corrosive poison and smoke that filled the air. With no other choice, they landed, realizing they were still within the building they had left earlier. Puzzled but wary, Tunde continued onward with the Highlord, both prepared for anything. There were no resources, nothing tangible to be salvaged from the rift; instead, they had encountered a sentient entity that wasn’t only strong but now knew the "plane" they came from.

  Tunde had a vague understanding of what the creature was referring to—this was Adamath, just one world, despite how mind-boggling that seemed. Not long ago, he had thought Bloodfire was the only other continent on Adamath. Now he found himself grappling with the idea of other realities. He pushed these thoughts aside; now was neither the place nor the time to consider the implications.

  Instead, he wondered if he had placed himself in a precarious position with the mantle of Void Devourer, which was slowly consuming his entire being. His growth from a single affinity, which he still barely understood, to wielding a concept or greater affinity that could absorb others, such as his Force Ethra, was proving overwhelming. This affinity, one of the most powerful on the planet, belonged to a bloodline of some dead, forgotten hegemon.

  Elder Joran had been right—cultivation only grew stranger the higher one advanced. Tunde could only imagine what he might become at the higher realms or stages of advancement, assuming he survived this rift. Despite the odds, he wasn’t overly anxious; perhaps too many life-or-death situations had numbed him to the reality that they were facing not just a powerful foe but a sentient, cunning one.

  As they pushed deeper, the Highlord’s frustration became evident as he began breaking through wall after wall, his aura lashing out to dispel the smoke and poison around them. Tunde followed in silence, searching for a way out. Suddenly, he stopped. “There’s something strange about this place,” he said. The Highlord paused, glancing back at him coldly.

  “The air is thick with poison and smoke. The paths are twisted and confusing. It feels like we’re going in circles,” Tunde continued. The Highlord glanced around.

  “You think I wouldn’t recognize the same broken walls I’ve smashed through if we returned to them?” Ujin asked, his voice edged with frustration. Tunde waited for the Highlord’s anger to simmer down.

  “With respect, Highlord, I don’t believe continuing in this fashion will yield any results. Whatever that entity was, it’s clearly playing with us,” Tunde said, calming himself as he surveyed the crumbling buildings around them.

  “You’re the Devourer,” Ifa said.

  “You keep saying that,” Tunde replied irritably.

  “I say it for a reason. You belong to the Seekers. Do you know why the illusion weavers—or as they are now known, mist walkers—hated us the most out of all the cults?” Ifa asked rhetorically. “It was because we could see through their concept. Their game was trickery and deception, and we could see every move, one step at a time.”

  Tunde sat on the ground, his dark gray eyes quietly scanning his surroundings. “What are you doing?” the Highlord asked, his aura still blazing.

  “Finding a way through, Honored Highlord,” Tunde replied, taking a deep breath and focusing. Ethra Sight had started as a way to see the affinities of his opponents and surroundings. He came from a long line of Seekers, who had been forced to find precious items and relics within the frigid wastelands he once called home—items he now knew to be either precious relics or weapons.

  He had that blood within him, the blood of Luwaye. He might still be a runt, a simple lord finding his footing within this vast world—or plane, as the creature called it. “This is a step you must take alone, Tunde. Trust Luwaye,” Ifa said. Tunde clenched his fists and willed himself to see through.

  His eyes stung as he bent Ethra Sight to his will, forcing it to pierce through something elusive and resistant. It felt like he was pitting his will against something that refused to budge. Yet, Tunde sat immobile as the Highlord continued to move. Then Tunde saw it—a ripple, as if he had disturbed a still pond. The sight of the broken walls distorted around him as he saw runes glowing on what appeared to be an unharmed wall.

  He moved instantly, naginata extended, slashing across the wall where the rune was carved, cutting it in two. The air around them seemed to inhale before exhaling forcefully. Like a mirage, the scene before them shattered, revealing a largely unharmed courtyard. Ujin’s eyes widened as he paused. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, whirling on Tunde, who shut off Ethra Sight as his eyes stung painfully.

  “An illusion—a powerful one. A rune glowing on the wall caught my attention,” Tunde replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before turning to Ujin, who stared at him with a mix of wariness and respect.

