The city was beautiful — so bright at night it shone like the moon itself.
Towering buildings pierced the sky, while the streets below overflowed with life — laughter, chatter, people living without chains.
High above, cultivators drifted through the clouds; down below, mortals mingled with immortals as equals.
Unlike other cities where the strong crushed the weak and mortals were left to rot, here they lived side by side — because of one being: Fairy Sofi.
When Sofi laid this city's first stone ten thousand years ago, she faced traitors and tyrants at every turn.
But her resolve never cracked.
She carved hope from blood and ash, and her city became a refuge — proof that trust could bloom even in a world of blades.
A little girl tugged her father's sleeve.
"Papa, is this why we have the festival?" she asked, eyes wide as lanterns.
Her father's smile was both tender and proud. He knelt so she could hear him over the music.
"Yes, my little star. This festival reminds us we built this place together — mortals and immortals — with Fairy Sofi's light guiding us all."
The girl's gaze glowed.
"Then I'll grow strong too. I'll protect everyone like Sofi does!"
Her father laughed, resting his hand on her head.
"You will. I know you will."
But high above, the sky began to break.
Storm clouds swallowed the moonlight. Thunder growled like a beast awakening.
Somewhere in the crowd, an old woman whispered,
"The omen begins… just like the prophecy said."
A lone man rose into the storm — white hair whipping, long black coat cracking like a banner in the wind. Nikolash.
He moved his hands in sharp signs; dark energy coiled around him, forming a barrier as black lightning speared down, each strike trying to tear him apart.
It was his tribulation — a sacred, deadly trial that cultivators must face to ascend.
But beneath the agony, Nikolash's eyes remained sharp, calculating.
Within the swirling clouds above, a hidden blade shot from the void toward his chest.
Before it struck, a figure dropped from the heavens.
Sofi — clad in battered silver armor, her black hair flaring like a war banner — swung her heavy double-edged sword, Purification.
The blade cleaved the attack in two, scattering it into harmless sparks.
"Focus on your tribulation!" Her voice cracked like thunder.
"I saved you this time, Nikolash — but next time, you stand alone."
Nikolash's lips curled into a cold smile.
"Of course, Master."
But behind that smile, hatred smoldered.
He had waited for this moment — waited for her to be distracted, exhausted from shielding the city and guiding him.
And now, the storm's rage hid everything else.
As Sofi turned her back to guard him again, betrayal slipped free like a serpent from his sleeve —
A hidden blade, driven straight into her spine.
Her armor shattered.
Her body fell through the clouds like a broken comet.
In the choking silence of a dungeon cell, the city's savior hung broken — wrists torn, one eye gouged out, blood clinging to the strands of her hair.
Nikolash stood before her, boots splashed in her blood.
He crouched low, voice soft as poison.
"Look at you now. I offered you mercy — all you had to do was bow. But you couldn't, could you?"
Sofi's laugh was hoarse, cracked like old stone.
"Mercy? You think I'd crawl to you, you half-formed worm? Without me, you'd be carrion for the vultures."
His face twitched. He struck her, once, twice — until the laughter died under a cough of blood.
"You think you made me? You caged me like a dog while you built your fragile peace.
Tell me, Sofi — how many corpses did you bury for that 'hope' you peddled?"
He tore her from the wall and dragged her through the festival streets — the same streets that once lit up in her honor.
Behind her, a trail of blood mixed with fallen petals and candle wax.
The crowd gasped, frozen. Some lunged forward — but something held them back.
A strange haze in the air, fear thick as poison.
An old man clutched his head, whispering,
"There's something… wrong. I feel her presence twisted…"
Nikolash flicked his wrist. Flesh tore apart like wet cloth. Screams drowned the music.
"Who wants to be her hero?" His voice boomed over the horror.
"Come. Die for your fairy."
None moved.
He threw Sofi at their feet, ripping the cloth from her face — what remained of it.
One by one, the people looked away — the same people she'd once bled to protect.
A lone woman stepped forward, hatred twisting her features.
She spat on Sofi, hand trembling as it struck her cheek.
"Stay away from us, curse-bearer."
Only one man — a baker's son — tried to shield her.
The mob turned on him like starving dogs, tearing him apart as Sofi screamed for them to stop.
But the more she begged, the harder they struck —
Until only the cold stone listened to her so
Blood dripped from her mouth. Her vision blurred — but her mind burned clear.
"All my life… I carried them. People who never learned to stand for me..."
A bitter smile broke through her ruin.
"Thank you, Nikolash. You've taught me — loyalty is a lie.
If I ever crawl back from this… I'll show them a pain that lives longer than death."
Above her, festival lanterns flickered in the storm-wracked sky —
And in that darkness, a voice curled like smoke around Nikolash's ear.
A woman's voice — low, amused, inhuman.
"Well done, little pawn…
Now we beg