  “I see. I owe you, Ushan,” Ujin replied. Tunde bowed, inclining his head. He knew he had to be cautious now. He could see it—too many questions would soon be asked about him and his strange abilities. “So much for exploration,” he thought sarcastically.

  They hastily made their way deeper into the building that now loomed before them, made of dark black bricks that shimmered in the moonless light of the rift realm, glowing from within. The two cultivators forced their way through the large black gate, which shattered under the combined force of Joran’s Wrath and an aura-infused punch from Ujin. They found themselves in an even larger courtyard, where two figures fought a horde of creatures made of smoke and armor.

  Ujin shot forward in a burst of power, landing within the dominion that protected the two figures from the onslaught of creatures around them. Akero and Zehra were alive, which meant Sera was either dead or the creature had been lying. Tunde felt a pang of rage in his chest but stamped it down—now was not the time for that, not yet. Drawing his naginata, he launched himself into the midst of the creatures, Ethra and aura burning as he added essence flame, becoming an inferno of dark gray power. He cut through their ranks with rage, his eyes burning as he held back tears.

  His aura roared around him as Tunde screamed, taking the shape of a large wolf that tore through the creatures’ numbers, clearing the space around him. He could faintly hear Ujin’s voice, but Tunde tuned it out, his attention locked on the temple before them, lined with statues broken halfway through.

  He shot towards it as the creatures tried to slow him down, his naginata working mindlessly to cut them down. He landed on the obsidian steps of the palace, feeling the raw power emanating from within its halls. The rift crystal was in there, as well as whatever creature served as its guardian.

  As he powered up the steps with speed, Tunde braced himself for whatever awaited him. Reaching the massive doors—large enough to accommodate a skyvessel—he pushed them open with ease. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted, and Tunde felt the oppressive power of a Highlord settle over the room, thick smoke distorting his view. The doors swung shut behind him with a thud of finality, signaling that there was no going back.

  With no other choice, Tunde activated Ethra Sight and beheld the figure seated on a throne. A chuckle echoed through the room. “I was right after all,” the figure said, its bony arms gripping the black, dusty throne as it rose. Clad in large black robes, it continued, “There are still remnants of your accursed line of Luwaye left in reality.”

  **********************

  Ujin couldn’t decide if Tunde—Ushan, as they referred to him—was either reckless or simply suicidal. He doubted it was either, yet running blindly into the building where the rift guardian awaited could only be considered one of the two. Drawing out his dominion, a swirling force of wind and strength that pulverized anything or anyone deemed an enemy within its reach, he pushed aside the remaining creatures.

  Akero and Zehra’s blades, both imbued with a similar swirling blue aura, cut through the foes with practiced swings, honed from countless minutes spent slicing through the same opponents. “Where are the rest?” Akero barked, keeping Zehra within his sight as they pressed on.

  “There are none left,” Ujin responded, hearing the temple doors behind them swing shut. The creatures around them froze, then crumbled to the ground in heaps of ash and armor. Ujin hesitated, warily kicking at one of the empty armors, while Zehra drew his attention to the temple, where all the smoke and poisonous aura flowed.

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  “Tunde,” Zehra breathed, her eyes wide with realization.

  “He’s dead already,” Akero said with finality, a sentiment Ujin was inclined to agree with, though he had seen Tunde in battle and wasn’t so sure.

  “Perhaps,” Ujin muttered, catching Akero’s disapproving glance.

  “This rift is as good as useless. Such affinities shouldn’t taint our clan,” Zehra said, her words causing Ujin to wince slightly.

  “And Ushan, my lady?” Ujin asked carefully, feeling Akero’s disapproving eyes on him.

  “Perhaps the heavens have a sense of justice, don’t you think?” Zehra responded. Ujin remained silent, about to speak when he felt a powerful, almost malevolent presence behind them. He turned, ready to face whatever abomination the rift guardian had unleashed, when he saw a lone figure tear through the same path he and Tunde had used to reach this place, flying overhead.

  “Is that his companion?” Zehra asked, confused. Ujin watched as the girl landed a few meters from the temple doors, repelled by what appeared to be a formation barrier, crashing to the ground. She looked weary, almost bone-tired, as if she had been battling her way through the creatures of the rift—which, for all he knew, she might have been.

  Her hair was disheveled, a serrated blade in her hand exuding an aura of blood and killing intent. She glanced at them, her red-ringed eyes dismissing them before turning back to the doors. Ujin had never felt so disrespected in his entire existence.

  She raised the blade, blood aura bursting to life around it as red veins appeared across her body. Ujin watched with interest as she swung the weapon, releasing a technique that was both beautiful and lethal. It slammed into the barrier with such force that the ground shook, once again making Ujin question what they fed lords over at the Black Rock Sect if this was another lord with the same bizarre strength he had witnessed before.

  The attack rippled across the barrier before dissipating. The girl snarled, taking another step forward and raising her weapon again.

  “It is—” Zehra began, taking a step forward, but Ujin stopped her with a hand, shaking his head softly. She stared at him in confusion. He glanced at Akero, who nodded and placed a hand on Zehra.

  “Come, lady. This rift is unbecoming of someone like you,” Akero said, but Zehra shook her head.

  “This is perfect. You want me ready to face anything, then I need to know what killed that lord,” she responded as Akero merely stared at her.

  Ujin moved forward, allowing his aura and Ethra to suffuse him, growing into a glowing replica of himself with each step. For the first time in a long while, he infused his essence flame into his technique, feeling its power burn even stronger as he stood next to the girl.

  If she noticed his presence, she didn’t acknowledge it, only preparing another technique to throw at the barrier. As soon as she released it, Ujin shot forward, right beside the technique, slamming his own attack into the barrier with a blow that carried the full strength of his concept. The very foundations of the temple shook with a powerful tremor, the barrier shattering into pieces of poisonous smoke. Ujin retreated, watching as the doors crumbled to pieces, only to reveal another door behind them.

  Confused, he realized what was happening. “Illusion,” he whispered. “Illusion! Find the rune!” he shouted back at them as he watched the girl prepare yet another technique in anger.

  **********************

  The figure on the throne exuded a domineering presence, and as Tunde took in the entirety of the Highlord’s aura, he wondered if this was the end of the road for him. His relic nudged him, sensing the raw Ethra radiating from the creature, whose purple pinprick eyes glared down at him.

  “A single Lord, coming to oppose me? What did you think you could accomplish, child of the Seeker?” it asked.

  “You know who I am,” Tunde replied matter-of-factly.

  “Know? I watched as your wretched kind sealed it all away—not that you would know, pup, since they would never send you here,” it replied, descending the steps of its throne.

  Confused but listening, Tunde twirled his naginata, activating Ethra Sight to aid him in a battle he realized was far beyond his depth. All he saw was a skull-shaped form of Ethra floating above the creature's head.

  “Tell me, what remains of your kind? And those other betrayers?” it asked.

  “Don’t reply!” Ifa hissed warily. Tunde stifled his surprise at the sentience’s tone—he could almost swear it was scared.

  “Not that it matters. An entire realm lies open to me, where I shall finally ascend to my true power, no longer chained to this pitiful rank of a Highlord,” it hissed with distaste. “But before that...” it continued, pointing a finger at Tunde. He felt its aura seize him out of nowhere, too fast for Ethra Sight or his reflexes to react.

  It lifted him as he struggled against it with all his might, pitting his will against the creature’s as it drew him close before slamming him into the wall. Tunde tumbled to the ground, quickly scrambling to his feet and moving sideways, trying to put distance between himself and the creature. He forged projection techniques, firing them at the creature with precision.

  The creature laughed as the attacks slammed into a barrier around it, the purple runes on its robes glowing. It stretched a finger toward him again, and Tunde instinctively rolled away, dodging what he suspected was another attempt to seize him.

  “This entire rift is its dominion,” Ifa realized with stark clarity as Tunde dodged a projection technique, watching in horror as it melted the walls.

  “You bore me, young one. Perhaps the Highlords and that infuriating blood cultivator just outside my doors would pose more of a challenge,” it said with a sigh. Tunde’s heart lurched—there was only one blood user he knew, and if she was outside, then Sera was alive.

  A weight lifted from his chest as he shot toward the creature.

  “That’s more like it,” it said with glee, moving toward him with dizzying speed. They clashed, Tunde’s naginata moving too quickly for thought, guided by his instincts and Ethra Sight as he fought to match the creature’s speed, dodging its poisoned touch even as it seemed to enjoy the fight.

  The creature slammed a kick into his midsection, blasting him backward. Tunde stabbed his naginata into the folds of its robes, stopping his momentum before summoning Joran’s Wrath into his other hand, clashing with the Highlord’s fist. Pain shot up his arm as the Highlord stumbled back, shock somehow visible on its bony features. A circular blade of smoke and poison floated above its head, firing at Tunde, who rolled out of its path as the creature reappeared in front of him.

  It slammed two fingers into the wrist of the hand holding the naginata. Tunde screamed, dropping the weapon before taking another punch to his midsection, rolling through the air and crashing to the ground, dizzy. His injury healed, but the agony still echoed through his body, bringing tears to his eyes as he struggled to his feet.

  “This world of yours... that barren land must have grown significantly to produce the likes of you,” it crooned, its voice receding as if retreating carefully. Tunde struggled to his knees.

  “I believe we have no choice,” Ifa said softly, and Tunde nodded weakly.

  “It will serve as resources for the renewal of my empire,” the creature continued, as its throne began to glow.

  “The throne is the rift crystal,” Tunde realized with astonishment as the entire thing began to pulse with light, the creature glowing as well.

  “I simply wanted to see how strong you were. I am disappointed,” it sneered as Tunde’s relic took shape in his hand. He gripped the weapon tightly as the very walls of the temple began to shake.

  ****************

  “What's happening?” Zehra cried as the ground beneath them began to quake, confusion written on their faces.

  “Akero, out of the rift, now!” Ujin barked, grabbing Zehra before shooting toward the exit.

  Ujin glanced back at the blood user. “He’s dead. Get out while you can,” he ordered. But she ignored him, raising her weapon again, swaying on her feet and pale.

  The amount of blood she had expended simply trying to break through the illusion had been staggering, and Ujin could see the determination in her eyes as she prepared another attack. With a hiss of irritation, Ujin flashed toward her, slamming a palm behind her neck. She crumpled like a doll, and Ujin gingerly stored away the weapon in her hand.

  Ujin thought it was a shame they had lost Tunde as he sped ahead, following Akero’s path. Such was the nature of cultivation within Adamath, but it would be an even bigger shame to let a cultivator of her caliber die within this place.

  **************

  Tunde bled, his wounds closing as he steadied himself, watching the creature take a deep sigh, its robes glowing.

  “Your concept will serve as a gift to the leaders of my clan,” it chuckled. “A fitting end to you accursed Seekers,” it snarled, beginning to point a finger at him.

  Tunde shot forward, throwing his naginata at the creature. It laughed—until its breath hitched in shock as the naginata tore through the barrier summoned by its robes, pinning it to the throne. The naginata’s body began to glow as the creature stared at the weapon that had pierced through its defenses, revealing a pierced purple core.

  “NOOO!” it roared, as Tunde closed the distance, Joran’s punch slamming into the hilt of his relic, now transformed into his naginata, a perfect deception. The weapon pierced deeper, the creature snarling as its aura clashed with Tunde’s, stinging his skin even as his relic drank more and more of its essence. The once oily black frame of the creature turned ashen gray.

  “You destroy everything you touch!” it cried as the tremors increased. “But it’s too late to—” it choked, its robes bursting into dark gray flames that began to consume the throne itself.

  “Dethrone it!” Ifa shouted in Tunde’s mind. He grabbed the creature’s skull with aura-covered hands, drawing deeply from his core as he tore its skull off with a roar, Joran’s punch shattering it with one explosive blow. The body dissolved to dust as Tunde collapsed, his relic clattering to his side before dissolving into smoke and re-forming on his right hand.

  Power coursed through him in arcs of electricity, racing for his core, pushing through his Ethra lines and flesh, pushing him to the brink of the Lord realm and into Highlord.

  “Sit on the throne!” Ifa shouted again as Tunde’s body reflexively obeyed, his mind too occupied with restraining himself from advancing further and drawing down the Heaven’s Crucible that had begun to gather above the temple.

  “Let it go, trust me, Tunde, let it go,” Ifa shouted continuously as it manifested in front of him, its gray form flickering with power, looking more alive than ever. Tunde let it go, sinking into the throne as his vision was consumed by dark flames.